The week after, school buzzed with a kind of nervous energy—club recruitment. Everyone had those forms in their hands like they were golden tickets. To me, they weren't just pieces of paper. They felt heavier than that, like whatever I scribbled on them was going to shape everything that came next.
When our homeroom teacher finally asked us to line up and submit them, the classroom came alive with shuffling feet and whispers. First-years lined up at his desk, some grinning, some biting their lips, and a few looking like they were about to puke.
Kiyoshi was ahead of me. He placed his form down with that same neatness he did everything else. Sensei glanced at it, then gave him a slow nod."Kyudo Club. A fine choice, Kiyoshi. It requires a calm spirit."
My chest thudded. Kiyoshi too? Perfect. I wasn't going to be walking into the dojo all alone.
Then it was my turn. My palms were slick, and I tried to keep my shoulders straight as I handed my form over. Sensei's eyes scanned it, then flicked up to me with a raised brow."Kyudo as well, Kurosawa? Interesting. Captain Ishikawa will be pleased to have such… eager new members."
Heat crept up my neck. My bow felt stiff and awkward, and I hurried back to my seat, cheeks burning.
Not everyone was going the quiet path like us. My eyes wandered to Kaito Nakamura, who was practically bouncing in his seat, talking loud enough for half the class to hear."Football club, for sure!" he announced, grinning like the sun itself.
Two guys leaned in with him. They weren't from our class—or at least I hadn't seen them around yet. One had a sharp, foxlike face and lips that looked almost too pink for a guy. The other had a warm grin and the kind of athletic build that made you instantly think sprinter. They nodded along, laughing as Kaito mimed kicking an invisible ball.
It didn't take long before I got names. A few days later, Sensei clapped his hands at the front of the class."To balance class sizes, we are welcoming three new students from Class B. Please welcome Akira Kobayashi, Arisu Yamamoto."
And there they were, standing in the doorway. The sharp one was Akira, the pink-lipped fox. Arisu was the runner. Our classroom instantly felt more alive, louder, like it had suddenly expanded in every direction.
Kaito wasted no time. He waved them over with that effortless charm, and the three of them slid into seats nearby, already laughing like they'd known each other forever.
But me? My head was somewhere else entirely.
It wasn't on Kaito or Akira or Arisu. It was on the kyudo dojo. On Ren Ishikawa. The thought that I'd see him—not by chance, not just in passing—but in practice, as a part of something… it made my chest buzz and my stomach twist all at once.
And maybe that's why I did what I did next.
After class, instead of heading to the dorms, my feet dragged me toward the third-year wing. I told myself I was just curious. Exploring. Nothing wrong with that. But when I caught the sound of running showers echoing through the hall, my heart stuttered.
I circled around to the back. Steam curled from a half-open window, the glass fogged over except for small, clear patches. My body moved before my brain could shout stop.
I peered through the gap.
And there he was.
Ren Ishikawa, back to me, water sliding down every line of muscle like it was designed to trace him. Broad shoulders, defined arms, the narrow taper of his waist—my throat went dry. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might echo off the glass.
I jerked back like I'd been burned, stumbling away, heat exploding under my skin. My whole body felt like it had been caught doing something forbidden, filthy even.
I ran. All the way back to Sakura Hall, my pulse racing faster than my legs could carry me.
But the damage was done. The image of him—Ren in the shower, body glistening, back carved by water and steam—was branded into me. I couldn't scrub it out no matter how hard I tried.
That night, the dorm was alive with the soft chorus of boys sleeping. Snores, shifting blankets, someone mumbling in a dream. But for me, the world had shrunk into the small, suffocating space under my blanket.
The day looped over and over in my head. Submitting the form. Kiyoshi's calm nod. The new boys filing in. Akira's sharp grin. Arisu's warmth. But every thought blurred, pulled under by the weight of that stolen glimpse.
I wanted to be innocent. To focus on archery and breathing, on drawing the bowstring steady like Kiyoshi would. But my mind was a traitor. My body, even worse.
Heat coiled low in my stomach, unbearable, demanding. My hand slipped down before I could stop it, sliding under the waistband of my boxers. My breath hitched, and I bit hard into the pillow to stay quiet.
In the dark, it wasn't my hand anymore. It was Ren. Turning in the shower. Catching me watching. Only in my head, he didn't get angry. His eyes smoldered, pulling me in.
I stroked faster, breath ragged, hips jerking against the mattress. My mind betrayed me with images: his hands gripping my wrists, his voice whispering my name low and rough, his mouth trailing down my neck, my chest, lower.
A choked gasp tore from me as I pictured him pressing me down, pinning me beneath that strength I'd only glimpsed. My strokes quickened until the wave crashed over me, white-hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face into the pillow, muffling the sound as I spilled over my hand.
For a few seconds, all I could do was lie there, chest heaving, sweat sticking to my skin. The shame came just as fast as the release, slamming into me harder than the orgasm itself.
Ren's image was still there. Clearer than ever. But it wasn't innocent anymore. It wasn't a crush. It was hunger. Fire. And I was feeding it.
Wiping my hand in the dark, I knew the truth I didn't want to admit: joining the kyudo club had nothing to do with archery.
It was about him. About chasing something I shouldn't. About stepping closer to the flame, even though I knew it was going to burn me alive.
And as I lay there in the dark, sweat cooling on my skin, I realized something terrifying—innocence was gone. What I had left was this secret, sticky truth.
And I wasn't sure if I even wanted to let it go.
END OF CHAPTER 6