0 • Prologue.

It was midday. He met him for the first time, at midday; during a jointed PE lesson in the football field near their.

He was a junior, while Rentai was already half-way his exemplar last year.

The sun seared down, scorching the earth with a relentless blaze, the heat shimmering in waves above the field. Each step Ren took left behind the sticky weight of dust, clinging to his skin like a gentle, persistent whisper of the world's heat.

He gripped the ball with the ease of someone who had learned the art of calm long ago, fingers tracing the rough contours of the leather. The game swirled around him, the Alphas barking commands, their movements swift, almost mechanical, but Ren, untouched by the frenzy, felt something else tug at his attention.

The storm that was a boy.

It started quietly, a crack in the calm, a ripple in the air. Ren paused mid-motion, his gaze pulled like a magnet to the distant chaos. Even from afar, he knew that unbridled fury was Rui's doing. He could feel it, the explosive crackle of tension, a jagged electricity crackling through the very air.

The silver-haired figure at the center of the storm was unmistakable.

His platinum blonde hair shone like broken halos, a crown of defiance against the sun. Every line of his body, slender yet taut with violence, screamed of a restrained fury that could ignite the world. His movements were liquid rage, his face a canvas of aggression, all sharp angles and clenched muscles.

Ren's breath stilled, a rare flutter in his chest.

The Alpha beside him muttered in resigned frustration, "Not him again."

Ren barely heard him. The boy was a blur of unrestrained motion now — his eyes, bright grey as the sharp edge of a blade, locked onto the arrogant Alpha who dared to provoke him. The muscle-bound fool had overstepped, brushing against him one too many times during the game, an almost calculated offence to test the limits.

His rage wasn't simply visible — it was visceral, a living thing.

His grey eyes, cold and unfeeling, held the threat of someone who wasn't afraid to tear down everything in his path.

"Not done touching me yet?" Rui's voice was low, but it cut through the air with a precision that sent a chill through the onlookers. His teeth flashed, a snarl twisted into his lips, making even the hardened Alphas hesitate.

It wasn't a bark — it was a bite, a warning that echoed louder than any growl could.

Ren felt his pulse quicken. He was such a tiny thing, he barely reached the Alpha's shoulder and yet, there he was, standing taller.

Rui stood, alone in the midst of it all, his fury seeming to consume him, yet there was something about it — a beauty in its rawness, a beauty in the way he tore at the very fabric of his own restraints.

His shoulders were tight, vibrating with pent-up energy.

The sun kissed his skin, its fiery heat tracing the curve of his neck, making his disheveled hair glimmer like molten gold. It was almost impossible not to see the delicate line of his collarbone peeking from beneath the strained fabric of his shirt, as though his body was constantly battling against itself — fragile, but alive, raw, and defiant.

Ren stood still, heart beating in sync with the storm unfolding in front of him. The Alphas were beginning to retreat, some laughing nervously, others shuffling awkwardly, but Ren's focus was entirely on that tiny Omega.

He could feel the power in his anger, the magnetism of it — something unpredictable, something explosive.

He couldn't look away.

His anger wasn't just a reaction; it was part of him, part of the raw, untamed energy that flowed beneath his skin, and Ren; Ren wanted to see it. To understand it.

To let it wash over him, because there was something in it, something that lured him, even as his teammates murmured in caution.

"He'll bite you, too, Ren," one of them muttered, half-joking, but Ren didn't flinch. The warning was a mere whisper.

"I'd stay out of it."

Another one, his hand crossing his red hair, scoffed. "Yeah, don't get fooled by that pretty face, his mouth is dirtier than Akira's underpants."

Akira's dark eyes widened as he hooked his elbow around the red-head's shoulder. "And what did you say just now?"

"Doesn't seem it's gonna end well," Ren replied, - ignoring their bantering - his voice calm as ever, but inside, his pulse was erratic, the calm never quite reaching the storm within him.

The Alpha made the mistake of stepping forward again, and the boy reacted without hesitation. His hand shot up, poised to strike, and his eyes burned — blazing with an intensity that swallowed everything around him. The other Omegas circled, but none could get close enough to tame him.

Rui shoved them away, his body rigid, teeth bared like a wild animal, poised to tear into anything that threatened him.

"Don't touch me, pervert." he hissed, voice jagged with raw emotion. The Alpha faltered, the space between them crackling with an electric charge.

Ren felt it—felt it all. He didn't need protection. He never had. But that wasn't what drew Ren in. It was the fire, the unyielding, savage beauty of it. The fire that burned in the Omega's veins, that turned his graceful, delicate appearance into something dangerous, something magnetic, something he couldn't help but be drawn to.

The Omega's gaze flickered across the crowd, cutting through the noise, the faces, the chaos. His eyes met Ren's — grey, sharp, and for a fraction of a second, Ren felt the world stop. It wasn't recognition. It wasn't an invitation. It was simply a flash of understanding, a brief moment where the fire in his eyes flared brighter, and Ren was the one who was caught in its heat.

The moment passed, and his attention returned to his adversary, his fury returning to its original pitch.

But Ren couldn't tear his eyes away.

It wasn't the white sparkling in his hair, or his fair skin, his long elashes and doll-like face that called to Ren.

It was the fire.

The air between them thickened, laden with tension that wrapped itself around the space like a storm waiting to break. Ren stood at the precipice, his silhouette stark against the horizon, a dark figure bathed in the glow of an unforgiving sun.

His black hair, like the stroke of midnight, brushed his brow, a whispered cascade of ink against the stillness of the moment. His obsidian eyes, gleaming with a quiet, almost unsettling calm, mirrored the very void of the tempest about to unfold.

He was grace personified—a study in control, his stillness a testament to the strength that coursed beneath his placid exterior. Ren was the eye of the storm, a force defined not by brute force, but by the icy command he wore as effortlessly as his skin.

With a movement slow as the inevitable, he stepped forward, each footfall deliberate, a statement in the quiet chaos that churned behind him. The players faltered, caught in the ripple of his presence, as if the earth itself held its breath in anticipation.

His strides were sure, purposeful—his very being exuding an air of dominance that needed no words to assert itself. As class president, his authority was a silent weapon, one that held the dissonant energies of the group in perfect balance, even if those energies raged against him.

"Enough," Ren's voice broke through the tumult, low, but cutting through the air with an unshakable finality. It was a sound that commanded obedience, a steady hum that made the world pause—if only for a moment. The ground beneath them seemed to still, as if the very world knew not to challenge the quiet hurricane that was Ren.

Without a flourish, he placed himself between Rui and the Alpha whose anger still crackled in the air. There was no dramatic clash, no raised fist—only a presence so consuming, so cold, that it quelled the fight before it could escalate.

His gaze swept over the scene with the precision of an unfeeling observer — furrowed brows, clenched fists, the heat of aggression hanging thick. But Ren was beyond that, his control a blanket that smothered the flames before they could spread.

"Everyone is to behave," he stated, each word a controlled threat, not loud, but impossible to ignore. It was the promise of consequences wrapped in the form of a command, a warning dressed in the very fabric of authority. "Or, as class' 3-A president, I'll call a teacher and tell him you are molesting a junior."

His eyes flicked over the group, and though he did not speak further, the silence that followed was profound. No one dared move, for Ren's stillness was more dangerous than any eruption of violence.

The Alpha, clearly searching for escape, gave a nervous chuckle. "Ren, man, we were just having a little fun. You know how Rui is—"

Ren's stare remained unbroken, cold as the frozen depths of a glacier, the weight of it turning the air itself to ice. "You're crossing boundaries. I suggest you respect them. I expect someone your age to know enough dynamic education to understand that to touch an Omega inappropriately without his consensus is a violation of Art. 93 comma 3 of Dynamics Regulation."

The Alpha swallowed hard, unable to meet Ren's eyes for more than a heartbeat. But Ren, unmoved, shifted his gaze to the Omega — the source of the storm. There, still and unyielding, Rui's fury crackled beneath his cool exterior, a fire burning hot in the depths of his gray eyes. But Rui, ever the unwilling participant, refused to acknowledge Ren. His voice, low and sharp, sliced through the air.

"Stay out of it, mr pres," Rui muttered, his words dripping with disdain. The seething anger in his voice was unmistakable, a feral force still thrumming beneath the surface. Yet, his refusal to acknowledge Ren spoke louder than anything else could have. 

Ren, unshaken, remained quiet. His eyes, though steady, held a knowing glint. There was no need to respond, no need to explain. 

Before the words could hang between them any longer, the teacher's voice rang through the silence, calling them back to class. The momentary distraction was enough to break the tension, but Ren knew better than to think it was over. He turned, the rhythm of his movements slow, deliberate, a steady march away from the battlefield that had barely begun.

But then, Rui's voice—sharp, biting—stopped him in his tracks.

"I didn't need your help," Rui snapped, his words like a slap in the quiet. His eyes, still burning with indignation, met Ren's for the first time, the silent challenge clear in the heat of his gaze. There was no gratitude, no hint of understanding—only rejection. Unfiltered, raw.

Ren did not flinch, his gaze unyielding, calm as ever, while Rui's anger raged against the calm that Ren wielded so effortlessly.

"Clearly," Ren murmured, his voice a soft dismissal, unbothered by the sting of Rui's words. He didn't need Rui's approval, nor did he expect it. But something in the raw intensity that flared in Rui—something that spoke of unspoken battles, of anger that had no home—spoke to Ren's core. Even if Rui refused to see it, Ren saw the storm within him, a wild, furious force that could never be tamed by any means except time and patience.

As the students filed back to class, Ren remained, his calm presence like a sentinel at the edge of the field, observing, waiting—like a quiet wave before the flood. The storm was coming, and Ren would have been ready when it did.