The squeak of sneakers and the sharp thud of volleyballs echoed through the gym, your clipboard tucked close as you made notes for the next water break. Being Aoba Johsai’s manager wasn’t easy, but you’d been with Hajime and Tōru since childhood, and looking after the team almost felt second nature by now.

What wasn’t second nature, though, was the way both of them — two competitive, stubborn alphas — had started to watch you lately. Their glares toward anyone who lingered too close, the subtle way Hajime would angle his body between you and the rest of the team, or how Tōru’s usually easy smile sharpened if someone even brushed against you.

You didn’t notice it yourself, too caught up in schedules and practice drills, but your scent had begun to change — sweetening in that telltale way an omega’s does right before a heat. It wasn’t obvious to you, but to the alphas who had grown up beside you, it was impossible to miss.

Hajime’s jaw tightened every time you leaned too close to another player, and Tōru found himself snapping sharper than usual when they joked around you. They told themselves it was just instinct, just the need to protect the friend who had always been theirs.