{TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDAL ACTIONS}
The apartment felt cavernous without Taichi. Even though it was small—just their studio, the walls still faintly scented with detergent and home-cooked food—every creak of the floorboards and hum of the fridge sounded like intrusions. Yu pulled the blanket around himself tighter, curling into the couch, his wide ruby eyes fixed on the door.
A bucket sat at his feet, a silent witness to the mornings he'd spent hunched over it for the past two months already. The sickness came like clockwork, twisting his stomach, making food unbearable except in strange bursts of craving. Pickled plums one day, plain rice the next. And always nausea clawing at the back of his throat.
He hadn't told Taichi. He couldn't. Taichi had too much to carry already. So Yu hid it, flushing his face in the sink after every retch, scrubbing away the taste of bile, smiling as though everything was fine when his lover came home.
Today, though, every sound pressed on him harder. A shadow brushed across the window and his heart seized. Somewhere outside, a car door slammed, and he nearly screamed. He clutched the blanket tighter, rocking in silence, whispering to himself just to feel less alone.
When the silence finally stretched without interruption—no knocks, no taunts—he dared to move. His trembling fingers reached for the laptop.
The college's live stream flickered on, filling the darkened apartment with a glow that felt almost sacred. And there—there he was.
Taichi, standing tall in his crisp suit, looking impossibly handsome beneath the stage lights. His hair caught the glow, his green eyes alive with confidence as the announcer called his name.
Yu pressed his palms together, as though in prayer, leaning so close his nose nearly brushed the screen. His heart throbbed with pride and yearning. It was as if he could feel the strength of Taichi's presence through the pixels, like warmth pouring through glass.
Tears welled unbidden. He reached out, brushing trembling fingers against the image of Taichi's face, whispering into the glow.
"Don't leave me… Please, just come home after. Come back to me."
The applause from the stream swelled, filling the apartment, drowning out the silence. Yu clung to it like a lifeline, his eyes never leaving the man who was his anchor, his world, his everything.
Yu sat hunched close to the laptop, his fingers clutching the edge of the screen so tightly his knuckles whitened. His whole body leaned forward, eyes wide as Taichi's name was called. Pride swelled through his chest, trembling and fragile, as he whispered encouragements like prayers only Taichi would ever hear.
The applause rose, cameras flashing, and then she appeared.
Jezebel Suzuki, elegant in a glittering gown, her perfect smile curving like the sharp edge of a blade. She stepped forward to present the award, her hand brushing Taichi's as she passed it to him.
Yu's breath hitched. Even through the camera feed, he could see how stiff Taichi grew, the flicker of irritation in his emerald eyes before he smoothed it away.
---
The ceremony lights were hot, the applause louder than thunder. He bowed politely, forcing a calm expression even as annoyance knotted in his chest. Jezebel Suzuki. Always Jezebel.
She had been a thorn in his side since the day Yu left school, fluttering around him with faux charm and arrogance, as though she could worm her way into his life by sheer persistence. If she weren't so rich, so politically tied into the school, he would have told her off in front of everyone. But he couldn't—not yet. He needed his degree, his clean record, his path to a job that would finally let him give Yu the life he deserved.
"Congratulations."
Jezebel purred, handing him the award.
Her hand didn't let go. Instead, she tugged him closer, quick and sharp. Taichi's instincts screamed, and at the very last second he jerked his head away—her lips grazing his cheek instead of his mouth.
But the flash of the camera caught them at the wrong angle. The live stream angle worse still. To anyone watching… it looked like they were kissing.
Taichi pulled back immediately, jaw tight, his entire body coiled in restrained fury.
---
Yu's heart plummeted into ice.
He reeled back from the screen, hands flying to his mouth. His breath stuttered. His vision blurred with sudden, stinging tears.
"No… no, Taichi…"
His voice broke, ragged and small in the empty apartment.
The Love-o-meter ticked up:
79 - 87
DK01's cool, mechanical voice flickered in the back of his mind.
[Host, Taichi Arifukua's affection has increased to 87%.]
Yu stared at the glowing words as if they mocked him. He wanted to scream. Wanted to tear the laptop apart. But instead, he curled in on himself, shaking, the image of Jezebel's painted lips pressed against Taichi's searing itself into his memory.
All the whispers, all the rumors, all the filth thrown at him these past years rose up at once. And for the first time, Yu began to spiral—not because of strangers at the door, not because of bullies in the college hallways, but because the one person he loved most had been shown, under the bright lights of the world, at Jezebel Suzuki's side.
Then it started again.
Knock! Knock!
The pounding at the door rattled the entire apartment, drowning out any other sound, each slam like a hammer to Yu's fragile state.
"Come on, bitch! Open up already!"
"Yeah, let us see what you're hiding under that skirt!"
"You think you're better than us? We'll show you what happens to freaks like you!"
The voices blurred together with the sound of fists on wood, the knob shaking, the scrape of markers scrawling filth across the door. Yu curled tighter against the couch, hands over his ears, his vision swaying as his sobs tore raggedly from his throat.
The words on the screen still blazed in his mind.
Love-o-meter: 87%.
It should have been enough. It was enough. DK01 had always said that reaching 50 meant he could complete his mission, move on, find the next world and continue saving his Demon King.
"Then it's time."
Yu whispered, his voice shaking, his tears falling fast.
"If I go now, I won't have to… I won't have to hear them anymore. It's enough. It's done."
[Warning: This action is irreversible. I strongly recommend you do not proceed. Your mission's timeline may not be complete.]
"Please…"
Yu begged, voice small but unyielding.
"Just… tell me what I need to do to leave."
Reluctantly, DK01 complied.
[If you wish to leave the world…then you must die. Death before reaching 50% will be permanent however after achieving over 50% on the Love-o-meter gauge will allow your soul to travel. There are sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. Taking enough will cause death.]
Yu nodded, he made his way—with new found strength, ironically—towards the cabinet and took the bottle of sleeping pills, his grip making his knuckles turn white.
And Yu, with trembling hands, swallowed three pills.
'Just one more than what puts me to sleep'
He thought naively, and then walked towards the kitchenette. It took only a second to find a knife, sharp and glinting in the light of the laptop still open. Clutching a kitchen knife, Yu pressed it to his wrist the way he'd once seen in a drama.
The cut was shallow, clumsy. Blood welled, but not nearly enough. His head swam, his limbs heavy. Tears streamed down his face as his body slumped onto the couch. Slowly, painfully, he drifted into unconsciousness, the apartment quiet save for the muffled voices and banging fading beyond the door.
---
For one stunned moment, Taichi stood frozen, Jezebel's lips grazing his cheek under the lights of the cameras. Then the shock cracked, and rage flooded through him like fire.
He shoved Jezebel Suzuki so hard she stumbled and crashed onto the stage floor. Gasps rippled through the hall.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
Taichi's voice roared, raw with fury.
"I've told you again and again—I'm in a relationship with Yuiko. I love him. Respect that, and leave me the hell alone!"
Jezebel's painted smile faltered, her composure slipping as the audience murmured.
"All year you've been a nuisance, and I let it slide because you didn't cross the line. But this—this is harassment!"
Taichi scrubbed furiously at his cheek until it burned red.
"I feel so disgusted, I could puke! If Yu didn't like my face, I'd burn this spot off with acid just to erase you from me! I'm gonna need to bathe in alcohol as soon as I get home!"
Her fury cracked open. Jezebel's shrill voice rang across the stage.
"How dare you talk to me like that! You think I'm disgusting? I'm not disgusting—that freak you're with is! Did you even know? Yukio's a man! A man in a dress! He tricked you, tricked everyone, pretending to be a girl—"
Taichi's answer was sharp, matter-of-fact, devastating.
"Huh!? Of course he's a man. I'm gay. I told you that. And I'm the one who told him to wear dresses, because he looks cuter in them than anyone else alive! Yu is more beautiful, more precious, than every girl on this earth combined. Don't you dare talk about him like that."
His voice broke, raw and desperate.
"Oh fuck—Yu!"
And in that moment, Taichi realized what mattered most. He tore off the stage, his award abandoned, shoving past the stunned faculty. His only thought was to get home. To Yu.
The auditorium thundered with applause that no longer reached him. Taichi shoved through the throng of students and faculty rising to their feet, their smiles faltering as he stumbled past, clutching nothing but air. The echo of his name still rang from the speakers, hollow and meaningless now. Cameras flashed, someone called after him, but he didn't look back.
The crowd's cheers warped into a confused murmur as he tore down the aisle, shoes slapping against the polished floor. The doors loomed ahead—bright, distant, salvation. He burst through them into the night air, the crisp wind burning his lungs. His jacket whipped behind him as he ran, faster than he thought his legs could move, down the wet streets slick with city light.
He didn't wait for a taxi. Didn't even try. Every second felt like it cost too much. The world blurred around him—faces, neon signs, horns—all irrelevant noise. He just kept running, chest heaving, past the crosswalk, past the vending machines, past the convenient store he and Yu always lingered at when they couldn't say goodbye.
When the old concrete apartment complex finally came into view, his heart lurched painfully. The window to their small studio glowed faintly yellow, familiar and fragile. He stumbled up the stairs two at a time, breath ragged, until he reached their door—
Taichi's lungs felt too small for his chest. The sight at the door—smears of marker, torn food, condoms, the obscene slurs—hit him like a slap. His hands went numb, and for a frantic second he couldn't think where he'd left his keys, his phone, the world he'd just been standing in. He had to get inside. He had to get to Yu.
He pounded on the door so hard the wood thunked under his fists.
"Yu! Open up! Yu!"
His voice shredded raw across the stairwell.
The old neighbor's door flew open and a thin, furious face peered out; her voice cracked with accusation before she even saw him properly.
"You damn kids! Leave that poor girl alone! What has she ever done to you, the sweet angel? It's day after day you lot come to harass that sweet angel! For a year, I've put up with it, but just you see, I've already informed the police!"
Taichi barely heard her beyond the pounding of his own heart. The neighbor's words folded into him and made something break—because a year. A year he had not known. A year Yu had borne this alone.
He didn't wait for keys. He didn't think. He threw his shoulder at the door with everything he had. The wood splintered with a sick crack and the latch gave. The apartment lurched open into the stale smell of disinfectant and cold air. Then he saw Yu.
Yu was on the floor, half-turned, pale, one wrist slick with blood. For a second Taichi could only stare—like someone struck deaf, like the sight bent the world out of shape. Yu's chest rose and fell shallowly. The knife lay discarded on the rug. Everything in Taichi narrowed to the single, unbearable fact that Yu was hurt and that he had been away.
He was across the room in two steps. He dropped to his knees, fingers fumbling, voice breaking.
"Yu—Yu, wake up. Stay with me, stay with me, look at me."
He pulled his jacket off and, breath coming in ragged yanks, wrapped it around Yu's wrist, pressing hard. The jacket was no bandage, but pressure might hold the bleeding until help came. He felt the wet warmth through the fabric and nearly vomited.
From the hall came the neighbor's squeal of alarm. She'd slammed open her door again and then, seeing the busted apartment, rushed forward with the kind of noise people make when the world has tilted.
"Y-You! What did you do to Yu-chan?!"
She cried, eyes wide and accusing at Taichi—then confusion flickered as she saw his frantic face, his hands stained with blood as he tried to stem it.
"Call an ambulance! The blood's not stopping!"
Taichi choked the words out, not meeting her eyes. He did not want anyone else to take Yu away—yet he needed help he could not give.
"O-Okay!"
The neighbor fumbled for her phone, voice shaking as she dialed.
"Hold on, dear, hold on! Help is coming!"
Taichi spoke to Yu the way people speak in hospitals in movies when hours bleed into each other—short, repeated phrases, tethering him back from the edge.
"Yu, I'm here. I'm here. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I should have been here. I'm here now."
His fingers tightened, trembling as he pressed with everything he had. He felt futile; he felt furious; he felt hollow.
'How had Yu hidden this for so long?'
Sirens wailed faintly at first, then grew loud as they cut through the neighborhood. Paramedics arrived in a flurry—calm, efficient, small flashes of hope. They took over with practiced movements: one kneeling to check Yu's breathing, another applying proper dressings while a third spoke softly to Taichi and the neighbor, issuing rapid, clear commands.
"We'll need to get her onto a stretcher. Sir, you can ride with us—don't try to stop the bleeding further, but we'll need to move now."
Taichi nodded like a man who had lost the ability to form new thoughts. He helped them lift Yu, his arms trembling under the weight of the stretcher, the paramedics' hands firm and professional as they secured Yu for transit. As they carried him out, Taichi's jacket was streaked, his hair damp with sweat. He leaned over Yu's face and kissed his hair once, fiercely, as if imprinting the moment in the only way he could.
"Please…"
He whispered into the din.
"Come back to me."
The neighbor followed behind them at a distance, lips trembling, muttering that she'd called the police already about the harassment—about the repeated knocks, the threats, the vandalism. Taichi's mind felt as though it were being washed by cold water: shock, then a white-hot shard of anger at whoever had done this, then a black, bottomless well of guilt that Yu had suffered without him. The ambulance doors shut.
The siren wailed, splitting through the city's midnight haze, but to Taichi it sounded distant—muted, like it was echoing through glass. He sat wedged between metal and motion, knees pressed together, his fingers clenched around the hem of his jacket as if he could anchor himself there. Every bump in the road jolted through his chest.
Yu lay only a few inches away, pale under the harsh red lights. The paramedics spoke in clipped, focused tones—heart rate low, oxygen steady for now, pressure borderline. One adjusted the IV line, another checked the monitor, murmuring about arrhythmia and trauma response. Taichi tried to make sense of the words but they floated past him, fragmented.
He kept his eyes on Yu's face, willing it to move. Every shallow rise and fall of Yu's chest was both relief and torment. The sterile air reeked faintly of antiseptic and blood, and Taichi's throat burned with swallowed screams.
Minutes dragged like hours. He thought of the signs he'd missed, the way Yu had smiled at him that morning, the soft sound of his laugh. Every memory became a knife twisting in his chest. The city lights streaked by outside the window, and with each passing block, Taichi felt time collapsing in on itself—too late, too slow, too useless.
When the ambulance finally lurched to a stop, Taichi barely remembered the doors opening. Cold night air hit his face again, and hands guided him out, but all he could see was the gurney rolling ahead—the limp arm, the pale wrist. He followed blindly, heart breaking with every step.
At the hospital the ER moved in practiced urgency—triage, monitoring, terse clinical talk that Taichi could only half-hear. A junior doctor met him at the curtain and led him away from the bed with a quiet but firm hand.
"You can wait in the family room."
She said, voice soft.
"She's stabilized. She's sedated for now. We need to run tests and speak to her when she's awake. You did the right thing getting her here."
Taichi sat hard in the waiting room, the antiseptic smell and fluorescent lights flattening his senses. He didn't think; there was nothing left of that. He replayed the doorway over and over—the smashed food, the vile trash, the slurs—and a cold fury coiled in him that had nothing to do with self-control. He had promised himself he'd protect Yu. He had failed, and that failure tasted like iron.
When an orderly brought him a paper cup of water, Taichi's hands shook as he took it. He pressed his palms to his face, fingers splayed, and let the grief he'd barely allowed himself fall in ragged, helpless breaths. He thought of all the times Yu must have scrubbed filth from the door so Taichi wouldn't know. He thought of the months of keeping this silent between them and of how small and breakable Yu had become in the face of so much cruelty.
Outside the curtained window the city moved on in its indifferent rhythm—cars, lights, a world that did not stop for one heart breaking. Inside, Taichi made a new promise that had the feel of something sacred and terrible: he would find who had done this. He would not let Yu bear this alone again. And he would stay—no future employment, no dean, no reputation mattered now—until Yu opened his eyes and Taichi could see, once and for all, that he was safe.
He picked up his phone with trembling fingers and typed a single message into the group chat.
Taichi: I'm at the hospital. Don't come unless I call. I'll tell you when I can.
Then he slid the phone away and kept his hands wrapped around the empty paper cup, waiting for news, for the moment the world might tilt back toward something like repair.
---
The night air still hung heavy with sirens fading into the distance when Jezebel Suzuki and Isuke Sasaki arrived at the apartment complex. The building itself was quiet, but not silent—the kind of quiet that follows after chaos, a strained lull where everything feels cracked.
By the stoop, the old neighbor lady who had been shouting earlier now lingered with her arms folded tight, eyes wet, her face pale. She muttered to herself in anguish.
"It's such a shame… such a shame… the sweet angel bullied into taking her own life…"
Isuke froze mid-step. The words hit him like a blade through the ribs. His breath stuttered, his chest tight.
'Yu… tried…'
His knees weakened beneath him, and for a moment, he felt the weight of his own sins collapse on top of him.
He rounded on Jezebel with a voice low and furious, almost strangled by grief.
"I want out. Do you hear me? I'm done with this. I won't be a part of it anymore."
Jezebel scoffed, rolling her eyes with exaggerated annoyance.
"Fine, quit then. It doesn't matter to me. I still have my dad to make Taichi marry me."
Her casual tone made Isuke blink, stunned.
"What? Why the hell are you so obsessed with marrying him? What makes you think he'd even agree?"
She smirked, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder like it explained everything.
"You really are an idiot, Isuke. Don't you know? Taichi's father is super powerful. Sure, they've got a bad relationship right now, don't talk or whatever—but once I marry him, I'll make them reconcile. Then I get all the wealth, all the prestige. It's simple. And why am I so sure? Because I'm hot. I can give him kids. Unlike Yu, who's just some freak cross-dressing man."
Her words slashed through the air, cruel and deliberate.
Isuke's jaw clenched until it hurt. His voice shook—not with weakness, but with raw anger.
"You're insane."
He stepped closer, eyes burning.
"Even if Yu is a man—he's still cuter, hotter, and more beautiful than you'll ever be. It doesn't matter if he can't give birth to a child. If Taichi had to choose, he'd choose Yu every single time."
'And if, by some miracle, he didn't… then I'd use that chance to take Yu away myself.'
The last words shocked even him as they left his mouth. He turned away sharply, fists balled at his sides, shame and bitterness mixing like poison in his chest. Without another word, he strode into the shadows, effectively ending their twisted alliance.
Jezebel remained behind, her nails digging into her palms, fury etched across her features.
"We'll see about that!"
She hissed, voice dripping venom.
---
Yu stirred awake, lids heavy, head pounding as though a fog pressed behind his eyes. His throat was dry, his chest tight, and for a moment he couldn't place where he was. A sterile ceiling, the sharp scent of antiseptic—it was enough to tell him he wasn't home.
'What happened…?'
He thought, disoriented.
Before DK01 could even form words in his mind, a rough, choked sound cut across the silence.
"Yu!"
Taichi was there, slumped in a chair beside the bed, his face streaked with dried tears and exhaustion. At the sight of Yu's eyes open, he bolted upright, leaning over him, hands trembling.
"Oh thank god! You're awake! Does it hurt? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Ah—wait, I'll get the doctor!"
He stumbled back, half-panicked, and dashed out of the room. Yu stared after him, blank, until DK01 finally spoke.
[You failed. The pills weren't enough, and the cuts were shallow. Your body merely fell asleep with a cut bleeding out. Taichi found you and took you to the hospital where we are currently at right now.]
Yu's lips parted in shock, but before he could respond, the door swung open again. A doctor in a white coat stepped in briskly, flipping through a chart.
"Well, Mr. Hokohayashi, you gave us quite the scare now, didn't you?"
The doctor said with a practiced sigh.
"You're very lucky—the sleeping pills you took weren't enough to harm the baby, and the cuts you made were very superficial. We just had to bandage them. For extra precaution, we'll ask you to drink this charcoal solution and you'll be admitted for observation for one week, along with a standard psych evaluation. Nothing unusual—just procedure. During this time, you'll also have one hour of therapy a day. If there's nothing else—"
He placed a cup of thick, black liquid sludge on the side table, preparing to leave.
"Wait, doc…"
Taichi's voice cut through, low and uncertain.
"Baby?"
The doctor blinked.
"Hm? Yes? I'm sorry, I thought you knew."
He adjusted his glasses and gave a small smile.
"Mr. Hokohayashi is two months pregnant. Congratulations, by the way."
The world stilled. Taichi's jaw slackened, his hand tightening instinctively on the railing of the hospital bed.
"How is that possible? He's… he's a man. Right?"
"Ah."
The doctor's tone shifted to clinical.
"Well, at first we assumed, because of how Mr. Hokohayashi dressed when first admitted, that he was female. And it's standard procedure to do a pregnancy test. Once it came back positive, we ran further tests to be certain. The ultrasound confirmed it. Mr. Hokohayashi is intersex—he has a functioning uterus and ovaries. We've updated his chart as this wasn't clearly stated enough in his prior medical record. This time we made it explicitly clear and noted for future reference. After you've rested, we'll refer you to an OBGYN for continued care."
He gave a courteous nod toward the stunned pair.
"If that's all, I'll excuse myself. Should you have more questions, the nurse can answer or page me."
And with that, he left them in silence—only the soft hum of machines filling the room.
Yu's tears fell faster the more he tried to choke them back. His whole body trembled, his lips quivering as he forced the words out like glass cutting his throat.
"Taichi… let's break up. I-I won't keep this baby and you don't have to pay me anything, I'll move out as soon as I get out of here…"
Taichi froze, the world tilting under him. It felt like his chest had been cracked open. His hand curled tight against the bedsheet as if anchoring himself to reality.
"Is this… really what you want?"
The Love-o-meter ticked down:
87 - 68
His voice was low, careful, like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.
Yu's shoulders shook violently.
"...I-I'm so sorry Taichi… I lied!! I can't!"
His voice broke into sobs.
"How could I kill our baby? My child! You can leave me—you can be with that Jess-woman you kissed on the stream and marry her! But please, just let me keep this baby! You don't have to marry me or love me or pay us anything! Just please… I really want this child to live!"
His desperation bled through every syllable, but before he could collapse entirely, Taichi surged forward. He wrapped Yu into his arms so tightly Yu could barely breathe, his voice a hoarse growl against Yu's ear.
The Love-o-meter ticked up:
68 - 88
"Yu, marry me!"
His chest shook with the force of it.
"I love you! I want to raise a family with you! That girl—she's just a creepy stalker who attacked me! I only ever had eyes for you!"
His words tumbled out, ragged, desperate, urgent.
"A-And we didn't kiss! I dodged, she only hit my cheek! I swear I'm not dirty! And, and… Yu, Yu, I love only you."
Yu's sobs broke into a laugh, wet and shaky, as relief and happiness melted into his exhaustion. He clung to Taichi, nodding against his chest.
"Yes… yes, Taichi… I'll marry you."
Their lips met, trembling, a fragile seal to their vows.
The door creaked open, and the spell shattered. A nurse stood frozen in the doorway, cheeks pink.
"As sweet as this is, Mr. Hokohayashi, you still haven't drunk your charcoal."
She set her hands on her hips and pointed to the untouched cup.
Yu groaned.
"Do I really have to? It's disgusting…"
"It's for the safety of the baby."
She replied firmly, though her eyes softened.
That was enough. Yu pinched his nose, took the cup, and chugged the sludge in one go, gagging.
"Ugh—"
He even swiped his finger around the inside to scrape up the last stubborn bits before licking it off, wincing all the while.
The nurse chuckled, amused despite herself.
"Good boy. That's the spirit."
She collected the cup, double-checked his monitors, then gave Taichi a smile.
"Everything looks stable now. Both of them are safe."
Taichi sat back down, relief sinking through him like a tidal wave. He reached for Yu's hand, threading their fingers together, his thumb brushing tenderly over the bandaged wrist. Yu leaned into him, exhausted, but his eyes still shone with fragile hope.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the air didn't taste like despair.
---
The week in the hospital passed in a strange blur of monotony and quiet intimacy. Yu sat through his therapy sessions with downcast eyes, speaking softly but truthfully when pressed. He clung to Taichi's presence whenever he was allowed to visit—holding his hand through the bland meals, watching shows together on the small mounted TV, and napping with his head on Taichi's shoulder. And he even became quite friendly with the nurses who were made to monitor him, should he try another attempt on his life.
Taichi, for his part, barely left Yu's side. He fed him snacks smuggled in under his jacket, teased him about how stubborn he was with the nurses when it came to taking vitamin pills, and reassured him in low whispers every night before visiting hours ended.
"I'll be back first thing. Sleep, Yu. I'll always come back."
When the week finally ended and Yu was discharged, his body felt fragile but his heart steadier, wrapped in the certainty of Taichi's love. Arm-in-arm, they walked out of the hospital into the crisp air, and Taichi hailed a cab to bring them home.