Mine

Ryu Isagi

Nakano, Tokyo, Japan - Midnight

The gym still smelled of sweat and leather, the rhythm of punches echoing faintly as I wiped myself down with a towel. Miku sat cross-legged on the bench, phone spinning between her fingers—but her eyes never left me.

When I dropped beside her, she leaned closer, her pout already in place as usual.

“So,” she started, voice light but sharp beneath it. “Did you really take Chisa to the station yesterday?”

I glanced at her. Hard to tell if she was teasing or testing me.

“Yeah. It was raining,” I said. “Would you rather I leave her there alone?”

She huffed, cheeks puffing out like a sulking little girl.

“Maybe if you did, she would’ve slipped and fallen into your arms anyway.”

Half-joke. Half-jealousy. I could hear it.

I sighed, dropped the towel, and turned toward her. “Nothing happened, Miku. You know that.”

Before she could fire back, I reached out and pressed my lips against her forehead.

“Ugh—forehead again? Seriously? When do I get an actual kiss?”

She tilted her chin up, daring me. I just chuckled.

“You’re impossible sometimes.”

Her pout deepened, eyes narrowing with that mix of defiance and something softer.

“Sometimes I think you’re too nice,” she muttered. “Being that nice—it’s bad.”

I brushed my thumb against her temple before pulling my hand away. “Or maybe you’re just not used to someone treating you kindly.”

That hit something. Her smirk slipped for half a second before she hid it again.

“Tch. Don’t flatter yourself, boxer boy.”

Still, her pulse quickened—I could feel it in the silence that followed.

I leaned back, grinning. “Wait… don’t tell me. Are you actually jealous?”

She shot me a glare, cheeks flushing pink.

“Me? Jealous? Don’t be stupid. I’m just making sure my boyfriend doesn’t get too nice with the wrong people.”

I laughed quietly and reached into my gym bag. “Uh-huh. Well, jealous or not…”

I pulled out two glossy tickets and held them up between my fingers. “…I was going to wait, but might as well now. Cinema. Saturday night. Just us.”

Her pout shattered in an instant. She snatched the tickets from me, eyes going wide.

“No way—you actually got them? For that movie?”

I couldn’t help but smile as her whole face lit up.

“See? That’s better. You’re cuter when you’re not pretending to be tough.”

Her blush deepened. She shoved the tickets into her bag.

“Idiot. Don’t say that out loud…”

But I could tell—under the bravado, she was glowing. Maybe she didn’t realize it yet, but I did.
For all her sharp words and jealousy, moments like this were when Miku showed her real self—real and radiant.
And honestly… that’s the version of her I liked best.

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Chiyoda-City, Tokyo, Japan - Afternoon

Saturday.

She’s late again. Not by much—ten minutes—but with Miku, it never feels like waiting. I already knew she’d come running in, hair a little messy from rushing, perfume lingering just enough to catch me off guard. That’s just her—chaotic, loud, but… strangely magnetic.

The funny thing is, I’ve seen her with everyone else. The way she struts through school like she owns it, boys trailing after her, girls whispering behind her back. She plays the queen, the untouchable. But right now, standing in front of me in that skirt she clearly spent too long choosing, asking if her eyeliner looks “too much”—this isn’t the same Miku everyone else sees. This is a girl who wants to be chosen. Just once, chosen without fighting for it.

I don’t know if she realizes it, but the more she tries to grab the spotlight, the more I notice her. Like when she clings to my arm pretending it’s casual, or when she sulks because I ruffled her hair instead of kissing her. It’s almost… endearing. Cute, even.

Still, there’s something else. Sometimes I catch a flicker in her eyes, like she’s terrified of being second place. Terrified of losing. Especially when it comes to other girls, specifically Chisa-san. I don’t know what’s going on between them, but I can feel it—this unspoken war. And here I am, right in the middle of it without asking to be.

I should probably draw a line. I should. But when she looks up at me with those defiant, needy eyes, like I’m the only person keeping her from falling apart… damn it. How am I supposed to say no?

The ticket feels heavier in my pocket than it should. A Saturday night movie near the imperial palace—something so simple, so normal. That’s all I wanted. But while I wait, my mind keeps dragging me somewhere else.

Three faces. Three girls who once sat where Chisa-san sits now in class, beside me, laughing, asking questions, sharing little pieces of themselves. 

Minami-san, the swimmer—she had this fire, always talking about her times and medals, her dream of the Olympics. One month later, gone. Just like that, transferred. No goodbyes that made sense.

Then Emily—Emiri-san. Blonde, bubbly, stumbling over her Japanese but smiling through it. She lasted two months. Then, suddenly, she was back in America. No explanation. Just vanished.

And Haruna-san… quiet girl. Always offering me her homemade bentos, apologizing if they weren’t perfect. I thought she was just being kind. Two months, then gone. Saitama, they said. But no one ever really explained why.

Three girls. All gone. All of them… had gotten close to me. And all of them had crossed paths with Miku.

I don’t want to think of it. I don’t want to believe it. But sometimes, when Miku’s eyes flash that sharp glint—when her smile feels a little too triumphant—I can’t help but wonder. Is it just a coincidence? Or is there something darker threading all of this together?

She’ll be here any minute, pouting about me looking serious again, demanding popcorn and soda. And I’ll smile, because that’s what she expects. But deep down, I can’t shake it—the feeling that my girlfriend carries shadows I don’t fully understand.

And that maybe… I don’t really want to.

But Chisa-san. 

She isn’t like the others. Minami-san, Emily-san, Haruna-san… they had warmth. They wore their hearts out where I could see them. Chisa’s different. Even when she smiles, it feels like she’s hiding a hundred thoughts behind her eyes, and only showing me the one she wants to show me. Like the rest of us are just… placeholders in her script.

That night under the rain—I still can’t forget it. The way she didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. The world was wet and miserable, but she looked untouchable, as if even the storm was something she could bend to her will. And when she spoke… she wasn’t talking about people. She was talking about stepping stones. About destinies, about climbing higher. 

It should have unsettled me. And yet… I can’t lie. There’s something mysterious about her. Something that makes me want to see what lies past that mask, even though I know it’s dangerous.

Miku and Chisa… sometimes I catch myself thinking they’re like mirrors. Not the same face, not the same pose, but reflections of each other all the same. Miku burns hot—impulsive, wild, desperate to be seen. Chisa shines cold—measured, patient, always looking ahead as if she already knows where the path ends. Two different storms. But both of them stir something too familiar in me, like I’ve been waiting for them long before I ever met them.

Lost sisters, maybe. Rivals, definitely. And me, caught in the middle of whatever fate ties them together. I don’t know if it’s luck or if it’s the start of something I’ll regret.

Suddenly—warmth. A weight pressing against my back, soft and teasing, arms slipping around my chest.

“Boo!”

My breath caught. Miku’s laugh rang in my ear as she nuzzled closer, her chest pressing into me deliberately, playfully, like she knew exactly how to pull me back from my thoughts.

I turned my head, catching a glimpse of her pouty grin. Her lip gloss shimmered faintly under the streetlights, eyes daring me to react.

She leaned harder against me, pressing her "two big weapons" as her voice dripped with mischief.
“Thinking about another girl, Ryu-kun? Or… did you miss these too much?”

Heat rose to my face, and I shook my head quickly.
“Miku…”

But she only giggled, hugging me tighter, her perfume cutting through the damp air.

The theater lights dimmed, the chatter faded, and the glow of the screen washed over Miku’s face.

I should’ve been paying attention to the movie. But all I saw was her.

Her laughter—too loud, carefree, making a few people turn their heads. The way she leaned over to whisper little jokes in my ear, even though she knew I was trying to follow the story. The way her fingers brushed mine on the armrest, not shy, but bold, demanding.

That was Miku. Always demanding. Always wanting to be seen.

And maybe that’s what caught me from the start. She wasn’t like the others who drifted in and out of my life, like fading stars. She burned too bright to ignore. She made me look her way—even when I tried not to.

When the light from the screen flickered across her face, I realized something.

I didn’t fall for Miku because she was perfect. I fell for her because she was raw, flawed, stubborn, and real. Because under all that loudness, under the makeup and the attitude, there was a girl who wanted to be loved—desperately, fiercely.

And sitting there beside her, watching her laugh at all the wrong parts, I thought—

Maybe I’m the only one who can love her that way. 

The movie was hitting its peak—music swelling, tension rising—yet out of the corner of my eye, I caught Miku’s lips curved downward in another pout.

I leaned in close, close enough that my breath brushed her ear.
“...What’s with that face again?” I whispered.

She froze, cheeks faintly flushed in the flickering light. Then she turned, trying to glare at me, but it only made her look even cuter.

“I just… I don’t like how it’s..... ending,” she muttered, her voice low, almost sulky.

I smirked, shaking my head. There it is again. That childish side of her. A side she never shows the world, but shows me without even realizing it.

The movie’s climax thundered on in front of us, but all I could focus on was her expression. Her pout. Her warmth beside me.

And in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the story on the screen anymore. I was thinking about how easily she stole my attention, again and again.

Her pout lingered until my fingers found hers. I squeezed her hand tightly, grounding her, grounding myself. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, then suddenly leaned in, bold as ever, and pressed her lips to my cheek.

“You’re too kind…” she whispered, her breath tickling my skin. “It annoys me.”

Before I could even reply, my chest tightened. She was honest—raw—never dressing her words in fake sweetness. That’s what drew me in. That’s what made her feel real.

I leaned closer, lips brushing her ear as I whispered one word meant only for her. 

"Mine"

Then I kissed her.

Our mouths crashed together, not soft, not careful—but wet, heated, full of the hunger we both kept holding back. She invaded my lips just as fiercely, her tongue demanding, refusing to let me retreat. The darkness of the cinema swallowed us whole, the sounds of the movie fading into nothing.

For me, there was only her. The warmth of her lips. The taste of her breath. The truth in her kiss.

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Chiyoda-City, Tokyo, Japan - Night

The movie was over, but the real show was the way her hand never let go of mine as we walked out. The night air was cool. She looked restless, fragile, even though she’d never admit it. We reached the parking lot, where my motorcycle waited under the dim lamps. She leaned against the seat, arms crossed, her lips still tinged with the memory of our kiss.

Then she asked, voice low but sharp—
“Why do you even want to date a bitch like me?”

I froze for a second, helmet in my hand. Her words weren’t coated with playfulness this time. They cut. She wanted an answer, maybe even a reason to hate me for it.

I stepped closer, placing the helmet gently on the seat beside her. “Because you don’t hide who you are, Miku.”

Her eyes flickered, skeptical.

“You’re selfish. You’re jealous. You bite when you feel cornered. And you’re brutally honest, even when it stings. But…” I reached out, brushing my thumb against her cheek. She flinched, but didn’t move away. “At least it’s real. You’re real.”

Her lips trembled, not with sadness, but with something she tried to bury—hope. She smirked, finally, though her eyes betrayed her.
“You’ll regret saying that, Ryu.”

I chuckled, grabbing the helmet and placing it on her head. “Maybe. But until then… I’ll keep riding with you.”

I climbed onto the motorcycle, and she slid behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist tighter than usual. Not just holding on—but clinging.

And in that moment, I knew: she wasn’t asking for an answer. She was asking to be believed.

The engine roared to life, and we pulled out of the lot into the quiet streets. The night air rushed past us, cool against my skin, but what I felt most was her arms locked around me.

She held tighter than usual—no playful squeezes, no teasing. Just a desperate grip, as if she let go, she’d vanish.

Then I felt it.

Warm droplets against my neck. At first, I thought it was the rain, but the sky was clear. It was her. Silent tears soaking into my collar, slipping down to my skin.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t turn my head, didn’t try to make her explain. I just pressed harder on the throttle, letting the motorcycle hum beneath us, carrying her wherever she needed to go.

Her cheek rested against my back. Her breathing trembled. The city lights blurred around us, and all I could think was—

For someone who always bares her fangs… she’s just as fragile as anyone else. Maybe even more.

And if she wanted to cry, then let it be here, in the dark, with no one watching but me.

Her tears burned into my skin, but strangely, I didn’t mind.

I wanted her to know—without words—that she didn’t have to fight for me. Not tonight.

Because she was mine, and I am hers. 

I slowed the bike to a stop near the small park just before her mansion gates in Den-en-chōfu. The place was quiet, the lamps glowing faintly, the swings swaying gently in the night breeze. I killed the engine and pulled off my helmet. Her arms were still wrapped around me, her head resting between my shoulder blades.

“…Miku,” I whispered.

She didn’t answer. Her breath was shaky, her cheek damp against my back.

Her body trembled, and she buried her face into my shoulder, the tears still flowing, silent but relentless.

“I’m here,” I murmured, rubbing her back slowly. “Even if you hate yourself… I’m still here.”

Her fists clenched against my jacket, and for a moment I thought she’d push me away. But instead, she clung tighter, her tears soaking through the fabric.

We stayed like that, standing under the dim park light, just two shadows holding onto each other in the silence.

And in that moment, I realized—I didn’t care what she called herself. To me, she wasn’t a bitch, or cruel, or twisted. She was just Miku. And for some reason I couldn’t explain, that was enough for me to love her.

Her fingers curled into my jacket, knuckles white. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the trees moving in the wind and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. Then, barely louder than a breath, she spoke:

“Promise me…”

I blinked, leaning closer. “What?”

Her face stayed pressed against my chest, her voice so fragile I almost didn’t hear it.

“Promise me… don’t leave me… love…”

The words hung in the air, soft and jagged at the same time, like she was terrified of saying them but couldn’t hold them back anymore.

I tightened my hold on her, feeling her tremble. “Miku…”

She finally looked up at me, eyes glossy and red, lips trembling as if she was about to say more, but didn’t. 

I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes closed at that, and she sagged into my arms, as if she wanted to believe me but was still afraid. I held her tighter, hoping the warmth of my embrace could say what words couldn’t.

Her voice echoed in my chest long after the words left her lips. Don’t leave me… love.

I froze for a heartbeat. 

That wasn’t just a request—it was fear.

Her arms clung to me like I was the last thing keeping her from falling apart. I could feel the dampness of her tears seeping through my shirt, hot against my skin. I understand now. She loved me so much it scared her. Loved me so bad that the thought of losing me tore her apart inside.

That’s why she pouted. That’s why she snapped. That’s why she fought like every smile of mine was something she had to claim before someone else did.

“Miku…” I whispered, resting my chin against her hair. My chest tightened—not out of pity, but from the weight of her devotion. She was raw, desperate, and unashamed of showing the ugliest parts of herself. And somehow… that made her even more real to me.

I pulled her closer, my hands steady on her back. If she’s this afraid of losing me, then I’ll just have to prove I’m not going anywhere.

================================================================================

Miku Takasawa

I buried my face against his chest, sobbing like a child. To him, it must have sounded like fear. Like, I was terrified of losing him.

But that wasn’t it. 

The truth was sharper, dirtier, rotten inside me. I wasn’t crying because I thought he’d leave me—I was crying because I knew I didn’t deserve him. Not even a little.

Eight boys. Eight fucking boys. And he doesn’t know. He looks at me like I’m the only girl in his world, like I’m something pure, something worth protecting. His kindness burns me alive, because I know what I’ve done. I know what I am.

That one kiss he gives me in the cinema feels like theft. Every time he calls me his, I feel the weight of every lie I’ve piled behind my back.

And yet… I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. 

I want him more than anyone, more than anything, and that makes it worse. 

Because while he’s here thinking I’m crying out of love, the truth is—I’m crying because I’ve already betrayed him.

You’re too kind, Ryu. Too kind for a bitch like me.

I clutched him tighter, nails digging into his back. If he ever found out… if he ever looked at me with disgust instead of love… that would be the real end of me.

So I cried harder, swallowing the guilt, choking on the truth I could never say out loud.

I pressed my face deeper into his shoulder, letting the tears soak his shirt. He thought I was fragile in this moment, thought he was protecting me. If only he knew what kind of monster he was holding.

No… he could never know. 

Not yet.

I’ll keep lying. I’ll keep smiling, pouting, teasing—everything he loves about me. I’ll play the perfect girlfriend, the one he deserves to see, not the one I really am.

Because if I told him now, he’d walk away....

And I can’t lose him.

Not him.

Not this warmth.

Not this stupid boy who kisses me like I’m the only girl in the universe.

The other seven… they don’t matter. They never did. They’re just distractions, trophies, names on a list to make me feel powerful. But Ryu—Ryu makes me feel human.

One day, when I’m sure. When I know he won’t let go of me, no matter what filth I’ve crawled through—then I’ll leave them all behind. Until then…

I’ll lie.

I’ll lie

and lie until my lies become my only shield.

I gripped his hand tighter, whispering through the tears I couldn’t stop:

“Don’t leave me, love…”

And in my heart, the vow twisted like a knife.

Not until I’ve cut them all away. Not until it’s only you and me.

Ryu Isagi

Her tears soaked into my shirt, warm against my neck as we sat on the cold metal of my motorcycle under the quiet streetlamp. I tilted her chin up, my thumb brushing her damp cheek. She looked broken, fragile in a way Miku never let anyone see.

I couldn’t stop myself.
I kissed her.

Her lips were wet with salt, trembling against mine, but the moment our mouths met, she melted into me. It was desperate, raw, like she needed this kiss to prove I wouldn’t let go. I deepened it, pulling her closer, tasting the vulnerability she hid from the world. Tasting her whole world.

In that moment, I swore—I’d protect her. No matter what. No matter why she cried, no matter what darkness she carried, I’d be her light.

================================================================================

Miku Takasawa

He kissed me.

My lips trembled, not from fear of him leaving, but from the shame that I didn’t deserve this.

You idiot, Ryu… You don’t know. You don’t know I’ve been lying. You don’t know I’ve been dating seven other boys, playing queen while you stayed honest, loyal.

And still… he kissed me like I was the only girl in his world.

I tightened my grip around his neck, kissing him back, greedily, hungrily. Because maybe—just maybe—I could let go of the others one day. Maybe I could be his alone.

But not yet.
Not tonight.

So I let him believe. Let him hold me. Let him love me.
And I cried harder, because lying to someone this good was the cruelest thing I’d ever done. 

================================================================================

After a while, we stared at each other and said the same thing.

"You're mine...."