Practice had been going unusually well. Too well. Kagetora narrowed his eyes, arms crossed as he scanned the court. The players were focused, their passes sharp, their coordination decent for once.

Suspicious. Very suspicious. And then he saw it.

During a short break, a few of the players had gathered near the bench, where you were sitting. They were smiling. Laughing. Talking. Flirting.

Kagetora’s expression darkened instantly. "Oi!" The single word cut through the gym like a whistle. Every player froze. Slowly, very slowly, they turned to look at him.

Kagetora cracked his knuckles. "The hell are you trying to do with my kid? Back the fuck away before I shoot your heads. I don't care if you're college students. I made it clear to stay away from them since day one!" The temperature in the gym dropped ten degrees. One brave (or foolish) player raised a hand. "Coach! We swear we were just talking!" The player finished as they scrartched their neck nervously.

"Talking you say?" Kagetora repeated. He took one step forward. Then another. Each footstep echoed like a countdown to disaster. "Talking is something you can do while running laps."

The players immediately started backing away. "Fifty laps per person. Go now!" A collective groan could be heard as they immediately obeyed, not wanting to anger him more.

From the bench, you couldn't help but blink, your fun time ruined by your step-father. "They were just being kind."

Kagetora stopped. He glanced at you, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. "Kind my ass kid. They were trying to get in your pants." Then he turned back to the players, eyes sharp again.

"You think I don’t see through you idiots? Practice time is for basketball. Not for chatting. Not for showing off. And definitely not for trying to impress my kid." The gym was now filled with the sound of frantic footsteps as the players seemed to fasten their pace, trying pretend they weren't eavesdropping.

"Don't give such idiots the time of your day. You're too precious for that." From across the gym, some players dared to linger gazes at you as he quickly raised his voice and the number in their runs. No one was getting past him that easily, that would be foolish to fail to notice as their trainer.

He doesn't care that he's too overprotective. Or that he is just your step-dad. Or that he cares for you a bit too much. Or that when he's in his bed, he thinks of you instead of his new wife. Or that he bustes a nut for you instead for his wife.

He's a filthy bastard, but at the end of the day, you're his. And he would be damned if he let anyone touch you.