Takeru POV
Morning sunlight spilled through the wide glass windows of Takeru's apartment, catching on the polished marble floor and the edge of the folded U.A. uniform laid out for him. He had dressed quickly—shirt crisp, tie loose around his collar, blazer stretched across shoulders that really should not have fit into a standard uniform. The HSPC tailor had needed three adjustments to make it sit correctly on him. It had been a life time since he wore any uniform and longer still since he went to school. Takeru felt tremendous excitement Takeru had mission he had to complete last week. A smuggling operation from China using civilian cargo ship to export precursors to make Trigger. The ship was sunk with all crew on board Takeru made sure of that.
He was tightening his cuffs when the soft click of heels echoed from the hallway. Takeru had wanted Kendo to join him in the chauffeured car for at least the first day.Kendo stepped into view. The U.A. uniform looked almost impossibly good on her—pleated skirt brushing against toned legs, blazer fitted snugly around her waist, her bright orange hair tied up in a high ponytail that emphasized the confident tilt of her chin. She looked beautiful, confident yet innocent, yet the moment she met his eyes, her composure faltered for just a heartbeat. Takeru took in her look hungrily.
Takeru let the silence linger, because watching her cheeks slowly warm was far too enjoyable. "You look incredible, Kendo-chan."
Her lips parted, and she immediately looked away, tugging the hem of her blazer as though the fabric had suddenly become too interesting. "D-Don't start. We're supposed to be leaving. The car is already waiting downstairs."
R18
"The car will leave when I want it to," Takeru stepped closer, his presence causing her breath to hitch despite her best effort to stay collected. He rested one hand lightly against her waist, bending just enough that their eyes met on level ground. "We have time," he murmured.
"We don't," she insisted, but her voice was a weak whisper.
He brought his index finger to her lips, silencing her protests. Her wide eyes stared into his as he pressed the digit against her soft mouth. After a moment, her lips parted, and she tentatively took his finger inside, her tongue swirling around it slowly, obediently. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
"Good girl," he praised, before replacing his finger with his mouth. The kiss was deep and possessive, claiming the innocence her uniform projected. He broke away, his gaze intense. "On your knees."
She sank down without question, her hands moving to his belt. She freed his cock, already hard and thick, and took him into her mouth. Her movements were eager and worshipful, her tongue tracing the veins as she bobbed her head.
"Open a few buttons," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see your tits."
Blushing furiously, she fumbled with the buttons of her white blouse, parting the fabric to reveal the simple white bra beneath. The sight of her, so beautiful and innocent in her school uniform yet on her knees for him, was intoxicating. She returned to her task, licking and sucking his shaft before moving down to lap at his balls, taking each one into her mouth gently.
"Stand up and bend over," he ordered. "Show me your panties."
"Takeru, we really can't... we'll be late," she protested weakly, even as she obeyed, turning and bending over the arm of a nearby sofa. Her skirt rode up, revealing a pair of simple, cotton panties.
He knelt behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he leaned in, breathing in her scent. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them aside. In one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside her. Kendo cried out, her fingers digging into the upholstery as he began to fuck her hard, his hips slapping against her ass with each powerful stroke. Her moans filled the room, a mix of pleasure and surrender.
With a final, deep groan, he came, filling her. He pulled out and turned her around. "Clean me off," he said softly.
She dropped to her knees once more, her tongue diligently licking him clean until he was satisfied. He helped her to her feet, righted her clothes, and gave her a final kiss. "Now," he said with a smirk, "we can go to the limo."
R18 over
The building's private elevator opened to the underground drive, where a sleek black limousine waited with the engine already warmed. Takeru's new chauffeur bowed deeply as the pair approached.
"Good morning, Kurogane-sama. Good morning, Itsuka-sama. Your route to U.A. has been prepared."
They settled into the limo's soft leather seats, and Kendo immediately popped a mint into her mouth before offering one to Takeru. While he accepted it, she pulled out a small mirror and began touching up her makeup with the practiced ease of someone who refused to arrive anywhere looking anything less than sharp.
Takeru watched her for a moment—then, without warning, slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her gently onto his lap. The motion made her squeak in protest, her compact spilling back into her bag as she slapped his chest lightly.
"You ruined my makeup," she pouted, though her voice betrayed more fluster than anger. She buried her face against his neck anyway, inhaling his warmth as the limo glided smoothly through morning traffic.
Takeru lowered his head and breathed in the scent of her strawberry shampoo, letting the softness of her ponytail brush against his cheek. "You look perfect to me," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the side of her neck, then another just behind her ear.
"Takeru—stop… no more," she whispered, turning red. "You pervert. It's the first day of school."
He chuckled, completely unrepentant. "You look too good in that uniform. I couldn't help myself."
Kendo tried to glare but ended up smiling despite herself. She shifted a little on his lap, smoothing the front of her blazer. "You know… I'm really happy today."
Takeru tightened his arms around her. "So am I. More than you know."
She hesitated before asking softly, "Takeru… is this your first time going to school? Like a real school?"
He paused—just long enough for her to understand the answer before he nodded. His life in the HSPC was a sealed box he never opened for anyone. But Takeru knew that Neijre and Kendo were not dummies and probably suspected a lot but kept quiet.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It is. And… it feels exciting."
Kendo squeezed his hand gently, leaning her forehead against his.
The rest of the ride passed in peaceful silence, the two of them wrapped around each other, letting the anticipation of U.A. settle comfortably between them.
When the limo finally pulled into U.A.'s grand courtyard, Takeru stepped out first and offered Kendo his hand. She hopped out, adjusting her skirt and tie before taking in the sheer scale of the campus.
"Good luck," he told her with a grin.
"Same to you," she said though her face fell a little when the class lists appeared on the digital display. Somehow it slipped his mind that Kendo would not be in his class the realization hit him like a truck.
Kendo Itsuka — Class 1-B Takeru Kurogane — Class 1-A
Takeru's shoulders slumped immediately, his expression dropping so hard Kendo had to stifle a laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me…" he muttered. "They split us?"
She rested a hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Hey. We'll see each other every break, after school, and on weekends. It's not the end of the world."
"It feels like it," he grumbled.
Kendo rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Go. Be amazing. I'll be watching."