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Sixteen-year-old Kunigami Rensuke had a list of reasons why superheroes are very cool and why he wants to be one. Thirty-three-year-old Kunigami Rensuke has a list of reasons why superheroes are impossibly cool and why he'll probably never become one (which Chigiri disagrees with every time Kunigami brings it up, but that's beside the point). Cool or not cool, hero or not hero, Kunigami knows one thing for certain: his tale with soccer is coming to its tail end.
Chelsea won’t renew his contract when it expires next June, his agent informs him over a phone call on an ordinary Saturday morning in London, right after Kunigami gets out of his blissful post-workout shower. It's not a surprise, really: there are many, many twenty-somethings who are hungry for a spot on one of the Premier League's Big 6 clubs, who can run faster, aim better, shoot harder with their young, unblemished bodies. Kunigami, with his messed-up back and slightly-less-messed-up ankles, is already past his prime: the World Cup Qualifiers two years ago in 2033 was his swan song with the national squad.
The realization is chilling. Dizzying. Kunigami leans against the lockers, cold metal pressing into his back. He takes a moment to steady himself.
"What are my options now?" Kunigami asks eventually, surprised by how calm he sounds. It almost doesn't feel right. "I mean, my options in London," he adds. Only then does he feel some anxiousness surfacing—what he should be feeling, probably.
-
Kunigami doesn't like London. Kunigami doesn't like the Tube, the bland food, the rush-hour traffic, doesn't like the taste of English syllables on his tongue, doesn't like feeling small and overwhelmed by all the people, cars, smog, and skyscrapers in a city that will always see him as a stranger. Kunigami made his way to London because London chose Chigiri, and Chigiri loves London. Chigiri loves London enough to stay here after retiring from soccer, to go to university for Literature in London and build a career in sport journalism with one of UK's biggest television channels. The media has also mostly forgotten about Arsenal's Red Panther from Japan, now a phantom of the past, and Chigiri Hyoma finally gets to be just Chigiri Hyoma, just another stranger in a big, bustling city.
It's why Kunigami transferred from RB Leipzig to Chelsea, fought his tooth and nail from the bench to the starting lineup, turned down offers from other top-flight clubs in Europe, and extended his contract with Chelsea twice. It's why Kunigami will continue his stay in London, even if it means he has to get a few more years out of his tired, worn out body (because what else would he be able to do here when all he knows is how to play soccer?). EPL clubs are out of the picture for good. But there are still EFL clubs, and plenty of them can probably still use a half-decent striker?
"I can hear you thinking, Rensuke." Chigiri gently kicks Kunigami's leg under the dinner table, as he eats another sporkful of strawberry cheesecake.
"Sorry."
Kunigami forces himself to shut his brain off and focuses on finishing his plate of grilled chicken breasts, salad, and pasta—the balanced, nutritious meal mandated by Chelsea's dietitian, as much as Kunigami would kill for a couple bowls of steaming hot Akita white rice—with the same seriousness as he'd push himself through yet another day of training, training, training.
Chigiri puts down his fork and rests his chin on his hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"What?"
"What's on your mind."
Kunigami should've known. After fourteen years of dating and eight years of living together, nothing ever eludes Chigiri's curious, perceptive eyes. When his gaze meets Chigiri's, however, Kunigami fails to produce any words, all the thoughts swimming in his head earlier nowhere to be found.
He remembers 2026 vividly: the year Japan advanced to the World Cup Quarterfinals for the first time in history, made possible partly because of a hard tackle from Chigiri that gave him a second ACL injury and ended his career. Chigiri is known to his university and non-soccer friends as someone who loves books, concerts, cats, and brunching on Sundays, with radiant red hair and the brightest smile. Only Kunigami knows how, for a whole year, Chigiri's mood clouded over their shared flat like London's rainy days, while Kunigami, benched again unexpectedly at Chelsea for four months after the World Cup, was the rain that is one thunder away from falling.
Kunigami will not uproot Chigiri's life. Kunigami will not allow anyone or anything to take away Chigiri's smile again, not after they worked so hard—so fucking hard—to get to where they are now.
Kunigami shakes his head. "Nothing important. Don't worry about it," he says.
-
Not everyone is lucky enough to write their ending on their own terms. Not everyone gets the opportunity to say a proper goodbye. An innocuous match that should be an easy win for Chelsea, a bad fall, a torn ankle that will take him out for at least the remainder of the season, and Kunigami's story with Chelsea ends.
No one could ever be prepared when the moment happens. No one is exempt from the initial shock, the wave of pain that follows soon afterwards, the heartbreak when realization sinks in, or lying on the ground and covering your face with your hands, so the cameras shoved in your face will not see your tears and broadcast it on TV as you are carried off the pitch on a stretcher.
Chigiri runs to Kunigami and stays with him the entire time as the medics inspect Kunigami's injury, holding his hand as they ride to the nearest hospital for treatment. Chigiri's intense gaze never leaves the doctor as she checks Kunigami's X-ray images, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. When the doctor shakes her head, Kunigami squeezes Chigiri's hand at the same time Chigiri draws in a sharp breath.
The prognosis doesn't look too good. With lots of rehabilitation, Kunigami will be able to play soccer again and might have a chance to return to somewhere close to his current form.
The verdict is rough to digest. After the waterworks, however, a strange feeling washes over Kunigami, cocoons him like a blanket wrapped around his body on a cold Akita morning. Kunigami has had so many funny, confusing feelings these past few weeks and, at this point, has given up banging his head against the wall to try to figure out what they are, so he waits and lets this particular one sit with him.
When the doctor asks him where he'd like to go for treatment, Kunigami blurts out "Japan" without giving it any thought. Guilt creeps up only a moment later, as he remembers that Chigiri has a regular 9-to-5 job and doesn't have the luxury to take two to three months of vacation on a whim. Before Kunigami manages to say something, Chigiri rubs his chin and nods.
"Good call."
The odd feeling sits with Kunigami as Chigiri drives him to the airport and kisses him stupid before sending him off, as Kunigami looks out of the window and sees Tokyo below him during descent after sleeping through almost all fourteen hours of the flight. His parents and sisters are waiting for him right outside of customs, and his older sister rushes over and pulls him into the biggest hug. Kunigami feels a lump in his throat, and that's when he faintly recognizes at last what the feeling really is.
Relief.
-
The first few weeks are always hard. Every cell inside Kunigami's body is screaming, unsettled by the abrupt change of routine, from physical actions all the time to being confined within a hospital room in Tokyo and later his own bedroom in Akita. His muscles are aching for his usual morning run on the treadmill, weight lifting sessions at night, soccer and training during the day.
The human body, as it turns out, is surprisingly good at adapting. By the time he hits the ten week mark, the idea of playing soccer no longer feels like the dull phantom pain of a lost limb and feels more like a distant memory. Blue Lock, Wild Card, RB Leipzig, Chelsea, Crystal Palace, Chelsea again, UEFA, going to the World Cup, going to the World Cup again, left out of the World Cup. The sixteen years he proffered to soccer, sixteen years of missing out on his sisters' and parents' birthdays, graduations, hospital visits, anniversaries, important life milestones, sixteen years of living abroad and struggling to speak the languages of countries that will never see him as one of their own—all of them seems like a very long fever dream. Kunigami is ready to wake up from it: to leave Kunigami, player number 50 behind, and return to just Kunigami Rensuke.
But he can't. Not when Chigiri is still in there.
Chigiri complains about the eight-hour time difference and his work hours that make their arrangement complicated, but he still manages to get up early and video call Kunigami almost every day before he has to head out and take the Tube to go to work. Sometimes the reception gets bad, and Chigiri is in the middle of drying his hair, his expression frozen in the most absurd way possible. Kunigami always gets a good laugh out of it, but a part of him aches when he briefly considers the possibility of doing this for anything more than a couple months. Isagi, Bachira, and Rin have somehow unraveled the hot mess that is their relationship and kept it intact while still actively playing for clubs in three separate European countries. Kunigami has no idea how they managed to do it. Neither Kunigami nor Chigiri has the heart for that.
Three winters ago, when Kunigami's father broke his arm after a bad fall and Kunigami couldn't go back to visit immediately because of Christmas week matches, Kunigami, guilt-ridden, had asked his older sister whether they ever thought letting Kunigami go pro and go to Europe was a mistake. She smiled and said don't worry about us , they are happy as long as Kunigami is content with the decisions he made for himself, and the things that come with it are just the price you pay for love.
Kunigami thinks he understands his sister a little more now. Chigiri is now a part of Kunigami, and Kunigami is a part of Chigiri. Leaving Chigiri alone in London is like leaving a part of Kunigami behind, and Kunigami wants to be full. The price you pay for love , Kunigami thinks. He's okay with being on the pitch for a few more years, if this is the version of the price he needs to pay.
-
Chigiri said he's going on a business trip to the United States for a week and won't be able to call Kunigami in the meantime. Don't miss me too much , he said over their video call with a little smirk. In hindsight, Chigiri, whose daily work is primarily Japanese-English translation, has never had to travel outside of the UK for business needs since he started working at his current company three years ago, but Kunigami didn't give too much thought into it. That's why, on an ordinary February afternoon in Akita, Kunigami is completely taken aback when he is fully expecting his younger sister to barge into his bedroom after three knocks on the door, and instead is greeted by a shock of red hair.
"Hyoma?!"
Chigiri takes a few swift strides to his bedside and pulls Kunigami into a long, tight embrace. Kunigami buries his face in Chigiri's shoulder, his nose filled with the lavender-scented fabric softener Chigiri always uses—the smell of home. Their home.
"Well," Chigiri says, after they finally untangle their limbs around each other. He gently wipes away the tears at the corner of Kunigami's eyes with his thumb and smiles. "I came to find my hero."
Kunigami cups Chigiri's face with his hands. He takes the time to drink in the view of Chigiri—in 3D instead of a 2D video on a screen, in his arms instead of six thousand miles away—and feels so stupidly, deliriously happy that tears are coming out of his eyes. Price? What price? He is so stupidly, deliriously happy that he feels like he can die today without regret. UK, Japan, London, Akita, Kagoshima, whatever—wherever they are together is their home.
Kunigami pulls Chigiri into his arms and kisses him stupid, and they only part ways after god knows how long. As Kunigami wipes away the tears (again) at the corner of his eyes, he suddenly remembers the burning question he's been dying to ask.
"No business trip, huh. When do you need to go back?"
"Can't wait for me to leave already? Rude," Chigiri teases. "Nah. I'm going to stay here for as long as I please."
The smile on Chigiri's face is smug. Triumphant, even.
Kunigami's eyes go wide. "You are kidding—"
"I turned in my notice two weeks after you left," Chigiri says. "We’ve got enough money to fool around for some time. And don't forget that you still owe me a good honeymoon trip around Japan—"
"But what about your career?" Kunigami swallows. "What about London?"
"I will figure that out later. Well. I can look for a translator job in Japan. Go to grad school, maybe. Or run away from this capitalist hellscape, since I'm so fucking tired of it after working a corporate job for three years, and be a rice farmer. Or, you know," Chigiri bats his impossibly long eyelashes. "I can also just be your pretty, useless trophy husband."
Kunigami can't help but to snort. "Don't be ridiculous." Chigiri is hardworking, diligent, persistent, the kind of person who would do well no matter what path he pursues.
"So what about your career, Rensuke? What do you want to do?" Chigiri squeezes Kunigami's hand, his expression soft and tender.
Kunigami pauses. As he prepares to give out his response, after thinking about it at length over the past ten weeks, he recalls the options Chigiri listed earlier and realizes something. In Japan .
"How did you know?" Kunigami asks.
"My sister, who heard from your older sister, who figured it out because, duh, she's your older sister," Chigiri says. "And because I love you, you slowpoke hero. It's not just about me. I want you to be happy, too."
They both want each other to be happy with their lives. It is a long established fact, and should have been a no-brainer to Kunigami, but perhaps Kunigami is a little slow when it comes to these things.
He rests his chin on Chigiri's shoulder, voice muffled. "Thank you."
Chigiri presses a kiss on top of Kunigami's head. "So, what's in your mind?"
Kunigami briefly considers his options again. He could give a call to his agent, play another season or two with the J.League like what Karasu did last year with Bambi Osaka. A last match in Japan, standing ovation from a stadium of audience as he kisses the grass and leaves the pitch for good, flowers from Hiori and Otoya who flew back from Spain for the special occasion, the retirement party, the whole nine yards—deserving, for the national team's captain. Lucky bastard , Kunigami thinks. It sure does sound tempting. But after spending the past ten weeks with his family in his hometown and rarely thinking about the pitch at all, Kunigami knows for certain what his heart really wants.
"Hyoma," Kunigami says. The words are more difficult to get out than what he expects. He draws in a breath. "I think I'm done with soccer."