Chapter Text
The summer was almost over but heat still hung heavy over the city as Miya Chinen walked through the school gates. The students' voices mingled in a loud cacophony—laughter, shouts, the squeaking of shoes on the asphalt.
New school year. New class.
For many… it was a fresh start.
For Miya, it meant only one thing: the same old grind just for another year.
With one hand in his pocket and his skateboard casually tucked under his arm he strolled across the schoolyard. A few students glanced at him. Some recognized him. After all, he wasn't a stranger—the skateboarding prodigy.
He ignored them.
The sooner this day was over the better.
The classroom was already half full when he entered. Voices fell silent for a moment, then some resumed whispering more quietly. Miya sat down wordlessly in his seat by the window.
Outside… the leaves of the trees moved languidly in the warm breeze.
He stared out, trying to block out the voices around him.
Until the teacher entered the room.
"Please sit down!" she said, placing a stack of envelopes on the teacher's desk.
A low murmur rippled through the class.
"As you know…" she continued "you submitted your second gender test results just before summer vacation."
The murmuring immediately grew louder.
Alpha. Beta. Omega.
For many, this was a big deal.
Not really for Miya because both of his parents are Betas so he would be one too right…
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Whatever was inside wouldn't change his life.
The teacher began handing out the envelopes.
One by one.
Paper rustled, nervous voices whispered. Some opened their letters immediately. Others just stared.
Then the teacher stopped in front of Miya's desk. "Chinen Miya."
She placed the envelope in front of him. The white letter suddenly felt heavier than it should have been. Miya simply stared at it for a moment.
Somewhere behind him, someone tore open their envelope and cheered.
"Alpha!"
Laughter.
Chairs shifted.
But Miya barely heard.
His fingers slid slowly along the edge of the envelope.
Then he tore it open. The paper rustled softly as he pulled out the card.
His gaze fell upon the printed word.
For a moment, the world stopped moving.
„Omega“
His fingers clenched around the paper.
This couldn't be…Not him. Not Miya Chinen.
No. This had to be a big mistake…
He quickly folded the letter. The paper creast unevenly as his hands hastily shoved it back into the envelope.
He couldn't let anyone see this. Not here. Not in front of them all.
Just as he was about to slip the envelope into his pocket, a shadow fell across his desk.
"Which one did you get, Chinen?" Miya reacted too late.
A hand shot forward and snatched the envelope from his fingers.
"Hey—!"
The boy grinned broadly as he took a few steps back. Tall, lanky, that smug smile that Miya recognized immediately.
Takahashi.
"Give it back," Miya hissed, standing up abruptly so that his chair creaked back.
But Takahashi had already opened the envelope.
“Ohhh, let’s see what you are,” he said loudly enough that several students turned around. “What second gender do you think the AWSOME Chinen has?”
A few heads lifted curiously.
Miya felt his stomach clench.
“Takahashi,” the teacher said sharply from the front. “Sit down. Now!”
“Just a quick look, Sensei.” He pulled out the sheet of paper.
The seconds stretched.
Miya took a step forward and reached for his letter. “Give it back...”
But Takahashi’s eyes were already scanning the text.
Then his gaze settled on the word. For a moment, there was silence.
And then he started to laugh.
Loudly.
“Now way this is true…I can’t believe this.”
Several students now turned completely around.
“Hey guys,” Takahashi called out, grinning and holding up the sheet of paper. “Our little skateboarding prodigy is a—”
He paused dramatically.
His grin widened.
“Omega.”
The word dropped like a stone into the room.
A few students giggled immediately. Others whispered amongst themselves.
Miya felt heat rush to his face. His nails dug into his palms.
Of course.
Of course it had to go exactly like this.
Takahashi waved the sheet of paper again.
“An Omega…” he repeated mockingly. “That explains a lot.”