Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep—
It was like someone had shoved a chainsaw into a toaster and jammed the whole smoking mess inside my skull. The noise tore through the silence, echoing like a dying robot's final scream—metallic, tortured, desperate.
I shot upright with a ragged gasp, lungs burning, drenched in cold sweat.
My heart thrashed inside my chest, wild and panicked, like it was trying to punch its way out.
"Wha… what time is it…?"
I squinted toward the window.
Pitch black. No moonlight. No hint of dawn. Even the sun hadn't bothered to show up yet.
I fumbled for my phone. The screen blinked on with a faint, groggy glow: 4:17 a.m.
I groaned and dropped my head back onto the futon, the fabric damp with sweat.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
But the beeping didn't stop. It drilled on—loud, relentless, merciless.
It wasn't my alarm. No way. Mine was stuffed inside my bag, battery long dead, resting in peace like a responsible little corpse of a phone.
This wasn't on me.
The sound was coming from upstairs.
Hinata's room.
I waited.
Waited a little longer.
Waited until the sound burrowed into my skull and started rearranging my neurons like it was redecorating my sanity.
Still nothing.
No groggy footsteps. No irritated muttering. No satisfying slam of a snooze button.
The Kagurazaka household was dead silent.
Everyone was… still asleep?
How?!
That alarm had to be setting off car alarms in the next prefecture by now!
I groaned, flung the blanket aside, and stood. The tatami was cool under my feet—cooler than expected. The kind of cold that snakes up your legs and wraps around your spine just to whisper, "Go back to sleep, idiot."
But I couldn't.
I crept into the hallway. Every step felt like I was stomping on a drum. The quiet made the creaks louder, the shadows thicker.
Passed Nanami's room. Still.
The parents' room. A soft snore drifted out.
Was I the only one in this house cursed with ears that actually worked?
I reached Hinata's door. The demonic beeping wailed from the other side like some unholy ritual was in full swing.
I froze.
This was a bad idea.
A very, very bad idea.
If her dad caught me creeping into his daughter's room at this ungodly hour, I wouldn't live to regret it. He wouldn't even yell—just smile, hand me a shovel, and say, "Dig faster, son."
But the sound… that infernal, brain-melting noise.
I clenched my jaw, teeth grinding like tectonic plates.
"Quick in. Quick out," I whispered. "No honor lost, no skulls cracked."
I reached for the sliding door and eased it open—millimeter by painful millimeter. Each creak felt like it echoed across centuries.
Inside, the room was dim. The only light came from the pale blue glow of a digital alarm clock—screaming its mechanical lungs out like it had a grudge against humanity.
There she was.
Hinata.
Tangled in her blankets like a burrito that had completely given up on life.
Her hair was a chaotic halo around her face. Her breathing was deep, steady.
Completely out cold.
And yet that alarm—still blaring, still relentless—was somehow being entirely ignored.
"What kind of monster are you…?" I muttered under my breath.
I crept in.
My heart pounded harder with each step, thudding so loud I was sure it would wake her before the alarm ever could.
I could feel my pulse behind my eyes, thrumming with panic.
My fingers hovered over the clock.
Almost there.
Almost—
Just a little closer—
Then the darkness moved.
A hand.
Fast. Precise. Unrelenting.
Like a silk-wrapped bear trap.
It clamped around my wrist—hard.
"GAHH—?!"
I barely swallowed the scream. It came out as a strangled gasp instead, somewhere between terror and disbelief.
Her grip was like iron forged in the fires of Mt. Fuji. My bones immediately filed for divorce.
Before I could react—before I could even process what was happening—I was yanked forward.
Down.
Into her.
Warmth hit me first.
Then softness.
Then the very real sensation of being smothered alive by something terrifyingly gentle.
She hugged me.
Tight.
Like I was a body pillow she'd been separated from in a past life.
"I'm gonna die," I whispered into the soft cotton of her pajamas.
My arms were trapped. Useless. My face—
Oh no.
No no no no no—
I felt it.
Something soft.
Two somethings.
My brain tripped over itself and fell into a black hole.
A siren wailed in my soul.
ABORT MISSION. ABORT.
Panic detonated in my chest. My entire body went rigid, overheated. My mind scrambled for a rational explanation, a loophole, a reset button.
But this was happening.
Painfully. Horrifyingly.
Real.
My face flushed red hot.
I wasn't raised like this. I wasn't this guy. Not the accidental perv. Not the walking anime cliché who tripped into a girl's chest and came out with a bloody nose and a fan club.
And yet—
Here I was.
Exactly that guy.
God help me.
I was Haruki Aizawa.
Awkward.
Average.
Emotionally fragile.
And Hinata—Hinata had been nothing but kind to me. Friendly. Warm. The literal sun in this otherwise terrifying household.
And here I was… caught in her gravitational pull like a helpless asteroid drifting into certain doom.
"Okay… okay, you can get out of this," I whispered, starting to wriggle like a desperate worm.
Her grip tightened.
I let out a strangled wheeze.
"…Okay, maybe not."
I flailed. Pathetically.
Kicked at the air like a flipped turtle.
But every movement just sank me deeper into the soft, sleepy nightmare. Every squirm pressed me closer to her warmth, her breath, her everything.
This was no longer about shutting off an alarm.
This was survival.
This was escape.
"H-Hinata…" I croaked. "You're literally crushing my will to live."
She murmured something, voice slurred in dreamland.
"Warm… so warm… pancake… pillow…"
I nearly burst into tears.
This was it. My fate.
Found dead. Smothered in a sleep-hug. Autopsy inconclusive. Police baffled.
My arms twisted just enough to reach out and slap at the clock with the strength of a dying moth.
CLICK.
The beeping stopped.
Blessed. Holy. Sacred silence.
Hinata shifted, rolling to the side like a satisfied cat.
Her arm slid off me.
I was free.
I scrambled backward like I'd just escaped the gravitational pull of a star, landing on my butt beside her dresser, disheveled and emotionally wrecked.
Breathing hard. Sweating buckets.
Mentally scarred.
She curled up peacefully again, buried in blankets, not a care in the world.
I glared at the alarm clock.
"You're evil," I hissed. "You're actual evil."
Then, crawling like a wounded soldier on a battlefield, I slunk out of the room.
And closed the door.
Slowly. Gently. Like it might explode if I breathed too hard.
I stood there in the hallway.
Staring into nothing.
Trying to piece my soul back together.
Questioning every single life choice that had led me to this moment.
"…What is my life?"
From down the hall, Daichi snored—loud, gruff, and terrifyingly close.
I flinched like I'd been shot.
No one can ever know.
Not Hinata.
Not Nanami.
Especially not her dad.
This secret would follow me to my grave.
And maybe even haunt the afterlife.
_____
Morning arrived like the world had pressed a reset button.
Birds chirped merrily outside, announcing the dawn like overexcited messengers. A rooster crowed somewhere in the distance, declaring in no uncertain terms that the day had begun. The sunlight streamed through the curtains like it belonged there, golden and gentle, dancing across the wooden floors and walls like a lazy blessing.
Everyone in the house stirred with a kind of blissful energy that made it look like nothing traumatic or sleep-depriving had happened last night.
Except for me.
I hadn't slept.
Not even a wink.
The memory of being smothered—violently yet innocently—by a half-conscious Hinata had burned itself into my brain. I'd spent the remainder of the night wide-eyed, curled under my blanket on the futon like a traumatized soldier waiting for another ambush. I didn't even know how I got out of her room. I think adrenaline blacked me out.
"Good morning, Aizawa."
Her voice.
I flinched. Hard.
Hinata stood in front of me, her hair still a little messy from sleep but her smile glowing like sunshine in a bottle. She looked so cheerful it was borderline threatening.
"A-Ah! G-Good morning," I stuttered, scratching the back of my head while trying to will my face back to a normal color.
She laughed. A bright, melodic laugh that somehow stabbed me in the chest with guilt. Her little sister peeked at us from behind her cup of milk, blinking like she was trying to understand how I'd already lost all my marbles this early.
"You okay?" Hinata asked.
"I—I'm great. Never better. So rested. Amazing night. Wonderful sleep. Haha."
Lies. So many lies.
We headed to the dining room, where the smell of food lifted my soul. The table was already set like a scene from a family drama. Rice, grilled fish, tamagoyaki, miso soup, pickled veggies. Everything was beautiful.
Hinata's mom was already pouring tea, humming a happy tune. Her dad beamed at me like I was his long-lost son.
"Ah! Aizawa-kun! Sit next to me! Come on, we guys have to stick together!"
And there it was. The closeness.
He practically dragged me beside him, his arm slung over my shoulder with no regard for personal space. I could smell the aftershave he probably slapped on like cologne.
Hinata's mom smiled sweetly and pushed an extra bowl of rice toward me.
"Eat as much as you want, okay? You're a growing boy. You need strength."
I felt like I was being fattened for a ritual.
"Th-thank you, ma'am," I said, bowing slightly before stuffing my face in hopes the food would cover up my internal screaming.
Hinata sat across from me, scratching her head in visible embarrassment. She didn't say much. Her eyes were half-glued to her bowl.
Then came her little sister.
"Last night," the girl began with all the serious drama of a courtroom witness, "I dreamt I was riding a unicorn made of candy! And the sky was made of soda! And there were clouds you could eat like cotton candy!"
"Aww, that's adorable," their mom said.
"What a sweet dream," I added, smiling.
"I dreamt I was on a cooking show," their mom said proudly. "I was winning, obviously."
"I dreamt I was wrestling Aizawa-kun," their dad chimed in.
I nearly dropped my chopsticks.
"Wha—Wrestling?!"
He grinned. "Yeah. You put up a good fight!"
"Uh… thanks?"
And then Hinata spoke, her voice softer than usual.
"I dreamt I was hugging a big, warm marshmallow. It was super soft. I always dream about it, but… last night it felt real."
My chopsticks fell. I coughed. Hard.
"A-Are you okay?!" her mom gasped.
I waved my hand, turning purple from the effort to stay cool. "Y-Yeah! Just... miso down the wrong pipe!"
Hinata raised an eyebrow, eyeing me curiously.
Her little sister squinted.
Like a tiny detective.
"Hmmmm," she hummed suspiciously, narrowing her gaze. "That's weird. Really weird."
I smiled like a criminal in a lie detector test. "Totally. Super weird. Hehe."
She kept staring.
I felt a bead of sweat roll down my temple.
Breakfast continued in awkward harmony. I tried not to meet anyone's eyes.
After the table was cleared, I offered to help around the house. It was the least I could do. Plus, keeping busy helped distract me from the creeping sense of guilt and secondhand embarrassment.
Hinata's mom let me help with the dishes and even taught me how to fold dumplings properly. She patted my head when I finally got it right.
"You're such a quick learner."
Her dad and I went outside to tend the garden. I didn't know weeds could fight back but somehow they did. He gave me a thumbs-up when we were done.
"You've got a good heart, Aizawa-kun. And a strong back!"
Later, I helped their little sister with her homework. She smiled a lot more after that, and even high-fived me when we solved a math problem. Hinata stood in the doorway the whole time, pretending not to watch.
Her ears were red.
And then it happened.
Her dad leaned back in his chair after dinner and clapped me on the shoulder with enough force to dislocate it.
"You know, if Hinata brought home someone like you, I'd be one proud papa."
"D-Dad!" Hinata gasped.
I turned crimson. "I—I'm just trying to help—"
"No, no, you'd be perfect. Responsible. Respectful. Helpful. Plus you're handsome. In a humble, not-threatening way."
Hinata's mom giggled. "He'd be a wonderful addition to the family."
Her little sister looked up. "I'd be okay with it. But only if he brings me sweets."
I tried to melt into my chair.
"S-Seriously! I think I need to—"
"DATE MY DAUGHTER, AIZAWA!" her dad roared suddenly, tears streaming down his face.
A loud WHACK followed.
Hinata karate-chopped his head with precision that would make a ninja proud.
"STAY OUT OF THIS!"
"My bones!" he whimpered.
The room erupted into chaos. The mom laughed. The little sister cheered. The dad clutched his skull. Hinata sighed in pure embarrassment. I… didn't know where to look.
But despite the madness, a warmth settled in my chest.
Later that night, as I lay on the futon with the lights off and the noise from the day fading into stillness, I stared at the ceiling.
They were crazy. Absolutely crazy.
But it felt like family.
And somehow, I didn't feel so alone anymore.