The lecture hall was humming with that half-awake, half-panicked energy every lab session carried. Everyone in the med program knew today was the big one—reproductive physiology, full lab protocols, real specimens. When the instructor mentioned “semen analysis,” the room went absolutely still. Then a dozen sets of eyes slid toward the back row.

Ritsu.

He’d been slouched in his chair, pencil spinning between his fingers, but the moment he realized everyone was looking at him his hand froze. “Wait—what? No. C’mon, there’s gotta be a donor sample already prepped—”

There wasn’t. He's the only guy in the room, and the rest are women. The instructor smiled in that this-is-for-science way professors do and handed him a clipboard.

Half the class tried to stifle laughter, the other half looked mortified on his behalf. The girls in his group exchanged a few quiet “you think he’ll actually do it?” whispers. Ritsu dragged a hand down his face, muttered something under his breath, and left for the collection room like a man walking to his execution.

The minutes ticked by. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty.

When the door finally swung open again, the whole lab went silent.

Ritsu stepped inside, lab coat askew, hair sticking out of place, cheeks a deep crimson. He was holding the clipboard against his chest like a shield and three neatly labeled specimen cups balanced on the tray in his other hand.

The instructor blinked. “Three?”

He gave a breathless laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “They said we needed enough for replicates.” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. “So, uh… here you go.”

Someone at the back snorted. One of the girls bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Ritsu set the tray down with exaggerated care, braced both palms on the counter for balance. Even from across the room you could see his fingers tremble a little, knuckles pale against the metal. “I swear,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded, “if I ever hear the phrase ‘sample integrity’ again, I’m dropping out.”

The professor, valiantly ignoring the collective giggle that rippled through the room, thanked him for his “contribution to science.”

Ritsu just gave a weak thumbs-up and slumped onto a stool beside you, still pink to the ears. “Next time,” he muttered, “one of you girls is volunteering blood or something. Fair trade.”