The Kanzaki family was a name etched into Japan’s history with ink made of gold and blood. Revered for their immense wealth and dark web of underworld connections, the Kanzaki bloodline carried with it an ancient curse and legacy. Every heir, born into privilege, was destined to be the only child of their generation. Once married into the family, the bride or groom would bear only one offspring for life. It was not myth, it was law, and law in the Kanzaki family was enforced not by man but by power.No weakling was ever born into their ranks. Their bloodline produced only Elite Enigmas, pure, unblemished, and revered. The family chose mates from the most dominant lines. Only Elite Primes or Lunas, those rare high-ranking bloods, were considered worthy of binding into their future. Their obsession with power was evident in everything they touched.Kanzaki Rei, the next heir, stood at the center of the estate’s ancient conference hall. All six feet of him radiated quiet power. He was co
The room was thick with heat and the sound of skin against skin echoed off the walls. The air was saturated with pheromones, so potent they could be tasted. Taka’s body trembled, slick and sensitive, flushed with need as his heat overwhelmed every rational thought he had. He lay facedown on the bed, body arched, skin glistening with sweat and desperation. His lips were parted, breath ragged, a trail of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth as a long moan tumbled out of him. Midorin gripped his waist firmly, eyes clouded with lust, jaw tight from restraint. Taka was beautiful like this,wild, undone, utterly consumed. And though the urge to take him fully pulsed through every vein in Midorin’s body, he forced himself to ask the one question that still mattered. "Want me to knot you this time, babe?" His voice was deep and rough, hands tightening instinctively around Taka's waist. He held himself back, just barely, struggling against the primal instinct to bury himself complet
Murosane Kouji was a formidable opponent, no doubt. All seven feet and three inches of him towered over the court like a moving wall. Taiga hadn’t scored yet. The scoreboard glared down at them with a cruel 8 to 0. His feet moved, but his focus was somewhere else entirely. Or rather, on someone else. Tatsuya Roku. His brother. Here. In Japan. On the opposing team. Kouji’s team scored again. Ten to zero. Taiga clenched his fists. He needed to snap out of it. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. He could confront Tatsuya later. Right now, he had a game to win. He dribbled the ball, weaving between players, but two defenders closed in on him fast. "Shit, I can't score," he muttered to himself, teeth gritted. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. Maya. Always there when it counted. Without hesitation, Taiga passed the ball. Maya caught it clean and smooth, barely pausing before sending it to Rin on the wing. Taiga took advantage of the confusion and broke free,
The sun hit his skin, warm and persistent dragging Taiga out of bed with a silent demand. He blinked against the light filtering through the tall windows of his high-rise suite. Today wasn’t an ordinary day—he had a match to win against the Minuzaki Dragons. But the game wasn’t until 6:30 p.m., giving him time to run through his routine. He stretched, muscles tight from yesterday’s training, and pulled off the covers. Taiga lived alone. His father, a well-known figure with deep international ties, had sent him to school in Japan. Luxury wasn’t new to him. The apartment building he stayed in looked more like a presidential hotel than student housing, equipped with a private gym, chef-grade kitchen, marble floors, and all the silence money could buy. Rin had gone back to his dorm the day before. He’d told Taiga about the incident with Takuri. About the choking. The rage. The heartbreak. And now, Taiga understood. Takuri probably did care about Rin. But love and violence couldn’t coe
Taiga had briefed Rin earlier that morning. They sat under the shade behind the gym, the air still thick with the residue of the last practice, and Taiga’s voice low but firm as he explained what had unfolded after the team meeting. Rin had listened in silence, jaw clenched, eyes dim. “You need to submit your name,” Taiga had said finally, breaking the pause. “Tomorrow’s game decides the season. If you skip it, they’ll pull you off the team.” Rin didn’t need convincing. He had no intention of losing basketball—not for Takuri, not for Izumi, not for anyone. He wouldn’t let heartbreak take that from him. That’s what led him here now, standing in front of Izumi’s desk in the team office. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a cool tone over the white walls and blue-tinted windows. Rin stood tall, expression blank, voice flat. “Where do I write my name?” he asked directly, wasting no time on pleasantries. Izumi raised her brows and offered a slight, condescending
Rin hadn’t been to school in four days. Four days since he ran off into the night with bruises around his neck and panic in his eyes. Two days until the Shirakiba Wolves were set to face their next match—against one of the most formidable opponents this season: the Minazuki Dragons. Taiga sat in the meeting room, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. His eyes didn’t stray from the floor for long. Not with her standing up front. Izumi stood before them, giving her usual stern, instructive address—like she wasn’t the reason their captain was missing. Like she hadn’t crawled back into Takuri’s life and cracked it open like an old wound. And Takuri… well, Taiga didn’t even want to look at him. But he did. He looked like hell. Eyes sunken, lips pale, hair messier than usual. He hadn’t shaved, and he looked like sleep hadn’t touched him in days. Good. He didn’t deserve comfort. Taiga sighed quietly. He was trying—really trying—to keep his expressio