Makoto's breath caught the second Sho's fingers laced with hers and pinned her hand gently but firmly above her head, her back brushing against the rough, time-worn wall of the alleyway.
"Sho—" she began, her voice shaky but not resisting.
His eyes locked on hers—close, intense, unblinking. "You're still too easy to fluster," he said, lips curled into a teasing grin. "Even after all these years."
Makoto tried to narrow her eyes at him but failed. Her cheeks betrayed her with a blooming warmth that reached the tips of her ears.
"I thought you were taking us to college," she murmured, swallowing.
"I am," he replied, leaning closer until their noses almost touched. "Eventually."
"Then why the hell—"
"Because you looked too serious," he said softly. "And I missed that face."
Her lips parted, and for a moment, she couldn't find a retort. His voice had lowered—deeper than the teasing tone, now brushing with sincerity. His other hand came up slowly, curling around her waist and settling on her hip, fingers splaying there possessively through her windbreaker.
"You always get like this during morning rides," Sho added, smiling. "All focused and unreadable. Back then, you'd scold me mid-race, shouting at me for being reckless. Remember that?"
Makoto chuckled, her voice tinged with fond exasperation. "That's because you were reckless. You'd fly off every stupid ramp just to look cool."
"And it worked," he murmured, pressing closer, "'cause you're mine now, aren't you?"
She blushed hard, averting her eyes for a split second—but his fingers tightened slightly around her wrist, drawing her gaze back.
"Say it," he said.
Makoto's voice was soft. "I'm yours…"
He didn't need more than that.
Sho leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't even heated at first. It was a deep, slow burn, like sinking into something long denied. Her lips parted instinctively, and he angled her face gently to kiss her deeper, his body molding to hers as she tilted her chin up.
Her hand still pinned above, her free one gripped the collar of his jacket tightly, grounding herself against the surge of feeling. Sho's kiss grew more demanding by the second—tongue brushing against hers, teeth teasing her lower lip—until Makoto gasped softly into his mouth.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. The air between them was damp with tension and something deeper, something that had simmered for too long.
"Come to my place after class," Sho whispered, voice husky and low against her ear.
Makoto blinked. "Sho—"
He cut her off with another kiss, softer this time but no less loaded. When he pulled away again, his hand slid down slowly from her pinned wrist, fingers trailing along her arm until they found her waist.
"Come over," he repeated, voice velvet-smooth. "We can talk… and maybe…" His hand cupped her hip, his thumb slipping under the hem of her shirt to brush warm skin. "Maybe not talk for a while."
Her breath hitched again, the heat in her chest rising fast and molten.
"I've got a new frame to show you," he added with a smirk.
Makoto deadpanned, though her cheeks were betraying her again. "You're seriously using bike parts as foreplay?"
"Only with you," he grinned, nuzzling the side of her neck.
She exhaled shakily as his mouth ghosted over her pulse, his lips parting to leave a soft, open-mouthed kiss on her skin. Her knees went slightly weak, and he noticed—his hand quickly tightened around her waist, supporting her.
"You smell like chain oil," she murmured, embarrassed by how breathy her voice sounded.
"I smell like nostalgia," he whispered against her skin, and she laughed, breath hitching.
His hand slid up, fingers creeping beneath her windbreaker, brushing over the curve of her side. He didn't rush. Sho had always been reckless on the trail—but not here. With her, he took his time.
Makoto's heart pounded as his touch explored her through her clothes, as if memorizing her anew. Her hips shifted against his slightly, and he inhaled sharply.
"I hate how good you feel," he whispered, and she whispered back without thinking, "Then stop touching me."
He grinned wickedly. "Not happening."
His hand slipped under her shirt fully, palm warm against her bare waist. When he felt her tremble—just the faintest shiver—his expression softened.
"You okay?" he asked, pulling back to look into her eyes.
Makoto stared at him. "Do I look like I want you to stop?"
He kissed her again—harder this time. And she responded with her whole body, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers weaving into his longer hair. His hand moved up her back, under her bra strap, while the other slid down and cupped her ass through her jeans, squeezing firmly.
She gasped against his mouth, but didn't pull away.
Sho's tongue brushed over hers again, deliberate and slow, drawing soft, needy sounds from her as he pressed their bodies together.
For a few breaths, the world narrowed into this tight alley, into the scent of windbreakers and earth, and the scrape of gravel under shifting feet.
When he finally let her go, they were both flushed, her hair slightly tousled, lips red from kissing.
"You're coming over," he said, his voice not taking no for an answer.
Makoto nodded mutely, dazed, wiping her lip with the back of her hand.
"You better behave in class," she muttered.
"No promises."
Sho released Makoto's hand and stepped away from the wall. Their earlier heat, the kiss, lingered between them like an echo as they each moved toward their bikes. Sho headed deeper into the alley—his bike was tucked further inside, just out of Makoto's immediate sight—while Makoto went the opposite direction, her bike resting at the entrance, its front wheel shimmering in the morning light.
Makoto reached her bike first, hand already on the handlebar. She glanced across the narrow space at Sho, who was half-hidden by shadow. With a playful grin, she called his name:
"Sho?"
His head snapped up. A small smile curved across his face as he looked back at her, framed by slats of golden sunlight. She returned the grin, and he nodded—an unspoken confirmation of their connection, their shared morning promise.
Sho shifted forward again. She watched him go, her heart fluttering, the morning haze and heat of his presence mingling in her veins.
Then it happened.
A chill rolled through the alley—even colder than morning dew. Makoto froze. The air darkened in front of Sho's bike.
A single wisp of black smoke surfaced from the ground: thick, heavy, curling upward in on itself before splitting into tendrils. It snaked outward, creeping along the brick walls, swallowing shadows. Beneath it shimmered embers, dull glowing sparks trembling like embers in a dying fire.
In an instant, Makoto's breath hitched. Sho whirled around the moment he saw it.
"Makoto!" he yelled without thinking. His entire being surged forward, adrenaline overriding surprise and fear. She turned the moment she heard his voice, eyes wide.
"Sho—!" she called, panic tightening in her chest.
He reached her just as a new tendril of smoke slid along her boot. His arms wrapped around her in a rush—absolute, instinctive—with little regard for bikes or scene.
Makoto's body was pressed to his front. His arm wound around her waist, pulling her tight. He squeezed her close, as though trying to fuse their hearts together.
All thoughts of bikes or classes vanished. He couldn't risk them being pulled apart in the portal.
The smoke thickened—a rolling column now, blacker than oil, wreathed around them both.
Sho held her. Fear twisted in his gut, he trembled—both scared and ever so slightly... excited. Like the day they'd first entered, a rush he once lived for, but this time, he had her to hold.
Makoto's breath came fast. She placed her hand on his chest, sliding upward until she cupped his jaw. "Sho…"
Her voice cracked—but he didn't let go. He held her tighter, pressing his cheek to her hair.
She responded with a tearful nod: "Don't let go!"
He squeezed her arm. "Never."
The thick smoke surged, lifting leaves and dust, clipping their feet. It swirled around them, louder now—an echoing hiss.
Sho whispered, "Stay with me, okay?"
She pressed closer, wrapping arms around his back, hands gripping tightly.
The smoke careened to embrace them—wrapping around their legs, climbing their bodies. The embers glimmered brighter now, brushing against their shoes, singeing the air. The sound rose to a crescendo: a roaring suction.
Sho clutched her tighter, lifting her slightly, bracing his legs to anchor them. She clung to him like a lifeline.
They remained motionless in the center of the swirling chaos—Shadows and sparks flickering across their faces—locked together, neither speaking, hearts pounding loud enough to drown out the roar.
And in that heartbeat before everything changed, his mind was lucid with one truth:
He would never be without her again.
Even as the portal claimed them—lifting their world into fractured motion—they clung to each other.
Black smoke swallowed them whole. The roar filled their ears. The embers danced like whispers of the unknown.
And still—Sho held Makoto tight.
And everything went dark.
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END OF CHAPTER : 3 : SUMMON!
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