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Chapter Text

It takes a while for Endou to notice his own symptoms.

He's too excited for the Nationals, that was what he believed-- a night of tossing and turning and grinning in nervousness only pumped him up further, making him so much more excited to train.

He couldn't resist the urge to stand before the goal, hands itching and chest welling up with bursting power, enough to repeatedly summon the hand of an astral god, taking on anything from a ghastly beam of despair to angry flying penguins.

He gives up sleeping at around three thirty, hopping right out of his pyjamas into his jersey.

Sneaking out with his soccer ball, he runs. He dashes, dribbling the ball before him as he silently screams out his joy. They were in the Nationals! But of course, he knew he'd yelled that out verbally plenty enough already.

He races against the wind toward the tower, the will to play soccer just surging forth so wildly he fails to bear it, biting his lips down on a grin and keeping his fists tight as he runs much faster than his usual pace. 

And he practices.

He throws the tire forward, braces himself with a firm foot, and with a rough grunt he grits his teeth as he is thrown back by the force.

He practices, and he keeps going.

The sun is rising; his muscles are aching; he's done the exact same routine and drill dozens and dozens of times. His head is beginning to haze; his vision is beginning to dim; his eyes closes for a minute at a time to blink.

He's breathing heavily. He heavily, he's a step away from collapsing.

And yet-- even though his knees are weak and his ankle are in agony, his fingers are scraped through his gloves and rubbed raw so red his wrists willed ease from the pain--

Somehow, he can't stop himself.

When Aki runs up, in such a frantic panic, so fervently scolding him, tears in her eyes and the deepest fear in her heart-- because he'd left his house and his mother couldn't find him--

Endou stares back at her, because his body demanded from him-- one more time.

one more time.

Chapter Text

When Endou is yelled at, he laughs sheepishly.

Apologizing profusely until his mom sighs and gives up on her impossible lecture, she sternly grounds her son before sending him off to school, and Aki promises to lead him there and back immediately, despite the approaching matches.

And Endou gulps down his breakfast, suddenly finding it tough.

He's hungry; he's tired; his limbs are weak. The latter two overwhelm the former so much, his appetite fails, and something churns in his stomach.

A sort of tension that prickled deeply in his chest and drove a prickle behind his eyes-- a sort of anxiety. An unease. 

An almost painful unrest-- he grabs his chest, and somehow, he understands that if he takes another bite, he'll throw it all up.

He doesn't like it. He fails to find a reason for this feeling-- was he nervous? Was he overexcited, or perhaps falling sick? That wasn't a good sign.

When he apologizes to his mother for wasting the meal, he accepts the reprimand with a dry chuckle and a bashful scratch to the back of his head.

He makes his way to school in silence, tuning out Aki's lecture for him with only a little guilt.

-

Kazemaru thought it was a myth, to be honest.

It was a brief legend among runners, that those who ran too fast would become the wind. Heard of that one guy that sprinted past the sound border and died of a heart attack? Or maybe, the one that ran so far, only when he stopped did he realize his tendon tore?

Myths, jokes, stories, people called it. Kazemaru finds it hard to believe-- he brushes it off as a bedtime story-- he's not about to search it up and see if those names were real.

(when he does, though, he shrugs it off as exaggerated, fabricated fantasies caused by a series of strange coincidences.)

Miyasaka invites him for a run, and he accepts.

"When are you coming back?" they ask. He reluctantly brushes past the question without addressing it, and this complicates things.

When he runs, he slides through the wind.

A foot before the other, a lunge after the first stride. Eyes only set forward, not disturbed by anyone beside him, he pulls his body forward.

The wind bristles with him as he cuts through the air-- and something feels different.

The air before him does not break as he rushes through. Instead, it parts for him, like soldiers standing aside for the King on the red carpet.

And yet-- something feels just so wrong.

Was the track feel always this... even? So smooth, it's almost eerily slippery, but Kazemaru knows this field is anything but. 

What is he chasing? Nothing. What is he looking out for? Nothing. Just one straight line, start to finish, go. And somehow this routine seems so hollow and something is just desperately missing from the equation.

His ankles are light. His body is weightless. There is nothing in his way as he streams through the track, one with the breeze as he only merges with it-- 

Then he reaches the finishing line, and his body stops.

The rest of the track team crumbles, gasping so heavily for air they fall inevitably to their knees, choked laughter on their throats as they praise the upperclassman for his yet again, increased speed.

And he deflates, something inside him hurting like a crippling sense of disappointment.

He feels completely fine. He's not tired, not at all, not yet-- something in him struggled for more, something wild wanted to just burst out, break free, and be liberated.

so he finds himself looking into the sky-- and calmly, he wonders if he can fly.

Chapter Text

Kazemaru loves soccer.

He knows he does-- somehow, the burning feeling in his heart eases on the field. The weight of the ball as he hooks it in for a dribble, the satisfying drill of the ball into his side as he lunges for a clean trap.

He loves pulling back a foot, drilling the other in a strong pivot, much like sharp turns in running-- but this time, he sends the ball flying as far as he can-- and with it, he yells.

"Gouenji!"

And the ball flies fast-- fast, so fast-- somehow, he wishes he were the ball, and like it, become a razor in the breeze.

When he tells Miyasaka about this after their first match with Sengoku Igajima, he feels the weight inside him float so pleasantly he almost cries.

Miyasaka tells him that his place to run wasn't on the track field-- it was on the grassy, rough fields of soccer, with ten others even if they couldn't catch up to him some times.

He shares a smile with his underclassman, and Kazemaru bids track and field a happy farewell. He knows now, that his passion was for soccer.

Kazemaru doesn't realize that this burning in his heart would only get worse.

-

Kazemaru finds himself running, something like adrenaline in his veins churning the desire to feel the wind on his cheeks.

He finds Endou and engulfs him in the hug he didn't get to throw after the match, because Kurimatsu and Shishido had barrelled into the boy first.

A careless, off-guard topple sends them both rolling right into the river, clothes and bags and all. Endou whines, but Kazemaru only manages a measly sorry through his laughter.

By the riverbank, they talk again. 

Kazemaru and Endou share a heartful fistbump as they talk so strongly to each other, conviction and emotion full in their conversation. Now, officially, they were comrades. Nothing much changes, yet a lot inside changed. 

It was hard to notice, but Kazemaru believed what he wanted to.

When Kazemaru asks about Endou's injured hand, Endou's response is strangely reluctant. Maybe the shoot was a bad catch. Maybe it was when he's tripped this morning, or when he hit the goal post at some point.

Kazemaru decides not to dig further, and Endou appreciates the subtle gesture.

They fall silent for a moment-- and Kazemaru takes a breath of wind.

"I think I'm going for a run," he decides, even though they're both exhausted from their match today, "there's a nice wind, don't you think?"

Kazemaru speaks as if Endou would understand-- but he didn't expect him to.

Instead, Endou grins strongly, almost equally enthusiastic despite his swollen wrist. 

"Let me join you!" it's more of a friendly demand he knows Kazemaru won't refuse, "I've been jittery all day! so maybe I'll work up a sweat before I go home."

And Kazemaru complies, more than glad to have company.

He didn't want Endou wandering off to his hanging tire at the tower, after all, not with that wrist. He was almost convinced that Endou would, injury or not.

They run until the sun leaves them behind, their ears ring in their heads, and only Kazemaru's giving knees and Endou's aching shoulders stop them there.

They somehow manage to laugh, but Endou grips his fingers and saw the stars in the sky-- just now realizing just how long it's been since they started charging toward the sun in excitement.

Someoka and Gouenji finds them at the side of the field as they practiced Dragon Tornado, and with a long, suffering sigh, they sling one idiot each over their shoulders and proceed to lug them home.

Chapter Text

"I think Gouenji's hot."

Everything halts. 

Someoka trips over nothing and rolls forward until his face skids across the sand. Kazemaru's beautiful running form breaks apart and he has to stop. Kabeyama slips over the absolutely dry ground, and falls on top of Megane and Shishido, who yell for help. Matsuno and Kageno run over.

Haruna's pencil breaks. Aki squeezes the water bottle in her hand and Kurimatsu screams. Handa's tying a knot in his laces, but he's already tied it twice through and his fingers are still trying for a third. Domon spits out his drink. Shourin's grip loosens and his bottle's contents spill all over the ground.

The only one calm was Gouenji.

Everyone faces their Captain, who said it. 

Gouenji manages an "Endou, what?"

"Like I said," Endou steps toward the forward, looking at everyone else as if this was a breakthrough observation, "Gouenji's a little too hot, don't you think?"

There's another moment of silence as someone blushes.

Kazemaru facepalms, and Gouenji doesn't even know where to begin.

"Don't you think so too, Kazemaru? I mean, both of you were practicing Honoo no Kazamidori just a while ago and," Endou is a little more eager now, pointing at the striker, "he's ho--"

"Endou, calm down, and think about what you're saying."

"I am thinking! Gouenji's--"

"I understand," Kazemaru desperately replies, both hands over Endou's mouth because Domon's about to burst into the evilest fit of laughter, "look, let's talk somewhere else. You, me, and Gouenji too."

And Endou pouts.

Gouenji is confused. 

Kazemaru pulls Endou by the arm and Gouenji by the collar, and the team watches the defender drag the two into the clubroom for some reason, hollering for the others to continue their practice.

Aki's hands are shaky. Haruna's completely still. Natsumi turns to the sky and counts to ten.

"Endou, think about your words, please!" 

Kazemaru wants to rip Endou's head off. 

Endou doesn't understand why. 

Gouenji still doesn't know what he's doing here.

"I'm talking about the way you phrase things!"

Endou's cheeks are puffed up, and Kazemaru's really not as angry as he sounds. Endou resumes sulking in the corner, so Kazemaru steps toward Gouenji.

"But you really are a little..." Kazemaru begins crouching a little to the boy that was sitting on a chair, "...warm, today."

Gouenji understands now.

"I'm not sick," he quickly clarifies, but Kazemaru has the back of his palm on his forehead already.

"I'm not a thermometer but I know what a fever's temperature feels like if it's burning my hand," he responds easily, and Gouenji wonders if Kazemaru's used to this.

But Gouenji is firm, "I'm serious."

This catches the attention of the other two-- and a flash of worry passes through their eyes.

"I've been feeling..." the boy holds his hands out before him, even closing his fists let him feel the surging heat that almost emanated from his skin, "feverish, for a while now. Maybe since the match with Teikoku, I'm not too sure anymore."

Endou wants to quip, but he doesn't, and they listen to the striker make his point.

"It's uncomfortable, but it's not as if I have less energy, or I have any less of an appetite," he recalls for himself, "I'm not feeling weak or sick. I'm strong."

Gouenji tries to clarify himself, but if Endou knew any less he would've called it a strong front.

"As if you have more energy instead?" Kazemaru suggests, and Gouenji nods.

"It's probably just an adrenaline rush," Gouenji sighs, "my temperature may be lightly feverish, but maybe my body temperature is just rising from the norm? I think it's happened before in the world."

Endou doesn't deny, but he grins.

"So you're okay? That's a relief!" he puts his hand on Gouenji's shoulder reassuringly.

"Our bodies are changing," Kazemaru speaks up as Endou makes his way toward the door.

And Endou replies, "they are, huh."

Endou's reply is reluctant. Kazemaru recalls something ominous. And Gouenji realizes that something, something is up.

Chapter Text

"So your grandfather was a soccer freak just like you?" 

"Huh? I'm a soccer freak?"

Kidou doesn't really know if Endou is joking, but the boy looked so honestly confused that Kidou could only stare back, not sure if he was supposed to tsukkomi right here.

"Teikoku lost, ten to one," 

the words Haruna said still rang in him. Still strikes so hard and painful and shocking to him. But it was now fact and if anyone was in pain, it was Kidou, not any of Raimon.

Endou crouches down before Kidou, and they talk. He grins, he's smiling-- Kidou's eyes never knew tears, but even through the goggles Endou could tell they were overwhelmed with anger and frustration and disappointment and--

Endou continues to talk.

Kidou continues to listen.

The boy leans against the back of the couch, and somehow, they share a warm smile.

Hakamada is worried for Kidou.

The boy's been eating his meals slowly, and he's not too sure if he's just depressed from losing that match without having the opportunity to fight.

He's concerned for the boy.

Hakamada walks by Kidou's room at exactly 2 a.m. every day. He sees the light on more often now, and he stays by the door until it goes off again. 

He comes back an hour later, because it's time for school-- but Kidou is already dressed and ready, Hakamada only tells him it's time for breakfast.

He's concerned about Kidou, who stays up at night doing some form of desk work, and Hakamada doesn't think it's school homework.

It's not healthy at all, and so isn't the amount of pain medication he sees disappear from the shelves of the staff's quarters. 

Hakamada can tell that Young Master Yuuto is paler now. Not because he's any less out in the sun, but because his head aches, he loses sleep, and it takes all he has to walk down the hall straight, pretending nothing's wrong with himself.

It is only out of respect that Hakamada pretends nothing is wrong with him.

He asks the maid to make him something easier to swallow, lower his food portions, and carries his bag for him as he walks him to school.

Hakamada thought this would end once the young master was over his despair.

It didn't.

Gouenji's Fire Tornado burns stronger than ever.

Kidou sees Gouenji breathing heavy, but he doesn't look tired. It's like the flame striker can't get enough oxygen in his burning lungs, his temperament a blazing fire as he spins, ascends, and sends the ball a spindling bullet in his direction.

He stops, and feels the searing burn jet past his shoulder-- of course, the striker wouldn't aim right at him. He wasn't that kind of person.

He straightens himself.

Gouenji lands cleanly, and their eyes meet. 

Were they calm now, after their yelling and furious kicking around? 

Kidou feels the anger in his heart warm to his chest, released and quelling.

He watches, through his goggles, and scrutinizes Gouenji's glare. Those furrowed brows, that biting lip, and a twitch in his fingers as if the flame striker considered launching another Fire Tornado at him.

Kidou's eyes dart around every bit of the flame striker, somehow realizing that if they continued, Kidou would beat him in skill, but the striker would overwhelm in power. But the striker had a weaker right leg, so Kidou could-- 

Kidou shuts his eyes, not listening to his own mind.

The ball was broken, neither of them had an outlet anymore.

"You've only seen Endou from the front."

Kidou lifts his head-- and somehow, he understood. Somehow, he saw something different in the flame striker--

How every finger is pulled apart from each other, unnaturally but he tucked it behind himself as if he was hiding it-- as if he didn't want his own fingers stuck to each other, but he knows it's unnatural and he hides it. Gouenji's breathing looked painful, and his usually tan skin was just a little flushed, a feverish gleam of red. 

"...you could try and have him look after your back this time."

Kidou wondered if his own eyes looked as exhausted as Gouenji's were.

Chapter Text

"What's wrong, Megane?"

"Everything's fine, but Gouenji-kun's on fire."

"Yeah, the match is going really well--"

"No, I'm serious, Gouenji-kun is on fire!"

And sure enough, Aki sees it.

And Gouenji does too. He lands from Dragon Tornado, sucking in an angry click of the tongue as if fails to break past the Infinite Wall.

Then as he stands up, he spots a shadow to his left and just about yelps as he find an ember of fire on his left sleeve.

His hand pats away the flames rapidly, and within a second it was gone. 

It was only when he breathes out, that he realizes his hand didn't hurt from the flames. His body's much hotter, he realizes, so the flames are almost lukewarm.

It doesn't happen again, and the match ends.

-

"Where are we going?"

Kidou asks Gouenji, but the boy smiles knowingly.

"You'll see."

This part of Inazuma Town was somewhere Kidou hadn't yet chanced upon. He supposed it was a local's-only secret-- they were climbing a hill, after all.

Kidou wonders if they are going to that steel tower he had always spotted from anywhere inside the town. It had the Inazuma mark on it, huger than the one on the school building.

And when he hear a familiar rough grunt, and the sound of something heavy bumping against rough soil-- he gets a hunch that he knows who he's seeing.

"Endou," he's almost exasperated.

The boy goes flying right back from the wheel that just barrels into him. Endou Mamoru, with a tire strapped to his back, falls. Terrible plan, because now he resembles a flipped turtle.

"I knew you'd be here," Gouenji smirks, "if Kino finds out, she'll get angry again."

Endou chuckles past the reminder, and calls out to the two boys as they help him up. 

When Kidou asks about his training, Endou senses the gentle concern. But he grins cheekily, and raises a confident fist and assures him he's fine. He was trying to get stronger, after all. What other way to get stronger than to follow the guide of his life?

Endou remembers the goal he let in today.

A bright shining shot, so glaring, he closed his eyes-- and before he'd known, the ball was through him, and sagging in the net.

The goal he was supposed to protect, so easily crossed.

He hated to think of it, but he told himself it would remind him to get stronger and stronger so it won't happen again. Yet--

"I have to protect Raimon's goal, after all."

He doesn't know how much he's said that.

"But moderate yourself, at least," Kidou sighs, "you wouldn't like to get injured before a match."

And Endou chuckles back, assuring him that it was fine. He did this all the time, after all!

They hands wrapped together in a closed handshake, Kidou feels belonged.

For the first time in weeks, Kidou's head is clear and he manages to sleep without anything to ease his pounding headache.

Chapter Text

There was a thunderstorm today.

Endou holds his Soccer Ball, hands firm on his glove and gaze absorbed into the rain, through the window. He barely blinks, strangely entranced.

Then he gives in, and tells his mother he's going to practice at the riverbank.

"Wait, Mamoru! It's raging thunder out there!"

Endou pretends he didn't hear, because he knows his mother wouldn't stop him if he really wanted to go.

He grins so hard and laughs so wide, but he knows he can't use the soccer ball now, the winds are too strong. So he tucks it securely under his arm, and runs half blind.

He hears the roar of thunder, watches the flash of lightning.

He stands, drenched, looking up at the sky.

Standing in the middle of the field, feeling the rough pelts of rain shatter on his face-- and somehow, he simply craves for more.

He feels the wind boost his steps; he feels the tingling electricity coursing through his veins, until he has so much energy, too much energy.

He doesn't know when he's last slept. He can't get himself an appetite, because his body is telling him he has enough energy without those nutrients, but maybe it's just psychological belief.

He runs through the thunderstorm, each step and he almost thinks he belongs here. He laughs in line with the thunder, flashing through the roads and twinkling with the lightning that sparkles behind him.

Under his gloves his hands bleed until they can't anymore.

But they only grow thicker and stronger. His skin is calloused, and it's only his own fault. He can't recall when was the last time he could feel rough surfaces without pressing down to really tell. 

He trains. He runs. 

Harder and harder and harder-- because maybe, if he's tired enough, he'll be able to eat normal portions and sleep through the night without waking up every moment.

When he runs under the bridge, somehow he finds Kazemaru there, sheltering himself from the rain.

It is only when the other grabs his hands, that Endou realizes he's cold. Kazemaru's body temperature is vaguely warm against his numb fingers, and the look on Kazemaru's face is just so broken Endou can't bear to look at it.

Endou doesn't know how he looks right now.

His eyes are wild. His hair is messy, he's disheveled, soaked, and shivering. And yet, he's got that painfully wide grin on his face, as if he doesn't know his own state.

Kazemaru reminds him again that their bodies are changing.

Endou can tell that Kazemaru is scared.

Endou doesn't ask what Kazemaru is doing out here, seeking shelter from the rain but his blazer isn't worn, his hair isn't tied up, and there's a permanent wind-blown frame on his fringe that tells him Kazemaru's been out here for a while.

He just tells Kazemaru again that he knows.

Just this time, he fails to mask the break in his voice, because he's scared too.

When the tire throws his body into the air again the next morning, there's a taste of blood in the back of his throat.

He laughs as he childishly leads Kidou and Gouenji into his favourite old candy store, because he knows the hard candies in that one particular shelf are his favourite, and are perfect when the taste of iron gets too sickening.

Chapter Text

Ichinose notices something strange in the team.

Maybe it's because he's only been around for a little while, but he doesn't think the others haven't noticed it.

He laughs when Kazemaru jets through his words too fast to be audible.

He sees the pain flash through the boy's eyes as he repeats himself, an obvious strain in his tone as he fights to slow his words, failing.

If Kazemaru's speech quickens again, Ichinose doesn't tell him to slow down.

Maybe the boy's just having a bad, clumsy day.

Gouenji feels light.

His head is heavy, but his feet are light. There's a boiling in his head, as if he's feverish, but the fire boiled through his chest and somehow he's moving so much stronger today.

He spins to the air, scorching flames following his feet and driving his momentum skyward. He drives two consecutive tornadoes into the goal, then he feels cold as he lands.

In half time, when Aki hands him a sports drink, he actually flinches from the cold and drops it.

Aki is quick to reach down and pick it up, apologizing-- and Gouenji only takes it after wrapping a towel around the bottle.

He finds himself unable to drink it.

The ice burned his throat, and swallowing, feeling the arctic swash in his stomach-- somehow, he felt sick.

Endou hands him a bottle of water that was in his back-- lukewarm from the sun-- and Gouenji takes it gratefully, because he needs it.

Their match with Kidokawa Seishuu was a long one.

A charge of offense and defense and offense, Gouenji barely had a break between the hostile glances from the Mukata Trio and the heat behind his eyes.

When the match finally, finally ends in the nick of time, the Phoenix charging through a blazing red fire through the net of the goal-- Gouenji smiles.

The handshake he shares with them is warm.

But the locker room's metal doors are freezing cold, so much, his skin stuck to it and peeled off red, like frostbite.

Chapter Text

"You need to tell me what's going on."

When Aki interrogates him, Endou isn't sure what to say.

"I know it's not just you," she's firm, and she almost thinks the boy is being unfair, keeping her in the dark even though they've known each other for a while now.

Endou eyes her blankly, and he's thinking.

"Sorry, Kino," he manages, "but... to say the truth, I don't know what's going on either."

And he leaves it at that.

Aki doesn't pursue it.

Today's Endou is different.

Perhaps the Kidokawa match took a toll on him. His prided technique, God Hand, broken through so easily-- and even until the end, he had to incorporate Triple Defense into it to barely block Triangle Z.

He's the keeper, he repeats inside him, again and again and again. It's his job to protect, defend, guard the goal. It's his role and it's what he's there to be.

He voices his paranoia to the team.

He doesn't think he can defend against Zeus.

They tell him this isn't like him. 

He agrees.

They always sigh at how gullible and positive he acts. What they don't know, is that he is the one most aware of how naive he is.

It keeps him up at night, and the nightmares are much worse to face.

He's the Goalkeeper and he's the Captain.

Kurimatsu and the rest of the first years are happy and excited and pumped up to train even more. 

Facing those smiles, Endou's is strained. His brows furrow but his smile is wide. He joins them in practice, and pretends none of that tension and fear and uncertainty happened at all.

He was going to bide through this.

Kidou and Gouenji help him through his training, and they don't tell him how much he's breaking himself down.

Because they know it's what he wants and needs.

Natsumi thinks about it, and she tells Aki that it's no surprise he's feeling the pressure under his knees. It's even more of a surprise how he's been optimistic thus far.

She tells Aki that they can only watch over him, silently.

Because as managers, sometimes, their work is to wait.

Even if it hurts to watch them go through this.

"Fire Tornado!"

"Wait-- Gouenji?!?"

"Ahh!! Endou-kun!"

"Ah, oops."

Chapter Text

Aphrodi.

He's a deity, and he's fully convinced he is.

He spreads his wings in the air, and he stretches them so naturally they belong on him-- maybe even more so than the four human limbs he has.

When he descends from God Knows, he almost hates to feel them disappear from his back.

He is divine.

It's natural that all things should grovel and be defeated before him.

That is why he pretends to feel nothing as he cruelly takes down soccer teams, one after another.

He takes a deep gulp of the Aqua of the Gods.

He smashes the shot glass against the ground.

He is Aphrodi, and he is a god.

When he changes out of his uniform-- it's more of a toga, really, but it's easy to move around so he doesn't mind-- he cringes as the wind blows through his bare back.

He feels naked and empty.

Yes, he wasn't wearing a top-- but something, something, something was just missing behind him. Like a rusty arm he's not allowed to move, a numb leg he doesn't know how to stretch out.

Somehow, his back itches.

Scratching becomes a rather nasty habit of his, but he can't help it.

Each day his teammates tell him to stop, because his nails scrape through light cuts, that doesn't bleed but scabs and may infect. 

It's an ugly, grotesque red-- that strange V on his back.

He tells them he's honestly trying.

But in fact, holding back drives him mad.

Something in his back fight to break free, like a butterfly desperately shattering through bits of its cocoon to escape. Except, he's stuck.

He's forced, into a container so much smaller and so much lacking from what he needs-- something in him just wants out.

He gulps down the last of the water in his bottle, and almost screams, because his thirst doesn't quite quench anymore.

There was something about the Aqua of the Gods that quenched his dry throat easily.

He doesn't know what the Aqua of the Gods is.

He just knows it helps his situation.

Whatever his situation is.

Chapter Text

Endou wakes up early these few days.

Training to learn Majin the Hand is hard-- the only guess he has a a vague red circle around a stickman's left chest area, after all. Even Coach Hibiki failed to understand it.

When his mother finds it weird how early he's waking up, he laughs it off as funny.

His mother's so surprised that he's not oversleeping! Isn't it hilarious?

He doesn't tell her that he's only awake because he couldn't catch a wink of sleep at all.

He makes his way to the steel tower, and straps the tire to his back again.

He feels at home when the tire throws him back, when his leg twists clumsily and the weight of the earth's core drags him down. 

He doesn't know what energy drives him to stand up.

He forgets everything and anything around him. He simply throws, is thrown, falls, and tries again. Over and over and over, until the sun rises and burns and sets.

He senses Kidou, Gouenji, and Ichinose beside him, but they do not stop him.

They watch him as he strains himself, getting bruise after bruise-- his fingers are scraped through the gloves, and his feet cramp up.

Endou grunts harder.

The next day, when some long-haired she-male with a god complex barges into practice, a haughty and prideful tone in his confident snub, Endou becomes irritated.

And Endou does not become irritated.

"The difference between god and humans are one thing that cannot be changed by 'practice'," he confidently declares, as if it's the obvious unchangeable fact, "it's a useless effort."

"Shut up," Endou blows up-- "I won't let anyone tell me practice is meaningless!"

Endou is pissed when Aphrodi laughs.

Because it's not funny.

Not funny at all.

Aphrodi shoots, and it's not even his greatest shot.

Yet, when it reaches Endou's hands, things go white. 

A fire burns in his palm, and the ball spins so rapidly it's like a orb of spinning spikes, scraping through every inch of skin and shattering every bone in his fingers.

Or so that was how it felt.

Endou's pushed back, heels digging through the dirt, and he feels his hips crack from the strain, his toes tensing from the strain-- his shoulders tremble, and his elbows are an inch from buckling.

The shot deflects, flinging airbound-- and his body loses its hook.

The force sends him into the goal net, crashing unceremoniously within the grasps of the soft webs. His eyelids collapse, and his body functions shuts down instantly.

He hears more than one voice call out to him, and his body is lifted gently, a hand propped under his head as support.

His vision is hazy.

Maybe it's because he hates it. Everything and anything that destroys him. People that tell him he can't do what he's trying to do. Challenges that make him hate the wall he can't get through.

He's trying and he's trying and he's seriously, trying so hard why can't they see it, so why did things always have to throw him down and tell him again and again how futile his efforts are?

This isn't like him.

But for now he doesn't care.

Maybe for the first time, Endou is furious.

Chapter Text

No one in the team liked that guy.

Aphrodi, he called himself, Kidou knew who he was-- the Captain of Zeus Junior High, their next opponent.

Everyone was irked by his high and mighty nature, and they weren't too surprised that Captain was the first to blow up at him.

After all, Captain's always a maniac for training. Hearing it get insulted sucks.

They knew the guy was bad news when he essentially vanished, emerged in mid air-- and kicked a shot so strong it morphed into a sickening orb of red and black energy.

Endou caught it-- without God Hand, without Bakuretsu Punch, nothing. Raw grit and effort-- deflecting it, and getting thrown back so painfully he might have had a concussion.

Handa crouches down, and he's worried.

He's seen Endou push himself over and over in the Inabikari Training Centre, using settings so high Handa had nightmares going through.

He knows Endou is under tremendous pressure.

He understands just how desperate Endou is to get stronger, stronger-- in time for their match with Zeus.

He's upset that his Captain's getting pushed around like this-- but what really makes him break into despair, is just how livid he is.

Endou's making a face like he'd just go right over, grabs the imbecile's collar, and bite his head right off if that'd satisfy him.

Kidou has to steer him in the right direction as Endou struggles out in rough shoves, staggering forward, barely making the three steps toward the goal line.

His knees are shaking, his fingers are trembling. His vision is hazy, he can't even speak fluently and he can't even stand. 

Handa almost cries at the sight--

because he realizes that this-- 

this is what's really hidden under Endou's smile.

Chapter Text

"You alright?"

Endou curls up in the corner of the balcony, and Kazemaru is there to hold his hand.

The keeper only gives a hum in response, deep in thought. His cheeks burn from a scratch and his hips are sore from all the training.

It's 3a.m. and everyone is fast asleep in the hall, but he still can't get himself settled.

Training for Majin the Hand now would be too noisy, and Kazemaru's managed to convince him to stick to thinking for now.

He hates thinking.

Kidou's sitting before him, leaning against the wall, a leg stretched out and the other pulled up to his chest.

He's like a barrier, in case Endou gets any ideas on running off to train.

Their match was tomorrow, after all. Endou needed all the rest he can get.

So does the rest of them, but when Endou asks, they insist they're fine.

Gouenji stands at the side, wrapped up unnaturally in a coat, a scarf and a blanket, trying to stay warm but looking out to the night breeze and trying his hardest to stay awake for the others.

Kidou swallows another painkiller for his headache-- he takes off his goggles, because somehow, he realized the sharpened vision hurts him more-- staying awake really isn't that hard for him to begin with, so he takes the goalkeeper's other hand, and squeezes it reassuringly.

Kazemaru's grip on Endou tightens every once in a while, and the boy taps his fingers on the ground a little noisily, as if he's restless.

They stay perfectly still.

Gouenji dozes off on Kazemaru's shoulder, and the latter loses consciousness soon enough. Endou leans into Kazemaru's other shoulder-- his eyes close, then eventually his breath evens.

Kidou remains awake. 

He covers them with a blanket, and manages a smile as he swallows his third sleeping pill for the night.

Endou might not be able to master Majin the Hand just yet, and he may be impatient about it, but the three of them won't let him face this alone.

The team wouldn't stop reminding him that Endou's not alone, either.

Endou's supposed to be the annoyingly optimistic ball of fire, after all.

Perhaps, it scared them how Endou could break out in anger like what he did.

They didn't like that Endou at all, and they would do anything to avoid seeing it again.

Kidou thinks he likes Raimon.

Chapter Text

What exactly is in the 'Aqua of the Gods'?

When Endou asks, the detective explains it as 'stuff that strengthened human bodies'-- Endou understands why he's being vague. Endou probably won't understand if he was given some complicated terms he didn't understand.

"Then... Aphrodi, and the rest of them--"

"They will be considered victims," the detective assures the team, and they gratefully breathe out in relief, "but until the drug is out of their system, they will be placed under a medical facility for observation."

They aren't sure if they should feel pity for that team.

But Endou does.

Endou closes his fist around Endou Daisuke's glove, and something in him is unsettled.

He exchanged a shaky handshake with Aphrodi before they were led away. And when he locks his gaze with Aphrodi, he sees something.

Something hauntingly familiar.

Aphrodi sees it too.

He shoots away, stepping back in a start. His hand is almost frantically taken away from Endou's, and for a moment Gouenji thinks Endou did something.

"Aph-" Endou begins, but Aphrodi snaps away, crossing the rest of his teammates as he stomped toward the changing room.

Endou rushes forward, and a hand lands on the boy's shoulder.

Aphrodi flinches, and shoves the hand away, arms reaching around to wrap himself in a defensive hug. He steps back, almost fearful.

Endou steps back too, hands held before him in a sort of show for no hostility.

"We can..." he tries, "...we can talk about it."

Aphrodi bites his lip, keeping his hands crossed before him-- a protective, guarded posture. 

"I'm fine," he insists.

Endou doesn't think he's fine.

But for now, he can't pursue.

"What's wrong, Endou?" Kidou asks him, tone lowered as they watch Zeus Junior High walk away from the stadium.

"It's nothing," he shrugs the question off.

They brave up a smile.

"Did we become it, I wonder," Endou says, reverent, "the 'Legendary Inazuma Eleven'."

And Kidou snickers. 

"The legend's just getting started, Endou."

And that wasn't the only thing that was just getting started.

Chapter Text

They're on their way home, to Raimon.

They were rowdy at first, but eventually some of them fell fast asleep, exhausted from the match, so the bus was quiet in this part of the journey.

Gouenji went ahead on another ride toward the hospital. Ichinose and Domon went to Kidokawa Seishuu, to catch up with their friend Nishigaki.

Kazemaru sits beside Endou.

"What did you see?"

Endou's been looking out the window the entire trip, but he knows exactly what Kazemaru was talking about.

Kidou's behind them, and they know he's listening in.

Endou ponders, his gaze sliding from the scenery outside to his hands. His hands, rough and thick, from all the hours and days and months of training.

"Similarities," his answer is.

Kazemaru's hand on Endou tightens. 

"You're worried?" he asks, warily.

Kazemaru doesn't like Aphrodi.

Endou fully knows how he feels.

So he doesn't give Kazemaru an answer.

He turns toward the window again, and in front of his eyes, Raimon Junior High blows up.

Chapter Text

Endou wakes up, and finds himself on his bed.

He bolts up, and physically he spasms.

He fails to bite back the howl that breaks through his throat, and his hands shoot to his shoulders. His bones felt every inch like a needle, and every movement was almost agony.

Then, he remembers everything.

Especially how he stood so perfectly still, petrified, stunned-- and the scoreboard just keeps going up. 

Twenty to Zero.

That's how many goals he watched go right in. That's how many goals he failed and he lost.

He didn't even touch it, not even once.

He, the goalkeeper. The Captain.

He just watched his teammates get beaten down, while he stood at the goal in futility, frozen-- his feet trembled, his fingers shook-- but could he change the outcome anyhow? He couldn't.

Not giving up is their hissatsu.

Positivity just stopped working anymore.

He rushed to see them as soon as he found out where they were. 

But what could he say to them now?

He watches them grit their teeth, hold back tears, and their brows scrunch up in a sort of anger in them-- Endou hated to see them like this.

He likes it when everyone's happy, or sighing fondly at him. When everyone calls his name, usually after something great or something stupid. 

Not all mad, and upset, hurt, and defeated.

Not like this.

His smile hurts. His eyes burn. His fists shake so hard he clenches them down but they're still shaking because why is this happening, why did this have to happen, don't make that face, please.

"I'll take revenge for you!" he assures his team.

Maybe that was the most convincing act he's ever put up.

"I'm gonna teach those aliens what true soccer is like!" Endou's firm, his hands rubbing across the soccer ball that survived the building destruction.

When Kidou and Gouenji agree, so confidently, he feels himself lighten up.

Because he's supposed to be the one that holds the entire team up. Little did they know, the team was the one holding him up, at times.

But he's not going to tell them that.

Chapter Text

Gouenji's known for a while that soccer would be his downfall.

From the match he missed last year, to Yuuka's accident, to the numerous times his foot gets busted and his father gets even more upset.

And of course, to the breath he no longer remembers how to catch.

His breathing is a little heavier than what it was many months ago, and in the semi-finals with Kidokawa Seishuu the coach mentioned that as well.

Is he not doing well physically? No, it was the opposite.

He's fueled by the heat, and he feels more than comfortable when the sun is the hottest, where he can feel the burn on his tan skin.

The shade under his favourite tree becomes uncomfortable, and he has an idea what's causing it.

He was the Flame Striker.

He was the flame. He is fire. 

And his body wasn't going to continue running so smoothly.

Everything was fine until one day, in the middle of the street, his sleeve erupts into flame.

Nothing caused it. Nothing could've sparked it. The weather was a gentle, windless morning-- and Gouenji, like plenty others, just strolled down the district on their way.

Gouenji tears his jacket right off of him, panicked enough to not care where he was tossing the thing and lets it flutter to the gravel.

A passer-by steps away, and another helps by bringing in a fire extinguisher.

The situation was easily brushed off as a freak incident.

Gouenji rubs his fingers, his much too hot fingers, and then he hides them.

He doesn't tell anyone.

Chapter Text

Day One on the Inazuma Caravan, and Kidou has a headache.

He remembers the ugly bruise on his back from yesterday's match with Gemini Storm. 

After seeing it in the mirror, he considered the healing patch Hakamada stuck on it, how deep the bruise might be, how it's an ugly, deep blue that wouldn't warm to red anytime soon, and he's still trying to calculate how long it'll take to heal completely and how much it'll affect his soccer concentration while it's ailing and-

-and the thought just doesn't stop.

He looks at someone, anyone, and he just keeps thinking.

Endou's got considerable leg strength for a goalkeeper. But if Kidou were to dribble a ball across him, he would find it difficult. He starts thinking of how to feint across imaginary Endou. He wonders which of his shoots can cross Bakuretsu Punch and which would be blocked ultimately by Majin the Hand. 

He tries to think of something else.

But he ends up analysing it instead.

He closes his eyes. Tries to forget all sound. Screams into his own head so the binary in his brain would just stop for a moment, shut up.

It doesn't.

He was never one to really get motion sickness, but he's willed to wonder if this was how it felt.

From one sleepless night to the next, Haruna points out his dark circles. 

Hakamada had honoured his wishes for the road trip, but Kidou could tell that the butler didn't like the idea at all.

He leans against the side of the car, and the not-at-all gentle rumble of the engine thrums his head and the agony is just so much worse.

He curls into his seat, pretending to look out the window while he lay his head aside on the headrest.

There's a pressure somewhere, somewhere behind his eye that just spikes to the middle of his brain as if someone's trying to squeeze it dry.

He puts his hand on it as if that would help, but of course it doesn't.

He closes his eyes, and takes off his goggles.

He vaguely registers Endou whispering something to Haruna, and a part of him wonders why the van is a little quieter for the rest of the trip to Nara.

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry, Endou... I can't fight with you guys."

Endou holds on to himself tight.

When Gemini Storm scored against him thirty-two to zero, he was fine. After all, he's cheered himself up with the fact that he could now see their shoots enough to reach them.

He didn't mind that his shoulders hurt so much three healing patches barely keep him from screaming at each movement. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

Then, Gouenji is being told to leave the team and he's just gonna go.

Without even an argument. Was it because of how he'd messed up vital shots in the match today? Coach Hitomiko knows how much no one cares.

So why?

Endou can't bring himself to ask Gouenji further.

The flame striker blinks away tears, and turns away. He's walking, further, further, toward home, and his distant back isn't coming closer.

Endou tells himself he's fine.

He's not.

Endou has to be fine.

He really isn't.

Endou smiles, "make sure you come back, alright?!" he calls after the boy cheeks stretched far out in a grin.

Gouenji doesn't respond to him, not even a wave.

Endou slaps himself, and repeats, I'm fine.

He knows Gouenji is feeling so much worse than him about this situation, so he's fine.

But Endou was going to miss that warmth.

Chapter Text

Kazemaru runs.

He runs until his fists are too tired to close, the breath he's trying to even just can't stabilise, and the palms of his feet hurt against the sole of his spikes.

It's not enough.

It's not enough to quell just how frustrated and angry he is about the situation.

He watches the ball, and he runs down the hill.

Leaves are in his way, roots spike up and threaten a horrendous fall. But he runs, eyes fixed on the road and the ball and he just runs. 

Faster, he wants, I need to be faster.

Fast enough to leave anyone behind. Fast enough to personify his name, fast enough that he's a hurricane, strong and invisible and gone the next.

Fast enough to not lose to those aliens.

Even without the frustrations he begins to feel empty.

As they settle down for dinner, and the nightly breeze stills for the moon, he taps his fingers restlessly on the soil, and his throat is dry as he drinks the water that's passed around.

The wind is gone and somehow, the air isn't enough to satisfy him.

The heat suffocates him, and it's like he's thirsty, yearning for the perfect moment to sink into the air currents and let himself float along the threads of leaves.

After they gathered to their beds, Kazemaru sneaks out, because he can't sleep. 

Endou and Domon had escaped Kabeyama's snoring a while ago and were resting on top of the caravan, but after Endou says something to Domon, they simply wave and let him be.

Kazemaru would've loved some company, but he's only glad that Endou's tired enough to sleep today. 

He's wide awake, and the sound of the forest is his only companion tonight.

Endou watches with sleepy eyes for as long as he can, thinking to himself that after one more lap, he'll go tell the boy to stop.

But Kazemaru rounds the camp grounds so fluently, his every movement so fluid and so perfectly poised. Under the silver moonlight, his teal hair glimmers and he's almost beautiful.

Endou watches the scene before him, and somehow, he feels so delighted.

It calms him.

He loses track of time, and Endou's asleep before he even realized.

Kazemaru winces as Aki sprays disinfectant on his red, bleeding, bruised and aching feet. He didn't think he was pushing himself this hard, but the knowing glint in Endou's eyes tell the boy he's experienced the same.

Aki's tired voice tells him not to push himself.

He responds, dryly telling her he understands.

Aki doesn't look convinced at all, and Kazemaru wishes she would leave them alone, because as much as it's hurting him, none of them wanted it to hurt her as well.

Chapter Text

Shirou's skin is always too dry.

Hokkaido was a land of snow. The climate meant skin was easily dry and water was easily lost. Hydration's important. Yeah.

He needs to remind himself what he's doing out here in the freezing cold but his teeth are chattering at this point and he's not even sure when that clump of snow gathered on top of his head and wait there's another pile on his shoulder so maybe that's why he's so cold.

He breathes out, basking once again in the shivering cold as he looks fondly over the shrine beside him, and the god that rested in there he never really knew the name of.

Somehow, the cold is nice. Freezing and he's about to bite his own teeth off, but it's nice.

He would pull on his bladed shoes and dance, ski across the ice and skate across the waters, leap on the snow and flutter with the flakes. Spin faster than anyone, jump higher than any other, and slide down faster than before.

With the snowy mountains as his cloak, he would sway to the beautiful blue, like a nymph in the blizzard, right where he's made to be.

When a van stops and a boy offers him a ride to get warmed up, though-- he doesn't refuse it at all.

Somewhere inside him, Atsuya reprimands him in his irritated yet so loving tone-- reminding him to get warmed up and stop daydreaming already!

He chuckles fondly.

Chapter Text

Kazemaru taps.

Endou's first to point out that habit, as Kazemaru clicks an irregular melody on the windowsill, then on the table, then on the bench as he rests.

It's like he can't stop moving, because stillness makes him uncomfortable.

When Fubuki told him to become like the wind, he really wasn't too sure what to expect. 

And after getting used to the clunky skateboard under his feet and the tight helmet on his head, he finally takes a good look around and realizes, breathes out in a voiceless gasp, I love it.

He is the wind. He adores the wind, and perhaps this is what links him closer to Fubuki like how it connects him to Endou-- similarities.

The wind is a blistering cold, but he loves how it feels as it washes his face, crawls under his shirt, and surrounds him in every direction. He can't get enough of it.

He boards down with Fubuki beside him, and through the freezing cold draft that streams by as he slides down in line with the snow, somehow, he can tell, that the boy loves it too.

Of course he does.

But it is when his hand touches Fubuki's-- and Fubuki is startled by those warm hands, that he stops and thinks.

Everyone's bottle is handed to them lukewarm in this cold weather.

But when he sees Fubuki's bottle, given to the boy by one of the Hakuren students-- Kazemaru sees the drips of condensation glistening off the edges, and he cringes.

Drinking iced water in such cold climate probably didn't feel very great.

Kazemaru remembers when he once teased Gouenji, by placing a freezing cold can at the back of his neck after practice.

He still remembers laughing at how the flame striker right about squeaked at it.

But when he saw Gouenji's mildly irritated eyes narrowing at him in a sort of stern warning, he'd faltered.

The same way, he faltered now, at Fubuki.

Fubuki's hand was a frosted glaze, as if he'd just dipped it into the snowscape. 

Kazemaru ponders on the similarities between their two ace strikers.

Chapter Text

Shirou is always in a daze. 

His hair is a pale silver, his skin is a ghastly white. His lips are perhaps a little blue, and someone often jokes that Fubuki is the snow, white and soaked in the crusty sheets of ice.

No one jokes about how this also makes him look like he's got a foot in the grave, but desperately crawled back out not too sure if he's dead yet because it's too cold for zombies to rot out here.

He looks out into empty distances-- what is he looking at? The snow, many kilometers ahead, he stares at the white almost as if he's sucked into the atmosphere, and sometimes, his team watches on worriedly, as if he would be next to just shine and melt away like a snowflake-- beautiful, amazing, yet so very fleeting.

A part of Fubuki is always in anything but a daze.

Looking around from side to side, staying so perfectly still and small in the corner where he can see everything, any abrupt movement in the room is glared at as if it's offensive.

When trekking through the snow, he's desperate to cover his own tracks as soon as he makes them. He's the one to know first if there's an animal around, whether it be a harmless snow bunny, a scavenging newborn fawn-- or the old mountain bear everyone strives to avoid.

This part of him spikes up only every so often, and then his team begins to wonder if this was part of his dissociative identity disorder. 

Perhaps it was something more emotional about him-- perhaps he's confused each time he changes, perhaps he's beginning to have memory overlaps that don't line up between Shirou and Atsuya.

They were scared for him.

Or maybe, they're scared of him.

When Raimon comes by and asks for their ace striker at the end of their stay, they're reluctant to let him go.

How could they, knowing how shaky and in pieces their captain was? 

Who's going to pull him out of the way of a car when he drifts onto the road, thinking something three kilometers away past a verge was calling him in the snow? 

They won't stop worrying.

But when they see how happy Shirou is when he's beckoned to go, none of them can bring themselves to stop him.

Chapter Text

After Gemini Storm came Epsilon.

After Hakuren, they went to Manyuuji.

Kidou likes midnights.

His cape billowed as he walked, his eyes filtered across the moonlit silver steps. The wind is cold and the breeze is quiet with just a soft hum of wind.

There are no stars out. Just the yellow luminance of the moon, the velvet darkness a gentle blanket for the world's most beautiful shade of blue.

His mind is clear and he takes in only the sheer beauty of nature, breathing in air that seems so much cooler and sweeter than what he's used to.

Much more than anything, he realizes that under this moonlight, Haruna is the most beautiful thing in the world.

They cross over the long, white and red walls that don't speak, sheltered in a secret garden just for the two of them. 

How long had it been since they spent some time together, simply enjoying each other's comfort, understanding without words, laughing at nothing but belonging, spending time like the siblings they never forgot they were?

Haruna's hand tugs lightly on the edge of his cape, and he lovingly smiles back.

"You can go back ahead of me."

"Will you be alright by yourse--" Kidou pauses, suddenly realizing that he's-- in Junior High School now, his sister is too. 

His sister can handle being alone for more than two minutes without him, why is he being worried but what if-- no she's old enough to take care of herself now-- but I'm still worried-- you're being overprotective-- I am her brother, I'm allowed to be-- she is a woman now-- 

"I mean, okay."

"Don't stay out here for too long, though," he adds after a moment.

Chapter Text

Atelophobia, the fear of imperfection.

Shirou would defend and Atsuya would strike. Ice Ground and Eternal Blizzard. It was the combination that never failed, the unfailing equation to success.

No one could deny that Eternal Blizzard was a strong shoot. 

And Desarm stopped it, with only one hand, albeit with some effort, but without even a hissatsu.

He's not weak, he told himself, he's very sure of that.

It's utter bullshit that Desarm can stop it so easily.

It must've been a fluke. He shot it from afar, after all, the shoot might've gotten weaker from the distance it travelled. He also did it on uneven footing. That must be it.

He doesn't approach anyone as they gather back into the van to sleep.

He stays in the shadow and makes himself hidden, and he simply retreats. He doesn't sleep at night, he curls behind the seat and simply thinks, unable to understand why it failed to break through.

He's not weak.

He's not weak.

He and Atsuya are perfect. They're the perfect combination. The perfect combination doesn't fail. There's no way it could fail.

That guy pisses me off. I'm the striker. He should be cowering before my shoot.

I'm angry. I'm angry. 

His eyes dart around in a frenzy, his breath holds, he hides his presence so no one finds him. That shadow in the edge is Megane's hand, hanging off the edge and swaying. That empty sleeping bag would be Endou's, he's outside. The consistent loud snoring is Kabeyama's, and it's almost rhythmical enough to be ignored. Kidou tosses and turns, that's nothing new.

Why didn't it work?

He keeps his hands tight on himself, one on his head and the other on his knees as he buries his eyes into his kneecaps, and mulls.

I'll rip his head right the fuck off.

That's considered murder.

He's an alien, no one cares.

Everyone on this bus would.

Do you care, Shirou?

As long as it's you, I don't, Atsuya.

A part of him is numb, the coldness of his fingers so great he can't even feel his fingers but warming them up feels painful, like he's burning them through.

The other part of him takes those freezing fingers and shatters rock with his bare hands out of sheer fury.

They're both what makes him, him.

It hurts, but he can't bear to lose it.

Chapter Text

Endou's tired.

Haruna came back crying after her talk with Kogure, something about a frog, so Endou and Kazemaru spent a good hour trying to come up with reasons why Kidou should not murder a person three to four heads shorter than himself, even if they're a little ugly nugget.

And, that was very tough, considering Kidou has the argumentative abilities of the world's best lawyer and his determination is top in the ranks of world's worst siscons.

Endou's tired, but he's not tired. Yeah, he doesn't understand either.

Today, he stands on the field and slightly misses the huge training tire he has strapped to the tree at the steel tower.

So he lets out a frustrated yell and he dribbles the ball down the field, because his energy has nowhere else to go.

His hands are numb from the shoot he tried to stop today, and somehow, he realizes he isn't as frustrated now.

Less of a matter of he's 'getting over the pessimism', he's empty. He's getting used to the pessimism and it's starting to make him feel numb.

He'll just try harder, he thinks again.

Then they'll beat Epsilon soon.

Will they really? It was so hard for them to even fight against Gemini Storm, now there's someone better than that?

And then another voice interrupts him.

He steps in quietly, so quietly, Endou only notices him by the rustle of his thick clothes. His skin is so white, Endou think he's paler than Fubuki. 

Endou doesn't quite think he's a ghost or a spirit, so he talks to it, and is happy when it answers.

"I'm Kiyama Hiroto," says the boy, hands not leaving his pockets.

"Endou Mamoru," he returns. 

They talk. 

It's brief-- Endou learns he was being watched in the match, but doesn't think much of why a non-Manyuuji student would be watching from the grounds. Endou assures him they can learn from this lost battle. Hiroto thinks he likes Endou's cheerfulness.

Endou invites the stranger to a friendly pass, but Hiroto looks on, sort of stunned-- he doesn't attempt to receive it, but Endou doesn't take that as an offense.

When Endou turns around again, the boy is gone as quickly as he'd appeared.

Chapter Text

"Stop calling me a unicorn, this seriously hurts."

"But you're throwing up purple glitter!!" Nagumo argues defensively, "you're totally a unicorn."

Hiroto hunches over the sink, fingers griping at the edge and slumping to the side.

His eyes are wide but they don't see a single thing. The world before him was a blotch of ugly colours-- purple, red, white, and fogs of gray that blinked in and out of sight.

"You're gonna ignore this blood I'm losing?" Hiroto throws the words at the boy, his voice a little more than a resigned gasp, throaty and crumbling.

"Actually no, that's why I'm standing here and making sure you stay awake," Nagumo acknowledges, arms crossed, "oh, don't worry, Suzuno went to tell Dad the rest of them."

"Very assuring."

His hair is stuck to his face, sticky with sweat but he knows that his hands on the sink is the only thing holding him up.

He barely notices himself swaying until one hand's grip tugs further. 

His knees are shaking.

His throat is a volcano and the acid scalds his oesophagus. He swallows but it hurts. He takes a breath but he's breathing out.

He feels someone help him sit down, and another rubs circles on his back soothingly.

His eyes were closed, when exactly did he close them again? and he breathes, the choked sensation in his chest slowly loosing from its knots.

He leans into someone's chest, and he doesn't see whose. He lays weakly, fingers trembling from the effort and a cough threatening to escape. He has no energy anywhere, and in a moment he forgot his legs existed-- his eyes squeezed shut, he can only choke.

Chapter Text

Kidou curls up toward the window, and tries to sleep. He doesn't manage, and the grinding of the car is the least of his problems.

He hopes no one turns to him, no one sees the hurt on his face as he desperately massages his temples to no avail, his other hand griping his side so hard but he barely feels the pain because his head is exploding.

An inconsistent heat on the left side, then a pulsing agony growing larger on his right side. Or maybe it was the other way around. Or maybe it was shifting around, like a handful of marbles lolling around every and anywhere in there he can't reach.

He tries not to cry.

He hopes again no one turns to him, but soon realizes that's next to impossible because Coach Hitomiko just told them the news-- Kageyama escaped. Kageyama's back. Kageyama's built up Shin Teikoku all over again and--

--and Kidou just can't hold his impatience in.

He'd yell it over and over and over again.

Kageyama, and his voice would crack, Kageyama, with so much hatred, Kageyama, as if the last thing he'd do in this world was murder that man with his very own hands.

He pries off his goggles, and he can't even try to hide his headache anymore.

It's all he can do to hold back the grunts that still tore from his lips every once in a while.

Why can't the guy stay in jail?

He'd hurt Kidou enough. Enough already. He didn't want Kageyama anywhere, anywhere near him anymore if that's his final wish in the world.

But he also knows that if Kageyama is loose in the world, Kidou would do anything to take him down because he can't let that guy run free. Not anymore. Not again. Not at the risk of creating another victim.

When the van finally, finally pulls to a stop in a convenience store in Ehime, Kidou breathed out so heavily he wonder if he's held his breath for hours now.

He head spins and he leans weakly against the side, eyes closed but trying to breathe slowly.

Every noise, even when Coach called for everyone to tell them they were going to take a break out here, hurt him sharply. 

He didn't want to think of anything.

Burying his eyes into his arms and enjoying the comforting darkness, he tries to ignore everything else.

He notices something warm cover him, and after soft murmuring in the distance he feels Touko move away from her seat and someone help him lay down on the chair.

Whoever it was, he was careful. A hand and elbow propping up his head as if he knew exactly where the pain was and was trying to ease the burden on Kidou as much as he could.

But Kidou still cringes at every movement, his brain a burning hot coal inside a shell and ready to burst any second from sheer pressure. His head rests on the seat, on top of someone's jersey as a pillow-- the weight shift in his head, and he groans as the pain crescendoed, then ebbed away slowly.

He feel someone's towel lay over his eyes, and someone shushes an annoying sharp 'shhhh!!'. The shaking of the vehicle tells him people are getting out of of the van, and soon there's almost no noise.

He still doesn't manage to sleep, but he felt so, so much better.

Chapter Text

"Kidou's having a headache, so let's try and be quiet, alright?"

Endou ushers them all out much too quickly for comfort. He places a finger near his lips, and his gaze is serious. He sends a warning glare at Kogure just in case.

Everyone nods, understanding. Perhaps their genius playmaker is having some traumatic flashbacks, and they can quite clearly imagine, knowing the horrors of Kageyama Reiji.

For the slightly newer Raimon additions, they knew Endou wasn't joking around with those eyes. 

Touko nods, seeing the caped boy's episodes on the van, and had reached out plenty of times to both the boy himself and to the coach, only able to tell the boy to bear with it until they found a place to stop.

Kogure pouts in the corner, but decided he was better off playing pranks on Kabeyama than Kidou right now. It might be more fun, too.

Fubuki, though, wasn't doing so well himself.

The climate was warmer in Ehime, since it wasn't snowing anymore. The sun kind of hurt him, but it wasn't too bad. But he feels the heat and he quickly hates it. He feels weak, like a frog about to go into hibernation but it's the opposite, he wants to remain dormant because it's much too warm and moving around takes much more effort than he likes to put in.

It's not as if the breeze is absent, but the breeze almost feels too-- thick-- on his face. It's so sickening he could throw up. He's used to much colder, lighter, fresher weather, so perhaps, adapting is hard.

Now that he's in foreign grounds, he can't sleep. His eyes dart around at night and he lays so perfectly still, eyes closed but his mind aware and alert at every noise and grunt and shuffle inside the van. 

A part of him is always ready to jump up and reach for-- for anything, even the soccer ball at his side was a weapon if he tried-- as self defense.

He's in such a comfortable, small space full of people he knows he trusts-- yet, something inside him growls and reprimands him, telling him to sleep with one eye open, never let his guard down, or he'll become nothing but prey in the jungle of his imagination.

He can't sleep, and if Kazemaru saw the circles that lined his eyes, Fubuki only noticed that the other boy had deep sags too. He's led to the corner and Kazemaru digs out a pouch of concealer Fubuki has no idea why he has, and promptly teaches the boy the steps.

According to Kazemaru's offhanded explanation, apparently Kidou and Endou need it too.

He likes the metal of the van's inside, because after the air conditioning everything is cold to the touch and so, so nice to touch. It calms him down, reminds him of what he's best at. The metal's tangy smell remains on his hand, and it reminds him of a knife or a steel pipe. A thing Atsuya's good at using, and strangely he enjoys it. 

He knows it's not normal to enjoy it.

He stood right under the air conditioning of the convenience store, because it's a blistering freeze and it kinda reminds him of home. He eventually leaves when the store clerks gives him a long, suffering look.

He knows something is wrong with himself.

When he sees Kidou on the van again, Kazemaru is there. The teal-haired boy, with the gentlest movements he can manage, helps the other to sit up as he strongly downs a worrying amount of white pills in his hand.

Kazemaru's eyes meet Fubuki's.

They don't say anything.

Chapter Text

The whole scuffle with True Teikoku ends as quickly as it begins, but it burns.

Kidou could still hear Sakuma screaming in his ear, first in anger, then in accusation, then in agony, ultimately in choked incoherence. 

He remembers his eyes, gleaming green and his smile warped into a laughter Kidou hated, hated, hated so much because it didn't suit him at all.

In his nightmares he runs after them, only to see once again the boy crumble into pieces, his bone shatter in sharp resonance, and his life as a soccer player end right there.

Then, his voice rings in his ear--

"You will always be my greatest creation, Kidou."

--Kidou falls, and something inside him just shatters to pieces.

Kidou curls into himself. A finger looping around the edge of his dreadlocks, another considering ripping them right off. His goggles were shoved off rather than taken out, and his foot is curled sharply in pain and ready to cramp up.

He bites his tongue but it doesn't draw blood. Staying still doesn't work against his headache anymore, and he doesn't know anymore if he's breathed in the past hour.

It takes all his might and his life's worth of energy to just not make a sound, and even the moonlight seemed so angry and splintering and much too bright for his eyes. The rustle of the leaves are too loud. The silence is too chaotic. Everything is too much.

He's not thinking, he can't think of anything but just the pain, the agony that stretched and pulled and clawed inside his head until it was all nothing but mush but it just continued.

He feels the van under him shift, and a voice whispers, another responds above him.

He registers a warmth beside him, strong and warm hands slipping under his neck, wrapping around his head, and the figure curls up beside him just like that, cradling so soothingly.

Another hand, a smoother, less calloused hand, takes his. Massages his knuckles, spreading the warmth so lovingly in.

He can't open his eyes to look, but by the way the boy leans down on the other side of him after pulling a new sleeping bag over all of them, Kidou understands that it's Kazemaru.

Leaning his tired, heavy head deeper into Endou's chest, Kidou moans into the pain again, and squeezes a little harder.

He passes out soon. 

He startles awake from a nightmare, but wrapped so tightly in between the two of them, Kidou realizes he'll be alright.

Chapter Text

They're back in Inazuma Town, and Endou is ecstatic to be reunited with his hanging tire. He doesn't even go home first, he heads to the hospital, then straight to the steel tower as if it's the most obvious step to take.

He pulls on his gloves, shoves the tire back, and waits with braced feet for it to come back down. 

He continues.

He craves for the addictive shove he feels through his entire body, when a shoulder pops from strain and his feet dig into the soil. 

His hands itched, and with a vigor that uprooted from an impulsive wave of fury , he spins a shoulder back and punches the tire instead, and that blows him back more than the tire is bumped back.

His fingers crunch and a sharp pain shoots down, but he cringes, doesn't falter, and bearing with the pain he tries it again. He bites back a scream as his fingers, probably sprained, feels torn from effort and stiff like a broken bone-- but he tells himself it's fine and with a determined roar, he tries again.

By the time Aki rolls around and tells him everyone's at the riverbank, Endou is breathing heavily, but his smile never fades.

Clumsily he does the bandages on his fingers, and Aki helps.

-

"We need to talk, Endou."

Surprisingly, it's Kidou who brings it up first.

They're almost ready to set off again, this time toward Osaka for a hint of a possible Aliea Academy base of operations. Bags were packed and loaded and they were only waiting for the rest to arrive after their goodbyes and assuring their parents again.

Kazemaru and Endou sat on the bench, the former with his bare bandaged feet on the bench (because Natsumi's orders were to sit boy , no touching the ground for the next one hour at least you need a break if I have to strap you to the ground for it ), trying to feed his ice cream to the puppy-eyed latter, who was banned from using his equally bandaged hands for literally anything yet. ( And you too, Endou! you're not getting out of this! )

"About what, Kidou?" Kazemaru moves his ice cream away and Endou cries because he was so close to taking a bite.

"The both of you," Kidou addresses with a sort of resigned sigh, but it is not without understanding, "are hurting yourselves too much."

Aki hears them, and she agrees, "Kidou-kun is right."

"You two are overexerting yourselves," Kabeyama is a little more sad about it, "you should take a little easier or your bodies won't hold out..."

"It's not like I can't understand how eager you are to train, but know your limits, alright?" Kurimatsu chirps.

"When your muscles hurt, you gotta take a salt bath!" Touko is excited to share, "those things work wonders!"

The conversation goes on as the two were lectured and teased by their teammates, but Kidou's gaze remains stern and worried.

Kazemaru and Endou don't miss it.

"Sorry, everyone," Endou says with a rather distant tone, "could you leave us for a bit?"

Everyone falters.

Endou's eyes lock with Kidou's-- and it really was about time they took their situation seriously.

Chapter Text

"Let's get to bed already, we need rest."

His voice is soft. Weak. Tired. He's been at it for an hour. and the entire day, too. He barely had an appetite to eat, not that there was much in their diet to spare. 

Fubuki clutches his scarf, and he's cold. He wants something more than this measly thin jersey and his nails are blue even in the training room that didn't have the coldest ventilation.

"Hell if I would."

His grip is strong on the field's metal fence, and as he bites back a strong, rough swear against his brother, Shirou can tell he's exhausted too.

Why? Why, why why -- the level was at MAX, yet, he knew, he just knew that it wasn't enough. He needed to be stronger than even the strongest monsters in the world. Because he was going to slide under their feet, crawl up their backs, and leap, with strong claws, and take their heads.

There was nothing more exciting than winning. There was nothing more miserable than losing. Fubuki can't lose-- it's impossible. They're perfect .

"It'll be bad if we're in bad health tomorrow."

Atsuya growls sharply at Shirou's bargaining, and he only slams his fist against the metal harder, hoping with all his might he could leave a dent or break his own bones trying to, because both sounded like it'd satisfy him.

Shirou knows they can't sleep. 

The match was tomorrow. Their hunter was coming tomorrow. Tomorrow was any time now. Fubuki had no time to rest. No time to let their guards down. No time to be anything less than guarded because it's coming. What are you doing, you should be using every possible second to prepare yourselves or, if you're even a little less ready, you'll lose your life!

"I don't care even if I'm tired till I throw up, I--"

"Fubuki!"

He whirls around, body spinning into guard, hands girdled like a wolf, ready to pounce. His eyes burned amber gold-- the Bear-Killer bristles, a low growl rumbling forth.

Endou and Aki stood there, watching almost too fearfully at him.

Melting quickly in a dizzying shift, Shirou swirls to the side, dull blue eyes on the ground.

"Captain," he addresses, his voice faltering.

Did he hear? his gaze flutters across, flits across the room, darting around and fists closed hard because how did he not notice them? He was sneaked up on. How could he? He knew he shouldn't have let his guard down. I told you you shouldn't let your guard down . Did they hear? How much did they hear?

"I'm done for today," he forces a smile on that's almost too awkward, too painful, too fake-- then he marches out, Atsuya swearing under his breath.

Chapter Text

Aki sees it all happening.

First in Endou and Kazemaru; the former finds it hard to hold his spoon, and the latter limps when he walks. They both smile and it doesn't bother them, but Aki, who always sits in the side, knows the difference.

There's Kidou, who walks out of the caravan at night more often than the others. He takes a walk in the moonlight, then sits on top of the car for a while before quietly retreating inside a few hours before daybreak. 

Gouenji's were a little more obvious. He couldn't handle the air conditioning, and stayed in with way too many layers at night. He sat in the sunniest spot of the car and watched the sun blind through his eyes but he doesn't move from there even when Someoka suggested he scoot over.

Aki instinctively prepares a lukewarm bottle of their sports drink, then she remembers that Gouenji isn't here anymore. 

She tries not to cry when she notices something in Fubuki too.

There was, of course, the strange shift in his personalities. The soft and caring boy, then the rough, competitive striker. But that wasn't it all.

He was sick for a while after they left Hokkaido. He stayed in the car as he struggled to adapt to the new climate. No one really thought it was this hard to adapt to warmer weather.

Unlike the other three and like Gouenji, Fubuki doesn't leave the car. Aki was sure he'd love the nightly breeze, like Kazemaru did-- yet, in the morning, Aki finds him tucked into the deepest, smallest of corners between seats, sleeping with his legs pulled to his chest-- that really couldn't be too comfortable.

Fubuki's drink is always the one in the furthest bottom of the ice box, glistening in sheets of ice crystals, so cold even exhaustion wouldn't will Endou to drink it. He refuses the hot morning chocolate the managers give everyone, and opts to drink his own water instead.

When Aki passes him by or hands him anything, she feels it. An icy, frigid breeze, stemming from the ground around the boy-- the boy himself, wrapped in an invisible coat of ice, protected by the winter goddesses even this far from the snow.

No, the boy was the ice goddess itself.

Fubuki eats meat roughly, and almost seems to hate vegetables until he stares at it for a while and finishes fighting with something inside him. 

Fubuki would brush through their footprints, spot any unnaturally messed up leaves and shuffle them back into place-- he makes sure not a speck of trash is hidden in any corners, and erases all presence of himself, cleaning all trace and tracks he leaves, wherever he goes.

Then their battle with Epsilon in Osaka comes and goes, and something different inside Fubuki shifts.

Chapter Text

Hiroto wakes up, and it's late into the afternoon.

It takes him too much energy to get ready. Too much strength he doesn't have, and even though he knows he hasn't eaten anything for much too long now, but he's not hungry.

He kind of wishes that Midorikawa, or maybe even Saginuma, could be here with him, but he knows that can't happen. 

His throat is painfully dry, and the room is too dark to see. He feels the urge to swallow, but he knows it'll hurt because his saliva isn't enough to quell the burning sensation.

Every inch of his body is heavy, and his knees sag as he stands. His fingers are tight on the wall, but he knows this exhaustion would fade.

He keeps a hand on his head as the headache spikes in his brain, semicircular canals screaming at him for a moment to keep his balance.

He stumbles over the table and something loud falls. He didn't try to pick it up.

Then the door opens and the light scorching through his skin makes a sort of whimper pull free from his throat.

"Are you suicidal?" Nemuro, the small, pale-faced and green haired goalkeeper of his team, straight up growls at him, though there's that staple stoicism in his tone, "get back in bed."

"It's already afternoon," he argues, but then Suzuno shows up and he's getting pressed back into the bed, and tucked in like a baby. 

He protests. Suzuno doesn't care.

Reina sits down beside him, leg crossed over the other, arms folded sharply and unamused. Nagumo walks in with a mug of coffee, placing it on his desk and scooping up a fallen pair of headphones on the ground, depositing it on the keyboard.

"Last time you went out in the day, you were a unicorn," Nagumo grumbles.

"I was throwing up meteorite dust," Hiroto weakly corrects.

"The both of us have more of that exposure than you ever did and it doesn't happen to us!" now Suzuno was joining in.

Reina gives a long, suffering sigh. "Just rest, alright?"

And when Reina said it, it was final.

Hiroto gulps down the mug of decently warm coffee. It feels nice against his throat, though he's sure the one that made this was Suzuno because Nagumo makes terrible coffee, and makes a note in his mind to thank the boy later.

He stays in bed for a while longer, then he stood up, got dressed-- and stepped out of the room feeling much better than before.

Chapter Text

When Tachimukai met Endou, he was amazed.

Their practice match was rapid and fun and exciting.

He would try and try again, imitating Endou -san 's Majin the Hand and even though he never got it, he'd never had as much fun trying.

Yet, something was off. 

They turned back to back, breathed in sync.

Raised their hands, and with a resolved holler, they spun and unleashed God Hand onto each other's palms.

Tachimukai felt the energy negate each other, spiking sharply in a sort of pleasing sensation, casting wind in their wake and causing a ripple in the air.

But something felt strange about Endou's God Hand.

Endou told him his God Hand was the real deal.

So why was it different from Endou's? He didn't think Endou was lying. But at the same time, he couldn't really put his finger on what exactly was wrong too.

He started doing that strange tire training with Endou, and he found himself more interested in Endou than the training itself.

Perhaps it was how resolved Endou was.

Tachimukai was resolved too, but he knew well his limits. He was a former midfielder, so he was still quite a rookie as a keeper. He wasn't at the level where he could push himself so far yet.

So when he saw Endou working through the night tirelessly, he felt motivated.

Yet, so, so worried .

At some point, he showed Endou his bare hands.

But instead of Endou inspecting his hands, he inspected Endou's . He shivered when he felt them, so rough, so calloused, and deep healed scars that caved into skin. Bandages soaked in sweat; plasters rubbed red with dried blood. 

His hand was a mess, and he spotted the deep bruise by his wrist, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Even the former keeper for their school didn't have it this bad.

Tachimukai really tried not to say anything about them.

Tachimukai didn't miss those worried glances some of his teammates always gave Endou.

Perhaps because he wasn't seeing Endou through a TV screen anymore, Tachimukai sees it. He sees the way Endou's shoulder sag tiredly, his feet drag in a sort of habit, and his elbows loosen so strangely and without energy that sometimes it's like they're broken.

Endou's body is exhausted, and his eyes are so sunken that concealer doesn't help to hide those eye bags he pretends he doesn't have. He smiles so happily each and every day, but Tachimukai realizes that Endou is like a patchwork doll-- barely held together.

Suddenly that smile seems so empty too. It's sewn on-- beautiful and sincere, but more of a habit than of emotion.

Tachimukai is worried, but none of the Raimon team call it out. He doesn't know why they don't, so he doesn't mention it either.

He watches on day after day, distracted by it-- because he's so worried .

He finds himself wandering to the Inazuma Caravan one night, only to find that Endou, even though someone managed to convince him to retire for the night, wasn't sleeping.

He was on the top of the van, watching over the skies with that other guy called Fubuki.

Even though he was so tired? 

Even though he looks like he'll collapse if he walks another day?

"What's up, Tachimukai? Can't sleep?"

He's surprised to be noticed.

"Come on up!"

Somehow, Endou's smile is warm. 

Tachimukai realizes that if he told Endou everything he noticed-- that smile would probably fade. 

Chapter Text

"Hey, Endou-kun," Hiroto's throat was still a little sore, his voice hoarse, so he spoke softly to the boy before him, "wanna play against my team?"

Hiroto tucks his hands in his pocket, and looked at the boy. Dark teal met deep brown, a sense of amused indifference meeting confusion and surprise.

"Your team? You play? Soccer?"

Hiroto only smiles back, and doesn't give him a response.

"Tomorrow, noon. It's a promise, okay?"

Endou tries to get a little more out of Hiroto, but the boy turns up to the sky, and takes in view above him. Hiroto is gone before Endou realizes it, but Endou is more than happy to agree to the sudden match proposal.

Hiroto steps onto the edge of the roof, and reaches to the sky.

His eyes are locked onto the sky, so deep a blue it's only black against infinite shines. Gemstones splashed across the sky, and Hiroto feels the milky way call for him, urging him to reach up just a little, little further-- to dip his hands into the blanket of the galaxy, and swim through the orbit with him.

He tries to take a breath, but the air is a vomit-inducing bumble of pollution, nauseating. He feels a craving to an object so many light years away, speaking to it, and longing for it.

This alien act was something that tired everyone out.

Hiroto didn't have much exposure to the Aliea Meteorite due to the nature of his team-- but somehow, he felt like he was the one most alien among all of them.

He watches the stars and barely even blinks.

Tonight, he doesn't sleep either.

Chapter Text

"I'll make the shot today."

Shirou clenches his fists, and something in him burns so painfully against the frosty sheen of his skin, and he can't hold back the urge to just raise his voice and repeat that line once again.

Don't kid around.

Of course, the voice is as sharp and haughty and deep and strict as always.

You can't do shit without me.

"Don't come out."

Shirou just wants Atsuya to understand it all. That this game is a team effort, this game isn't just Atsuya's solo stage, and that if they wanted strength he needed to stop dominating, and start coexisting.

Or maybe Shirou just wanted the spotlight he deserved.

"Fubuki, you're a forward today," Kidou says to him, and something in him sinks ever so deeply again, "you'll be a two-top with Rika."

His eyes narrow in a sort of determination, and he tells them he's prepared.

Everyone lays their expectations on him. On Eternal Blizzard. On Atsuya. On the forward. On the Hakuren Ace Striker. On Fubuki Atsuya.

Deep down, Fubuki already realized.

Back in Hakuren, they valued Shirou as much as they did Atsuya. That's why and that's how he felt so belonged there, that they could grow and play so happily there.

Now, Fubuki has to realize that the Inazuma Caravan he chose to follow didn't want Fubuki Shirou. They wanted the striker, the Eternal Blizzard, they wanted Atsuya.

They don't need Shirou.

They don't need you, Shirou.

So back off and let me handle it.

Chapter Text

Endou doesn't want to remember the match. But he takes in every bit of it, every bit of what he sees from the goal, every bit of who he sees get hurt and who he couldn't save and he bites down and only does his best not to cry.

Because crying isn't like him.

It'll be fine, Kidou tells him. His team is still determined. 

Everyone crowds around Fubuki's bed, and they were resolved to understand that things have to change from there. 

For their sake. For Fubuki's. For the sake of defeating Aliea.

Endou finds himself taking Fubuki's hand in his, and squeezing a little, wondering if that would ease the boy's pain.

Kidou puts a hand on his shoulder, and slowly, they leave the hospital room for the day.

Things were going to be different now.

For the better, he hopes.

He braces a smile on his face, and leaves Fubuki with a word of assurance he himself doesn't truly believe in. He admits it, then he continues rambling, trying to reassure the sleeping boy that he was fine, everyone was fine. 

They'll persevere, go on, because even if they're so close to the edge-- together, they can do it.

Together, he wants to believe they can do it.

He wants Fubuki to believe that too.

He makes his way across the street, heading back toward Yokato Junior High from the hospital.

And in the corner of fishing port, one small, teal-headed figure curls up at the edge, staring into the sea and stays so perfectly, unnervingly still.

Endou recognizes it.

"Kazemaru?"

Chapter Text

Kazemaru was different.

He taps. Against his palm, tapping so jittery, it's like he's trembling with abnormally shaky fists. But then, it stops.

It stops, and Kazemaru realizes the wind isn't with him.

He's running, but there's a weight. Betrayal grasps his heart as the wind that always dances with him leaves and blows in a different direction, joining the Genesis in their sonata and leaving him with only gravity weighing him down, heavier, heavier-- then, a pain shoots in.

His hands are clenched so tight nothing breaks them free.

He isn't tapping anymore. His teeth clench down on his gums and he knows that there's a taste of copper on his tongue but no, he doesn't move. He can't move.

Kazemaru runs with the wind.

Now that the wind's abandoned him, he's lost. Like a young chick that's lost its hen, like a cheetah cub that's lost its herd. 

He doesn't know where or how to run anymore.

"They must have been a team higher than Epsilon," Endou's still talking, and Kazemaru isn't sure when he zoned out of it or when he started listening, really, "but now we've got a new goal! Tomorrow, it's back to training!"

Kazemaru feels seconds cross like hours in him. Minutes cross like days, he waits and he waits and he waits, but only the impatientfasterquicker train in his thoughts go on and on.

His hands are clenched tight because although every fiber in him jitters, he wants to tap against the floor, striking a soundless melody Endou always affectionately points out with a heartful laugh.

But he doesn't because the mere idea of Endou's laugh fills him with spite.

He loved it when Endou was happy. His laughter was gentle and it travelled so beautifully in the wind, echoing in such rhythmic resonance. He loved it.

But not now.

Now, with his limbs so painfully heavy and his heart so sickeningly tight and constricted and chained up he feels like he'd throw up at how hopeful and joyful everyone just was, why were they so irritatingly cheerful? Positive?

Can't they see that they're out of our league? We'll never win against them!

"Endou," his voice is gentle as a whisper, but he speaks a little fast, and he can't even bring his face up because his eyes hurt. 

He wants to cry, his voice is a pitch away from shattering, "...I can't do this anymore."

He hugs his knees to his chest, and when he hears Endou's voice faltering, leaning closer, chasing after him with his painfully insistent questions of why, Kazemaru keeps his gaze straight down, stays strong, and manages to not shatter into pathetic pieces. 

"I'm sorry, Endou."

Kazemaru stands up.

"I'm not as strong as you are."

Kazemaru doesn't turn back.

Something inside Endou just breaks.

Chapter Text

Kidou's always been the one comforted. Pampered and cuddled into by the rest, even if he doesn't exactly verbally ask for any.

So when the tables are turned, he's not sure what to do.

He's busy leading the rest of the team, desperately trying to hold the rest of the team together even without their captain and despite everything that destroyed the team's morale further.

Gouenji was gone. 

Someoka was gone.

Kazemaru was gone. 

Fubuki was almost gone.

And Endou's up there on the roof, curling into himself, desperately wishing himself to be gone.

Of the team's most important links, only Kidou was left.

He's pulled down with the sudden reality that he can't break down yet. He's expected to stay strong. He has to be. He has no reason to give in to the pressure. 

They watch Endou as he stays seated so still in the rain he so loved to frolic in. He doesn't respond to the call of the storm today. Simply, he listens to the pitiful thunder that won't satisfy him as he watches the rain cry out the tears he had no courage to shed.

Any other day he would be ecstatic, bumbling excitedly at the mention of any drop of rain. He was childish like that-- storms entranced him. 

As if the god of wind and thunder were his best pals.

And yet, here he was, unable to enjoy it.

Kidou never tells anyone that he hates the rain.

He never tells anyone that rainy nights make his headache so much worse, so much more unbearable, that his crying is what lulls him to sleep at night.

Tonight he tries not to cry. He tries to ignore the headache and swallows too many pills to be a safe dosage because Kazemaru isn't here to stop him. Gouenji isn't here to wrap him in a blanket. Endou isn't here to give him a big warm hug, so he tries not to cry and prays his eyes won't be red tomorrow.

He doesn't want Endou to know he wasn't here for him when he needed it.

He doesn't want more guilt to weight Endou down.

Kidou knows that he has to hold himself together. Because if the team breaks apart now... if the team breaks apart now, they'll never come together again.

He just wants them to be together again.

That's more important than anything else right now.

Chapter Text

The first thing Endou really does is give Kidou a rather uninvited yet so long-awaited hug.

Kidou's honestly the kind of person that emitted murderous do-not-touch-me vibes, so honest to god, three seconds into the Inazuma Caravan, Tachimukai feared for his new captain's life.

Domon only laughs at the sight, and Ichinose assures him it's normal. Kabeyama wonders when it became normal, while Haruna puffs up her cheeks, a little envious because she wants to hug her big brother too but she's been holding back because she's too old for that.

Tachimukai sees Endou leaning high over the chairs just to talk to Kidou. 

"Why do you always go straight for a-"

"A hug?"

"You call knocking the air out of my lungs a hug."

"But you like hugs!"

"And who on earth decided that?"

"What, you thought we wouldn't notice?"

"I do not!"

They get on the ferry to Okinawa.

He notes how Kidou is holding Haruna's hand on his right, and Endou's hand on his left. His usual cool-as-a-cucumber composure just shakes apart as he gets pulled forward by two of balls of sunshine, and Tachimukai finds himself smiling at the sight.

Megane places a hand on Tachimukai's shoulder.

His glasses glint, and somehow the shorter boy flashes a neat row of pictures in his hands, and whispers a price under his breath.

Tachimukai gulps and breathes out an almost desperate yes .

Chapter Text

If there's something Fubuki's noticed, it's the fact that Kabeyama likes hiding behind him.

It felt rather strange to have a boy nearly twice your size cling to your back like a lifeline, but somehow, Fubuki doesn't mind. It reminds him of himself, back when he was the one sticking close to someone's back--

He closes his fingers around his scarf, and something inside him wants to break free.

He is Shirou . 

The seat beside him on the caravan is empty. Someoka isn't there anymore, and Fubuki feels terrible. He felt useless . He was the one that had to fill in the gap of losing two vital forwards (Gouenji and Someoka) and there was the crushing, ever-present understanding that Shirou is not a forward .

He loves Atsuya. He can't bear to let him go.

But does Atsuya need Shirou?

A part of him is happy that Kabeyama sees him as a sort of shelter. It expresses a sort of trust, a sort of understanding that Fubuki is accepted and seen as a dependable force in the team-- and he can't help but see it as endearing somehow.

Perhaps Atsuya really did eat a little into his personality, after all.

Prince of the Snowfields, Shirou. The Gruesome Bear Killer, Atsuya.

Shirou misses the snow.

He stares at the sea, he scorns at the heat, and wonders deeply when he'll be able to dance among the ice again. Ski across the frost and flutter emptily in the woods, with the animals, where he truly belongs.

He hears them calling for him, beckoning him to the deepest atmospheres. Past the barrier that seals humanity in-- to the far end that he knows is freedom .

"Stop it, Shirou."

Somehow, Atsuya's hands (they're not real) cups his cheek gently. They're not rough today. His eyes (they're not there) stare so deeply into his, so longing, so saddened. (He’s not real.)

"You're not a snow spirit."

Shirou is not convinced. He thinks Atsuya understands nothing .

Atsuya leans closer, their foreheads touching, and his eyes drift to a close. (He’s not real. He’s not there. Not anymore.) And he clutches his muffler, reminding him again why he’s wearing it at all. (It’s the only thing I have left of him.)

Atsuya cradles his head, breathes slowly, and rubs his fingers gently over the dark circles under Shirou’s eyes. Shirou simply turns his gaze to the ground, wanting to be anywhere but there, biting back the urge to tear away.

“I am Shirou.”

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself.

“But we are Fubuki,” Atsuya returns.

Shirou chokes on a breath, and tries not to cry.

Chapter Text

“I never did understand Gouenji, did I?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so even though Kidou wants to deny that, he doesn’t. Endou lays down beside him, and they turn their eyes to the night sky, wishing for it to stay.

Kidou pries off his goggles, and a breath of relief escapes him. He reaches for Endou’s hand, and squeezes assuringly.

He isn’t surprised when Endou squeezes back almost immediately.

“I wanna see him,” Endou broken admits.

Kidou turns his gaze to Endou. He hates the way Endou’s brows furl and his eyes cling to the corner of his vision, so upset that his lips fold over.

Kidou manages, “me too.”

The day exhausts them, not physically, but emotionally. From Hiroto’s return to the appearance of an impostor "Flame Striker" that seemed to know Gouenji’s whereabouts, Endou finds himself feeling a pang of guilt.

He regrets making everyone come out on this road trip with him. (He knows that he wasn’t the only one that made this choice. Yet, he can’t help the pain that eats into him, the self-blame, the misguided anger, the tears not falling.) The nights where he’d always curl up warmly with Kazemaru, Kidou and Gouenji now seem so far away.

He misses them, badly.

One after another, they went. With only two of them now, they’re hurt and barely enough to keep each other going. Endou hates that.

Endou stares at the bandages on his hands, and something in him is so restless. It’s numb and the muscles throb at each movement, but he doesn’t stop himself. He looks at it and he misses Kazemaru so much, because Kazemaru would understand this pain.

Sensing his deep longing, Kidou reaches over, takes Endou’s hand and rests it on Kidou’s cheek. Leaning in closer, Kidou plants a soft, feathery kiss over the bandaged palm. 

“I won’t leave,” Kidou promises.

Endou believes him, so he cries himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

Gouenji’s been in hiding for long. Much too long, really.

Pulling forward the hood of his jacket, he watches his team from afar, and it’s taking everything in him to not go out there and help . To go over there and give Endou that hug he needs and tell him finally, finally, I’m back, I’m sorry for leaving, I’m back .

Every day alone he feels the fire crawl through his skin, seep through his veins, and it makes him shudder. He goes for a run when he really can’t handle the searing burst of flames that fuel his will to go on. 

He crushes a paper bag in his hand, and sighs, tossing it into the trash can.

But the second the article leaves his fingers, it bursts into pure orange flames . Leaping back, Gouenji hisses in surprise, backing away in shock. An orb of a fire demon eating through the wood so quickly, it’s gone before it even lands.

He’s left staring at his own hands, overcome by horror and fear and confusion and--

And he’s scared .

He doesn’t understand it. His sleeve bursts into flames at times, sometimes it’s the trash he throws, and other times the grass he steps on is burned black.

Something in him is worried that one day, it won’t be something as trivial as paper bags and outer clothing and grim reaper-like footsteps. One day, this, whatever this is , will set someone on fire and the only thing he’ll be able to do is watch . 

He thinks of this every time Hijikata’s younger brothers pester him to play with them. 

Hijikata knows he screams out of his nightmares, and Gouenji is somehow grateful that he doesn’t talk about them.

Gouenji curls into himself, and he’s lonely . But he has to bear through this alone, he knows he has to. He has no other choice. Between his personal needs and the need to keep Yuuka safe from those Aliea goons, Gouenji would choose Yuuka any day. 

Even if it’s slowly breaking him apart.

He tucks his hands into his pockets,he bites down his lip and reminds himself to bear with it because he can’t go back, not yet . If he did, all this effort would be wasted.

He stands by the sea, because on a good day, at least the cooling sea breeze doesn’t make him want to throw up. He watches the blue and wonders if that’s freedom.

He hears a wooden creak, and a whimper of a puppy.

Looking up, he freezes at the sight of a young boy, running from his mother’s side toward a row of thick wooden timber. It takes Gouenji another moment to locate the young puppy, trapped between the logs.

It’s when the boy trips, and the large wood begins to fall in a trajectory that will definitely crush the child, that Gouenji sees red in his vision.

An image of Yuuka flashes right through him, and Gouenji is moving before he knows it. In a speed he’s never realizes he could muster, he tosses the ball forward, leaps, and sends the ball hard toward them, kicking the wooden beam out of the way.

When the young boy’s eyes finds him, Gouenji manages to smile.

Gouenji may not know what the boy’s thinking now, but somehow, Gouenji is reminded of Yuuka and everything Yuuka means to him-- and he composes himself.

Gouenji thinks he’ll be alright, even if he has to be alone for a little longer.

He can do this. He has to.

Chapter Text

Tsunami’s interested in a lot of things. Surfing’s his main passion, and Soccer’s rising up the ranks. He’s just going with whatever comes and if it works, he hopes he has fun doing it. That’s how his life has been going thus far, after all.

But when he joins the Soccer Club and mentions that he’s met the Raimon Eleven, he doesn’t expect to suddenly be engulfed by a tiny ball of excited Tenma and bombarded with questions from the rhythm of the weather to the sound of colours.

When he finally manages to put the kid to bed (god he has too much energy), he bids Auntie Matsukaze goodnight and heads on home, exhausted from the day.

He finds himself back on the cliff instead, and his gaze sharpens, scrutinizing the sea as he notices a familiar figure in the waters.

It’s long past nightfall, and yet, there was Endou, with the borrowed surfboard, trying to get a hang of the paddling he’s been furiously practicing.

Tsunami grits his teeth as a sort of anger boils over him, because Endou may be enthusiastic about practice, but practicing alone in the sea is no laughing matter. It’s dangerous and any little mistake could be fatal. Endou was underestimating the sea and Tsunami thought he’d made this clear already.

Tsunami stands up, but somehow he doesn’t move yet.

Like the afternoon, he sees them again-- the dark bruises that lined Endou’s ribs, the deep red scratches and the purple and yellow sores that bloomed over his skin. Endou didn’t look comfortable being shirtless at first, so Tsunami acted like he didn’t care, which eased the boy’s nerves.

A few soccer practices gone wrong, the older boy assumed. They were fighting aliens, after all, this seemed like a decent price to pay.

But it hurt him to see it. Tsunami couldn’t bear to watch Endou give so much effort for soccer when it looks like his body’s another blow away from shattering to bits.

Endou swallows a bit of seawater, and coughs it out. Tsunami sighs, and decides he’s going to watch over the boy from right over here. He could just leap down in a worst case scenario, after all.

And it’s already late. Surely the boy would be too tired soon enough, and retire to his caravan for bed. Tsunami decides, as an upperclassman, he’d watch over the boy till then.

Hiding at the top of the cliff, vision not to clear with only the moonlight to discern-- Tsunami doesn’t see the blood that hacks out of the boy’s throat along with each painful cough.

He doesn’t see the boy wave his bloody hands through the seawater, washing it clean and pretending it didn’t happen.

All Tsunami grimly realizes is the fact that Endou didn’t sleep that night.

If he wasn’t in the sea, he was practicing his useless down-whirl-bam alone, to no avail. Resting for a while and keeping his body warm, Endou returns to the sea and continues his pathetic attempts at practice.

Tsunami tries to figure it out. He tries to figure out the mystery that is Endou, and even as the sun rises over the horizon he can’t help but think it’s just stupid how desperate and how much effort Endou is putting into this.

Motivation is great. But not when it’s breaking his body.

It’s unhealthy.

Deciding he couldn’t watch this any longer, Tsunami gets off his feet and calls out to Endou, deciding he’d break the boy away from practice for some breakfast.

Chapter Text

Natsumi notices Aki’s hands held in a prayer. Hitomiko knows that’s a psychological call for help.

Aki bites her bottom lip, barely noticing her own fingers intertwined as her eyes fixed itself on Endou, and his newly broken Fist of Justice.

She reaches over and takes the coldest bottle of their sports drink for Fubuki, but the boy doesn’t see it. She narrows her eyes, but softly reminds him to stay hydrated even while he isn’t playing.

She can’t bear to see this any longer.

But she doesn’t say anything. Hitomiko’s face makes her falter-- Aki knows that haunted expression on her face-- self-hatred, genuine guilt-- Aki knows how that feels and she doesn’t think she needs to rub it in.

She wants to talk to Endou, but she knows she can’t help.

They’ve gone this far, she can’t tell them to stop. Nothing she says would make them less eager to keep going on.

Fubuki’s scream resounds in her ears, but she can only watch, and fix him an ice pack every once in a while. She hears Kidou moan and cry himself to sleep, but the only thing she can do is make sure he has his pills and fix him a cup of warm chocolate in the kitchen. 

Endou hides it well, so the only thing she can do is bring him a hot towel after each overtime practice, and pray that his strained muscles won’t give in just yet.

Among them all, only Kazemaru had indulged in what was truly going on.

And the only thing she understood from that conversation was that none of them understands anything that’s happening.

She notices she’s kept out a lukewarm drink, and somehow, she misses Gouenji.