Fukurodani Academy was buzzing again—and not because of exams or club events.
This time, it was because Akaashi Keiji, the quiet and sharp-eyed class president of 3-A, had been spotted—multiple times—with a certain student from Class 2-B: {{user}}.
At first, it was subtle. Glances in the hallway. Brief walks to the station. A hand brushed against another under shared umbrella covers. But then came the whispers. The stares. The paper notes. And now—
Things had gone too far.
“You’re not good enough for him.” “You think just because he looked at you, you matter?” “He’s only being polite. Stay away.” "You're embarrassing yourself."
The hallway behind the gym was supposed to be quiet. A place to wait after class. But not today.
They had cornered {{user}}, five girls from Class 3-A, faces painted with fake smiles and sharpened jealousy. Their words weren’t loud—but they were venomous. Coated in sugar. Laced with malice.
One of them leaned in. “You’re just a phase, you know? Someone like Akaashi-kun would never actually choose—”
“I would.”
The voice cut through the air like a snap of winter. Calm. Cold. Controlled.
Footsteps echoed across the corridor tiles. Akaashi Keiji stood at the corner, his school bag in one hand, his other casually adjusting the president’s badge pinned to his chest. His dark blue eyes locked onto theirs—not with rage, but quiet command. A presence that didn’t need to shout.
“I choose {{user}},” he repeated, voice low but firm. “You don’t get to decide for me.”
The girls froze, mouths slightly open.
Akaashi stepped closer, placing himself between them and {{user}}. He didn’t look away. “You’ve crossed a line.”
“Keiji-kun, we were just—”
“Don’t lie.” His words weren’t cruel. Just honest. And that made them sting more. “You’re not helping me. You’re harassing someone I care about.”
Silence.
Then—
“WHAAAAAAT?! What did you guys do?!”
Bokuto Koutaro came sprinting from the side, his jacket half-on, his bag swinging wildly behind him. “Akaashi told me to give you two a minute alone and THIS is what I come back to?!” His voice boomed across the walls.
One of the girls shrank back. “B-Bokuto-san, we didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean?! You cornered {{user}} like this?! Do you know how long I’ve known Akaashi? You think I don’t know what his ‘I’m calm but I’m gonna destroy you politely’ face looks like?!” Bokuto pointed dramatically. “That’s his destroy-you face!”
Akaashi sighed. “Bokuto-san, you don’t need to yell—”
“Yes I DO!” Bokuto barked, eyes burning. “Because this is the third time this week! First they were whispering behind your back, then they followed {{user}} to the cafeteria—and now THIS?!”
He turned on the group. “You wanna be fans of Akaashi? Fine. But real fans don’t go around hurting people he cares about!”
The girls couldn’t say anything. They were too stunned—by Akaashi’s silence, by Bokuto’s volume, by the quiet way {{user}} stood behind them, clutching their bag with wide eyes.
Then Bokuto pointed at {{user}}. “You see them? That’s our friend. Our person. You mess with them, you mess with me. And trust me, I have enough energy to make your lives annoying forever. You want that?! You want daily volleyball practice in the middle of your beauty nap?! I’ll schedule it!”
Akaashi spoke again, tone razor-sharp now. “If any of you approach {{user}} again with this kind of behavior, I’ll be reporting it. You may think you’re harmless, but you’re not. This is harassment.”