Chapter Text
Karasu was always distrustful of his surroundings: direct and of few words. When you least expected it, he would blurt out a provocative comment, with that intense gaze and such determined movements that commanded respect. In any conversation he found himself in, the other person always spoke more in the end. Karasu had this ability to draw out personal information without revealing anything about himself, keeping his guard up so that no one could mess with him, both on and off the court.
Hiori, on the other hand, was the opposite. Quiet, he would say only what was fair and necessary. At least he was at first, before all this. Over time, Karasu learned that words were not always necessary to understand him. That Hiori spoke in silences, in small gestures that gave away his mood. That his laughter in the locker room faded as soon as he walked away from the others, and that he barely exchanged a few words with his teammates. Karasu would never admit it, but he always tried to understand it through his eyes. Or maybe it was just a perfect excuse to get lost in it: a cyan color - so clear, so attentive during matches - that sometimes strayed as if traveling to places no one else could reach. And those long eyelashes that, to Karasu, were uncomfortable from how delicate they could look in Yo.
The day Karasu decided to take a step and tell Hiori everything he had observed and analyzed about him—both as a player and as a person—was different. He shared what he saw in Hiori’s heart, something that neither his parents nor even himself had been able to recognize. For Yo, hearing it felt like breathing for the first time in years; he had never felt so understood after carrying, for so long, the pressure of arrogant parents who only thought of themselves and tried to shape his future as they wished.
Despite this, neither of them had expected their friendship to grow so quickly.
Since Karasu confessed that he had been observing Hiori all this time—not just for his skills, but in a supposedly “professional” way—a different kind of curiosity began to grow in Hiori, a genuine interest in truly getting to know him. For the first time, someone sparked in him the desire to approach and discover the person behind that defiant look he always carried. Their conversations grew from brief exchanges to longer talks: in the locker room, during matches, and even afterward. Hiori became one of the first people with whom Karasu could speak honestly, without feeling the need to hide, without that constant insecurity about showing who he really was. For both of them, feeling misunderstood ceased to be a crushing weight and instead became an invisible thread that held them together, as if they had been destined to understand each other from the start.
With Hiori, Karasu discovered that he could let down the mask of the confident, sharp-tongued type; he didn’t need to fill silences with sarcasm or hide behind a defiant attitude. Just being was enough. And for Hiori, Karasu’s presence was a reminder that he wasn’t alone in his struggle to find his own place, that someone else knew what it was like to carry expectations and doubts.
What had begun as occasional chats slowly became a near-necessary routine. The deep blue hair one, who always seemed to have everything under control, started seeking Yo’s cyan eyes unconsciously, as if he needed that space where he could be unfiltered. And Hiori, who had spent so long hiding his emotions, found in him a refuge where he didn’t need to justify or prove anything. Sometimes they talked about football, analyzing plays and opponents with a precision that would surprise anyone listening from afar. Other times, they shared only silence—long walks in which words weren’t necessary because they understood what the other was feeling. In those moments, the outside world seemed to fade away, leaving them alone, their shared presence comforting without need for explanation.
It was in these small gestures—in a laugh that lingered longer than usual, in a gaze that held the other’s without discomfort—that something neither had planned began to take shape. Because the truth was, even if they called it friendship, for both of them it was beginning to mean so much more.