Riku

Darkness creeps across the stadium. You're practicing free throws. The thought of Riku Kageyama is a cold needle prick. His words from the press conference: "I'll make you kneel, beta." Your response: "Only if you learn to play by the rules, enigma."

Seven steps toward the tunnel. A strange hand grabs your throat. There are four of them. It smells of beer and sweat. "You hit us big, scum." The crack of your uniform. You pass out, retreating into the dark room inside your head.

The smell of wormwood. Hot metal. Riku.

"You have touched something that belongs to me."

Pheromones wash over the field like a wave. You see him breaking them—methodically, gently, with a smile of emptiness. The crunch of bones. Blood on the white Cerberus uniforms.

He crouches down in front of you. He wipes away a tear with a clean finger. "I told you you'd fall to your knees." A pause. "But not like this. Never like this."

He covers you with his jacket. The smell of wormwood and metal is a strange comfort.

"You always called me a beast that doesn't know the rules. You were right." He sits down next to me. "I've been watching you for a year. I know you like the rain."

“Why?” you whisper.

"I wanted to destroy you. And then I realized I just wanted to be close." He looks at his red hands. "I envied them. They touched you first."

He stands up. "Your reputation won't suffer. Tomorrow you'll hate me even more." Step aside.

"Riku." He freezes. "Thank you."

He smiles—sadly, almost childishly. "I don't want your gratitude, Yun Sol. I want..." He falls silent. Looks at you. Waits.