POV: Sakura Aoyama
The academy didn't announce it.
That was how Sakura knew it mattered.
Club participation had been listed as "optional" during the morning briefing, buried beneath reminders about midterms and uniform checks. No emphasis. No pressure.
But by the time lunch ended, participation had become inevitable.
Students moved with purpose now, drifting toward club rooms instead of the gates. Flyers were pressed into reluctant hands.
Smiles were sharper, more strategic. Joining wasn't about interest—it was about placement
.
Sakura felt it as she walked the corridor.
The way people watched her differently now. Less wary. More curious.
Association had shifted her position.
That was dangerous.
She slowed near the club board, scanning notices she had no intention of responding to. Debate. Music. Art. Photography.
Photography again.
The same boy from yesterday stood beneath the sign, animated now, camera slung around his neck, voice loud enough to attract attention.
"We're doing an off-campus shoot today," he announced. "Urban theme. Permission slips already cleared."
Several students perked up.
Off-campus.
Sakura's fingers tightened slightly around her bag strap.
That wasn't routine.
Her phone buzzed.
You don't have to go.
She didn't look at it immediately.
The photographer's eyes found her across the hall.
"You," he said, pointing. "You should come."
A few heads turned.
Sakura met his gaze. "I'm not in your club."
"You don't have to be," he replied easily. "We need variety."
She glanced around. Ren stood near the stairwell, posture relaxed, watching without interfering.
That was deliberate.
Sakura exhaled slowly.
"I'll think about it," she said.
The photographer grinned. "Meet outside the gates at four."
She walked away without confirming.
Her phone buzzed again.
'That's not thinking.'
She typed back as she walked.
You said outside changes things.
A pause.
Then:
It does. That's why I'm warning you.
She stopped.
Are you coming?
Several seconds passed.
Yes.
Her pulse steadied.
Good.
The city felt different with company.
Not quieter. Not safer.
Just less singular.
Six students gathered outside the gates—two girls from the photography club, the photographer himself, a boy Sakura didn't recognize, Ren, and Sakura.
The group dynamic was uneven from the start.
The photographer—Keita—talked too much, filling silence with enthusiasm. The girls laughed politely.
The other boy checked his phone constantly.
Ren said nothing.
Sakura walked a step behind the group, watching reflections in shop windows as they passed.
She caught fragments of their conversation—locations, lighting, filters.
Normal teenage things.
It felt almost wrong.
They took the train two stops into the city, emerging near a cluster of old buildings and neon signs. The late afternoon light painted everything in gold and shadow.
Keita clapped his hands together. "Okay. This is perfect. Urban contrast. We'll start with candid shots."
He lifted his camera.
"Relax," he added. "Just walk around. Interact naturally."
Naturally.
Sakura resisted the urge to smile at the irony.
She wandered toward a vending machine, pretending to examine the selection. The camera clicked quietly behind her.
"Good," Keita murmured. "Don't look."
She didn't.
A girl leaned against a railing nearby, laughing at something the other boy said. The camera shifted.
Then Ren stepped into frame.
Not intentionally.
He hadn't been directed.
He simply existed where the light hit best.
Keita froze.
"Oh," he breathed. "Hold that."
Ren glanced sideways. "What?"
"Don't move."
Click.
Click.
Ren frowned slightly. "You said candid."
"This is candid," Keita said, already reviewing the shots. His eyes widened. "This is ridiculous."
Sakura watched from a distance.
Ren wasn't posing.
That was the problem.
People passing by slowed unconsciously. A girl across the street turned twice before realizing she was staring.
Even Sakura felt it—the way attention bent subtly toward him.
Outside the academy, his presence didn't dominate.
It attracted.
That was worse.
"Can we get one with you two?" Keita asked suddenly.
Sakura stiffened. "No."
Ren spoke at the same time. "Why?"
Keita blinked. "Contrast. Chemistry. You're always near each other at school."
"We're not," Sakura said flatly.
Ren tilted his head. "We're perceived to be."
"That doesn't mean—"
"It means it sells," Keita cut in, already adjusting settings. "Just stand. No touching."
Sakura hesitated.
This wasn't school.
There were no teachers watching. No rules to hide behind.
Just choices.
She stepped forward.
"Fine," she said. "One."
Ren's lips curved faintly.
They stood side by side.
Not close.
Not distant.
The space between them felt charged.
"Look away from each other," Keita
instructed.
They did.
"Now glance."
Their eyes met.
The click echoed louder than it should have.
Keita lowered the camera slowly. "That's… wow."
Sakura looked away first.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She didn't need to check it to know who it was from.
They ended up at a small café afterward.
Unplanned.
Unavoidable.
Keita insisted on reviewing shots. The girls ordered drinks. The other boy finally put his phone away.
Ren sat across from Sakura, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.
This was different.
At school, the environment carried his weight.
Here, he was just another beautiful boy in uniform—noticeable, but not untouchable.
A group of students at the next table whispered openly, glancing his way.
One of them smiled.
Ren noticed.
Sakura noticed him noticing.
For the first time, something shifted.
A choice.
The girl stood, smoothing her skirt, and walked over.
"Excuse me," she said, voice bright. "Are you a model?"
Ren looked at her calmly. "No."
She laughed lightly. "You should be."
Sakura waited.
Ren glanced at Sakura instead of answering.
That pause told her everything.
"I'm busy," he said finally.
The girl looked between them, then nodded awkwardly and left.
Keita exhaled. "You could've said yes."
Ren shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."
Sakura studied him. "That's new."
"What is?"
"You choosing," she said quietly.
He met her gaze. "I always choose."
"Not really," she replied. "At school, the system chooses with you."
That struck something.
Ren's smile faded.
"You think I don't know that?" he asked softly.
Sakura didn't answer.
They walked back together at dusk, the group thinning as people peeled away.
By the time they reached the academy gates, only Sakura and Ren remained.
The gates loomed.
Open.
Waiting.
"This ends here," Sakura said.
"For today," Ren corrected.
She met his gaze. "Outside, you're not in control."
He smiled slowly. "Neither are you."
She considered that.
"Maybe," she said. "But at least here, the rules aren't written for us."
She stepped through the gates alone.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
The outside world was inconvenient.
Ren stood beneath the academy lights, hands in his pockets, watching Sakura disappear down the path without looking back.
At school, he understood the system.
Outside, attention moved freely. Desire wasn't managed. Interest didn't wait for permission.
He hadn't expected that.
The photographer's camera.
The café girl's smile.
Sakura's refusal to perform.
Control slipped in small ways.
That was dangerous.
Ren exhaled slowly.
Good.
Danger kept things interesting.