Ken doesn't remember how he got himself to bed and fell asleep—knowing his roommate might turn off on him again.
He had just said some things he wasn't supposed to open, if he really was a scam.
Yet, to his surprise, Renjiro was nothing near as someone suspicious as others were.
Yes, he was persistent about getting closer, though he was also being considerate with him and has been doing things he hasn't done before. No classmates or old friends did it for him.
He sprung up to sit. As his eyes scanned the room, his pupils widened when Renjiro's face suddenly popped in out of nowhere.
[!!]
Ken jolted, his heart skipping a beat. "D-Don't sneak up on me like that! Jeez," he barked, though the heat rising to his cheeks betrayed more than fear.
Renjiro just grinned, hands tucked casually into his pockets. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Renjiro teased, holding what looks to be a drink.
"What time is it?" Ken croaked.
Renjiro checked the time on his wristwatch. "It's 7:30 in the morning."
Ken quickly whipped his head toward the clock, then jerked his gaze out the window.
Then—BRRRRRRRIIIIIING!
The shrill, metallic clang of the school bell echoed across the campus, vibrating through the walls like an alarm for the dead. Birds scattered from the trees outside, flapping into the sky in startled spirals.
It was the kind of sound that jolted students' daydreams alike.
Ken flinched.
"Shit," he muttered, tossing off the blanket. "I'm gonna be late."
Renjiro didn't move and just leaned against the wall, arms folded, a lazy smirk playing at his lips. "Oh, don't worry about it. They won't close the gate yet that early."
Ken barked again, "What the heck do you know about it?!"
He stood in front of the closet, yanked the doors open, and practically dove inside. Hangers rattled violently as he ripped his uniform shirt off the rail, nearly pulling two others down with it.
"Damn it, where's the other sock—" He muttered, hopping on one foot while trying to shove the other into a pant leg.
His balance gave out, and he stumbled backward, barely catching himself in the edge of the bed.
Renjiro watched, unbothered. "You need help there?"
Ken shot him a glare, face red and hair sticking in all directions. "I can manage just fine...!"
He finally managed to button the last of his shirt—wrong button alignment. He noticed too late—grabbed his tie and groaned as he tried to fix the lopsided knot in the mirror.
Renjiro took a step closer, then another, until he was standing right in front of Ken. He slowly purses his lips and says, "I know you're still being careful of me."
His voice lowered and softer now, but it was still clear.
Ken heard the words, his hands frozen mid-tug on the crooked tie. He turned his head slightly, eyes meeting Renjiro's through the mirror.
Renjiro didn't smile this time.
Without asking, he reached up and gently unfastened the misaligned buttons on Ken's shirt, then re-did them one by one. His fingers were surprisingly steady and warm, the closeness making Ken's pulse stutter in his throat.
"I get it. You think I'm some hired watchdog your mom sent to babysit you." He reached the collar and adjusted it carefully.
"But I'm not here to spy on you."
He took the tie from Ken's hands and began looping it around his neck with calm precision, the way someone did it dozens of times before.
"I just... want to know more about you," Renjiro said, his eyes focused on the knot. "Not as a job. Not because someone told me to. But because I want to.
The last tug of the tie brought their faces closer for a second too long.
Ken swallowed, his voice smaller than before. "Why?"
Renjiro looked up, finally meeting his eyes again. "I already told you, didn't I? I want us to be friends."
The bell's echo was still ringing in Ken's ears, and every second ticked like a countdown to doom.
For a moment, silence engulfed the room.
Only the faint rustle of fabric remained, as Renjiro's fingers finished smoothing down Ken's collar.
Ken stood still, unusually quiet, the weight of Renjiro's words still hanging in the air between them. The usual sharp retorts bubbling in his chest never made it past his throat.
Then, Ken scoffed, rolling his eyes—not in irritation, but in that awkward, knee-jerk way someone does when they don't know how to handle sincerity. A faint pink crept up his neck, and he turned just slightly, enough that Renjiro wouldn't catch the full extent of it.
"Gross dude," he muttered under his breath, grabbing his bag with a little more force than necessary.
But there was no venom in his voice. If anything, it sounded... flustered.
[!!]
"Wha—"
"What does that mean?!" The boy perked up. Then, his lips curled up in the corner.
"Ah," Renjiro's smirk widened a little. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"
"In your dreams," Ken fired back, already heading for the door.
Still, he didn't tell Renjiro to stop. He didn't brush him off. And he definitely didn't fix the tie Renjiro had adjusted for him.
That, for Ken, said more than words ever could.
Meanwhile, Renjiro is successful in getting to know Ken. At least, that's what he thought.
Sub mission: Get Ken to talk is not an easy task.
But Renjiro will admit that this might've started because of Sato, but now, and after all those pestering he had to do to get Ken's attention—all of it was because he began to genuinely hope and want for them to be friends for real.
But now that that's almost done—it's time to focus on the main objective here—the real mission!
And it's start now.
The school courtyard buzzed with the noise of morning drills. Whistle blew, sneakers squeaked on the court, and somewhere near the track, someone had already tripped over a hurdle.
PE class had officially begun.
Renjiro stood on the grass, arms crossed, eyes scanning the field—not for warm-up instructions, but for a certain someone.
Sato waved quite enthusiastically from across the gym.
"Koizumi-san, let's pair up."
"Yeah, sure." Renjiro said, offering a casual nod as Sato jogged over.
He knelt beside Renjiro, already grabbing one of his arms and pulling it over for a shoulder stretch. "I was wondering, Koizumi-san. If you'd like to have lunch together later?"
Renjiro barely heard him.
His gaze flicked over to where Ken stood a few meters away, distracted tugging at the hem of his gym shirt, talking to the coach but not really looking invested. Classic.
Sub-Mission: Get Ken to talk—Progress: 60% Complete. Almost there.
Main Mission: Kiss the Boy—Initiated.
Renjiro sighed internally. Why is matchmaking harder than infiltration?
"Koizumi-san, is something the matter?" Sato asked, shaking his arm.
"Huh? Oh—yeah, sorry," Renjiro replied, blinking back to the present.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
Renjiro huffed a small laugh. "It's nothing."
He beamed at Sato.
Step one, he thought, Sato and Ken have to at least interact with each other. Well, it's not their first time, but they need to exchange words in order to get to know each other.
But first—he had to figure out how to casually get them to be alone. That... might require a little sabotage.
Renjiro stood up from the ground, brushing invisible dust off his shorts like a man preparing for war.
He glanced from Sato—still stretching with that usual cheerful obliviousness—to Ken, who was now standing near the equipment rack, filling out some attendance clipboard like it personally offended him.
Not exactly a love story yet, Renjiro mused. But every empire starts with one brick.
He tapped a finger against his chin, gears already turning.
If I swap myself out with Ken in the next pair drill, and I ask Sato to help with the cones while I "go get water,"... No, too obvious. Maybe I trip—
"Koizumi-san?" Sato blinked up to him, mid-hamstring stretch. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said smoothly, already walking off. "Coach wanted me to help with something. Be right back."
Sato blinked, head puzzled. "Huh? I didn't hear him say that—"
"Selective hearing," Renjiro called over his shoulder. "Superpower of mine."
As he made his way toward the gear rack, where Ken was still busy scribbling down names, he adjusted his mental checklist.
Step One: Get Ken to drop the clipboard.
Step Two: Steer Sato in that direction.
Step Three: Let fate—or a clumsily rigged coincidence—handle the rest.
Quite cliché. But that's how it usually works from his favorite BL manga.
He smirked. Time to set the stage.
Ken was still scribbling down names when he felt someone step into his shadow. Without looking up, he spoke flatly:
"If you came here to pester me again, I swear—"
Renjiro leaned on the rack casually, arms crossed. "Actually, I came to tell you Coach wants me to grab something from the storage shed."
Ken's brow twitched. "Since when do you follow orders without complaining?"
"I'm following orders from the coach," Renjiro said with a straight face.
Did he really think I'm the type to complain all the time?
Ken narrowed his eyes. "... Right."
Before he could ask anything else, Renjiro spun around with exaggerated nonchalance. "Oh, and do me a favor—tell Sato, I'll be back in five?" He said, "He's over there. You two can... catch up."
Ken blinked. "Why can't you—"
But Renjiro was already walking off, whistling a suspiciously cheerful tune.
Ken stared after him, clipboard still in hand. "... What is he up to this time?"
Still, a few minutes passed. Sato, noticing Ken standing near the rack, jogged over with a shy smile.
"Miura-kun." He said softly, calling out on Ken. "You're on clipboard duty today?"
Ken sighed, handing it over. "Only because no one else wanted to do it. Renjiro said he'd be back in five, by the way."
Sato tilted his head, "Oh, he did say that he had something to do. But I wonder where he is right now."
Ken paused. His eye twitched.
He exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath. "Seriously, what is it this time?"
[??]
But before Ken could say anything else, a stray soccer ball came flying at them from across the field.
Instinctively, Ken grabbed Sato's arm and yanked him aside, both of them stumbling into each other, Sato's face inches from Ken's chest.
"W-Whoa!" Sato stammered, his hand still on Ken's shoulder.
"You okay?"
Sato flushed, stiff as a board. He nodded. "Y-yes. You, Miura-kun?"
"... Fine. Get off."
Sato let go immediately, scratching the back of his neck. "A-Ahh—sorry. That was, uh, c-close."
He awkwardly said.
From behind a row of hurdles, Renjiro peeked out, hands steepled in front of his face like a cartoon villain.
Progress: Unexpected but Acceptable
The two of them stood still, caught in the fragile aftermath of the near collision.
Sato's hand lingered just a second longer before he awkwardly pulled it back, his cheeks a warm shade of pink. His eyes locked on Ken's—dark, sharp, unreadable as always, but not entirely cold this time. Just... distant, cautious, and curious.
Ken blinked, lips parting slightly as if to say something—maybe to break the silence, maybe not.
But neither of them spoke.
The air between them shifted. Something was almost there.
Sato swallowed. "Miura-kun..."
From behind the hurdles, Renjiro grinned, watching like a director behind the camera of his own slow-burn drama.
This is it.
This is the spark.
This is—
"Hey, Miura! Coach said to switch partners!"
Another student barreled into the scene, clapping a hand on Ken's shoulder and stepping directly between them like a human wedge.
The connection shattered instantly.
Ken took a sharp step back, the walls back up in an instant. Sato looked flustered, almost reaching to explain—but the moment was already gone.
From the sidelines, Renjiro's eye twitched.
He muttered under his breath, arms dropping to his side like a deflated balloon. "Are you kidding me?!"
The other student cheerfully dragged Ken away, oblivious.
Renjiro exhaled through his nose, visibly disappointed. "You had one job, universe."
And yet, it failed.
Still, he wasn't completely defeated. His fingers tapped against his elbow in thought.
Okay. So that was a false start. But there'll be other drills. Other chances.
Even fate needs a second take sometimes.
And, with that, the director returned to plotting his next scene.
Later that evening, as the sky dimmed and the air cooled with the promise of night fall, the sun dipping just behind the rooftops and dyeing the sky a soft orange.
Renjiro made his way toward the dorms, bag slung lazily over his shoulder. His mind was already spinning with possibilities—timing, positioning, and lighting.
Maybe a shared umbrella scene next time? Classic. Timeless.
Beside him, Sato walked in comfortable silence, his pace relaxed but deliberate. They didn't talk much at first, but it wasn't awkward—just a quiet rhythm after a long day of drills and emotional near-misses.
Then, as they rounded a bend near the dorm gate, Renjiro spotted someone up ahead.
"Ah," he murmured, straightening up like a cat catching sight of a mouse. "Target acquired."
Ken was a few paces ahead, hands in his jacket pockets, looking like he was trying not to be noticed—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes fixed forward.
"Ken!" Renjiro called out, waving with far too much enthusiasm.
Ken looked over, barely turning his head. His eyes landed on them, flickered briefly with recognition, and then he gave the most non-committal nod humanly possible.
Sato blinked. "He looked... startled."
"He always looks like that when someone breaks into his anti-social perimeter." Renjiro said cheerfully. "Come on."
They caught up quickly. Ken didn't speed up or slow down, just walked like they hadn't interrupted anything at all.
"Going back to the dorms?" Renjiro asked, even though it was obvious.
Ken gave him a dry look. "No, I just like long walks with heavy bags on."
"That's a yes," Renjiro translated for Sato. "Cool. Then let's go back together."
Sato nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "It's nice walking back with others sometimes."
Ken grunted in vague agreement but didn't protest. That was enough.
The three of them moved into the dorm hallway, the overhead lights buzzing faintly. It was quiet—just a few voices behind closed doors, some music playing faintly from a room down the hall.
As they walked, Renjiro tilted his head toward Sato.
"Hey, you rooming with anyone?"
Sato blinked, surprised by the question. "Ah—yeah. I am. But we're not... really close. He mostly keeps to himself."
Ken, just ahead, said nothing, but his ears might've twitched.
Renjiro clicked his tongue. "That's a shame. Roommates should feel like co-leads in a slice-of-life series. Casual late-night talks, secret snack stashes, emotionally devastating bonding moments—you know, the usual."
Sato laughed softly. "That's pretty specific."
Ken muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "That's cliché. What are we? Elementary school kids?"
Renjiro smiled wide, ignoring him. "Anyway, if your roommate sucks, you can always hang out in our room. We have snacks. And banter. And emotional devastation."
Ken rolled his eyes. "Can you stop inviting someone inside my room."
Renjiro raised an eyebrow, "Why not?" He said.
"And it's not only your room! How many times do I have I to tell you: it's also my room, our room!"
Sato quirked a shy smile, glancing between them. "T-Thank you, Koizumi-san, but maybe next time. I'll think about it."
And though none of them said it, the hallway felt warmer than before—like a small corner of their day had opened up into something unexpected.
Renjiro, pleased, made a mental note.
Mission in progress.
Night fell quietly over the private school dormitory, blanketing the old building in a soft stillness.
Lights flicked off behind curtains, leaving only a faint golden glow from hallway sconces and the occasional desk lamp that burned into the quiet hours.
Inside the communal bathroom, steam clung to the mirrors and rose in lazy swirls above the large sunken tub.
Renjiro leaned back against the tiled edge, his arms half-lidded with comfort. Sato sat across from him, equally relaxed, the water lapping gently around their shoulders. The silence between them was peaceful, broken only by the distant hum of water pipes and the occasional soft splash.
Renjiro, half-lost in thought, suddenly smirked to himself. An idea had just surfaced—something a little mischievous but potentially effective. A way to nudge Ken and Sato closer, maybe without them even realizing it.
He tilted his head slightly. "Hey, Hirota," he said, voice low and casual. "Why don't you come by my room after this? Just hang out for a bit."
Sato glanced at him, a little curious, but nodded. "Sure."
"But, is it okay?" He asked.
Renjiro shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"
Sato wasn't sure if he's ever welcome into that room. After all, Ken didn't seem to agree about Renjiro inviting someone inside.
A few minutes later, freshly changed into comfortable clothes and still damp-haired, the two stepped into Renjiro's room.
The atmosphere was dim and warm, a single lamp casting soft light over the modest space. Ken sat down quietly by the desk, completely absorbed in a thick book. His brow was furrowed, eyes flicking quickly across the page, and he didn't even glance up when they entered.
Renjiro greeted him with a beam. "Hey there, Ken."
Sato walked behind him and shyly poked his head, and for a brief moment, he watched Ken—watched the way the lamplight caught the edge of his jaw, the steady concentration in his expression. Something passed over Sato's face, quick and unreadable, before he turned his attention back to Renjiro.
Soon, Renjiro pulled a compact gaming console from his drawer, grinning to himself as he connected it to his laptop. With practiced ease, he launched a cooperative game, handing one controller to Sato while keeping the other in his lap.
The screen flickered to life with video colors and sound, cutting through the calm of the room.
Ken's eyes, once locked on his book, veered briefly in their direction. He didn't say anything—didn't even turn his head fully—but Renjiro caught the glance.
"C'mon, Ken. You should join." Renjiro said with a knowing smirk.
Ken didn't respond. His eyes dropped back to the page, though he hadn't turned it in minutes.
Shrugging, Renjiro turned back to the game. He and Sato dove into the colorful chaos on-screen, laughing occasionally, nudging each other during close calls or victories. The room filled with button clicks, triumphant sounds, and relaxed banter.
Every now and then, Renjiro raised his voice just a touch.
"This level's so easy—almost too easy with two people. Imagine how much smoother it'd be with three."
Still no reaction from Ken.
Renjiro leaned back, speaking more directly now, a playful edge in his voice. "You know, I bet Ken just doesn't want to play because he's afraid of losing. Probably, he doesn't even know how to hold a controller."
At that, Ken's chair creaked. He exhaled—loud, sharp, like a valve, letting off pressure—and turned his head, jaw set tight.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping back against the floor, making Sato flinch slightly. It looked like he was about to leave.
"Oh no," Renjiro said with a laugh, "Don't run now. Unless you're really the type who doesn't know what fun is. Or maybe... you just don't like losing to people who do know how to play."
Ken stopped, his shoulders rising with another slow, rough exhale. A long second passed, then, silently, he turned around and walked toward them.
He snatched the spare controller from the edge of the bed and sat down beside them, his expression unreadable—but the corner of Renjiro's mouth curved into a triumphant grin...
"Thought so," he said.
Sato smiled as well, nudging Ken lightly. "W-Welcome to the team, Miura-kun."
Renjiro smiled to himself. The seed was planted. Now, all it needed was a little time to grow.
Ken noticed some droplets scattered everywhere on the floor, making a lot of mess. He followed the trail to where it came from and led him to Renjiro's wet hair.
"Jeez! You could've at least dry your hair before having fun here." Ken said, his brows bunched almost annoyed by the sight.
Renjiro gave a sheepish chuckle, running a hand through his damp hair. "Guess I got carried away."
Ken rolled his eyes, stood up, and returned with a towel from the closet. Without saying much, he tossed it toward Renjiro's head.
"Dry it. You're gonna catch a cold and mess up the dorm floor."
Renjiro caught the towel and grinned, deliberately not using it right away. "Aww, you do care."
"Don't flatter yourself...!"
Sato watched the exchange, his smile small but present. It was rare seeing Ken this expressive—even if his version of caring—came wrapped in complaints and deadpan delivery.
Over the next few days, it became clear that Renjiro was up to something.
Their nightly gaming sessions became routine, almost ritual. After lights out in the dorm, the three of them would gather again in the room, the soft glow of the screen painting shadows on the walls. Laughter came easier, and even Ken—initially reluctant—grew used to the rhythm of teamwork, playful jabs, and shared victories.
But it wasn't just at night.
Renjiro made a habit of rounding them up in the mornings. "Come on, we're gonna be late!"
He'd call, swinging by the door, herding them both down the hallway before either could refuse. He always positioned Sato and Ken beside each other in the cafeteria, under the pretense of "balance" or "group symmetry" or some other nonsense that Ken didn't buy.
Even between classes, Renjiro would slow his pace, adjusting his steps so the three of them walked together. But making sure that the two walked side by side while Renjiro made casual jokes. And just like that, the air between them would feel strangely easy—less like coincidence, and more like Renjiro's careful orchestration.
At first, Ken ignored it. But by the fourth day, he started noticing the pattern.
During lunch, he caught Renjiro subtly switching the trays so Ken would end up seated next to Sato again.
Finally, one evening—just before they powered on the console again—Ken leaned back against the wall and fixed Renjiro with a look.
"Hey," he said. "What are you doing?"
Renjiro blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You've been dragging us around like ducklings all week. Breakfast, lunch, games, and walking to class. Is this some social experiment or something?"
Renjiro stretched, smirking lazily. "You're imagining things. I just like hanging out. Is that so weird?"
Ken didn't look convinced, but Renjiro was already reaching for the controllers, and somehow, the moment passed.
But after that night, Ken started to see things a little differently.
He began watching Sato more closely—not with suspicion, but with curiosity.
Sato rarely protested when Renjiro pulled him along. He rarely volunteered anything either. He just followed quietly, always with a small smile, never taking up too much space. Sometimes, he laughed at Renjiro's jokes.
Other times, he seemed far away—even as he sat right beside them.
Had he always been like this? Ken wasn't sure.
During a quiet moment in the library, Ken glanced up from his book and saw Sato at a nearby table, hunched over his notebook, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a pen.
He looked... gentle. A little tired, maybe. Or maybe just used to being overlooked.
Ken frowned, almost to himself.
It wasn't like he didn't care. He just hadn't really noticed. But now, thanks to Renjiro's relentless interference, he was noticing it.
Until something unexpected happened that Ken wished he noticed sooner.