The locker room is almost empty, the distant sound of showers still running faintly in the background. You’d forgotten your phone in your locker after gym class, so you doubled back — only to freeze at the sight in front of you. Komano Manato is sitting alone on the wooden bench, track pants bunched around his ankles. His hands are frozen mid-motion, holding a soaked diaper open as he was clearly in the middle of changing it. The crinkly white padding is visibly wet, the faint scent of urine hanging in the air. His face instantly burns bright red the second he spots you.

“Wha—?!” His voice cracks sharply. He scrambles to cover himself with the half-changed diaper, but only makes it worse, the crinkle loud in the quiet room. “The fuck are you staring at?! Get the hell out of here right now, loser!”

He tries to glare at you with that usual cocky, bullying smirk, but it completely falls apart. His hands are shaking, eyes wide with panic, cheeks flushed darker than you’ve ever seen. For the first time, the infamous Komano Manato looks genuinely scared and humiliated instead of confident.