My Mate Is My Roommate?

Chapter 9 - Rival Alpha

The filter upgrade arrived Wednesday morning - a white box with a HEPA core that the maintenance man installed in twenty minutes while Kaito hid in the library - and Daiki Matsuda arrived Thursday.

Daiki Matsuda was third year, rugby captain, Alpha, and famous for getting what he wanted because he was handsome in a sharp way and knew it. He sat next to Kaito in literature without asking, sliding into the empty seat beside him even though the back row had many empties, and leaned over Kaito's desk to read his notes, too close, his own scent - smoky, heavy - pushing.

"You write beautifully, Aizawa," he said, smiling with sharp teeth, eyes on Kaito's handwriting. He inhaled, obvious, rude, his nose almost to Kaito's hair. Kaito shifted away, his chair squeaking. "You smell beautiful too. Though someone has been trying to cover you up. Cedar, is it? Takamori? He always was possessive."

Kaito pulled his notebook closer, his collar instinctively up. "I have a boyfriend. Please move."

"I heard," Daiki said, not moving, his smile widening at the reaction. "Takamori is a good man. Stoic. Reliable. But he is also my rival for the inter-college cup. And you - you don't smell like you are really his, Aizawa. You smell like you wish you were. That mark is fading. He didn't bite hard enough."

Kaito's stomach dropped. Daiki was close enough to see the faint mark, now four days old and pale pink, still visible at the edge of his collar. He reached out like he would touch it, fingers extended, not asking. Kaito flinched back so hard his chair screeched loud and the professor looked up from Heian poems.

"Don't touch me," Kaito said, loud enough that the whole back row heard, his voice shaking but clear. "Don't touch me without asking."

Daiki raised his hands, eyes gleaming like this was a game. "My apologies. I just wanted to offer. If you ever want an Alpha who doesn't have to pretend, who will bite properly -" He left a folded note on Kaito's desk, small and white, and walked out before the class ended, ignoring the professor's frown. The note said: "Dinner? I can protect you better than a boy who leaves marks that fade. - D 090-..." with his number.

Kaito crumpled it tightly and threw it in the trash, but his hands shook the rest of the hour and his scent went sour with distress, which made Daiki, sitting two rows ahead, smile to himself.

He didn't tell Renji. He told himself it was nothing, that Daiki was just being an Alpha jerk, that Renji had enough with his sprained ankle and captain duties. But he sprayed extra blocker and kept his collar higher, which Renji noticed at dinner.

"You are quiet," Renji said, pushing extra tofu to Kaito's tray.

"Just literature homework," Kaito lied, not looking up.

At practice that evening, Daiki jogged over to the lacrosse field uninvited, hands in pockets, and shouted across the turf, "Takamori! Can I borrow your pretty roommate for a minute? Just to return his notebook?"

Renji, mid-drill with his ankle taped, went still. The team went quiet. He walked over slowly, lacrosse stick in hand, sweat on his brow, cedar scent going cold and sharp, the kind that made even Betas step back.

"He is not yours to borrow," Renji said, even, not loud, but the whole field heard.

Daiki smiled, aware of the audience. "He didn't seem sure about that in class. He looked scared, Takamori. Do you scare him? Does that mark scare him? My mother taught me fake claims hurt Omegas."

The team went quieter. Kaito, who had come to bring Renji water as he always did after practice and was standing by the fence with the bottle, felt every eye turn to him, felt his face go white.

Renji looked at Kaito, saw his pale face, his hands twisting the water bottle so tight the plastic cracked, his collar pulled up too high, his eyes wide and wet. Something dark and possessive and furious and protective moved in Renji's eyes, cracking the calm captain.

He set his stick down gently, walked to Kaito, and in front of Daiki and both teams and the coach, took the water bottle, set it aside, and cupped Kaito's face with both hands, thumbs on his cheeks, forehead almost touching his.

"Are you scared of me, Kaito?" he asked, quiet enough that only they heard, but his body language was for everyone, a clear claim. "Tell me the truth."

Kaito stared at him, at the open worry and anger and care on his face, at the cedar that wrapped him safe, and whispered, "No. Never you. Only - only him. He touched - he tried to touch -"

Renji turned to Daiki, his arm now firmly around Kaito's waist, pulling him flush, his scent flaring hard enough that even Daiki stepped back half a step. He pulled Kaito's collar gently down, revealing the mark, still visible, pale but there, and pressed his thumb to it firmly. Kaito gasped, soft and sweet, his scent puffing peach, his eyes fluttering, his hands clutching Renji's jersey.

"He is mine," Renji said, not loud, but absolute, Alpha to Alpha, no challenge could be clearer in this school. "He has been mine since the mixer. He will be mine tomorrow. If you touch him again without his permission, I will not be polite, Matsuda. Do you understand?"

Daiki looked at the mark, at Kaito's flushed, overwhelmed, clearly not scared of Renji face, at Renji's hand, and finally nodded, respect grudging but real. "Understood. No hard feelings, Takamori. I was testing. He is safe with you."

When he left, jogging back to his own field, Renji didn't let go. He turned Kaito to face him fully, forehead to forehead, breathing hard, his hand shaking slightly on Kaito's waist where he held him too tight.

"You should have told me he bothered you," Renji murmured, thumb stroking Kaito's cheek, voice rough. "You don't have to handle Alphas alone. That's what I'm here for."

"I didn't want to make trouble for lacrosse," Kaito whispered, eyes wet, clutching Renji's sweaty jersey with both fists, inhaling cedar to calm his racing heart. "You were so - you said it like you meant it. 'He is mine.' You looked at me like -"

Renji looked at him, cedar warm and rough and honest. "I did mean it," he said, quiet, for Kaito only. "Fake or not, Kaito. When I said you are mine, I meant every word. I have meant it since you ran to me on the turf with your handkerchief."

Kaito stood on his toes and pressed his face to Renji's neck, just under his jaw, inhaling, marking himself back with peach, his lips brushing skin. Renji shuddered hard and held him tighter while the whole lacrosse and rugby fields pretended very hard not to watch, and Sota whispered, "Finally."

After the field, the coach pulled Renji aside and said, That was well handled, Takamori. But keep it off the turf next time. Renji nodded, his arm still around Kaito who was trying to be invisible. On the walk back, Kaito was quiet, his face in Renji's shoulder, his scent finally calming from distressed sour to soft sweet. I was scared you would be angry I didn't tell you about Daiki, he whispered. I thought you would think I was weak for not handling it. Renji stopped under a tree, turned Kaito to face him, and said, You are not weak for being bothered. You are strong for telling me now. And I am not angry at you. I am angry at him. He kissed Kaito's forehead, quick, in public, and Kaito made a small noise and hid his face again, his ears red.

The lacrosse team gave them space on the walk back, Sota mouthing sorry behind Renji's back. Kaito squeezed Renji's hand twice, the signal they had invented for stop, but this time it meant thank you.