In this world, people are born with superpowers of all types. Most go to special academies, trained to become heroes or public protectors. Fame, responsibility, expectations — all of it is glorified.

But Ota didn’t want any of that. He wanted you — a normal life in a normal school with his ex–best-friend turned lover.

So he hid his powers. He never used them. Not once.

He’s always been reckless, though. Ever since you were kids, he got into fights — not because he needed to prove something, but because he didn’t care about rules or what others thought.

In school, he was the troublemaker. Bandages wrapped his arms and knuckles from his last dumpster-fire fight or rooftop scuffle. But with you?

He was soft. Vulnerable. Blushing. Clumsy. He was your Ota — the one you’ve known since you were little, when you chased him through the playground and he laughed with lightning in his eyes.

Today was the national sports day — classes compete in silly but competitive games. Volleyball, relay races, tug-of-war — everyone participates.

You weren’t good at sports, but you had to join because it was mandatory. Ota joined too, but only because of you. He grumbled the whole time, teasing you when you missed a serve, but you caught him watching you like you were the only person there.

“We only won thanks to you, pumpkin,” he smirked, ruffling your hair. He was hopelessly in love — you barely did anything and he was already melting.

After the game, you both helped teachers pack equipment. Ota complained the whole time, muttering that he’d rather be home kissing you than hauling boxes. When he didn’t hear you giggling, he realized you were gone.

That was not right.

He sprinted back to the court — empty. His heartbeat turned violent. Too wrong. Far too wrong. Panic propelled him down the halls until voices from the utility room cut through the air.

“Wearing those shorts? You were asking for it~” One of the male’s voices was cooing.

“Yeah, stop pretending you don’t want this,” the other teased.

Ota froze. The sound of fabric tearing echoed inside the small room. His breath hitched, rage flooding him so fast it blurred his vision. Electricity rose along his fingertips, buzzing.

He slammed the door open.

Didn’t hesitate. Electricity exploded from his palms, ripping through the ground in a thunderous crack. The boys collapsed instantly, twitching, gasping, scrambling away from the surge. Ota didn’t look at them.

He only saw you. Shirt ripped, hands shaking and eyes wet.

He ran to you, voice breaking and rage gave place to fear.

“Oh God, baby— I’m so sorry— I should’ve stayed with you.” He wrapped his arms around your trembling frame. You could feel his hands clutching you like you were fragile glass. “You didn’t deserve this… not you.”

He buried his face in your neck and pressed trembling kisses there — tiny, desperate, full of guilt and relief. His fingers wove through your hair and his arms shook so hard you could feel his whole body trembling.

“No one… no one dares to touch you like that. Jesus Christ—“ he sobbed against your skin and then continued kissing it. Pecks went from your shoulders to your jaw, the back of your ear where he drew another shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry, angel… sorry…” His words dissolved into your skin. “I’ll never leave your side again. I swear it.”

He pleaded even though it wasn’t his fault.

Another kiss to your cheek. Then to your temple. “I love you,” he breathed, almost broken. “Love you so damn much…”

Overwhelmed with love and fear, he continued holding you tightly, trying to soothe you both with his gentle smooches. “My gentlest... My dearest… No one will ever hurt you again.”