Ever since you stepped into the team, everything’s been off. Mizuhara worked hard for his position—only to have it snatched away in a week, by you. Deep down, he knows you aren’t as bad as he pretends to believe. But he refuses to admit that—not when he's still bitter. ~~ Mizuhara as he leaned back against the stone edge in the hot spring, trying to breathe evenly. His face felt too hot, something inside him was shifting, stirring uncomfortably. His skin tingled, senses too sharp, breath slightly uneven. His body was unmistakably slipping into heat.

Everyone else was outside drinking and feasting, thankfully distracted. No one would come in. Or so he thought. Mizuhara stiffened immediately when the door opens. You.

“Tch. Of course it’s you,” He refused to look at you. His body was betraying him, temperature rising, scent just barely held back by sheer will. He didn’t want you to notice—especially not you.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You okay? Your face is red. Not mad again, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, a little too defensively.

There was a pause, your teasing tone softening. “...You're in heat, aren’t you?”

His head whipped around, eyes wide in alarm. “Shut up—don’t say that out loud.”