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In the middle of December, Kunigami gets a message on Twitter.
Blue Lock’s given them a temporary respite, but Kunigami’s declined it. He stays in the dormitory, keeps up his training regime. Intensifies it, actually, to block out what surfaces in the absence of noises, of matches, of distraction.
It’s like being back in Wild Card. He doesn’t know how he feels about it, but he doesn’t have to. It doesn’t matter what he feels, just what he does.
Admittedly, he did think about going home — but his family wouldn’t know what to do with him. If he asked, they would give him space, but their worried looks would burn through the distance anyway. Kunigami already feels like they’re right over his shoulder, breathing down hard with disappointment.
So when his phone goes off, he assumes it’s his family, checking in again, despite the lack of consistent responses, but no — it’s a Twitter message. He hadn’t realized that he even had the account, a relic from his younger days, but that’s not as surprising as seeing the name of the sender.
Chigiri Seina.
chiseina21: hey hey hero! i’m pretty sure i tracked you down, but just to confirm — you’re kunigami rensuke, right? hyoma’s friend?
Friend? Friend?
Chigiri’s talked about him — called him a friend? — enough to the point where his sister, for some reason, has tracked him down.
What could have Chigiri even said ? Kunigami’s own parents don’t know what to make of him right now. His sisters have their own lives. The world keeps moving, with or without Kunigami.
But Chigiri, for all the distance he could so easily put between the two of them, hasn’t done so. So after what feels like an infinite limbo, but surely is no more than a few minutes, Kunigami just replies with a yes.
chiseina21: perfect! i’m throwing hyoma a birthday party! he didn’t have your contact, and neither did your other friends! you’re hard to get a hold of for a hero! aren’t they supposed to be always available? >:P i’ll send you the invitation shortly — see you then!
Wait, wait, Kunigami hadn’t even said if he could attend, but —
Don’t run away, Cyborg Rensuke.
— he has to, doesn’t he?
“You texted Kunigami ? How?!”
“What, like it’s hard?” Seina scoffs. She waves her phone airily, as if she hasn’t just done what could be considered impossible. “He said he’s coming for your birthday, by the way. You’re welcome.”
“Wait, really?” Chigiri sits up so quickly he nearly gets dizzy.
“Hyoma, I know I’m the brains and the beauty here, but get with it,” Seina mourns. Chigiri throws his pillow at her; she dodges, throws her phone back at him, the conversation with Kunigami still open. “Look.”
All Kunigami had replied with was yes and ok, but still, something thrills through Chigiri’s system. It even overrides how mortifying his sister’s messages are. Why had she called him hero ?!
“Hyoma, you’re blushing so bad!” Seina throws herself onto the bed next to him, grinning. “I can’t wait to meet this guy.”
“I’m never telling you anything again!” Now that she’s within range, Chigiri can cover her smug face with another pillow, smothering her shrieking laughter. “He probably won't show up. He probably just wanted to be polite to you.”
“Nah,” Seina says, popping back out. Chigiri allows it. “Woman’s intuition. He’ll be here.”
“He won’t,” Chigiri protests, even if his heart starts to pound like it knows it’ll see Kunigami again. “Hey, maybe I should use a toothbrush to find out.”
“... What?”
I’ll wake you up, hero, Chigiri had said, but instead, he zig-zags through Kunigami’s dreams. And in these dreams, Kunigami doesn’t want to wake up, he wants to stay — when Chigiri runs by, cutting like a comet through space, Kunigami has to chase him, but Chigiri stays just out of reach.
In tonight’s dream, the sky is void of stars. Kunigami stands on an endless soccer field; there’s blank forms of other players running about. The only recognizable one, the only bright spot, is Chigiri — his red hair is like fire, trailing behind him as he races across the grass. He’s unstoppable, mouth curved in a wide, victorious grin as he scores.
Kunigami, mouth dry, watches the long, lean curves of his legs, as Chigiri leaps in the air, roaring — right before he turns to point at Kunigami with a breathless smile. As he lands, still looking, Chigiri softens, around his eyes, around his mouth, but the memory starts to distort — the random players sweep Chigiri up, ready to carry him away.
Wait, Kunigami wants to say, and he moves, runs, but the distance never shortens. Kunigami keeps treading air, and Chigiri disappears.
There are dreams where Chigiri runs back for him, jumping into Kunigami’s arms as if the space is meant for him, as if there is nothing more that Kunigami ever needs to do but hold him. There are dreams where Chigiri leaves, and no matter how many times Kunigami tells himself it doesn’t matter, it does — the air around him is oppressive and empty all at once.
There’s a dream where they’re kids, even. It’s the memory of when Kunigami had won his first game, but Chigiri is there. They’re beaming, lifting the trophy with their small hands. Kunigami’s missing a tooth; Chigiri’s missing two. Chigiri turns to Kunigami and says let’s play soccer forever, and Kunigami enthusiastically agrees. There’s yet another dream where Kunigami is a princess, and Chigiri is his knight, running through a forest to save him, and a thought strikes Kunigami like hot iron: Find me, Hyoma.
No matter what, Kunigami wakes up feeling weak and disgusted. But the more he tries not to think about Chigiri, the more his childish fantasies are determined to burst through. Even if he gets through the day, he can’t escape his dreams.
Chigiri’s birthday gets closer and closer. Kunigami’s dreams get worse and worse.
He dreams of gathering Chigiri’s hair, red as wine and just as intoxicating, in his hands, moving to kiss his nape — Chigiri laughing, and turning to kiss his mouth, instead. His mind replays the days they trained together, the flex and pull of Chigiri’s muscles as he lifted weights, or stretched, or ran on the treadmill. And of course, his mind fixates the way Chigiri would put his leg in Kunigami’s lap so that he could help massage his knee, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, through thick, dark eyelashes.
There’s the way Chigiri says hero. The way Chigiri says Rensuke.
Chigiri is incredible; Chigiri is exciting. The way Kunigami’s body has learned to react to him hasn’t gone away, yet. They’d gotten close quickly, and it had been fine then, before — Kunigami can’t imagine being close to Chigiri the way he is now. He’s not the hero that they all thought he was.
Heroes, if Kunigami thinks about it, need believers. You can’t just appoint yourself a hero, right? And he’d foolishly done so — but they had all believed him, hadn't they? And they’re still here : Chigiri, who said he’ll watch him closely; Isagi and Bachira, who sought him out; his family, who keep texting him well-wishes. There’s something they’re seeing, something that Kunigami hasn’t squashed yet, that keeps them around.
And he’s not strong enough to push them any further away.
On the afternoon of Chigiri’s seventeenth birthday, Kunigami appears on his doorstep, small gift bag in hand.
“Rensuke,” Chigiri says, surprise cutting the word in two. Ren — a sharp breath, here — suke.
Chigiri’s always gorgeous, but here, outside of the standard Blue Lock clothes, he’s even more so. It’s the first time that Kunigami gets to see the kind of clothes that Chigiri must like — he’s in an oversized sweater and tight pants, thighs and calves clearly outlined even if his wrists are adorably obscured by long sleeves. If Kunigami looks at him any longer, he’ll get heatstroke.
“Happy birthday,” Kunigami says. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say, but as soon as Chigiri beams at him, he forgets it all.
“You’re early,” Chigiri says, but opens the door wider. “That excited to see me, huh?”
Kunigami shifts. “I’m not staying. Tell your sister I said thank you, but I have to go.”
The smile that’s purer than starlight vanishes. “To do what?”
Kunigami doesn’t know how much he can hurt him. How much would be fair. He’s not supposed to care, but when it comes to Chigiri, there’s always an unspoken challenge.
And Kunigami doesn’t want to lose.
But there’s nothing that he can say, and Chigiri reads it all on his face anyway.
“Shitty hero,” Chigiri says. “You really want to go after you came all this way and brought me a gift?”
Kunigami looks down, as if someone else had shoved the bag in his hands. As if he hasn’t been clutching its thin paper handles the entire way here — there’s a clear indent of where his fingers gripped them so hard that it changed their shape.
“Can I open it?” Chigiri asks. Wordlessly, Kunigami hands it over.
He had thought an assortment of little, practical things would be okay, but from the look on Chigiri’s face, it’s more than okay. There’s hair styling gel, a hair mask, hair ties, compression socks, even patterned with black cats, pain relief lotion, and a mini energy drink.
“You remembered the brands I like,” Chigiri says softly.
“They’re the best ones,” Kunigami says defensively. The smile is back. Chigiri hangs the gift bag onto the door handle before he steps closer, shutting the door behind him, and even if they’re still on the sidewalk outside of Seina’s apartment building, it suddenly feels a lot more intimate.
The lines between Kunigami’s dreams and reality are starting to melt— how many times had he dreamed about kissing that exact same smile?
Despite everything, he still wants Chigiri. Chigiri, who looks like he wants Kunigami too.
(It’s the way that he always looks at him..)
“Don’t act like I don’t mean something to you,” Chigiri reaches out, words firm but hand tentative, and touches Kunigami’s cheek. “Aren’t we too old to play pretend?”
Kunigami jerks back. “That’s exactly why I can’t be the fucking hero you want me to be, Hyoma. I just — look, it’s your birthday, I’ll go—”
“I don’t need you to be a hero. I just want you to be what you are, ” Chigiri says. “I won’t tell you how to play soccer, but you don’t need to hide off the field. I get that you’ve changed, but don’t run away from what you can have if you just… let it happen.”
“Let it happen,” Kunigami repeats. He swallows, throat dry.
What you can have, if you just let it happen.
“Let it happen,” Chigiri echoes in a whisper. He raises himself up onto his toes, hands on Kunigami’s shoulders — gazes at him with his cherry-pink eyes, blooming with promise.
Kunigami must be dreaming, but he isn’t. This is real — the warmth of Chigiri’s hands, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the slight curve of his back as Chigiri leans into him — all Kunigami can do is hold his waist, steady him, and try to breathe.
“You don’t want someone like me,” Kunigami says. “The way I am now.”
“Isn’t that something for me to decide?” Chigiri says wryly. “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I like you, Rensuke. And I don’t give up easily.”
“Neither do I,” Kunigami replies, and Chigiri gives a pleased little tilt of his head, gaze roaming across Kunigami’s face.
“Hey, cynic hero,” Chigiri says, “Don’t you think I deserve another present? I just gave you one, and it’s my birthday.”
“You got enough,” Kunigami says, right before he screws up both his courage and his restraint, and drops a kiss on the top of Chigiri’s head.
Chigiri’s eyes widen; his face turns as red as his hair; it’s like watching a sped-up capture of a sunset, right before Chigiri hides his face in Kunigami’s chest.
“Happy birthday, Hyoma,” Kunigami murmurs, helplessly fond, and kisses the top of his head again. Chigiri groans, thumping his forehead against Kunigami’s chest.
“I didn’t think you’d do shit,” Chigiri complains, still blushing prettily. “...But if I’m pushing my luck, wanna stay for the party? I know everyone would love to see you.”
“I still should go,” Kunigami says quietly. “But I’ll… try not to be a stranger.”
“Then take another kiss for the road,” Chigiri says, and if Kunigami takes two, three, four — sweet and chaste, from Chigiri’s hair, cheeks, nose, and forehead — Chigiri’s not complaining.
Kunigami runs his thumb over Chigiri’s lower lip, pushed out into a winsome pout.
“Later,” he says softly. “When I feel like I deserve to, okay?”
“Okay,” Chigiri says, heart in his throat, half-charmed and half-sure this is payback for all the flirting. “I’ll be waiting for you, hero.”
(Totally Necessary Epilogue~)
When her brother bursts back into the apartment, clutching a gift bag like it holds the secrets to the universe and incoherently yelling into his phone, Seina can only assume things went well with Hyoma’s little hero. She can’t wait for the full story.
“I told you so,” Hyoma’s friend on the line says, “Toothbrushes never lie.”
Actually, no, she can wait — she doesn’t want to hear any more of the mutterings that had been coming from the bathroom last night. Nope, not her business.
She can always just ask Kunigami, anyway. She’s got his number.