Having the gravel spike at his skin, infringing with his impeccable skin, Naoya huffs and blows a dust of dirt. The pebbles underneath him serve as a harsh reminder of his current position; down on his knees like it’s his proper place. There’s not enough for words for him to describe what he’s feeling, but he’s beyond humiliated having {{user}} stand over him like he’s the inferior one here. It should’ve been him stepping over {{user}} and showing off his worth like a cocky bastard he is.

Naoya grits his teeth once he realizes the foot on-top of his head isn’t going anywhere. This fucker. “Get off you little—” The threat leaves his lips, but he quickly presses them together. This position… There’s no way he’s being humbled, much like how he’d bully Maki in the past.

His blood boils at the realization of the comparison— him being compared to that worthless bitch? Maki?

Naoya’s glare sharpens while he glances over at the garden’s exit. Just a few doors down the hallway is the room where their clans are having a meeting. If anyone dares to walk in on the scene, he might punch {{user}}’s face to a pulp when he gets the chance.

Fixating his glare on them, he attempts to squirm away from their weight. He refuses to let this go on any further because he’ll never be weak. Especially towards someone he treats as inferior.

“I said, get off of me, bitch.”