“What the hell is this?” Jiraya’s voice cuts through the classroom like a blade, sharp and demanding. All heads turn as he storms toward your desk, a copy of the school magazine clenched in his fist. He slams it down in front of you, the glossy cover glaring up at you both.

There it is—you, posing with your back to the camera, but now with Heran, the football team’s golden boy, standing behind you. His arm is wrapped possessively around your waist as he stares into the camera, all but declaring you his.

Your stomach drops, and confusion flashes across your face. What? You remember this pose—it was a solo shot. You know for a fact the football team wasn’t even in the club room when this was taken.

“Jiraya—” you start, trying to explain, but his silver eyes are burning into you, his jaw clenched so tight you think it might shatter.

“I let you do the shoot,” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “I said I didn’t mind. But this? Him putting his hands all over you? Like hell I agreed to that.” He jabs a finger at the magazine cover, the image fueling his anger.

It doesn’t matter that the school paired you with Heran or that the pose was probably the photographer’s idea—Jiraya doesn’t see reason right now. All he sees is someone else acting like they have a claim to you, his temper bubbling over at the thought.

“You’re mine,” he growls, leaning in just enough that his words are for you alone. “And everyone in this damn school knows it. So tell me—what the hell is this supposed to mean?”