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At age seventeen, Inumaki Toge finally presents as an Omega, and is officially labelled as his family’s greatest failure.
Not that there was a need to, of course; not when they’ve more or less branded — and treated — him like one during his Manifestation. If you ask Toge, he’ll say that his parents should’ve taken the hint when at age 8, he showed no signs of strengthening into an Alpha.
They had, instead, waited with even higher expectations for the next two years, when their perfectly planned lives came crumbling down the year Toge turned 10, and he’d Manifested as an Omega instead. Rounder hips, softening features, and a sweetening scent that followed him everywhere, Toge turned into both the scorn and desire to his family.
The elders made their disdain clear, blaming Toge’s Manifestation on his Omega mother. In turn, she took it out on her husband, arguing daily with him over the littlest things, and on Toge, neglecting him and pretending he never existed.
Toge had also seen, even felt the way other, albeit more distant, members of the family acted around him — leering, eyes always attracted to the swell of Toge’s hips and bum whenever he roamed the maze-like halls of his family’s estate. An uncle of two had even thrown out their scents to entice him one evening, and Toge — ten years-old, freshly Manifested, but without any concept of complex pheromones — felt his body acting reacting accordingly.
Little Toge cried all the way back to his room confused, tiny hands covering his ‘painful pee pee’ while his hole dripped with slick.
He’d alerted his mother of the incident, naturally, hoping that despite her anger towards him, she’ll still be the person who loved him and spoiled him and treated him like a prince. Instead, she’d simply looked at him in disgust, her wild, untameable hair making her look even more crazed, as he slapped him across his tender cheek, before confining him to the Omega-only wing of the estate.
On that same day when he moved in, cradling his red-bruised cheek, he learns from his unmated aunts and cousins that his parents had abandoned him, and he was to live like them — hidden from the world like a dirty secret. Grief and bitterness swallow him whole, as the realisation that his parents didn’t want him anymore finally sinks in.
Toge was inconsolable for at least two months after; he didn’t really keep count. He cried and starved, even refusing every unhealthy snack that every child would throw a tantrum for, wishing that he had never been born, even as his aunts and cousins smothered him with their love.
Yet, it was also because of them that Toge managed to create a new kind of normalcy — one where he was supported by relatives who genuinely cared for him, and wished for his happiness, who educated him as much as possible with gentle patience.
But as if he was cursed, everything falls apart again, the summer he turned 13, and he received his first sexual education lesson.
No matter how much the other Omegas tried to mentally prepare him, sharing with him their tales and woes (that Toge sometimes thought they were exaggerating), teaching him tips and tricks that they too, have learned through experience to defend against uncooperative Alphas and Betas, to live through the situation himself — alone — it was truly something that he could never be prepared for.
The curse eats at him, picking him apart like a cackle of hyenas to a freshly hunted gazelle, until his heart and scent fills with bitter cynicism, before he’s throw in the deepest part of the estate, where his only human interaction was the Beta head maid and a Beta tutor.
Toge frowns into the mirror, throwing the brush he’d been using onto the kyodai vanity. That had been the single worst day in his life, barring the fact that he’s had many horrible days prior. The nightmare — as Toge affectionately dubs the incident — ended up stealing his voice and instead, gave him a nose that was hypersensitive to Alpha scents and pheromones.
Though in hindsight, and as fucked up as it sounds, Toge supposes he should also thank his instructor. If it weren’t for that backwards, shit-eating Alpha, Toge doesn’t think he’ll be mentally prepared for the celebratory gala his parents hosts just a week after his Presentation.
Celebratory Gala, my ass, Toge’s lips twists even further, his sweet plum blossom scent souring into something akin to rotten plums. He picks up the brush again, smoothing out long strands of hair through its dense bristles— hair that he’d been forbidden to cut since his first Manifestation.
Something about male Omegas having long hair to soften themselves, to differentiate themselves from the Alphas and Betas. Whatever the hell that meant. Toge thinks it’s a load of bull the elders have created, to hide their shame of a male Omega in the main family.
Toge had heard whispers and gossips of how his parents had been planning an event during his Presentation — because while his family were practiced secret keepers, the servants on the estate weren’t — to celebrate his status as the first male Omega born to the line in over three generations.
Even in his heat-induced delirium, Toge guessed that it was more or less an auction to prostitute him off to the highest bidding, and extremely influential, Alpha or Beta. Male Omegas were highly valued in the market, for their exceptional beauty and rarity.
Like owning a limited edition toy.
Toge spent his first Heat with his fists balled tightly in his sheets, knuckles deathly white while he slipped in and out of consciousness, his sanity barely kept intact by cursing every last member of his family. He didn’t want to touch himself — he refused to touch himself — his wanton whines only fuelling his need to prove that he could fight against instincts.
And by the fourth day, when the fire in his blood waned, Toge’s body sagged into his sweat-drenched sheets, throat hoarse and body too weak to move.
The upsetting, but no less unexpected part of it all, was the Head Maid barging into his room the day his Heat broke, announcing with splintering wood from his door that she would be preparing him for the upcoming party.
“Toge-sama, it’s past the time that is appropriate for resting,” the Head Maid’s stern, but unfortunately scratchy voice scolds from the doorway.
The Head Maid is a deceptively weak-looking Beta, despite her heavyset build, whose family has served Toge’s for generations. Her dark hair, which Toge knows is dyed, is pulled into a tight bun, revealing every bit of her pug-like face, while the spectacles that sat atop her nose were black-rimed and painfully old-fashioned.
A thirteen year old Toge had called her the Witch of the Waste, for her uncanny resemblance to the character from his beloved movie.
Narrowed eyes glare at Toge’s posture at the vanity, at how he crossed his legs like an unrefined ruffian, exposing his unblemished legs, instead of sitting with his legs under like a proper Omega.
To hell with propriety, Toge thinks with a glare back, daring the unsightly woman to challenge him. Thankfully, she doesn’t. However, she does anger him by saying, “At least you’ve done one thing right today. For once.”
Toge’s lips peel back in a snarl, almost hissing, as his new scent turns acrid, smelling like durians instead of fresh plums. The Head Maid pays his temper no heed, as she squeezes into his already small room, carrying a pale wooden box scorched with the Inumaki crest on its side. Toge’s mood shifts, and he perks up.
He’s seen that chest before, backed when he lived with the rest of his family; he knows that it’s made out of the highest grade Paulownia his family could find, no price too steep. They were obsessed like that, and despite the logical part of his brain warning him otherwise, Toge couldn’t help the small flicker of hope.
It was his birthday, after all. Even if it weren’t from the Elders or his parents, it could’ve been sent by one of his married cousins. His wardrobe and belongings were mostly gifted by them.
The Head Maid sets down the embossed chest at the foot of Toge’s bed, on top of the storage unit that housed the books and games he’s collected over the years — also gifts from his cousins — and lifts the cover off.
Toge twists himself at the waist, hoping to sneak a peek at the garment inside the box. The tatoushi paper crinkles pleasingly, heightening his anticipation. The Head Maid must have caught onto the way his scent sweetens; she wouldn’t be edging him like this otherwise!
“In light of your… disposition in the family,” the Head Maid begins mockingly, and Toge once again, wishes bodily harm on her, “the Elders have given you to borrow Ibara-sama’s furisode, from her Presentation engagement, to be exact, as she’s the closest to you in stature.”
The curse that evaded Toge for the last four years rears its ugly head once again, this time in the form of his cousin’s apple green kimono, cackling and ridiculing as it carves a hole out of his chest, where his heart should’ve been, mottled with battle scars.
He turns back to face the mirror, discreetly wiping the tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes as he breathed in slowly, deeply, quietly. He didn’t need the Witch to hear him sniffling. Loyal as she was to the family, Toge has no doubts that she would report his crying to his mother, who will then keep him locked in the estate. He didn’t want that kind of depressing outcome.
Toge tries to look on the brighter side instead.
While the kimono is criminally out of season, as autumn slowly transitioned to winter, Toge didn’t hate the piece itself. Ibara was the cousin closest to him in age, was the one who introduced society’s hottest trends and gossip to him. He could trust her fashion sense.
But it’s not mine, the words echo in Toge’s mind, repeating and bullying.
Toge could trust Ibara’s taste in designing her own kimono, but he couldn’t trust himself to not burn it in bitter jealousy.
The Inumaki gala is in full swing when Yuuta and Rika arrives far too late to the undecorated venue, dressed modernly in maroon. The speeches are long over, according to everyone’s glares and whispering, as they have transitioned to simply mingling amongst the crowd, entertainment be damned.
“Having this many Alphas and Betas in one place should be illegal,” Rika grumbles, as she discreetly swipes a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. She takes a long sip, continuing, “It’s smells worse than our brothels.”
Yuuta picks up a glass of juice — because he was the responsible one — and quietly agrees with Rika. Even to his Beta-dulled nose, the horrid cocktail of Alpha pheromones burned his lungs, while causing heat to prickle along the base of his spine. He tries to take a slow, deep breath, hoping to get in some fresh air, only to end up with a lungful of an Alpha’s lust. Yuuta swallows a gag over the rim of his drink. It was more sour than sweet; it was grape.
“How are the Omegas even dealing with this scent?” Rika asks while looking around, as if trying to spot a face of discomfort.
Yuuta thinks she’s making a futile effort. “Except for family, Inumaki events are strictly Omega-free.”
“Then what about their mates?”
“Hidden at home, unseen and unheard.”
“What the fuck?” Rika’s face twists in displeasure.
What the fuck, indeed.
Yet, Yuuta is no less surprised. The Inumaki family were well-known traditionalists, especially amongst the more modernised nouveau riche families, carrying deep-seated — and extremely backwards — beliefs that Omegas were homemakers, meant to be kept at home where they belonged, their only use being a broodmare.
Their social circles, naturally, reflected this.
A majority of the guests in attendance, to Yuuta’s observation, comes from old money and even older traditions; they weren’t as old as his own, but enough to have substantial influence across the nation. He recognises their faces and remembers their names, remembers them as sore losers who couldn’t stomach their losses against his family, opting instead, to spread false gossip about his family.
His family would’ve loved to be here, even if out of spite.
My presence must’ve been a thorn in everyone’s side, Yuuta thinks, taking another sip of his too sour juice as he flits through the crowd of petulant scents and obvious glares, with Rika close behind, coming face-to-face with the Inumaki patriarch and his wife. Their expressions turn as sour as his juice upon greeting.
“Okkotsu,” Inumaki Tsukasa greets tersely, reeking of sour mulberries, before side-eyeing Rika, “Orimoto. I don’t remember inviting yakuza.”
Rika raises her glass in a mock salute, unbothered, while Yuuta says, “Rika-chan is here as my guard, while I’m standing in for Representative Iori; you know how busy the family business can get. You don’t mind, right? Since it’s on the invitation and everything.”
The annoyance painted over Inumaki Tsukasa’s face almost has Yuuta laughing, as he bites on his tongue while listening to Rika snorting a quiet laugh.
“A guest is a guest,” he grits out, fists clenching. His wife glares at Yuuta over the veil covering the lower half of her face, acrid anger rolling off of her in waves. Hatred burns brightly in her eyes, as if Yuuta were the one who wronged her, along with something indiscernible to his eyes. “Our son will be arriving soon; you may help yourselves to the food and drinks before he comes.”
Oh?
“Of course.” Yuuta says instead, smiling. He gives a short bow as a sign of his neutrality, before turning to leave, as Rika gives the Inumaki couple one last cheeky smirk, before they move to a quiet corner in the banquet hall.
“To think they’d start without their son,” says Rika the moment they were out of earshot, “what were they thinking?”
Ah— so, Rika-chan has caught on too.
Yuuta takes another sip of his juice and grimaces. It tastes even worse than earlier. “Humiliation, maybe,” he surmises. “Inumaki Toge is the first male Omega born into the main line, where males could only be Alphas, and females Omegas. In their entire history, though, he’s either the third or fourth male Omega ever.”
Rika groans. “It’s like the Zen’in maniacs all over again, except worse. At least Megumi is treasured.”
Her anger unsettles Yuuta, who suddenly finds her usually subtle scent a little too strong. He remembers Rika spraying dampening perfume before leaving the estate, deciding that it was probably due to the room’s animalistic presentation of scents that has him sensitive on edge.
Heat that had been at the base of his spine slowly travels up the length of Yuuta’s back. He fights against the discomfort and says, “The Zen’ins wouldn’t dare touch Megumi, not when Toji-san is in power.”
Because everybody knew how powerful Fushiguro Toji — having taken his wife’s name instead — was. The infamous Clan Killer, murdering his own father and brother in cold blood when they stood against his rise to the seat, and almost his own uncle, the previous Oyabun of the family.
Rika-chan stays quiet afterwards, preferring to remain silent, content with allowing Yuuta to do the socialising. Not that there was much to begin with; nobody wanted the attention of the Gojo clan. Guests standing on neutral ground would greet Yuuta, and give Rika a curious, but questioning side-glance, as if they were wary of her position as one of Gojo’s strongest guards.
But a reassuring, “Rika-chan is here as my plus one,” was enough to quell their worries. Heat simmers quietly under his skin, aggravated by the different scents bubbling away as if the room were a cauldron, prickling with the intensity of a thousand needles. They leave soon after, and Yuuta heaves a quiet sigh, as he reaches up to tug on his collar.
He thinks it might be due to his healing tattoo — a monstrosity of heraldic blacks and blues that cover both his shoulder blades he’d gotten just days prior — but as the heat spreads, crawling up his neck like a vine and sinking into his stomach like a stone, Yuuta thinks it might be another bout of stomach flu instead, made worse by the rancid smell of lusting Alphas.
“Yuuta?”
Rika’s blood rouge lips is pulled down into a frown, as she gives him a once over. Yuuta’s face is flushed, and there’s a faint scent in the air, pheromones incomprehensible as it sends his stomach into a churn. It’s sour and all too jarring and Yuuta has to swallow the bile threatening its appearance. Rika abandons both their drinks on a nearby table — Yuuta knows his condition must be bad, if she’d willingly give up alcohol — before dragging Yuuta into a secluded corner, hiding themselves amongst the shadows.
“You’re looking pale. Are you sick?” Rika finally asks, deftly removing her glove to press the back of her palm against Yuuta’s cheek.
Unexpectedly, and extremely uncharacteristically, Yuuta slaps Rika’s hand away with lips peeled back in a snarl.
The action has them both frozen in shock, as Yuuta looks at the hand that slapped Rika — an Alpha whom he trusted with his entire life — shamefully. It’s Rika who gets over the shock first, as she boldly steps into his space again to feel his skin. Yuuta has to hold back another snarl bubbling in his throat when her hand comes near, her beautiful jasmine and vanilla scent— which he grew up loving —now smells pungent, as if they’ve been left to soak and rot in water.
Rika gently prods his lymph nodes and scent glands, and Yuuta belatedly realises they’re swollen when they’re sore to the touch. Yuuta feels himself teetering along the edge of another attack, driven by instinct, and with whatever self-control he had left, he forces himself back with one, two steps, dislodging Rika from his neck.
“You’re Manifesting,” Rika declares — Yuuta feels like he’s been slapped — as she slips her hand back into her glove. “And judging from the way you’re reacting to my scent — into an Alpha.”
Yuuta’s jaw drops. “That’s not possible. There hasn’t been an Alpha in the Okkotsu line for the last five generations—”
“You can blame the Gojo blood for that then.”
He glares at Rika’s glee, at how she’s physically restraining herself from laughing like a madman, at how her scent continues to sweeten that he feels his teeth ache. Yuuta should’ve guessed that she would take perverse joy in teasing while he wallowed in misery. Her favourite activity since they’ve met was to bully him.
“Rika-chan,” Yuuta sighs, as he combs his hair away from his face, “I’m years overdue for a manifestation — eight years to be exact — and no Alpha Presents at 18!”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Rika cackles, as she rummages through her purse. “You’re simply Manifesting, not Presenting.”
He frowns.
She snorts. “Yet.”
“Rika-chan!”
Rika rolls her eyes. “You’re a big bad Alpha now, Yuuta,” she says, pulling out a travel-sized perfume bottle — Scent Neutralisers, Yuuta recognises; it’d been a gift from him to her — and spritzes a generous amount over him.
Yuuta coughs at the sudden cloud of vapours, dispersing it with a bad of his hand as his too-sensitive nose wrinkles tightly at the horrid smell. It’s sour and gag-inducing, like a concentrated mixture of baking soda and vinegar, but when his scent mercifully tempers and Yuuta finds himself breathing easier, he thinks the endurance might just be worth it.
“You’re supposed to be supportive, telling me that it’ll be okay, asking if I wanted to leave,” is the first thing he says as soon as he regains his bearings. Because that’s what Rika used to do as the Alpha between them. She protected and she worried and she supported. She threw herself between Yuuta and his bullies, sometimes even bullying them back until they ran away with their tails between their legs.
Instead, she raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow and says, “If your uncle found out that you left early over a simple Manifestation, I wonder how long he’ll be entertained for?”
Yuuta grimaces. Right… There was that aspect too.
Gojo Satoru was nothing but a man who liked to be entertained, especially at the expense of others. If he were to find out that Yuuta left early over something as trivial as a Manifestation, no doubt will he have a laugh over it for months. Were he not the first-born Alpha of the family, Yuuta thinks his uncle might’ve gone gallivanting across the continent without a care.
“Then, we’ll just have to stay until—”
Yuuta’s words cut off when the scent of a freshly Presented Omega wafts through the hall.
It’s a familiar scent; like the plum blossoms in his yard that always bloomed on his birthday. It smells of home and new beginnings, of happy memories and the coming of Spring. It smells like everything Yuuta loves.
Inumaki Toge enters the hall dressed in an out-of-season kimono with a veil that covered the lower half of his face, shoulders hunched in on himself with his gaze drawn down.
It only awakens something in Yuuta as he thinks that yes, Inumaki Toge is the one he wants.
Even amidst the assaulting smells of lecherous Alphas, pheromones smelling like rotten cheese, Toge manages to single out that one specific scent.
It’s a hint of incense in the air, light and almost unnoticeable, their pheromones insecure and disoriented, as if it were a child going through their first Manifestation. But Toge knows it’s impossible — the guests in attendance were to be the bidders to his freedom and bodily autonomy. Having a child in the room wouldn’t make any sense.
A child’s scent wouldn’t be able to entice either, nor would it whisper of dangers and promises, as it burned with a note of amber that greatly appealed to Toge’s still sensitive nose.
Toge was not a criminal.
He breathes in more of the scent, allowing the different notes seduce his being while his eyes scan the crowd. He wants to know more about this person, wants them to comfort him as they smell like home, because the Inumaki estate wasn’t. Toge thinks this person could love him — even if they were from his parents’ disgusting circle — and he in return.
They’re in the corner, accompanied by one other, masterfully concealed by the shadows, merging into a singular entity— living and breathing as a whole, hiding in plain sight from everyone. But Toge feels their eyes on him, can probably see the way they glinted in the darkness if he tried hard enough.
For the first time in a long time, Toge takes interest in this Alpha.
He allows his nose to take the lead, taking slow, measured steps through the crowd. The other guests watch Toge, mostly lustful, some curious, the rest in disdain. He doesn’t blame them. A male Omega of his status, prized and extremely rare, was treating them as if they didn’t exist. It was sure to bruise fragile egos.
His mystery Alpha, fortunately, seemed to be amused — impressed — at Toge’s defiance, their scented pheromones light and sweet. They remain in his corner with their companion, watches with a sharp eye as the scent-neutral Betas approach Toge with well-wishing congratulations on his Presentation. Toge receives them with well-meaning smiles and courteous nods; he couldn’t smell the lust on them, but at least they were keeping their hands to themselves.
He glances over to his observing Alpha, quirking a brow as if saying: Not joining in?
Toge almost preens when his Alpha’s scent changes, deepening and intensifying at Toge’s challenge. A long, slim leg detaching itself from the shadows, taking a step forward, then two, then three, until the person — the man, Toge’s mind corrects — reveals himself. Toge recognises him, has seen his face once, a long time ago, when his cousin had all but shoved a tabloid in his face, screaming and swooning over the pretty boy on the front cover.
Okkotsu Yuuta.
Toge knew who he was; it was an uncommon name in their circles, and in Tokyo, only one family carried that name. The Okkotsu family held incredible sway in the upper echelons of society, their influence bolstered by centuries of efforts, while also backed by the famed Gojo clan, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that they could even move the very foundation of modern Japan.
His eyes widened. Well, colour me surprised.
Yuuta was the eldest son of Okkotsu Yuuichi, the former Director for the Imperial Guard, while his mother was Okkotsu Sayaka, the elder sister of Gojo Satoru. Toge remembers Yuuta as a scrawny little thing in his pre-teens, with his nightshade berry hair stuck up in every direction, and his semi-permanent red-rimmed eyes that stemmed from long, sleepless nights in the hospital.
He’d been such a frail child.
Yet, Toge cannot deny that Yuuta has grown.
Long gone was the child who looked a minute away from death. Instead, Yuuta looked like he was Death’s best and strongest soldier, his body matured into sharp lines and even sharper angles. His hair was now out of his face, parted and slicked back to reveal unreadable eyes and a tight, trained smile, befitting of an Alpha.
Alpha?
A thought struck Toge.
Yuuta came from a long line of Betas, without any news of his Manifestation or his Presentation, yet here he was, the stench of an Alpha clinging tightly to his figure, revealing every thought, every emotion.
Toge looks back into Yuuta’s eyes, brows furrowing, as if asking, “What are you up to?”
Yuuta, in reply, mouths, “Come here.”
His scent wafts over Toge in a gentle command, and Toge feels like Yuuta’s just covered him with a blanket, coaxing him forward. Yuuta waits, anticipates, as Toge politely excuses himself and allows his feet to guide him forth. It should scare him — how ready he was to trust Yuuta, trust an Alpha, after all of his previous nightmares.
But it doesn’t, because Yuuta smells safe, even with Toge’s pheromone sensitivity. He can smell that Yuuta was genuine, that there was no underlying lust or antagonistic need to command Toge to submission. It was just Yuuta wanting to know more about Toge.
“Toge!”
Toge stops mid-step, tongue clicking. He’s quick to control his scent, remembering that his glands were bare of scent blockers. It was a needless item in the family, who believed in scent compatibility between the genders. Toge knew it was just their backhanded method of controlling the Omegas.
Of course, the last thing he needed was for the guests, or worse, his parents, to catch wind of his souring scent. It’ll just be easy ammunition for his parents— giving them the excuse to lock him in his room, without even a lowly maid to mock him for at least two weeks. Toge decides that behaving for the night is worth his freedom, however little he has of it.
Toge gives Yuuta one last look, apologising, hoping that the Alpha would understand, and almost sighs in relief when Yuuta gives him a small nod, before melting back into the shadows. Toge turns to his parents, sees them waiting with faux affection.
“Come over here, sweetheart.” Toge gags. Sweetheart? “Your mother and I would like to introduce you to someone.”
It’s out of sheer instinct and self-preservation that Toge takes slow, careful strides towards his parents. To the next person, Inumaki Tsukasa might sound like a caring father, who only worried for his Omega child, wanting them to have only the best, but to Toge, his father’s words were a cold threat: disobey me, and you’ll see what happens.
Toge could only listen.
He bows deeply when he nears his parents, hands folded primly on top of each other over his thighs. His obedience must’ve been satisfactory, as Toge sees no sign of disapproval from them when he lifts his head. Toge belatedly registers the fox-faced Alpha— the man has such a small presence —by his father’s side, his nose stuck up so high that Toge can see his hairs, and has a scent so appalling that Toge thinks he’s taken a swim through a landfill. The Alpha’s eyes follow Toge as he positions himself between his parents, gaze roving appreciatively over his body with such blatancy that it gives Toge second-hand embarrassment.
Creep.
“Toge, this man is Kitsunezaka-san,” his father introduces, and Toge almost laughs. So the name matches the face. “He’s the CEO of Kitsunezaka Holdings, one of Japan’s prominent families, and one of Father’s oldest friends. Our families have been friends for a long time too, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”
Translation: Kitsunezaka is old money; do well to behave yourself, or else.
Toge nods at his father’s words, because the Omegas of the Inumaki clan weren’t allowed speech, before he discreetly sizes up the other Alpha in front of him. Distantly, Toge knows that Kitsunezaka-san was close in age with his father, probably even grew up with him and studied with him, but with his hairline receding higher than Mount Fuji, along with the large expanse of greying hair, Toge would’ve easily assumed the man to be much older. Not to mention, he was tucked into an ill-fitting suit that seemed to only emphasise the worst features of his body.
My grandfather would look better in that suit. Toge bites the inside of his cheek, swallowing a snort. His mother pinches his side— a warning, and a reminder. Toge bows in greeting, despite his reluctance, and the Alpha looks (and smells) much too pleased with himself as he smiled with crooked teeth over a glass of champagne. It pisses Toge off. What’s he being smug about?
“You have such a well-behaved princess, Tsukasa,” Kitsunezaka leers, taking a long sip of champagne. Goosebumps erupt all over Toge’s skin, unbidden, as he cringes internally at Kitsunezaka’s voice. “She’ll make a good wife one day. I’ll even say that Toge-chan will make a good pair with my youngest son. He’s just finalised his divorce and will be looking for another mother to his children.”
Toge twists his lips, displeased. There it was. The first bidder to his freedom and chastity; the reason why his parents held this stupid gala in the first place.
He suddenly wishes he hadn’t sent Yuuta away in the first place.
Toge glances at his father, watches as the man weighed the pros and cons of a possible union between the two families. Toge couldn’t even bring himself to feel disappointed. His mother doesn’t speak, only standing by her husband’s side like an ornament.
Toge realises that this is the first time he’s seen his mother since his Manifestation; the light in her eyes are gone, her once flowery and loving scent now dull and muted, and Toge wonders if the same future awaited him as well.
"That sounds like a good idea,” his father eventually decides. “Toge.”
Toge swallows the last bit of rebellion down and looks up at his father, quietly awaiting further instructions.
“As of this moment, you are to act as Kitsunezaka-san’s escort for the night.”
Because I’ve decided on your engagement into his family, goes unsaid, but the implication echoes loudly in Toge’s mind. It’s shameful, to have his self-worth be compared to a common broodmare, but to his parents, nothing compared to the prestige of the Inumaki name.
So, Toge swallows the budding frustration threatening to seep into his scent, pushing it to the back of his mind as he nods.
He walks up to the disgusting Alpha who holds his elbow out, and loops his arm through it.
Kitsunezaka-san is, as Toge confirms, an extremely boring and pretentious man. It was obvious, from the way his eyes sparkled and his scent perked when another Alpha spoke to them, but soured when a Beta offered their greetings to Toge.
Kitsunezaka talks about his youngest son, Toge’s fiancé-to-be, boasts about how he was the most competent amongst his brothers, as he’d already taken over one of the three major subsidiaries of the company.
Toge couldn’t bring himself to care though. The youngest Kitsunezaka was thirty-five to Toge’s seventeen, while his children both Manifested as Alphas just a couple months prior. If anything, Toge was sick to his stomach.
How was he suitable to care for a pair of Alpha twins, when he was barely an adult himself?
Kitsunezaka then talks about his former Omega-in-law, comparing how Toge would’ve been a better fit for the family, pedigree and etiquette wise. Toge frowns, because neither aspects were to his choosing, but he knew better than to voice his discontent. Instead, he looks at Kitsunezaka with innocent eyes— wide and doe-like, just like how his cousins had taught him— questioning.
“A useless Omega”, Kitsunezaka grumbled, the champagne loosening his tongue, “her only job was to produce an Alpha son, yet she chose to be infertile after birthing two Alpha daughters. Even had the audacity to say that it was for the sake of her health. Bah! As if a mere Omega like her was worth more than the Kitsunezaka name.”
Toge has words to say, almost too many. Instead, he nods along, feigning sympathy for the Alpha, gently patting his arm, as if comforting. He doesn’t release any scent, not too soothe, nor to sympathise, because not only was that inappropriate, Toge doesn’t want to entertain Kitsunezaka more than he should.
He wasn’t confident that he could prevent his scent from turning into bitter resentment either.
Kitsunezaka guides Toge around the hall, introduces him to business partners after business partners, his hand creeping down to rest again the small of Toge’s back. Naturally, Toge recoils, snapping away like a tension-wrought rubber band and feeling like molasses was dripping down his back. It’s sticky, it’s slimy, it’s disgusting, and it’s upsetting; Toge wants Yuuta’s pheromones.
Kitsunezaka did not take lightly to his reaction.
He glares at Toge, smile dangerous while something akin to sour milk seeps into his scent— a warning. It’s a heavy pressure in the air, and Toge immediately lowers his head, apologising. The Alpha huffs, his scent mercifully lightening, as he replaces his hand on Toge’s back. It takes all of Toge’s self-control to keep his instincts in check: his scent glands are itchy, his stomach roils at the unpleasant scent, and it feels like there’s hundreds of thousands of ants crawling under his skin, leaving him extremely restless and jittery.
The tight leash that Toge has been keeping on his scent snaps in his hold.
“Seems like Tsukasa raised a real princess this time,” an Alpha— Komori-san, the CEO of Komori Banking, Toge’s mind supplies —jokes, prompting the other men to laugh along. Toge thinks Komori smells like popcorn and candy floss, of childish pride and glee from making his friends laugh. It’s no wonder he’s posturing.
“That’s not a surprise,” Kitsunezaka replies, as if he weren’t the cause of Toge’s nervosity. “An Omega son from their main line is as rare as a blood moon, so it’s only right for them to raise her preciously.”
Lies; his family wasn’t as noble as everybody thinks, Toge thinks with a bite of his lips. He ignores the obvious misgendering, doesn’t want to give them even more ammunition to use against him.
“Aren’t’cha lucky then, Kitsunezaka? Yer getting a blushing bride: young, unsullied,” another Alpha— Koyoi-san, of Koyoi Publishings— pauses, glancing at Toge, his eyes shifting from his head down to his toes, before he continues, “ready to be broken into.”
The other men — all Alphas, of course, all openly leering at Toge — breaks out into another round of raucous laughter. Their scents were a sickening cocktail of ego and lust, demeaning and dominating. Naturally, their scents draws the attention of every nearby guest, as they glare over and whisper amongst themselves.
Toge presses his lips together, expression impressively passive even as the urge to fight back rears it’s head. He tells himself that this was just the beginning, and thats he’s faced worse, but will also face more troubles once he’s married in, that he should take this as practice.
Kitsunezaka suddenly grips Toge’s waist and pulls him closer— where his scent is even stronger, even more appalling that Toge holds back a gag— whispering, “How about being my bride instead, Toge-chan? I’m richer and more experienced than my sons; you’d like that, wouldn’t’cha?”
This bastard—
Toge bristles, wrenching himself out of Kitsunezaka’s hold. His scent pulses out in angry, insulted waves as heat sears in his chest, hot enough to boil his blood. How dare he!
Kitsunezaka, in turn, frowns at Toge. He releases his own pheromones, burning Toge’s nose, pressuring the Omega into submission. But Toge doesn’t yield, even as he suffocates, because he has his own pride and refused to let another Alpha walk over him. Toge clenches his fists, clenches his jaw, strengthening his resolve as he and Kitsunezaka warred with their scents and glares.
Distantly, Toge hears the other Alphas jest, discussing how Toge was the first Omega to openly defy Kitsunezaka twice. It only serves to upset Kitsunezaka further, his already thunderous darkening even more as he steps up to Toge, who continues to stand ground.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Kitsunezaka stops and the laughter ceases, with every head turning towards the new voice. A shadow falls over Toge, sliding between him and the offending Alpha, the scent of burning incense flooding the surrounding air.
Toge’s pulse skips.
Incense.
Yuuta!
“Okkotsu brat,” Kitsunezaka snarls, low and growling, his pheromones rolling out heavier than before. “What is your kind doing here?”
Yuuta laughs, undeterred, but Toge doesn’t detect any humour. There’s a large hand reaching back to pull Toge against a hard back, and the comfort he’d been seeking since their first interaction washes over him. “What do you mean by that Kitsunezaka-san? I was invited here, just like everyone else.”
Kitsunezaka growls, acrid scent reeking of threatened pride. Toge was going to throw up at the abhorrent smell; he presses his nose against Yuuta’s back. “You know yakuza aren’t welcome amongst the Inumaki family.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean. Yakuza?” Yuuta’s back vibrates as he laughs. “I’m here on behalf of Representative Iori. You should know them — they vetoed your irresponsibly dangerous ventures.”
The scent of incense strengthens, countering other scents and drowning Toge with his. Protectiveness burned beneath notes of something spicier, something alcoholic, and as Toge inhales a deep breath, he feels himself getting drunk on Yuuta.
“Deny it all you want, Okkotsu brat, but we all know I’m right,” Kitsunezaka argues, his scent mercifully fainter now that Toge had Yuuta. “Nobody here cares who your family is, or how high up your connections go — I am still your senior!”
Toge flinches. He doesn’t like where the direction of this argument was going. Wanting to be uninvolved, he begins tugging on Yuuta’s blazer, pulling the Alpha away from Kitsunezaka. Yuuta could probably smell the panic slowly wafting from Toge, as he allows himself to be pulled along.
Unsurprisingly, their shouting and childish competition of scents has attracted an audience, as blatant disapproval floods the room. There was no movement to intervene, not between the two warring Alphas — which, Toge thinks, was the best idea he’s seen the entire day.
“If that were the case, then you shouldn’t be attacking an Omega in the middle of an event,” Yuuta argues back, his scent strengthening even more.
Toge’s nose twitches. Something was wrong. Yuuta’s scent was too strong, even for someone reacting in anger. Toge reaches up to rest his hand on Yuuta’s shoulder, to ask if he was well, or even warn him, because his nose was telling him that the Alpha was going into Rut, but quickly flinches away because Yuuta was absolutely burning!
His stomach drops. Oh, oh no…
“Yuuta—”
“Disciplining an Omega is well within my rights as an Alpha,”— Toge was so close to giving that fox bastard a right slap, his freedom and reputation and everything be damned —“they have absolutely no grounds to speak out against us when they’re nothing but whores—”
Before Toge could even process, or even blink, Yuuta detaches himself from his side, shooting forth to land a solid punch against Kitsunezaka’s face.
There was a scream—
— but Toge doesn’t realise it was coming from him.