The morning air in the bakery was usually sweet, but today it felt heavy, like the sky was made of lead. Yasuo was moving in a daze. His body still felt the phantom heat of the kitchen counter from yesterday—the way Daisetsu's rough, calloused hands had claimed him, and the way the flour had felt against his skin.
Daisetsu was sitting at the small wooden table in the corner, staring at a notification on his phone. He hadn't touched his coffee. He was back in his teacher uniform, but he looked less like a "Stoic Protector" and more like a soldier waiting for a bomb to go off.
"The new Principal," Yasuo whispered, settting a plate of warm croissants in front of him. "You really know him?"
Daisetsu looked up. His eyes were cold and full of old shadows. "His name is Ryuji Sato. The Superintendent's son. Five years ago, before I became a teacher, I was deep in the underground circuit. It was all about fists and blood, Yasuo. Ryuji was the one who managed the bets. He called me his 'Iron-Fist Berserker.' He made a lot of money off my anger."
Yasuo felt a chill. The "Wounded Soul" history was finally catching up. "But you changed. You're a sensei now."
"People like Ryuji don't believe in change," Daisetsu growled. He stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "He's not here to run a school. He's here to own me again."
Daisetsu grabbed Yasuo's hand, his grip desperate and tight. "If he finds out about us... if he sees you as a weakness he can use... Yasuo, I can't let him do that."
"He won't," Yasuo said, trying to be brave, though his heart was shaking. "We neutralized Kaede. We can handle him."
Daisetsu didn't look convinced. He pulled Yasuo into a sudden, crushing hug. He buried his face in Yasuo's neck, inhaling the scent of sugar and home. "I need to feel you one more time before I go into that building," he groaned.
He didn't wait for an answer. He dragged Yasuo into the small storage pantry behind the counter. It was cramped, dark, and smelled like cinnamon and roasted coffee beans. Daisetsu kicked the door shut and pinned Yasuo against the shelf of flour sacks.
The "bromance" was gone; this was pure, raw "Possession."
"Daisetsu, the shop is open—" Yasuo started to protest, but his words were swallowed by a kiss that tasted like a goodbye and a promise all at once.
Daisetsu's hands were frantic. He stripped off his blazer, his muscles bunching under his white shirt. He wasn't the "competent teacher" right now; he was a man terrified of losing the only warmth he'd ever found. He lifted Yasuo up, Yasuo's legs automatically locking around his waist.
The physical heat in the tiny room was suffocating. Daisetsu unzipped Yasuo's trousers, his fingers trembling with a mix of lust and anxiety. He moved with a "Savage Heat" that made Yasuo's head spin.
"Say you're mine," Daisetsu commanded, his teeth grazing Yasuo's earlobe and he licking it. "Say no matter what Ryuji says, you're mine."
"I'm yours," Yasuo sobbed out, his fingers digging into Daisetsu's shoulders. "Always. Only yours."
Daisetsu entered him with a sharp, heavy thrust that made the shelves rattle. Yasuo let out a loud moan, his eyes rolling back. It was intense, spicy, and totally reckless. Every movement was a "Physical Payoff" for the fear they were feeling. Daisetsu moved like a man possessed, his breathing ragged in Yasuo's ear, his body a solid weight of protection and desire.
They finished quickly, the climax hitting them like a freight train in the dark, cramped space. For a few minutes, they just hung onto each other, panting, the only sound the distant hum of the bakery's refrigerator.
Daisetsu pulled back, fixing Yasuo's clothes with shaking hands. He kissed Yasuo's forehead. "I have to go. Stay inside today. Don't come to the school. Promise me."
"I promise," Yasuo whispered.
Daisetsu walked out, his "Stoic" mask sliding back into place as he headed toward the school.
Yasuo spent the morning cleaning, but his mind was at the high school. Around noon, the bell rang. Yasuo looked up, expecting Grandma or maybe Tenshin.
Instead, a man in a sharp, expensive grey suit walked in. He had slicked-back hair and a smile that looked like a shark's. He didn't look at the bread. He looked directly at Yasuo.
"So," the man said, his voice smooth and oily. "You're the little 'Bun' my Berserker is so fond of."
Yasuo froze, the bread tongs falling from his hand. "Who are you?"
The man leaned against the counter, picking up a croissant and crushing it in his hand. "I'm Ryuji Sato. The new Principal. And I think it's time we discussed Daisetsu's... 'extracurricular' activities. After all, a Berserker belongs in a cage, not a classroom. And I think you're just the cage I need."