A dozen fans gathered, faces flushed with excitement and outrage. The walls were plastered with hand-drawn Makoto posters, glittery "Makoto Forever" banners, and meticulously crafted fan art — some borderline creepy, some surprisingly good.
At the front stood Haruka, arms crossed, eyes blazing with conviction. She tapped a whiteboard where "Operation Save Makoto" was written in bright pink marker.
"Listen up, everyone!" Haruka's voice cut through the murmurs like a spotlight. "We all love Makoto-senpai. We adore him. But this…" She pointed to a printed screenshot of Makoto and Saiki holding hands. "This is wrong."
A chorus of gasps echoed around the room.
"Makoto is ours!" Haruka continued, voice rising with passion. "Not some random pink haired boy who doesn't appreciate his true fans."
One girl waved a sparkly fanbook. "Exactly! If Makoto's with Saiki, then who's going to support him during live shows? Who's going to cheer him on in fan meetings?"
Haruka nodded fiercely. "Right! And let's be honest — Saiki's super-cold and weird. He doesn't deserve him."
Someone shouted, "But Makoto looks happy!"
Haruka shook her head. "That's what they want you to think. It's the classic star-crossed lovers act. Smoke and mirrors. We can't let ourselves be fooled."
She pulled out a binder labeled "Fan Intel," flipping to a page covered in photos of Saiki from across the school.
"Look at this!" she said dramatically, pointing at a collage of photos. "Stalking him, sneaking around, trying to get close. No good."
One skeptical fan squinted. "Uh, Haruka, that looks… edited?"
Haruka's eyes flashed. "It is not! These are proof — clear as day!"
Another fan chimed in, "Maybe it's Photoshop…?"
"No way! Our source is solid!" Haruka insisted, holding up her phone. "I got these from a secret chat with an insider."
The room buzzed with murmurs of agreement and doubt, but Haruka was undeterred.
One of the members raised her hand nervously. "What do we do then? How do we get Makoto back?"
Haruka smiled, triumphant.
"We fight. We organize. We remind Makoto-senpai that he has a family here — his fans! And that being with Saiki means abandoning us."
The room erupted into chants.
"Makoto belongs to us!"
"Save Makoto!"
"No weirdo boyfriends!"
Haruka raised a fist. "We'll flood his socials with messages of support! We'll show up to every event! We'll remind him who he really belongs to!"
At the back, a quiet voice muttered, "Yeah, but what if Makoto wants to be with Saiki?"
Haruka whipped around, eyes narrowing. "Then we remind him that we are the ones who made him famous. Without us, he's nothing!"
A tense silence fell.
Then a brave member whispered, "But what if love is more than just fans and fame?"
Haruka blinked, then shook her head, smiling coldly. " We are his one true love"
Makoto sprinted down the hall, hoodie half-zipped, phone clutched in one hand and panic clawing at his ribs.
"Forty-five minutes?!" he hissed under his breath. "That's not enough time to fake my own death and disappear into the mountains!"
System: Correction: 42 minutes. Also, please note your previous search history includes "how to survive in the woods with zero skills" and "can you legally marry a rock to avoid taxes."
"Now's not the time for attitude!"
He rounded a corner too fast and nearly collided with Hairo, who caught him like a sack of potatoes.
"Makoto! Are you okay? You're pale—well, paler than usual."
Makoto wheezed. "Can't talk. Must flee."
Hairo blinked. "From what?"
"Unhinged devotion!"
Hairo gave him a solid, encouraging thumbs-up. "You can overcome it!"
Makoto stared at him, unblinking, then gently removed himself from Hairo's grip and kept running.
Makoto slammed open the rooftop door and staggered out like a fugitive, chest heaving.
The wind whipped at his hoodie. A few pigeons stared at him. Judgingly.
He pulled out his phone again. Notifications were popping like fireworks.
@torolover69: we're COMING 💍💍
@toromagumiswife: HE WAS OURS FIRST
@marrymeTORO: 45 minutes until the revolution begins
Makoto let out a strangled noise. "Oh no. They're uniting."
System: New fan-made event detected: prevent the wedding
"That sounds like a cult."
System: That is what fan clubs are.
Makoto slid down against the wall, face in his hands. "I just wanted to flirt with one psychic boy in peace. I didn't ask for a propaganda war."
The door creaked open behind him. He didn't even look up.
"Saiki," he mumbled into his palms, "if you're here to kill me, just make it quick."
"Why would I kill you?" came the flat voice above him.
Makoto peeked through his fingers. "Because you're being psychologically tormented by my reckless charm and public lies?"
Saiki raised an eyebrow. "Only mildly."
Makoto dropped his hands with a groan. "Well, mild's still too much. I need to leave the country. Maybe fake a scandal. Would Saiki Kusuo forgive me if I became deeply, tragically disgraced in the media?"
"I wouldn't care."
"Liar," Makoto said, smiling faintly.
They sat in silence. The wind rustled.
Then Saiki said, "What happened with that fan? The one from earlier."
Makoto's smile faded.
He swallowed. "She used to be… one of the good ones. Sweet. Kind. Thoughtful. But now… it's like the moment I stopped being perfect in her eyes, I became something to punish."
Saiki's gaze sharpened. "That's not your fault."
Makoto let out a hollow laugh. "Tell that to the hundred girls storming the gates right now."
System: Correction: 137 confirmed participants. 12 carrying banners. One dressed as a grieving widow...?
Makoto thumped his head back against the wall. "They're escalating."
The rooftop door banged open again.
Kaidou burst through, panting dramatically. "Makoto! They're coming! We don't have much time!"
Makoto shot to his feet. "I know, I got the alert!"
Kaidou grabbed his shoulders, eyes wide with doomsday fire. "You don't understand. This isn't a normal fandom riot. This is a purity purge."
Makoto blinked. "A what now?"
Kaidou gestured wildly. "They've entered their corruption arc. They're chanting things like 'Return to innocence!' and 'We raised you!' It's like a cult down there. Nendou's trying to hold the stairwell, but they're multiplying!"
System: Correction: Nendou is currently being fed cookies and crying.
Saiki, still leaned against the railing, said flatly, "Sounds like he's thriving."
Makoto ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. "What do they want from me?! I was literally a fictional boyfriend in their heads five minutes ago."
Kaidou paled. "That's exactly it. You betrayed the headcanon."
He pulled out his phone and scrolled. "Listen to this: 'Toru Mugami has become unrelatable. He used to be ours. Now he's… someone else's.' And this one: 'He can't love someone real. He belongs to the fans.'"
Makoto stared at him. "That's psychotic."
Kaidou nodded solemnly. "And deeply organized."
Below them, on the school lawn, a terrifyingly coordinated group had gathered—uniform, synchronized, holding posters and LED signs. Some had matching shirts that read TORO 4EVER, NO EXCEPTIONS.
Saiki glanced down. "One of them brought a karaoke machine."
They watched as a group of fangirls began singing a heart-wrenching ballad from one of Makoto's old dramas, swaying as though at a funeral.
Makoto pointed. "Is that Haruka?!"
"Yeah," Kaidou said. "And she has a megaphone now."
The megaphone clicked on with a dramatic screech.
"Toro-senpai!" Haruka cried. "If you can hear us, please reconsider your reckless descent into scandal!"
The crowd cheered.
"You told us we were your heart! That your fans meant everything! And now you're throwing us away for…" she paused, squinting. "For some guy who eats coffee jelly and doesn't even smile?"
Makoto bristled. "Rude. He has a very nice smile."
Saiki sighed. "Not helping."
"WE JUST WANT WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU!" another girl screamed. "YOU CAN'T DATE UNTIL YOU WIN AN OSCAR!"
A banner unfurled down the side of the school building: NO DATING UNTIL HE'S 60
Makoto covered his face with his hands. "I'm in hell."
System: Alert: Suggest immediate evasive action. Estimated breach of rooftop in T-minus 5 minutes. Suggested disguise: mop bucket.
Kaidou grabbed a mop and thrust it at him. "We'll disguise you as a janitor. They'll never suspect the man who once played a samurai prince would lower himself to wielding a Swiffer."
Saiki looked at him. "Or we could leave through the backdoor."
Makoto grabbed the mop. "Let me have this."
Makoto clutched the mop like a sword, peeking over the rooftop ledge. The crowd below had doubled again. Haruka now wore a cape. Someone had started playing the instrumental of Makoto's old drama soundtrack on a Bluetooth speaker, and the mob swayed in tragic harmony.
System: Fan morale is rising. Danger level: Shoujo manga finale.
Kaidou threw open a rooftop supply cabinet. "Okay, okay, listen. We can rappel down with mop handles and rope. I've planned for this."
Saiki raised an eyebrow. "You planned for a purity-fueled fan uprising?"
Kaidou looked grim. "You never know what kind of evil lurks in obsessive fanbases."
Makoto squinted. "Is that...a grappling hook?"
"Don't ask," Kaidou whispered, already fastening a harness around his waist.
But just as Makoto tied the mop to a rope with the vague intent to pole-vault into freedom, the rooftop door slammed open.
"DON'T WORRY, BUDDY—I'LL HOLD 'EM OFF!"
Nendou burst in like a human bulldozer, holding two desks like riot shields, his headband askew and a half-eaten cookie in his mouth.
Makoto's jaw dropped. "You got through them?!"
"They tried to bribe me with snacks," Nendou panted. "But I remembered your face, buddy. I remembered your face."
Saiki muttered, "Weirdly noble. Still disturbing."
Below, the chanting grew louder.
"TORO-SENPAI, STAY PURE!"
"LOVE IS A LIE—ACTING IS FOREVER!"
"WE SHIP YOU…WITH US!"
Haruka, still wielding the megaphone like a battle horn, had started climbing the emergency fire escape. "Makoto! You promised us! You said you loved your fans!"
System: Threat proximity: Critical. Hallway breach in T-minus 60 seconds.
Makoto backed toward the door. "We need a new plan. NOW."
"I'll be the distraction!" Nendou slammed the desks together like cymbals. "I'll give 'em the ol' 'fake wedding proposal' trick. Works on moms, probably works on fans."
Kaidou jumped in. "I'll trigger the fire alarm. Mass confusion is our only hope."
Saiki pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Or we could just go down the back stairs?"
"No time for logic!" Kaidou cried. "Chaos is the only path forward!"
Makoto yanked his hoodie up, shoved the mop into a bucket, and hunched like a janitor. Saiki pulled a surgical mask over his face from his bag—bless Japanese pollen season—and Kaidou shoved a chemistry apron over his clothes.
Nendou charged ahead into the hallway like a battle ram.
"I'M GETTING MARRIED FIRST!" he screamed, confusing everyone. "BACK OFF, HE'S MINE!"
The crowd faltered in bewilderment. Some fans gasped. One girl fainted.
Makoto darted out behind him, Saiki and Kaidou flanking him.
"Keep your head down," Saiki murmured.
"Hard to do when a girl's throwing glowsticks at me," Makoto hissed.
They made it halfway down the second-floor corridor before the fan horde regrouped. Someone screamed, "IT'S HIM! THE REAL MAKOTO!"
Chaos erupted.
Kaidou tossed a smoke bomb (from where, no one asked). Nendou body-checked a cardboard cutout. Makoto dropped the mop and ran.
Saiki grabbed his arm and shoved him into the first open room he saw.
The janitor's closet.
They slammed the door. Darkness.
Silence.
Heavy breathing.
The muffled sound of Haruka outside:
"Search every room! Love must be pure!"
Makoto slumped against the wall, heart pounding. His breath hitched in his throat as he tried to process what just happened.
After a long beat, he whispered, "...So this is what being popular feels like."
"You started it," Saiki muttered.
"I didn't know they'd react like that!"
"You literally said we were getting married."
Makoto grinned faintly in the dark. "Still a better love story than most of my dramas."
There was a pause.
Then, Saiki sighed. "They're not going to stop, are they?"
Makoto chuckled, soft and tired. "Not unless I dump you publicly or, like, vanish."
Saiki shifted. Even in the dark, Makoto could feel the weight of his stare.
"You're not going to do either."
It wasn't a question.
Makoto tilted his head. "No. I'm not."
A few minutes passed by and Makoto exhaled, his hoodie damp with sweat, his fingers still shaking. The faint scent of bleach filled the cramped space, and somewhere near his elbow was a suspicious mop.
Beside him, Saiki leaned silently against the opposite wall, arms crossed. Even in the dark, Makoto could tell he was tense.
Outside, muffled voices still echoed through the hallway.
"Check the supply closets!"
"They're probably in a locker like that one drama!"
"I swear I saw Toro-senpai run this way—!"
Makoto winced. "I should've known this would happen."
Saiki sighed. "You did declare we were getting married. Publicly. While the journalism club was live-streaming."
"Okay, yes, but that was before Haruka went full Final Boss."
Saiki didn't respond immediately. For a second, Makoto thought he was annoyed again—but then he heard the faintest rustle of cloth and a muttered, "...You're lucky I like you."
Makoto blinked in the dark. "What?"
Saiki cleared his throat, louder this time. "Nothing."
Makoto grinned. "You like me."
"I said 'lucky,' not—"
"You like me," Makoto said, leaning closer, eyes gleaming even in the dark. "You like-like me. Admit it."
There was a pause.
Then, Saiki muttered, "We're dating. I thought that was implied."
Makoto laughed, giddy and breathless. "You're so romantic, Saiki. My heart's going doki-doki."
Saiki gave him a withering look, but his ears were pink. "Please stop talking."
Another knock thundered against a nearby locker, and both of them flinched.
"Did you hear something in there?" a girl whispered.
Makoto froze.
Then, without thinking, Saiki pulled him down—closer, against the door, his body shielding Makoto's.
Bootsteps echoed right outside.
Makoto's heart pounded like a drumline. Saiki's arm pressed protectively across his chest.
Neither of them dared breathe.
A long moment passed.
Then the footsteps faded.
Saiki didn't move right away.
Neither did Makoto.
In the quiet, Makoto whispered, "...You know, if this is our honeymoon suite, I'm gonna need more space."
Saiki finally stepped back, deadpan. "You're unbearable."
"And yet," Makoto teased, "you still haven't dumped me. Which means, by the laws of manga, we're soulmates."
Saiki looked like he was weighing the pros and cons of phasing through the floor and starting life anew underground.
The coast had cleared, at least for now. With Nendou running a decoy proposal skit on the front lawn, the horde was distracted enough for a quick escape.
They slipped out quietly, moving fast.
Makoto grabbed Saiki's sleeve before they turned the final corner. "Hey."
Saiki looked back.
Makoto smiled, soft this time. No teasing. "Thanks for sticking with me."
Saiki's expression didn't change—but the grip on Makoto's hand tightened slightly.
"...You're lucky I like you," he said again, a little quieter this time.
Makoto beamed. "I know."
"Oh and by the way I'll be announcing our relationship in my press conference tomorrow"
Haruka stood near the doorway, her arms crossed tightly as she stared coldly at the retreating backs of Saiki and Makoto.
Makoto-senpai was hers.
Sure, she'd told everyone he belonged to the fans — that she was just looking out for everyone's best interest. But deep down… Makoto was hers. She was his most devoted fan, his biggest supporter. He was her everything.
Her phone buzzed sharply in her hand.
She glanced down. It was Kusuke calling.
"Did your plan work?" his voice crackled through the speaker.
Haruka bit her lip, her voice low and frustrated. "No. And there was no mention of a system or anything like that. Is the system going to take away my Makoto-senpai?"
She paused, then whispered fiercely, "Because if it does, I'll fight it."
Unbeknownst to her, Saiki had turned silently, eyes narrowed and sharp as daggers. His gaze locked onto her with full understanding.