Chapter Text
The air above the large playground at the park doesn't smell of sweat or earth; it is saturated with a very specific, raw metallic tang. It is the pervasive background odor of a massive group of young men, their blood, and the olfactory information it carries with it. What is taking place is a bloody, violent, no-holds-barred battle between two factions of Alphas.
This scent is intimately familiar to anyone associated with Furin High, a scent that sometimes clings to the hallways and classrooms in the aftermath of a particularly brutal bout. While Furin students are formidable and rarely are injured to the point of a major bleed, knuckles often split from the fury of their punches, but today’s opponents decided to play dirty, having brought knives and knuckledusters, cheap weapons wielded without honor.
That’s why Sakura Haruka’s nostrils are filled with the usual, iron-rich scent - the "Furin Stink" like they call it, strong, assertive, and undeniably dominant. It is the collective signal of the Bofurin.
We bleed Alpha.
The opposing gang is instead composed of Alphas and Betas, but they outnumber them nearly two-fold. Despite their foul play, Sakura and the others are gaining the upper hand. He is the grade captain and can easily track the ebb and flow of the fight just by the intensity of the metallic smells, distinguishing who is injured and how badly.
In fact, the ferrous scent is pervaded by the distinct secondary notes of every Alpha fighting alongside him: Tsugeura's sharp, almost bitter citrus of bergamot; Kiryu's vibrant, spicy scent of white pepper; Nirei, who smells clean, with his crisp notes of ozone and steel, and Sugishita, with his lightly smoky, burnt wood smell. Sakura recognizes them all, a sensory map of their fight, and is quite relieved with the awareness that no one has taken a nasty blow so far.
Amidst this ensemble of raw, potent iron, Suo Hayato is the anomaly. As always. So Sakura needs visual reassurance.
He easily spots his vice captain fighting just a few meters away, moving with devastating precision, yet he can't smell him. Not surprising at all. Though Suo is perfectly capable of drawing blood, he never adds to the metallic stink of Class 1-1. He has never been injured, not even a scratch. His physical presence is always clean, a blank space in the aromatic essence of their friends. It isn't that he smells like nothing; it is just that the faint, clean scent he carries—a whisper of dry, earthy sandalwood—is too subtle, too neutral to register a secondary gender.
Suo never bleeds, so nobody ever has had the chance to smell his true scent.
His Alpha pheromones.
It isn't important, of course, and nobody cares. Suo is a physical force, a pillar of Furin, and that is all that matters. Sakura smirks and refocuses on his own opponent.
He is battling the enemy leader, a cocky Alpha with a sneer who has managed to graze Sakura’s arm with a dirty knife. Sakura glances at the blade, then at the shallow crimson line on his skin, and feels the hot rush of fury. Of course, he can smell himself, too. His own scent, often described as too light for an Alpha, a mix of sweet pear and clean jasmine, still retains those essential cold, metallic notes of Alpha blood. And smelling it, he feels the adrenaline rush course through his veins, fueling his more aggressive, bloodthirsty, and reckless side.
“Come on, let's finish this. I will make you regret bringing that knife with you.”
The opponent grins at him. “Ah… You guys at Furin High are so naive. Did you really think we'd face you unarmed? What a bunch of idiots... We'll chop you up and make a stew of Alphas, and then we'll leave you here to bleed out, so it’ll be clear that the Bofurin isn't that strong. It will be the end of you.”
“Shut up and bring it on, you dickhead!” Sakura lowers into a crouch, hands raised. He wants this done before anyone gets seriously hurt.
That's when he smells it.
A scent, completely new and utterly overwhelming, slices through the metallic cloud surrounding them. It is delicious, profound, and intensely sweet.
It is the powerful, unmistakable fragrance of an Omega. Everyone around him stills, the sweetness of the scent making the Alphas go into a state of instinctive, physiological hyperexcitation.
What? Sakura’s first thought is disjointed, these idiots brought an Omega into a fight?
Then he freezes on the spot, fear replacing the anger. There is a core familiarity to the scent, a clean, dry layer of sandalwood underneath the blinding sweetness—the same note he associates with Suo’s neutral presence. He slowly turns his head to his right.
Suo is pressing a hand to his neck. A thin, dark line of blood is beginning to seep between his fingers. He must have been caught off guard by one of the knife-wielders.
Suo is bleeding. Suo is hurt.
Suo is… an Omega.
Sakura is so violently shocked that he doesn’t register the enemy leader charging until Sugishita slams into him from the side, kicking the air out of his lungs.
“Oi, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sugishita hisses, but Sakura is already scrambling up, his eyes locked on Suo.
Suo, despite the small wound, has already defeated the attackers who had blindsided him and is now looking back at Sakura, his pale expression a mix of mortification and guilt.
Sakura's system is flooded. The Omega’s scent is staggering. Gentle notes of Lotus Flower, Orange Blossoms, and Tuberose blend harmoniously with the familiar, calming sandalwood base. It is a potent, intoxicating wave of vulnerability and heat.
In an instant, the remaining enemies, Alphas themselves, go into a frenzy, intoxicated by the sudden, strong Omega scent. They converge, their focus shifting entirely to Suo.
Sakura doesn't waste a second responding to Sugishita. He launches himself forward in a full, primal, protective burst, screaming a battle cry. The others, sensing the enemy's sudden, single-minded focus, instantly follow his lead. The battle becomes a blur of frantic defense. The new, unspoken mission is to form a solid wall of Alphas to prevent the enemy from reaching Suo.
Suo, of course, fights back, agile and lethal as always, weaving between the chaos he has inadvertently caused.
The shift in the battle is substantial, with the betas retreating, fearing getting caught in the Alpha frenziness, and the fewer Alpha enemies easily swept away by Bofurin’s protective fury.
Incredibly, within a few minutes, the brawl is over. The Bofurin has won. They stand panting, exhausted, their metallic Alpha scents mixing with the potent, lingering sweetness of Omega. Suo stands in the center, and the others, every one of them an Alpha, are circled around him.
Sakura looks at him, perplexed, his chest still tight.
Nirei and Kiryu are the first to move. Nirei silently approaches Suo, offering a clean handkerchief for the wound on his neck. Kiryu just grins at him and pats him lightly on the shoulder before walking away. Then the others follow suit, one by one. They see the blood; they smell the truth; they say nothing. They simply walk away, giving Suo the space and the silence he clearly needs.
Left alone, Suo presses the handkerchief against his wound, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Sakura visibly swallows, his face already red from the adrenaline and embarrassment of learning the truth about his friend. But he is the captain. It is his job to ensure his vice is okay. He decides to man up and address the matter immediately.
"Hey, Suo, are you okay? Uhm… The wound?" Sakura’s voice is gruff, a bit unsure.
Suo looks up, managing a weak, practiced smile. "Ah... Sakura-kun... It's nothing... just a scratch. Heh heh... He caught me off guard..."
Sakura nods, noticing that the wound is on the same side as the eye patch, it's likely the attack came from Suo's blind spot. Sakura feels guilty for not protecting the Omega, but he realizes that if Suo hadn't bled and revealed his secret, he wouldn't feel this unpleasant guilt knotting his stomach.
"Yeah… I hate these scumbags who bring knives to fights," Sakura mutters, kicking a loose rock. "But... but we taught them a lesson, I think."
Suo lowers his gaze again, looking embarrassed.
"You... You all try to protect me... but I..."
"I know, you don't need us to save your ass," Sakura interrupts, the memory of Suo’s deadly precision overriding the Omega scent. "It... It doesn't change anything. Just… You could have told me, you know?"
Suo’s eye meets his, but his gaze is distant. "I know... But you should know how hard it is to be seen as the different one. And I didn't want to be faced with the evidence that coming to Furin had been a mistake."
"Don't be stupid," Sakura shoots back, taking an involuntary step closer, his protective instinct still humming. "It wasn’t a mistake. You may be an Omega, but you're one of the strongest of us. Come on, let's go back to school so you can disinfect that wound."
A little smile finally shows on Suo’s rosy lips.
"Okay… But, uh… Sakura-kun?"
"Mm?"
Suo’s eye shines with a tiny glint of genuine vulnerability, mixing with the usual guardedness. "Are you sure it doesn't change anything for you? If you'd rather have someone else be your second in command..."
"Bullshit," Sakura growls, pulling his collar up. "Come on, let's go, I'm getting hungry. We need to patch up the injuries, and then we'll go get something to eat, okay?"
Suo’s tension seems to melt slightly. "As you say, Sakura-kun."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The discovery of Hayato Suo’s secondary gender doesn't change anything about the Bofurin's structure, but it changes absolutely everything between their captain and vice-captain.
A week passes, and their usual patrol route along the streets feels fundamentally different. Before, Sakura used to walk with a prickly, indifferent confidence, maintaining just enough distance from Suo that their elbows never brushed. Now, his body moves differently. He is subtly protective, always drifting closer, positioning himself slightly to Suo’s left, between the Omega and the busy street.
Sakura's Alpha scent, coming from his healing wounds, that clean mix of pear and jasmine with a cold, metallic edge, sits faint but persistent in the air around them. It is a constant, low-frequency pressure, a silent claim that Sakura himself doesn't consciously recognize as dominance. He thinks he's just walking normally. But the others can tell the difference. They don’t say anything, though, probably not wanting to overstep or disrespect Suo’s boundaries. Or, simply, they don’t want to upset their captain with stupid comments about the fact that he has been fussing over Suo for a week without even being aware of it.
Suo, on the other hand, is fully aware of every millimeter of space between them. He has always been guarded, with a cool, detached demeanor, but now a distinct, subtle flirtatiousness infuses his movements. He plays on Sakura’s heightened, Alpha-driven sensitivity.
He gets touchy; he orbits around the Alpha constantly, indulging his protective, albeit involuntary, intent. He leans in to murmur something to Sakura’s ear, he walks shoulder to shoulder, he never strays too far from the Alpha. That faint, neutral sandalwood scent he typically carries seems to amplify whenever he gets close, a teasing shadow of the intoxicating sweetness that lies beneath his skin.
In his blood.
“You’re really keeping a tight schedule today, Captain. We have been patrolling for hours,” Suo says, his voice low, his breath whispering near Sakura’s ear. “Are we expecting trouble, or do you just enjoy my company and want to keep me close?”
Sakura’s spine stiffens. The proximity feels awkward and natural, reassuring and terrifying. His collar feels too tight, and he wants to pull it up, but that feels too obvious.
“I need to watch everyone’s back, Suo,” Sakura grunts, refusing to look at him. “It’s my job. Don’t flatter yourself.”
A dry, amused huff escapes Suo. “I bet you do.” He pulls back for a step, then moves forward again, placing his hand casually on the low fence they are walking beside. His fingers brush the sleeve of Sakura’s jacket. The contact is feather-light, but it sends a spike of awareness through Sakura.
Control yourself, Sakura tells the Alpha part of his brain, which is currently humming with possessive static. He’s your vice-captain. He’s your friend. The fact that he is an Omega doesn’t change anything. He is not…
But Suo cuts off the thought. “Are you alright, Sakura-kun? You smell… tense. Is something... wrong?”
It is a deliberate provocation, using the one thing that is now undeniably intimate between them—their scent.
“I smell fine,” Sakura snaps. “Just tired of your bullshit.”
They stop at the corner under the awning of a closed shop to wait for a traffic light to change. The street is quiet; no one is around. Suo steps up right behind him. The delicate sandalwood notes flood Sakura’s personal space. It is a bold move in such an open place, but Suo’s composure is absolute.
“Your collar’s crooked again,” Suo says, his voice dropping, sounding both casual and intensely possessive.
Sakura starts to turn, the automatic action of brushing Suo away already beginning, but he is too slow.
Suo’s long, pale fingers hook beneath the stiff fabric of Sakura’s shirt collar. Suo leans in, ostensibly to straighten it. His face is mere inches from Sakura’s ear, the sandalwood scent now overwhelming. Sakura feels the sudden heat emanating from the Omega’s skin.
Sakura’s breath hitches. He is paralyzed, his mind battling the Alpha instinct that wants to press him against the wall and the sheer shock of their proximity. Suo’s eye, usually impassive, is sharp and fixed on Sakura's mouth. Suo’s hand slips from the collar to the back of Sakura's neck, the light pressure there a signal, a point of no return.
In one swift, terrifying move, Suo closes the final distance.
His lips meet Sakura’s - soft, firm, and undeniably intentional. It is a sudden, shocking silence in the middle of the noisy world, a sweet, soft contradiction to the iron-stink of Furin.
Sakura’s eyes fly open, reflecting the stunned, possessive gleam in Suo's blood-colored one.