Chapter 5: Time skip
The auditorium lights were too bright, catching the gold embroidery on the ceremonial haori. Ryou sat in the third row, his hands clasped tightly between his knees, watching as first Brian, then Hayahide, walked across the stage. Their names echoed, met with respectful applause. The graduation and retirement ceremony was a beautiful, formal torture. Every handshake they received from the committee felt like a violation of a private pact. Every smile they gave to well-wishers was a smile he couldn’t yet fully claim.
He saw it in their eyes when they descended the steps, diplomas in hand. The cool, collected focus in Brian’s grey gaze was now a blaze of pure intent. Hayahide’s usual graceful composure held a new, unshakable certainty. The hundred and thirteen days were up. The countdown had reached zero.
The drinking was Brian’s idea. “We’re civilians now, Sensei,” she’d said, the title sounding like a private joke. “You can’t deny your fellow adults a congratulatory drink.”
The izakaya was loud and packed, but they found a corner booth. Sake gave way to beer, then to shochu. The formality of the day melted under the amber lights and the hum of conversation. Hayahide’s laugh grew looser, her body leaning into his side. Brian’s sarcastic remarks became more pointed, her foot brushing against his leg under the table with deliberate, repeated pressure.
“Remember the onsen?” Hayahide slurred softly, her head on his shoulder, her breath warm with plum wine. “How you tasted on our lips?”
Ryou’s glass halted halfway to his mouth. Brian watched him over the rim of her own, her expression unreadable. “I remember,” he said, his voice low.
“Good,” Brian said, finishing her drink. “Settle the bill. We’re going home.”
The walk to his apartment was a fever dream. Hayahide clung to his arm, humming. Brian walked a step ahead, a queen leading her procession. The spring night air did nothing to cool the heat under his skin, a heat fueled by alcohol and a year of relentless, deliberate denial.
His front door clicked shut, sealing them in the familiar, quiet darkness of his genkan. The silence was immediate and absolute, broken only by their ragged breathing. Then Hayahide was on him, her mouth finding his with a desperate, messy hunger. The taste of shochu and her own sweetness was intoxicating. Brian pressed against his back, her hands sliding under his blazer, pushing it off his shoulders.
“Bedroom,” Brian commanded into the nape of his neck, her teeth grazing his skin. “Now. No more waiting.”
They stumbled down the hall, a tangle of limbs and grasping hands. His bedroom doorframe caught his shoulder, a dull pain that was instantly forgotten as Hayahide pushed him back onto his bed. The dim light from the streetlamp outside cut across the room, illuminating them in strips of pale yellow.
They stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at him. With a synchronized, deliberate slowness that was more terrifying than any haste, they began to undress. Brian’s movements were sharp, efficient. The black graduation dress pooled at her feet. Hayahide’s was slower, more sensual, the fabric whispering as it slid down her body. They were revealed in the half-light, warrior-goddesses stripped of their ceremonial armor. Brian’s compact, powerful musculature, every scar from track and turf a silver line in the gloom. Hayahide’s longer, elegant lines, the swell of her hips, the curve of her breasts.
They moved onto the bed, straddling his thighs, still in his trousers and untucked shirt. The scent of jasmine from Hayahide’s hair mixed with Brian’s sharper, clean sweat. Their skin was searingly hot against his.
Brian reached down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his trousers and boxers, dragging them down in one rough motion. His cock sprung free, already fully, painfully hard from the night, from the year, from the sight of them.
Hayahide leaned forward, her blonde hair curtaining their faces. “The promise, Ryou,” she whispered, her formal use of his name a shock. “You made it. We held up our end.” She then lifted herself, one hand guiding him, the other spreading herself open for him to see in the dim light. She was glistening, utterly soaked. “Now you hold up yours.”
Brian, on his other side, did the same. Her grey eyes were black pits of need. She took his hand and pressed his fingers against her own warmth. “You feel that? That’s for you. Every fucking day since the mountain.” She tightened her grip on his wrist, forcing his fingers to dip inside her, and she gasped, her head falling back. “Now you put it where it belongs. Breed me. Breed us. Fill us up until we fucking overflow.”
The crude, desperate words shattered the last of his resolve. This wasn’t a trainer and his charges. This was a man and the two women who had orchestrated his desire for a year, who had won their freedom and come to claim their prize.
He rolled, pinning Brian beneath him. There was no more gentleness, no more hesitation. He guided himself to her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick heat. Her legs wrapped around his back, her heels digging into his ass.
“Do it,” she hissed, her composure gone, replaced by a feral need. “Fucking do it, Ryou!”
He pushed in. A single, brutal, complete thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her. She cried out, a sharp, broken sound that was part shock, part profound relief. She was unbelievably tight, a searing, wet fist clamping around him. He held still for a moment, trembling, overwhelmed by the sensation of finally being inside her after so many months of torturous restraint.
Then he pulled back and drove into her again. And again. Setting a pace that was pure instinct, a rhythm of claiming and possession. The bed slammed against the wall. Brian’s fingernails scored his back. Her moans were short, punched-out gasps that matched his thrusts. “Yes… yes… fuck, right there, god!”
Hayahide was beside them, her hand working furiously between her own legs, her eyes glued to where he was joined to Brian. “Look at her take it,” Hayahide moaned. “Look how full she is. My turn next. I need to feel it too.”
Brian’s climax hit her suddenly. Her whole body locked, a silent scream on her lips before a choked, guttural “Fuck!” tore from her throat. Her inner muscles pulsed around him, a rhythmic, milking contraction that pushed him to his own edge. He kept pounding into her through her orgasm, extending it, wringing every shudder from her body.
When he finally pulled out of Brian, she whimpered at the loss. He was slick with her cum, glistening in the low light. Hayahide was already on her back, legs spread and knees up, pulling him over her. Her elegance was gone, replaced by a raw, hungry urgency.
“Now me,” she demanded, guiding him to her entrance. “Give it to me. I want it all.”
He entered her in one long, deep slide. Hayahide was different—softer, deeper, a velvet warmth that welcomed him completely. She threw her head back, a long, low moan escaping her. “Finally… oh god, finally…”
He fucked her with a driven, focused intensity, one hand braced by her head, the other gripping her thigh, holding her open for him. Brian, recovered, crawled up alongside Hayahide, kissing her, swallowing her moans, then kissing down her body to take one of her nipples into her mouth. Hayahide sobbed, her hands tangling in Brian’s short hair.
“Cum in her,” Brian whispered, looking up at Ryou, her lips swollen, her face flushed. “Do it. Mark her. Make her yours.”
The words, the sight, the unbearable pressure broke him. With a final, ragged shout, he drove deep into Hayahide and came. It was a violent, emptying release, a year of pent-up tension erupting in hot, pulsing streams inside her. She screamed, her own orgasm triggered by the feeling, her body bucking wildly beneath his.
He collapsed onto her, spent, still twitching inside her. The room was filled with the sound of their heaving breaths and the smell of sex and sweat. Brian lay beside them, her hand stroking Hayahide’s hair, her other hand possessively on Ryou’s back.
Hayahide wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him inside her as his softening pulse faded. “One hundred and thirteen days,” she murmured, her voice ragged but satisfied. “Worth every second of the wait.”
Brian let out a short, breathless laugh. “That was just the first race, Hayahide.” She propped herself up on an elbow, her eyes gleaming in the dark. “The night is long. And we have a lot of catching up to do.”