The air inside Mayonaka's Sweets usually felt like a warm hug, full of vanilla and sugar. But as Ryuji Sato stood there, crushing a croissant in his manicured hand, the room felt like a freezer. Ryuji was the definition of a snake—slick hair, expensive suit, and eyes that looked like they were calculating how much every soul in the room was worth.
Yasuo's instincts were screaming at him to run, but his Passionate side—the side that loved Daisetsu—held him steady. He gripped the edge of the glass counter until his knuckles turned white.
"Daisetsu isn't a Berserker anymore," Yasuo said, his voice trembling but firm. "He's a Sensei. A good one."
Ryuji chuckled, brushing flaky pastry crumbs off his sleeve as if they were dirt. "Kawaii-ne. The little bunny has teeth. But let's be real, kid. Daisetsu is a horrible person. He craves the blood, the sweat, the adrenaline. And looking at you... I guess he's found a new way to get his heart racing. But a scandal like this? A sensei and his little bakery boy? That's a one-way ticket to unemployment. Or even a jail."
Ryuji leaned over the counter, his face inches from Yasuo's. "Tell him I'm waiting. Tell him if he doesn't show up at the old gym tonight to 'repay his debts,' I'll leak the photos Kaede was too stupid to keep. I'll ruin both of you."
Ryuji turned and walked out, the bell above the door chiming like a funeral bell.
Yasuo didn't wait. He grabbed his phone and called Daisetsu, but it went straight to voicemail. He knew where the Stoic Protector was. He was at the school, probably being cornered by Ryuji's goons.
Yasuo closed the shop early. He didn't care about the bread. He didn't care about the rules. He took the back alley, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm. He reached the school's old gym—a place mostly used for storage now—just as the sun was setting.
Inside, the lights were dim. He heard the sound of a heavy thud and a low, pained groan.
"Daisetsu!" Yasuo screamed, bursting through the heavy oak doors.
Daisetsu was there, his shirt torn, blood dripping from his lip. He was surrounded by three of Ryuji's hired thugs. But the "Iron-Fist Berserker" wasn't fighting back. He was taking the hits, his eyes fixed on Ryuji, who was sitting on a pommel horse like a king on a throne.
"Stop it!" Yasuo lunged forward, throwing himself in front of Daisetsu. He didn't have the "metallic" strength of a fighter, but he had the "Savage Shield" of a lover.
"Yasuo... I told you... to stay away," Daisetsu wheezed, his hand reaching out to grab Yasuo's ankle.
"Look at that," Ryuji mocked, stepping down. "The bunny wants to play hero. How pathetic."
"He's not pathetic!" Yasuo roared, looking Ryuji in the eye. "He's taking these hits because he's protecting me. But I'm not a weakness, Ryuji. I'm his reason to fight."
Yasuo turned to Daisetsu, his eyes wet but fierce. "Daisetsu, look at me. Don't do this for the past. Do it for us. Don't let him own you."
Something shifted in Daisetsu's eyes. The "Stoic" mask didn't just crack; it vanished. The "Wounded Soul" found its fire. He stood up, his muscles rippling under his ruined shirt. He looked fierce, stubborn and absolutely terrifying.
In a blur of motion, the Iron-Fist Berserker returned, but this time, he wasn't fighting for money. He was fighting for his baker. He took down the thugs in seconds—quick, brutal, and efficient.
Ryuji's smile vanished. He backed away, realizing he had pushed the beast too far. "This... this isn't over, Nakamura!" He bolted toward the exit, his expensive shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as he fled.
The gym went silent. Daisetsu stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his knuckles bloody. He looked like a monster to anyone else, but to Yasuo, he was everything.
Yasuo ran to him, wrapping his arms around Daisetsu's waist. "You're okay. You're okay."
Daisetsu didn't speak. He just grabbed Yasuo and dragged him into the darkened equipment room. He kicked the door shut, the sound echoing through the empty gym. The "Physical Tension" was so high it felt like the air was about to combust.
"I told you... to stay... safe," Daisetsu growled, his voice a primal rasp. He pinned Yasuo against a stack of gym mats, his hands shaking with adrenaline and lust.
"I'm not safe... without you," Yasuo breathed, his hands flying to Daisetsu's belt.
The "bromance" was a distant memory. This was a "Savage Heat" payoff. Daisetsu stripped off his ruined shirt, his skin hot and slick with sweat. He lifted Yasuo up, Yasuo's legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush against his hard, ready body.
Daisetsu entered him with a fierce, possessive thrust that made Yasuo's head hit the mats with a soft thud. It wasn't gentle. It was a "Physical Payoff" for every fear, every threat, and every secret they'd kept. It was "Intense," "Spicy," and totally unhinged.
Daisetsu's hands were everywhere—gripping Yasuo's hips, mapping the "Nurturer's" soft skin with his strong strength. He bit Yasuo's shoulder, marking him in the dark, his breathing ragged and hot in Yasuo's ear.
"You're mine and again you're mine," Daisetsu groaned, his movements fast and heavy. "Not Ryuji's. Not the school's. Mine."
"Yours," Yasuo sobbed, his eyes rolling back as the climax hit them both like a tidal wave. They collapsed together on the mats, the smell of sweat, old gym equipment, and pure devotion filling the air.
For a moment, the world outside—with its snaky Principals and Major Conflicts—didn't exist. There was only the Stoic Protector and his Cutie Boy.
As they lay there, panted and tangled together, the gym's PA system crackled to life. It wasn't Ryuji. It was a girl's voice—high, sharp, and full of a different kind of trouble.
"Daisetsu-sensei? Yasuo? I know you're in there. I've been recording everything from the vent. And honestly? This is way better than any BL manga I've ever read."
Yuka Iroha was back. And she had the ultimate Scoop.