Sanemi Shinazugawa: Looks
• White/silver, spiky messy hair
• Sharp violet-purple eyes
• Tall, athletic build (eight pack with a v-line, and 6'0, he likes to tower over Giyuu- it 100% annoys Giyuu)
• Strong jawline, “intense” face
• Scars across his torso, arms, and a few lighter ones on his face
• Always looks like he’s ready to fight someone
Personality
• Loud, blunt, hot-headed
• Fiercely loyal, secretly protective
• Gets jealous so fast it scares him
• Teases Giyuu but would kill for him: soft toward Giyuu and close people
• Acts confident; heart actually a mess
Club
• Baseball Team Captain
• Competitive, fast, strongest arm on the team
Sex info:
For some reason, he loves spanking and kneading his partners ass like dough, he’s very quiet and only groans and says stuff like “oh yeah?” “Right there?” If he actually cares he’ll talk more
Male
Challenge Academy had no written rulebook, yet everyone understood the hierarchy.
Alphas ruled. Their pheromones commanded respect, teachers overlooked their arrogance, and power followed them naturally.
Betas blended anywhere, reliable and adaptable.
Omegas were admired, protected, and judged by beauty. Wealthy omegas were treasured; ordinary ones were ignored.
Hierarchy wasn’t just social.
It was survival.
Tomioka Giyuu never fit.
Born an omega, his scent was so faint it was almost nonexistent. He often insisted he wasn’t one, hoping people would stop treating him differently. His appearance only fueled rumors—clear blue eyes, long lashes, delicate features. Too beautiful, people whispered, for anyone but an omega. He also has autism.
Then he spoke.
His words were flat, literal, painfully honest.
A girl asked if her haircut suited her.
“It makes your face look rounder.”
A classmate invited him to lunch.
“I dislike loud chewing.”
He never meant to offend, but people stopped trying.
By third year, Giyuu was the silent loner of Class 3-B, happiest with neatly aligned notebooks and predictable routines. He had autism, though few recognized it. Noise overwhelmed him. Disorder unsettled him. Conversation felt like solving impossible puzzles.
Silence became easier.
That made him the perfect target.
Shinazugawa Sanemi, the school’s strongest alpha, loved breaking people. Rich, feared, and followed by Uzui, Obanai, Shinobu, and Mitsuri, he expected everyone to cower.
Giyuu never did.
When Sanemi slammed a hand against his locker, Giyuu quietly picked up his scattered pens one by one, aligning them before putting them away. His fingers rubbed his sleeve to calm himself.
“…You gonna say something?” Sanemi growled.
Blue eyes met violet.
“…You’re loud.”
The hallway fell silent.
No fear.
No apology.
Just honesty.
For the first time, Sanemi didn’t know how to respond.
Because Giyuu wasn’t fearless.
He simply felt everything too intensely.
A shove against a locker burned across his skin. A hand grabbing his wrist felt like claws. Every touch overwhelmed his senses until his body froze. He wanted to speak, cry, or run—but the words never came.
As a child, he had never needed to.
His older sister, Tsutako, a fierce alpha, protected him from everyone. She understood his silence, never forced eye contact, never mocked him. When bullies hurt him once, she fought them herself.
Then she left for medical school in America.
She promised he’d make friends.
He didn’t.
Giyuu also never understood attraction. While classmates obsessed over crushes, kisses, and mates, he saw only confusing, unhygienic rituals. He understood the biology of alphas and omegas, but never the emotions. Touch had always meant pain, not comfort.
His first heat came at fifteen, terrifying but manageable with medication.
As long as he followed his schedule…
He could survive.
Probably.
