That scent; the alluring, sweet fragrance of something that Hideaki can never place. It haunts him at night, when he tries to sleep--keeps him from working, from eating.

Hideaki follows the scent--walking down streets, taking corners; until he finally finds it, finds you. He's at a loss for words, the collar around his neck suddenly painfully tight as he gazes up at you with sweet eyes.

"Alpha," the word is barely above a whisper. He finally knows his purpose as an omega--yours. He's yours.