Archive of Our Own

“Huh. Karasu.”

Despite the tone of his voice sounded like the name he uttered wasn’t followed by a question mark, the confused look Hiori wore on his face—knitted eyebrows along with slightly squinted, narrowed eyes upon looking at Karasu’s presence—was more than obvious: he didn’t expect Karasu to be here.

Evidently, Karasu was the last person Hiori anticipated to see in the Bambi Osaka training area after four years of not being in contact, at the end of a nice, nice June, all while the sun was setting as well. Or probably, the last person Hiori anticipated to see or bump into in general, no matter in what situation, under any circumstances. The latter seemed more like it.

Karasu took little to no offense at that speculation, weirdly enough. 

Had this happened some time earlier, by earlier means years ago, Karasu would’ve immediately thrown snarky remarks on how Hiori should’ve been more excited upon seeing him. But things were … complicated, to say the least. Just like some, if not all, things do after being left unattended for years, some twist and turn could diminish them into something entirely different, whether Karasu likes it or not. 

Perhaps the same thing can be said to their friendship. From the way Hiori didn’t even come to bid a proper goodbye before his departure to France four years ago, things had already been crystal clear to him. 

He had just shrugged off Hiori’s absence at the airport and marked it as: 1) Hiori probably doesn’t want to be associated with him anymore because he will always remind him of soccer, so 2) Zero contact would be very much appreciated. That way, they’d have a hard time keeping up with each other, and Hiori’s parents will stop asking him about what Karasu Tabito—he’s your past rival in the youth team, right, Yochan?—was up to. 

Because unlike Hiori, Karasu didn’t turn down the highest team offer that came to his way from the Blue Lock project. 

“... so you’re really back, huh. Just like what the news said.”

Hiori’s statement sounded begrudgingly flat and unamused as he shut the door to Bambi Osaka’s staff room, hands busy locking the door. Coming from Hiori, it could be translated as a playful jab rather than anything. A sense of contentment and relief tingled in Karasu’s chest for a brief moment upon hearing Hiori’s usual collected tone. 

Four years weren’t exactly a short time of them being half the world away without a single word exchanged through calls nor texts. To think the said proposition could very well change their whole dynamic and how they behave around each other, and how it actually didn’t, Karasu couldn’t help but to feel a pleased smile creeping up to his lips. 

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Karasu snickered at Hiori’s jab. He walked towards Hiori carefully, cutting the existent distance between them. 

Karasu was unsure if breaching into Hiori’s space like this was acceptable or not, but the way Hiori waited for him so they could walk side by side was enough of an answer.

Maybe things hadn’t really changed and it was okay for Karasu to act like so.

“I was expecting at least a single ‘I’ve missed you’ from you, y’know.” 

He received a light huff from Hiori, then a momentary silence.

“I think it should be the other way around,” Hiori murmured faintly. He then averted his attention to Karasu’s side profile out of the corners of his eyes as they walked together to the exit gate. “You’re the one who went all the way from France to here. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s missing me, Karasu?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Karasu answered before getting a stifled sneer from Hiori as a response. 

The younger guy hasn’t changed a lot, or so it turned out.

Some exceptions could be made if we’re talking about Hiori’s figure and appearance, though. It’s been a pretty long time since Karasu had memorized Hiori’s face, but he’s still able to pull out a mental imagery of past-Hiori as a comparison from the back of his head. 

Karasu could tell Hiori had grown a few inches taller, even though the tiny bit trace of apparent slouch on his back was still there. His jawline had gotten a little sharper, underlining his face features; a picture-perfect fit for his already pretty face. Hiori still kept the same haircut as the last time Karasu saw him, probably finding out it was the most convenient haircut for him. There’s also something remarkable about his eyes that seemed a little bit more humane and alive, adorning his prevalent glint of mindfulness.

Other than that, well … this one crawled its way to the number one list of things Karasu didn’t come to expect. 

The black – dark blue soccer jacket on Hiori was surely something. It’s not just a normal, typical jacket one would normally see in random sports apparel stores. It would have been so if only the said clothing didn’t have a Bambi Osaka logo and the letter C embroidered on it, embellishing the otherwise plain jacket. Spending a few years of his youth playing for this team, Karasu had known a little bit too well how the jacket was designated to only be worn by Bambi Osaka coaches and physical trainers. 

Some real business, Karasu already mustered just enough data to conclude that Hiori was really up to something here. 

Very much different from himself who had just strolled around, searching for fresh air after spending yesterday dozing off in his room for a whole day due to the ever so unkind jet lag—and somehow, ended up at his youth team training area. 

The weather was quite humid as summer hadn’t reached its peak yet in June to set the air into waves of unbearable heat. Light breeze bristled and rustled through them as they made their way out of the training area, both fell quiet. They were immediately greeted with the busy Osaka streets that had always gotten a little bit merrier and more lively during the evening. 

Catching artificial lights from street stands and shops starting to fill in his peripheral vision, in the middle of watching the sky color change with each passing minute as the sun went down, Karasu decided to beat the dead air before the silence between them went uncomfortably deafening.

“Hey, Coach?” he called out, earning a glance from Hiori. “I think we really have a lot to catch up on.”

Hiori’s apartment was supposed to only take fifteen minutes from the training area, but right before crashing into his apartment, both of them settled into getting two portions of takeout ramen they used to get after practice a few years back. Karasu argued how it’d help them to get into the nostalgic feeling. Hiori couldn’t care less.

It was a bit of a hassle, because the old man who owned the ramen shop recognized them right off the bat as the two Bambi kids that used to eat here before they got scouted by Blue Lock, yanno and he had a hard time keeping things lowkey, so he had to make a big deal out of it. The fact that Karasu's arrival to Japan made its way as yesterday’s hot news in his hometown Osaka wasn’t helping at all either. 

Anyone could guess how the rest of the situation unfolded. 

They both finally ended up in front of Hiori’s apartment door after taking approximately an additional twenty minutes—it could’ve been worse, Karasu noted—to squeeze and get themselves off the crowd. Heavy on Karasu, because Hiori sneakily withdrew himself from the crowd as soon after he paid for the takeouts. He earned an earful from Karasu who nearly thought he’d lost Hiori in the crowd on the way home.

“Come on in,” Hiori opened the door. The first thing Karasu noticed was how the lights inside were on. He immediately halted his steps. 

As to why Hiori would leave the lights on while he’s outside, it was nothing far too beyond Karasu. The plausible explanations he could draw in a split second were either Hiori forgot or there’s someone inside. And no, definitely not a serial killer—they must’ve known better to keep the lights off—probably another renter; a roommate, or someone Hiori had given permission to sashay their way in and out his apartment freely.

Karasu mentally gulped at the second guess. 

“Wait, do you have a roommate? I wouldn’t like intruding—”

Hiori threw his head to the side, looking at Karasu weirdly before quickly cutting his words off. “Nah? I live alone.”

“Ah. Alright,” Karasu replied under his breath. He quickly patterned himself upon Hiori, taking off his shoes before fully entering the place. “Pardon my intrusion, then.”

Despite being the only tenant, Hiori’s apartment was far warmer than his parents’ house back in Kyoto that Karasu had visited several times. Perhaps due to the dominance of lukewarm earth tones Hiori had chosen for some of the furniture, or few healthy-looking plants on the balcony, or the way his apartment barely got any free space left since there’s a lot of things occupying every corner of it. 

While he’s not inherently a clean freak himself, it wasn’t exactly the tidiest nor neatest apartment room ever, much to Karasu’s chagrin. However, it’s interesting to observe and make guesses on how Hiori’s life has been from his home alone.

As soon as Karasu steps in, he’s welcomed by an acoustic guitar on its standee, placed on the corner of Hiori’s apartment not too far from the entrance door. It looked like an old, used acoustic guitar; the fretboard looked dull, collecting dust around the bridge. It successfully made Karasu wonder about how long Hiori had been learning guitar. What made Hiori decide to learn guitar was beyond Karasu; Hiori didn’t show a lot of interest in music back then, let alone instruments. All that guy ever listened to was original soundtracks from games he played. 

When he trailed Hiori into the living room, his attention flew to a crochet manual and its kit on the living room table. Karasu took a glance at the unfinished crochet placed on the table with the hook still intact. It was messy, he couldn’t make out what Hiori was trying to make. 

The unfinished maroon colored piece looked like a handkerchief, but people don’t usually make handkerchiefs out of acrylic yarn alone, Karasu thought. Probably it’s a pattern practice piece and Hiori didn’t really intend to properly make something out of it. Despite the stitching pattern being all over the place, it’s glaringly clear to Karasu that Hiori tried his best on making it. 

Hiori must’ve started picking all these new interests up after deciding he’s done with soccer, otherwise Karasu would’ve known. 

“I’m going to make some tea. Make yourself at home … or whatever they say,” Hiori said hastily as he put down a plastic bag of takeouts they had bought on the kitchen counter. “It’s been a while since I’ve had guests.”

“I can tell.” Came Karasu’s absentminded unapologetic reply almost immediately, indirectly pointing out the obvious that Hiori’s place was a little bit too messy for his liking. 

“Shut up … ? I was so busy that I didn’t get to clean up this morning.”

Then it clicked to Karasu. He grimaced, “So busy you forgot to turn your lights off before leaving?”

“... I didn’t even notice the lights were still on.”

Busy, huh.

As he wandered through Hiori’s place, and fixing misplaced things as well as picking up items only Hiori would’ve known how it ended up on the floor, Karasu kept on finding amusing and intriguing details. 

It’s nothing a bit of observing and coaxing Hiori into answering couldn’t do. 

It turned out Hiori had picked up guitar three months ago (it was a secondhand guitar he bought from an online shop, that’s why it looked old), it has only been a couple of week since he’d gotten into crocheting; a reasonable excuse as to why he’s still pretty much suck at it (Karasu felt proud anyway upon seeing Hiori’s crochet attempt), and he has been taking care of those plants Karasu couldn’t name ever since he moved in here, about a little bit over a year ago (a very good care of it, Karasu noticed). 

“You’re taking computer science courses?” Karasu prompted another question. 

He picked up a rather thick book of the said topic that was left carelessly on the couch, flipping several pages before he decided it wasn’t for him and placing it neatly in the small bookshelf not very far from the couch. There are a couple more books on coding and calculus, and perhaps the only thing Hiori kept tidy and neat in the said shelf: a stash of physical copies of old video games. 

“Ah. It’s my major, actually.”

“Huh?” The answer almost caught Karasu off guard, and it’s not because of Hiori’s chosen major. If anything, Karasu kind of understood why the younger guy settled with computer science; he was just surprised and very much impressed that Hiori was pursuing something. “You’re kidding me.”

“Why would I?” Hiori replied flatly, followed by a faint clinking of mugs he took out of the kitchen’s cupboard, “I took the remote classes program, though. I figured it’s easier and more convenient that way, with my schedule and all.”

“I see,” Karasu muttered softly, his fingers hovering over the books’ spines before pulling them away.

“How about you?” Hiori asked back. “Are you taking any classes right now?”

“Nah. But I’ve been thinking about it,” Karasu admitted as he made a beeline to the kitchen counter. Hiori was still busy preparing the tea, so Karasu settled to accompany him there. It’s easier to read and observe Hiori by his expressions, rather than figuring him out by his flat and nonchalant voice alone.

Karasu continued after leaning on the counter, right beside Hiori. “I’ve taken some psychology courses out of boredom. You know how some universities offer those online courses, like free classes or something?”

“Kinda.” Hiori’s answer came rather indifferent as his hands went to pour hot steaming water into the mugs.

“Yeah, that. Nothing too serious, anyway. And I’ve been considering … if possible, I would like to get an actual degree in it. What do you think?”

Hiori hummed and pursed his lips before answering.

“Psychology, huh … that’s very on brand of you, Karasu. So cool,” Hiori replied as he nodded pretentiously, almost jokingly. “Go for it. You can actually cite Freud all while psychoanalyzing enemies on field with that.”

It was hard for Karasu to stifle a chuckle upon hearing Hiori’s remark, but he did anyway. He noted how things had barely changed ever since the day he had told Hiori to drop the honorifics. The younger guy had developed a cheeky and impudent attitude towards him since then. Karasu hoped he’d never change.

“Seriously,” he feigned a deadpan look, “Freud? Is that the best you can do?”

“I don’t know any other famous person in the psych field, in my defense.”

“Alright, tech-wiz.”

Hiori scoffed before continuing considerably, “Nah, but seriously, though. I can’t picture you pursuing a degree other than psychology. You’ve always loved observing and analyzing people, right. Reading and figuring people out …,” 

He tore his attention from the mugs to take a quick glance sideways at Karasu for a moment, before moving on to serve the hot tea on the dinner table. Karasu made himself useful by getting the takeouts out of the plastic bag and placing them there as well. 

“... which is a bit creepy, not gonna lie …”

“Hey, now,”

“... but a psychology degree would make a good justification for it, I think.”

“Okay, touché,” Karasu gave up before he was even able to retract Hiori’s comment on him being a creep for having fun in analyzing people, “you got a point there.”

Hiori signaled a little gesture to Karasu, allowing him to take a seat first. Karasu only complied with it right away. Hiori then managed to pull the zipper of his jacket all the way down, revealing a plain short sleeved white t-shirt underneath it, before hanging the black clothing on the top rail of his chair. He pulled out the chair and immediately sat on his seat, facing Karasu, both hands instantly occupied with getting chopsticks and opening his ramen package.

“You’ve got a lot to explain, y’know,” Karasu said. He opened the lid of his ramen package quietly, watching the hot steam instantly rise as a few droplets of water made its way into the broth, then continued his sentence. “I thought …—nah, everyone thought you’ve had enough of soccer from the way you turned down every offer you got. How’d you end up coaching for Bambi Osaka?”

While it took Hiori a moment before answering, he didn’t sound even a little bit hesitant nor reluctant to spill the beans. 

“Ah … that. The current manager simply asked me to,” Hiori answered as-a-matter-of-factly, far too simple to satisfy Karasu’s curiosity. “And for the record, I’m not a full-time coach there.”

“So it’s like a part time job?”

Hiori shrugged at Karasu’s response before continuing. “Well … yes, I think? Yeah. Initially, I was kinda worried about accepting the job, since I don’t have any coaching certification let alone experience. But the manager and a few higher-ups insisted and kept on convincing me, they assured me that I can start by being the coach’s assistant first.”

“Huh. It’s like they’re dead set on getting you to coach. Like they wanted nobody else,” Karasu remarked, followed by Hiori humming in agreement. “D’you think there’s any reason behind that?”

“I wonder. Maybe it’s as simple as I’m the only one of the two former Blue Lock contenders from Bambi Osaka who chose to not go pro?” Hiori proposed amusingly, before receiving a sneer from Karasu. “Oh, also, they also pay me crazy good for a part timer. That’s one of the things I considered.”

“Is that so …” Karasu muttered softly. He fixed his gaze on Hiori who nodded slightly before tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, an effort to keep them out of the way while eating. 

“Are you enjoying it? Coaching and all.”

“Why did you ask that?” 

The previous question sounded like why does it matter to you, and Karasu didn’t really like it.

“Just wondering,” he shrugged, then proceeded to start eating his ramen before it got cold. Truth to be told, Karasu was more than just wondering. He’d like to hear that coaching, or anything related to soccer, wasn’t Hiori’s last resort of gaining a good amount of money. Frankly, he’d be at ease if Hiori truly enjoyed it.

Hiori seemingly took a hint of Karasu’s unspoken concern.

“I do enjoy it, don’t worry,” he said. “Just so you know, I don’t really hate soccer anymore. Not as much as I did prior to Blue Lock.” 

Hiori’s words trailed off, then his voice went unobtrusively quiet. He started to stir his ramen absentmindedly. “Maybe that’s what mending things between me and my parents does to me, y’know?”

“Ah ... you … ?” He was sure a perplexed look crossed his face as his shoulders grew unnaturally still, awaiting for an explanation he’s uncertain Hiori would even give.

It may have been too personal, even though he’s nearly neck deep in knowing how much of a dysfunctional mess Hiori’s family was. Karasu had guessed how living alone successfully allowed Hiori to explore new interests, but for Hiori to actually mend and repair his relationship by talking it out with his parents was out of Karasu’s prediction.

Hell, Karasu didn’t even consider mending things as one of the solutions Hiori would take.

A little laugh escaped Hiori’s lips, even brimming Karasu’s head with confusion. “You don’t have to look so surprised, Karasu.” 

He took Hiori’s friendly approach to the topic as a green light to pry a little bit into it.

“No offense, but,” Karasu cleared his throat, “after all you went through back then, I can’t help but think it was more likely for you to cut your parents off and leave it at that rather than fixing things between you guys.”

“None taken.” Hiori’s voice came quiet, slowly replying to Karasu’s question, as if he was reluctantly spelling every syllable in it. “I—we’re trying, alright. Giving my parents another chance doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven them. I don’t think I ever will either. It took me so long to let my anger go and figure out that the only thing I want is for them to not be around me, as for now.”

And they complied with it? Karasu asked deep down inside.

“They got divorced, by the way, a couple years ago. I think it’s funny how I started taking soccer seriously to keep my family intact, but, well. I could only do so much,” Hiori spoke, nonchalant as ever. 

While there wasn’t a single trace of sadness in his voice, Hiori didn’t sound so enthusiastic either. He swirled and picked up strands of ramen carefully before adding, “Not that I really care about their failed marriage anymore. Somehow it’s easier to deal with each of them after they get separated. They got a whole lot less irritating, too.”

Karasu didn’t get it.

His rationale told him to not be such a busybody prick and respect Hiori’s decision as he must’ve put a lot of thoughts into it. Hiori could make his own resolution just fine. Also, stop prying too much and avoid getting in too deep with other people's personal problems, it said.

His feelings argued about how it felt kind of wrong to him for Hiori to keep in touch with those shitty ass parents. Don’t you care for him a little bit too much to not warn him, or something? it countered. 

Both were reasonable, but his rationale had always been a greater ally to his tongue.

“Well … glad to hear that,” Karasu tried his best to not attach an additional I guess after it; not when a bit of uncertainty he terribly hid was already apparent in his voice. He internally shook his head. “I didn’t expect that, honestly, but … I’m sure you know what’s best for you.” 

(He wasn’t exactly sure, but he promised he’ll get by.) 

“So you guys are still on speaking terms?”

“I suppose. Not that much, and not regularly either, but I still visit them sometimes when I feel like it. Or when I feel like I need to,” Hiori answered, his eyes darted upwards as if he was recalling something. “Oh, right. For example, I spoke to my dad a day before accepting the coaching offer.”

“Seriously?”

“I told you to not get too surprised, Karasu. Where did you think I got coaching advice from?” Hiori scoffed lightheartedly. 

As if it was a very obvious fact and Karasu was supposed to take a hint of it earlier. 

Karasu did not, that’s the thing. 

He was about to have another bite of his ramen, but after hearing Hiori’s rhetorical question, he shortly halted. 

His eyes slightly widened, jaw almost practically hitting the ground and he didn’t even bother hiding it, strands of ramen he picked up were left mid-air. “Hold up, wait, Hiori. Didn’t you hate soccer partly due to your father’s way of coaching and harsh training? Why would you ask for any advice from him? Are you being serious right now?”

Frantic questioning from Karasu successfully made a genuine offended look start to plaster on Hiori’s face as he quirked a brow. He grunted, “Idiot. Have some faith in me, would you? Did you really think I’m exactly following every piece of advice he gave me?” 

The way Hiori looked disgruntled was funny and amusing and cute to Karasu as the younger had a reputation of being level headed and rarely taking offense in most things, being calm and sensible he was, but it all immediately drowned in the enthralling realization he had of how serious Hiori was in taking his coaching job. 

“You just gotta do the opposite of half of the things he said and you’re good,” Hiori said with a ceasing insulted tone. Under his breath, he added gently, “it’s not like I would ever give any of those boys a miserable time like the one I went through.”

“You better not. I know you would never,” Karasu replied. “Speaking of them ... fill me in. Is there anyone remarkable on the team?”

“I knew you’d eventually ask that. Those boys … they aren’t too much of a hassle, luckily. Truly just a bunch of hard-working boys,” Hiori said. Karasu noticed how Hiori’s eyes started to glint with excitement, “few of them have already developed their own distinct and exceptional playstyle, which I personally think you’d love to analyze. Or to pick on … ? Criticize? Maybe both, I don’t know.”

With a light groan, Karasu chimed in between Hiori’s words. “Stop making me look like the bad guy.”

“Can’t help it,” Hiori said carelessly, paying no mind at Karasu’s protest, “anyway, plenty of them had expressed their desire to adopt the egoistic ideals Blue Lock promoted. Ego-han truly has changed our soccer and I see how his ideals are already reigning in the newer generation.”

Genuinely intrigued, Karasu raised his brows, getting completely invested in things Hiori was telling him. “On my first day, they relentlessly asked me a lot of things about Blue Lock, you see. They told me it’s not everyday they can meet an actual Blue Lock participant. Which eventually led to them asking things about you as well.”

“They asked things about me?” Karasu repeated Hiori’s words abruptly. 

Hiori shot him a puzzled look. “It’d be weird if they didn’t.”

Karasu should’ve expected it, remembering he’s one of the Blue Lock participants who decided to go pro, but he nearly choked at the thought of Hiori telling this and that about him. 

Let’s just say Hiori had known him for too long, long prior to him soaring his way and quite literally elbowing personified obstacles in form of enemies into the international league; Hiori definitely had every means to compile every embarrassing shit Karasu had done in the past. 

If Hiori was determined enough, he could pull a godforsaken blackmail on Karasu. Hiori could start slow and simple by retelling Karasu’s bizarre, questionable collection of words he used to remark and pick people apart to those who cared. 

“You’re not telling them anything weird about me, right?” 

“I can totally do that if you want me to.” 

“No shit.” Karasu groaned into his palm before moving to pinch the bridge of his nose instead. Hiori failed to suppress a little laugh at his funnily-distressed manner.

“Relax. I only answer things they ask me, see. A lot of times it’s regarding your skills and past training menu. I don’t have enough reason to embarrass you in front of them.”

“So you’re saying you would embarrass me if you had enough reason to do so?”

Shrugging his shoulders lightly, Hiori looked like he’s mocking and avoiding Karasu’s previous hypothetical question. “Anyway, how long are you going to stay in Japan, Karasu?” Hiori asked. 

“It’d be great if you could come over during practice. You know, a surprise guest might lift their spirits up. Plenty of them look up to you, just saying. Most of them have never skipped any of your matches.”

It’s clear how Hiori slipped in the last sentence on purpose to stroke Karasu’s ego. “You’re trying to butter me up, aren’t you,” he scoffed. “How about you?”

“What about me?” Hiori asked back cluelessly.

“Skipping my matches,” he replied, “do you even watch them?”

Instead of responding right away with an answer as uncomplicated as either yes or no, Hiori took a somewhat long swig from his mug of tea, washing down a few bites of ramen he had swallowed as if he’s got all the time in the world to leave Karasu hanging. 

“I try to tune in whenever I can. And it’s not limited to your matches only, just so you don’t get the wrong idea,” Hiori claimed calmly as he put down his mug. What kind of idea Hiori meant, Karasu wished he’d elaborate more. “If we’re specifically talking about yours … well, even if I did miss it, the boys will approach me after practice and make me watch your clips anyway, asking for my two cents about your plays.”

Karasu jerked his head before nodding approvingly. “Good. Those kids know the real deal, then.”

“Whatever,” Hiori dismissed, clicking his tongue before the topic went astray. “So, what d’you say?”

“Depends. When’s the next practice?” 

“This Friday,” Hiori quickly replied. About two days from now, Karasu noted. “You don’t have to feel obliged to come, obviously, but I’d really appreciate it if y—”

“I’ll come,” Karasu said firmly. A satisfied look made its way to Hiori’s face, along with a happy, appreciative smile on his lips. Karasu wondered if it had always been this easy to provoke a smile out of Hiori. “Just catch me up about the details. Like what time I should be there, and whether I should come with a grand entrance or not.”

Visibly wincing with embarrassment at Karasu’s words, Hiori quickly responded. “You really don’t have to come with a grand entrance. It’s just a practice.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just text me,” Karasu blurted out. “By the way, did you change your number?”

With a slightly disturbed frown on his face, Hiori prompted another question as a reply, “I didn’t? Did you think I changed mine?”

“... sorry if I kinda did, I guess?” Karasu asked back with uncertainty, now mimicking Hiori’s expression by knitting his eyebrows. 

“You didn’t even shoot me a text when you’re overseas. I just thought you’re very busy—well, more like, you must be very busy …,” Hiori said flat out as Karasu’s frown just deepened. “How’d you even assume I changed it?” 

Ah.

Karasu didn’t need anyone to tell him that he practically just stepped on a landmine. Or more like a time-bomb, because it had just occurred to him that things might have turned unlike the way they did if he hadn’t drawn a slanted assumption and kept himself in contact with Hiori.

“Sorry,” he murmured apologetically before explaining his own stance. “I thought you didn’t want to be associated with people that remind you of soccer anymore, you see.” 

Karasu realized how awful it sounded. Airing his own assumption was almost akin to him putting words in Hiori’s mouth, much to his dismay. 

To say he was feeling terrible was an understatement. The atmosphere around them got tense and a bit uneasy for him to bear. Karasu broke their eye contact and gradually averted his attention down to his meal, refusing to look directly at Hiori. The ramen Karasu had just swallowed suddenly tasted bland on his tongue as it rolled out more explanations.

“Before you ask why I assumed that way ... you didn’t even say anything when I asked if you could come to my send-off, let alone actually come,” he continued. “I’m not blaming you in any way, but my immediate thought was like, oh, you probably didn’t want to be associated with me anymore, because I remind you a lot of the soccer you hated.”

Karasu kept on going because it didn’t seem like Hiori was going to jump in any time soon. “So I let you be, which, looking back … I probably shouldn’t.”

While the anxious knot in his stomach tightened, Karasu gathered his courage to look into Hiori’s eyes. He was met with a tiny bit of disappointment after learning Hiori wasn’t even looking at him. He had shredded his gaze away from Karasu and moved them to his meal moments ago, apparently. 

“Well, that …” Hiori didn’t look like he’s having this conversation, Karasu could tell it better than anyone else. He shifted his feet under the table uncomfortably, swaying it lightly with his pair of eyes still refusing to meet Karasu. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come. After I rejected those offers, things were …” he sighed, then continuing quietly, “sorry, Karasu, I don’t think I want to talk about it right now. Maybe next time?” Hiori offered hesitantly.

All of the sudden, Karasu’s curiosity was all drowned out by the probability of next time, a prospect of future that came from Hiori himself. That it didn’t serve as his own desire alone to stay in touch. His attention had drifted from wanting to know to … something, washed by the thrill he’s suddenly experiencing at the thought of next time. There’d be next time where Hiori felt like he’s spilling it all out. 

There’d be next time.

Not getting any explanation on things he had been dying to know had always left a bitter unsatisfied taste in his tongue and an itchy feeling at the back of his head, but somehow, Karasu was okay with this. 

“ … it’s fine. I already figured you have your own reason.” The nervous and uncomfortable gesture was already enough of a sign for Karasu. There’s something Hiori wasn’t comfortable nor ready to say out loud. 

Something regarding Hiori’s rejection to all the offers that must’ve occurred nearly the same time as his departure. Meaning it happened long before his parents divorce, Karasu figured, and if the aforementioned divorce took place about two years ago … that didn’t sound very good, no matter how hard he tried to see it in a different light. 

He internally winced.

Karasu spoke again, this time in a more gentle manner, “... which you’re free to disclose or not. You don’t have to think you really owe me any explanation.”

“You think so?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied right off the bat. He didn’t know if he really thought so. 

Yet again, Karasu wasn’t really sure—he still wanted to know why—but as of now, his desire to quickly brush away the heavy atmosphere engulfing them was bigger than anything. 

“You know, I don’t really mind that anymore. At least I already know how you’re doing right now,” Karasu said, then occupying his hand by stirring his ramen before adding, “That’s all that matters.” 

That’s all that matters. He meant it this time. 

Few beats of unproductive silence passed, and in a fraction of second Karasu thought he may have said the wrong thing because the uneasiness hadn’t dissipated away just yet. It felt like purgatory, as if he’s waiting for Hiori’s judgments, if not hell already. He needed Hiori to say something, at least, or maybe throw him a simple smile, anything, that could melt the unpleasant feeling Karasu felt right away into the mold of a relief.

“Thanks, Karasu.”

There it was.

Letting go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Karasu took it as thanks for your understanding and nothing else. Hiori faintly smiled. It was only an expression with gratitude laced with a smile, it didn’t make anything instantly better nor answer Karasu’s never ending questions, but somehow it did—at least for the night.

He hummed in response and let it end there, then shifting his focus into finishing his meal before the noodles soaked for too long and got too soggy for anyone’s likings and the broth got too cold to be enjoyed. 

Hiori instantly followed suit. 

“So, I’ll see you around on Friday?”

“Friday. Yeah,” Hiori said as he swayed the door open for Karasu. 

It was already dark outside, but Osaka never really sleeps at night; the translucent lights from buildings and shops afar ignited the city in sunlight’s stead. The chilly night breeze immediately hit Karasu as he took two steps out, a heavy contrast to the immersing warmth he’d felt earlier inside Hiori’s apartment. 

Hiori added before Karasu completely made his way to the elevator, “I’ll let you know the details later. Be careful on your way h—”

“Hiori?” he called out. 

“Yeah?”

Karasu had been pondering whether he should say it or not since earlier, more than he’d like to admit.

“Thanks for today,” he started. Before prompting the next thing he wanted to say, he set his eyes on Hiori’s.  “I’m glad you’re doing well. I mean it.” 

It appeared Hiori wasn’t anticipating any of the words Karasu had uttered, his brows raised in a mixture of amusement and confusion with lips flickering a smile across his face. Did that sound sincere enough to him, or did that sound weird because it came from Karasu? He had no idea.

While it’s more than easy for him to speak his judgment and critics bluntly when picking people apart, Karasu wasn’t the best at expressing what he truly feels. It beated him on how to leave an impression of him truly meaning every word he said. 

Truthfully, he was withholding himself to say a lot more than that. I’m glad I decided to take a stroll to our past training area. I’m glad I ran into you today. I’m glad you were there, exactly where I expected you to be . 

He was afraid he’d take all night or even his whole life to say it all out loud, so he held himself back. 

It’s not like he knew how to exactly say them without making a fool out of himself, anyway.

Hiori didn’t give him any audible response until the atmosphere between them got too awkward for Karasu. He broke the silence, “So …”

“Karasu.”

“Huh?”

“I know I should’ve said this earlier, and you’ve said it before how you kind of expected it, but,” Hiori let out a sigh, allowing his lips to form a sweet, genuine smile. It got Karasu shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously, “... yeah. I’ve missed you.”

Took a while for Karasu to finally register the remark he’d made earlier before he heard his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He hoped it didn’t serve as a warning, almost resembling a signal for his heart to release a rush of blood to his cheeks. Just to make matters worse, his feet felt it could awfully wobble any minute now, as if a sudden lethargy stole over him. 

Even though he’s failing miserably to arrange a proper verbal response, Karasu’s few remaining sane brain cells knew better to allow him some dignity by pocketing his hands so it won’t end up hovering over his own mouth. He just had to prevent himself from pulling the universal gesture of getting flustered and not embarrass his very own self in front of Hiori. 

Finally, Karasu choked out, “What’s that …”

“That’s what you wanted to hear, right?” Hiori teased, face beaming with a playful and satisfied grin. His response came way too swift and immediate, an almost comedical contrast to assert the matter that Hiori was, in fact, not affected by any of the mess he pulled on Karasu. “You told me that earlier.”

“Yeah, but—ah. You’re clearly just messing with me, aren’t you.”

“You know what? You should head home, y’know. You may want to catch the last bus.”

“I was going to,” Karasu grunted as Hiori attempted to withhold a small laugh. He felt stupid for getting flustered over a single I’ve missed you. He really should’ve not asked for that, he realized. He hoped Hiori really meant it, though, even if it’s disguised behind his playful joke. 

After exchanging a couple of see yous—it’s real, this time—Karasu dragged his feet to the nearest bus stop. As he walked alone under the night sky, his mind started to wander to his catching-up session with Hiori earlier. It seemed impossible to fill his mind with anything other than that, let alone forget it. 

The wind was turning colder as Karasu sat on the bus stop. He wasn’t all by himself, unfortunately. There were already a few companions, busy fiddling with their phones, and a couple more people joined under the small, shared roof. No conversation ensued, nor one seemed to notice nor recognize him under the dim light this bus station provided. 

Karasu took the opportunity to delve into an act of musing.

He’d spent approximately two and half an hour in Hiori’s apartment exchanging stories and updating each other on their life. It was a lot to take in and the guilt Karasu felt for missing out a lot on Hiori’s life due to some moronic misunderstanding did not help. Karasu wondered if Hiori had felt the same.

Hiori was no longer a 15 year old boy he used to dote on for being remarkable during their Bambi Osaka days, nor was he a 17 year old boy Karasu used to secretly look for every time they got sorted into separated teams in Blue Lock. Hiori was no longer trapped in his sickening household back in Kyoto and he also no longer loathed his parents and soccer as much as he did.

It was a lot to take in but Karasu had no choice other than updating his mental notes regarding Hiori that could easily make his brain actually go haywire.

Hiori’s 21 now. He’s living alone and well in an apartment located in Osaka. He’s currently learning how to play guitar and make crochets and he’s taking good care of his plants. He’s pursuing a computer science degree all while coaching for Bambi Osaka he’s so busy sometimes he didn’t even get to clean up his place. His eyes lightened up when he got to talk about the boys he coached. He’s currently mending things with his divorced parents. He’s eating well and he finished his ramen without any leftovers.

It was a lot to take in but Karasu would gladly learn and take more if it meant he could understand the present Hiori a little bit better, actually understanding him, not just from mere observations and one-sided conclusions he singlehandedly drew.

And probably, one day, he’d have the answer to why Hiori didn’t show up to his send-off. He’d have the answer to what happened after Hiori rejected every single one of those club offers. He’d have the answer to why Hiori thought it’s best to not cut his parents off. He’d have the answer to whether Hiori was mad at him for not texting him while he was overseas or not. He’d have the answer to why Hiori opened his apartment door for him without any hesitation and let him waltz in so easily. 

(He’d also have the answer whether it was okay for him to selfishly assume that Hiori had long awaited for the day he would come over.)

He’d have it all.

Karasu looked forward to Friday.