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It’s glaringly obvious, when Hyouma walks into Germany’s stratum and enters the cafeteria, that he’s not supposed to be here, but he hasn’t cared about the different stratum rules since the Neo Egoist League started, plus—
“Where’s Kunigami?” he asks when he spots Hiori and Isagi together eating dinner. Hyouma himself has just eaten and showered, and he came here with hopes to pester Kunigami again, a vow he made to himself.
But the cold, stonefaced, ginger boy is nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, Chigiri-kun,” Hiori greets. Isagi waves, his mouth still full of rice. “We’re not sure, actually. Kunigami-kun didn’t show up to practice today.”
That piques Hyouma’s interest. “Really? Is he in his room?”
“Maybe?” Isagi supplies, uncertain.
Nobody has been to Kunigami’s room before. It’s separate from the rest of his teammates, who are made to share, with a maximum of four people per room. Kunigami, however, has a room for himself, known as the Wildcard room, and no one else is allowed inside.
“I didn’t see him in the baths or in the trainin’ rooms either,” Hiori agrees. “Probably his room.”
Damn. Hyouma would normally count this as a bust and give up on finding Kunigami for the day. However, an odd feeling twists in his gut—a feeling that this isn’t right. It’s unlike Kunigami to skip out on practice anyway. Whether it was before or after Wildcard, he had always been consistent and hardworking.
Something tells Hyouma that he shouldn’t drop it.
“I’ll go look for him, then,” he declares. “Where’s his room?”
“Furthest one on the left. But, uh—” Isagi frowns. “You can’t access it. Only Kunigami can enter and leave, as far as I know.”
“That’s fine. I’ll knock and yell until he lets me in.”
Hiori snorts. “Yer quite stubborn, Chigiri-kun. I believe in ya.”
“Don’t encourage him?!”
Hyouma leaves those two to their own devices, flicking his hair over his shoulder as he heads towards the bedrooms. He’s going to hunt Kunigami down like a predator to prey if necessary.
As he walks down the corridors, footsteps echoing down the hallway, that sinking feeling in his gut grows deeper. Hyouma has felt a confusing blend of emotions since Kunigami’s return—relief, betrayal, anger, misery… For a while, he didn’t even believe it was truly Kunigami he was seeing. The boy he knows now is so ardently different from the boy he once knew.
He misses laughing and teasing Kunigami over dinner, watching him get all red over a light conversation about his type in a partner, or being teamed up together and always feeling Kunigami’s reliable presence behind him. He misses being subjected to Kunigami’s gentlemanly behaviour or chatting with him while Hyouma dries his hair, because he’s the only one who would wait.
Hyouma clicks his tongue. The Kunigami he knows now is the total opposite of gentlemanly.
But… It's fine. It’s not like Hyouma wasn’t once of similar nature, angry and defensive, with walls as impenetrable as a fortress. He may not know why Kunigami is the way he is now, but he can sympathise, in some odd way.
Finally, he comes to a stop outside Kunigami’s room. It looks like any other room at Blue Lock, with grey metallic automatic doors, but when Hyouma waves his hand in front of them, they don’t slide open like they normally would.
Well. Knocking it is.
Hyouma lifts his fist, rapping his knuckles against the metal a few times. “Kunigami, it’s me.”
He waits. A beat of silence passes.
Hyouma knocks again, harder this time, and raises his voice. “Oi, Kunigami! You better not be ignoring me!”
Again, a few seconds go by, and there’s no response. Hyouma presses his ear to the door, but he can’t hear any movement or sounds of life. Concerning.
“Kunigami, I swear!” he yells, “I’ll break this door down if I have to!”
He leaves him no choice. Hyouma takes a deep breath, gathering all of his Annoying Younger Sibling Energy, and starts to bang the door.
Knock knock knock knockknockknockknock—
“What the hell are you doing?”
Hyouma jumps, freezing.
Beside him, with a towel slung around his neck and a deep frown etched on his face, is the exact person he’s looking for.
“Kunigami!” he gasps, clearing his throat when it comes out too squeaky. He really was spooked. “You just finished showering?”
Kunigami frowns harder, like he’s debating answering him. Hyouma places his hands on his back, giving him an innocent smile.
“Yes,” he finally relents. “Go away.”
Well, that’s rude. After Hyouma made the huge effort to journey all the way down this corridor? “No,” he replies, leaning against the wall. “Why didn’t you go to practice today?”
Kunigami’s nose scrunches. “How do you kno— It’s none of your business.”
“It totally is. The hero I know never misses practice.”
That must be the wrong thing to say, because Kunigami’s expression hardens. He clenches his jaw, turning away from Hyouma’s insistent gaze. “Well, that person is gone,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing. Leave me alone.”
Kunigami steps forward. Hyouma, in some desperate attempt to stay put, spreads his arms out to create a physical barricade, blocking the door.
“I’m not going until you answer me,” he says, putting his foot down stubbornly.
Kunigami raises an eyebrow. “I could toss you aside easily, you know.”
“You wouldn’t,” Hyouma replies. Kunigami has changed, but this, he is confident in. Kunigami wouldn’t lay a finger to hurt him.
(…Why is Hyouma so certain?)
Kunigami grits his teeth, in the way he does when he has no argument, knowing Hyouma is right. Hyouma is pleased for a good three seconds until he notices something else.
“Um…” he says, pointing to his own face. “Your nose is a little red. Did you walk into a wall before this?”
Now that he’s looking properly, Kunigami seems tired. Not tired in the usual way he is, all grouchy and sulking, but everything about his physique says that something’s off. He’s slouching, his eyebags are worse than usual, and his skin looks duller.
It clicks. “You’re sick,” Hyouma realises. “That’s why you missed practice.”
“Shut up.”
“No, seriously, what is it? Fever? A cold? I don’t know what Blue Lock does when we’re sick, actually, but I know Prince keeps medication with him at all times. I can go ask him—”
“Chigiri,” Kunigami interrupts sharply. “Seriously. Just… mind your business.”
“You don’t even have that usual bite in you. Normally, you’d have told me to fuck off by now.” Hyouma shakes his head. “We have an infirmary, right? I’ll bring you.”
“I’ve already been.” This time, Kunigami puts his hand on Hyouma’s shoulder, gently nudging him aside. Hyouma goes wordlessly, watching as the door slides open, granting Kunigami access.
As the door begins closing in his face, a stupid, impulsive decision crosses his mind.
Hyouma sticks his foot out at the last moment. The door slams against his ankle and he hisses out a curse, grabbing the wall for support.
“You—” Kunigami turns around, a shocked noise leaving his throat. “Princess, what the fuck.”
Hyouma’s too busy groaning to register the old nickname. The door slides back open, and he briefly hopes he didn’t accidentally cause a mechanical fault—who knows what kind of money Ego might make him fork out for that—but he takes the opportunity to step into Kunigami’s room.
The first thing he notices is that it’s dim.
He glances around, wondering if there’s a manual light switch, but the walls are bare and grey. It’s a small room, only a bed, Kunigami’s sports gear laid at the foot of it.
In the far corner of the room, something rectangular sits in the shadows, attached to numerous… wires? Hyouma squints at this odd thing, but he can’t get a good look before Kunigami is blocking his view, caging him against the wall.
“What were you thinking?” he stresses, pushing Hyouma onto the bed. Hyouma tries to turn around and look at that odd thing again, but Kunigami grabbing his ankle draws his attention back.
He’s kneeling in front of Hyouma, inspecting his ankle and applying pressure to different points. It wasn’t that bad—the pain was sharp and immediate, but it’s faded already. Still, seeing Kunigami in such a position makes Hyouma fall silent, unable to do anything other than stare and let his heart flutter.
“It’s like one injury isn’t enough for you,” Kunigami mutters, finally letting go. “Don’t be such a reckless idiot.”
Hyouma leans forward, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. “Careful, hero. It sounds like you’re concerned about my wellbeing.”
Kunigami glares at him through his bangs. But he does not deny it, and that realisation makes Hyouma giddy.
He calms down quickly, though, when he remembers why he visited in the first place. “You’re sick,” he says, shifting on the bed to make some room. “You should be resting. Where’s your medication?”
Kunigami grunts, “Didn’t take any. And I told you to mind your business already.”
“I don’t want to!” If Kunigami wants to be stubborn, Hyouma can be twice as difficult. “Did you even eat dinner?”
There’s silence.
“Lunch?”
“…I had breakfast.”
Hyouma throws his hands in the air. Seriously, what a handful. He didn’t think someone could be this incapable of taking care of themselves.
Dragging Kunigami down by the wrist, Hyouma forcibly makes him sit on the mattress. Then, he reaches out, pressing his hand to Kunigami’s forehead. Indeed, it’s a little hot, but not anything to ring the ambulance about. It’s probably a normal fever.
Hyouma stands up, ready to go grab some food and medication for Kunigami, but when he looks at the door again, he hesitates.
If he leaves now, would Kunigami let him back in? He already had to barge his way in once. He’s not sure he can figure out another way to do so, especially with Kunigami himself inside.
The hesitation must show on his face, because Kunigami sighs, rolling his eyes. “Ten minutes. I won’t open the door after that.”
A challenge, huh? It’ll be difficult for Hyouma to visit both the cafeteria and the infirmary, and be back in such a short amount of time.
Well, it’s not like Hyouma doesn’t have a reputation for being fast.
“You’ll regret that,” he replies with a light smirk. “Start the timer.”
Hyouma makes it back at 9 minutes, 54 seconds, with a takeaway container of food and a plastic bag of medication in his hands.
He has to hold himself back from laughing when he sees Kunigami’s disgruntled expression, staring at the timer in his hands. Really, he should’ve known better, but Hyouma’s not complaining.
“They didn’t have many options left. I got you some rice and vegetables,” he says, walking in and setting the goods down on the floor. The door slides close, dropping the room back to its dimmer state. Hyouma frowns. “Do you not have lights in here?”
“I don’t use this place for anything other than resting,” Kunigami answers flatly. He’s still standing by the door, and there’s a chasm-wide distance between them that makes Hyouma roll his eyes.
“Well, I can’t really see. Don’t get mad at me if I spill something.”
Hyouma takes the food out of their bag, nudging it over. He feels a bit like he’s coaxing a dog to eat, even more so when Kunigami actually comes over, kneeling down and taking the offered meal. When he squints at it, Hyouma frowns. “It’s not poisoned. Just eat.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kunigami mutters back, scooping some rice into his mouth.
Hyouma isn’t sure what to do now. Perhaps he should have brought food for himself too, but he’s already eaten. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground, drawing mindless shapes with his pinky.
…He really misses Kunigami.
It feels stupid to ache for someone sitting right in front of him, but he does all the same. Hyouma steals tiny glances through his hair, and each time, he can’t help but observe how tired Kunigami looks. The bags that look inked into his skin, the empty dullness of his eyes… It’s more than just being physically sick. He seems bone-crushingly exhausted.
Hyouma only wishes to take some of that weight off, whatever he’s shouldering.
When Kunigami has eaten as much as his stomach will allow, Hyouma brings out the medication and a bottle of water. He hands it over, their fingers brushing, and even that minor contact has him jumping.
“Sorry,” he mutters, then purses his lips. Why is he apologising? Like he’s grown to expect a rejection of some kind from Kunigami? “How’re you feeling now?”
Instead of answering his question, Kunigami shoots one of his own back. “Why are you doing this?”
“Eh?” Hyouma hesitates. “Because you’re sick..?”
“So?” He stands up, gathering the leftovers and tossing it into the bin. “That’s none of your business.”
“But you’re my friend,” Hyouma argues. He barely even thinks about it—the words just slip from his tongue, so naturally and readily. “And I l— I care about you.”
“I told you that the person you’re thinking of is gone.” Kunigami isn’t looking at him, and Hyouma stares at his shadowed, hunched over back sadly. “Stop clinging onto the past, Chigiri.”
“And you need to stop acting like you had a soul transplant or something.”
Despite his conviction, Hyouma feels a chilling shudder run down his back. He glances to the side, squinting at the mysterious thing in the corner of the room again. It looks like some kind of pod. Blinking lights, loose wires, and the stench of something sinister surrounds it.
Hyouma doesn’t know what happened in between Kunigami getting locked off and going through Wild Card, but he has a feeling he won’t like the answer.
He shuts his mouth.
Kunigami comes back over, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking down at Hyouma, who stares back. The air between them crackles.
“Your hair’s gotten longer,” Kunigami notes randomly.
Hyouma’s heart twists. “It does take a little longer to dry these days. Reo has a really good hairdryer, though. He lets me borrow it after a shower.”
“Yeah?” Kunigami arches an eyebrow. “And does he wait for you to finish using it?”
Hyouma’s cheeks burn as he considers his reply. But really, there’s only one answer to such a loaded question. “Not the way you did,” he whispers.
The resulting silence makes Hyouma fluster even more, and he rushes to find something else to say. “Um, anyway, you should probably rest. The medication said it might make you drowsy.”
There’s nothing else here for Hyouma to do. As he makes his way to the door, though, Hyouma finds himself wishing for an excuse—he wants to hear Kunigami ask him to stay, however roundabout it may be.
The door slides open, as if Kunigami wished them to, and Hyouma’s heart sinks. Whatever. This is as much as he can do—
“Chigiri.”
His leg freezes from where it’s just about to step out. Hyouma turns around so fast that his hair almost whips into his face. “Yeah?”
Kunigami meets his hopeful gaze with a steady one of his own. For a moment, for just a minute glimpse, he looks brighter.
“Thank you,” Kunigami says with a bow of his head.
Hyouma’s heart soars, threatening to leap out of his throat. “Of course,” he chokes out, then adds as an afterthought, “you better get well soon, or I’ll kill you.”
Maybe he just imagined it, but as the door slides close with a gentle whoosh, Hyouma thinks he heard a soft laugh escaping Kunigami’s lips.
Hyouma goes over again the next day.
Perhaps he’s being overbearing—Kunigami is grown enough to not need coddling, but Hyouma just feels like he has to check up on him. More for his own sake than anything else, and to appease his worried heart.
He reaches Kunigami’s room, knocking lightly upon arrival. “Kunigami! It’s me again!”
Hyouma expects to have to fight to be let in, just like yesterday, but to his surprise, the door slides open. Kunigami stands there, his hair a bit of a mess, but his skin looks marginally brighter and his eyes aren’t so swollen.
Hyouma can’t help but smile. “You’re looking better.”
“I guess,” Kunigami replies, eyes darting to the side. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t I visit my poor, frail, sick friend?”
Kunigami scowls as Hyouma brushes past him, making his way inside. “I am none of those words.”
“Sure,” Hyouma dismisses. He smiles when he sees the medication on Kunigami’s bed. At least he’s been taking them. “I ran into Isagi just now. He said he saw you training today, though you weren’t at practice. Should you really be moving around already?”
“I’m fine. I can’t afford to fall behind too much.”
Hyouma stills. He glances back at Kunigami, whose expression has faded into something a little more… resigned. Like this is just how things are.
“Well,” Hyouma says, fiddling with his shirt, “I think you’ll be just fine. You’ve always been strong.”
They’re not looking at each other anymore, but the silence hanging between them feels like an intimate point of contact anyway. Hyouma feels something hot crawl up his neck, stinging.
“Um, anyway,” he says when he physically can’t take the quiet anymore. “Have you had dinner?”
“…I haven’t.”
“Great!” He skips forward, taking Kunigami’s arm. Hyouma waits for just a millisecond, to see if he’ll flinch or even jerk away, but none of that comes. Kunigami just sighs, relenting, and Hyouma smiles giddily. “Let’s go together now.”
“There’s no way,” Yoichi mumbles when he sees the duo entering the cafeteria together.
Hiori looks over his shoulder, searching for what he’s talking about, but it’s not that hard to spot them. Between Kunigami’s large stature and Chigiri’s eye-catching hair, they’re quite difficult to miss. “Oh, wow,” Hiori says, eyebrows raised, “I never thought anyone could coax Kunigami-kun out of his solitude.”
Yoichi hums. Perhaps to someone like Hiori, who was never on a team with Kunigami pre-Wild Card, this sight is a bit of a shock. But to someone like himself, who’s been there from the start, this doesn’t seem surprising.
It’s familiar, more like. He recognises the scene in front of him.
“If it was anyone that could, it’s definitely Chigiri,” he says, watching as Chigiri tugs Kunigami over to the food station. Despite how pushy Chigiri seems, Yoichi notices that Kunigami isn’t putting up much of a fight. It’s almost like he’s letting himself be dragged around like a puppet on string.
“Really?” Hiori asks, turning back to Yoichi. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes and Yoichi braces himself for a ridiculous comment. “So yer sayin’ that Chigiri-kun wears the pants in the relationship—”
“I said nothing like that!” he barks, slamming his palms on the table, and Hiori bursts out laughing.
“So,” Reo says conversationally one night, when he and Hyouma are in the baths together, having a nice soak. Nagi is a little further down the centre, floating around aimlessly. “You’ve been going over to Germany’s stratum a lot, huh?”
Hyouma blinks. There’s a certain tone to Reo’s question, something he can’t quite decipher.
“Kunigami’s been sick,” Hyouma replies. No point in beating around the bush—word travels pretty fast in Blue Lock, and Reo would have heard it from one person or another eventually. “I’m just checking up on him.”
There’s a short pause. Nagi makes a noncommittal hum.
“How is Kunigami?” Reo treads. He swirls a finger in the bath water, making ripples from himself to Hyouma. “The last time I saw him, he was kind of…”
“Emo? Rude? A dick?” Hyouma guesses with a dry smile.
“No! Well— yeah.” Reo huffs, leaning back. A bit of his hair brushes against the tiled floors. “I know this probably doesn’t mean much anymore, but I was the last person to be with him before he, you know. Had to leave. Now he won’t even look at me. It makes me feel like he’s mad at me.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
Despite getting closer to Kunigami again, being allowed in his room and having meals with him, it’s not like Hyouma hasn’t seen the way Kunigami is treating other people. He still thinks it's very uncharacteristic, and probably more of a defense mechanism than out of true malice, but it just rubs Hyouma the wrong way.
Blue Lock is all about being a little selfish and egotistical, but back then, Hyouma thought that if it was one person who could make it out of Blue Lock while remaining kind and humble, it would be Kunigami. The self-proclaimed, fair-fighting hero. It really does feel like Blue Lock snuffed it out of him.
“I think he’s doing better, though,” Hyouma says, circling back to Reo’s original question. “I know he’s changed, and I’m willing to accept that, but… I mean, I spend more time with him now, and I feel like there’s still parts of him that are there. I don’t think the Kunigami we knew is completely gone.”
“I’m sure you’ll get through to him,” Nagi pipes up then. He’s stopped floating around and is instead running fingers through his hair, trying to get the excess water out.
Hyouma feels oddly touched at the encouragement. “Really? Aw, thanks—”
“He’s always had a soft spot for you,” Nagi continues with a nonchalant shrug, unaware of the way those words just shook Hyouma to his core.
Reo laughs. “Totally! No offence, Chigiri, but being on a team with you two is not something I want to repeat. The hearts in Kunigami’s eyes when he spoke to you were totally suffocating me.”
“I—” Hyouma’s voice pitches higher. Heat is crawling to his cheeks, but he blames it on the hot bathwater. “It wasn’t anything like that!”
“I still remember that he was the first person you gave your number to after U-20,” Reo snickers, dodging the swat Hyouma tries to give him.
“He was just my closest friend back then! We never texted much anyway!”
“I’m so jealous,” Nagi tacks on, pretending to pout. “Princess’s ultra rare number, given out just like that…”
“I am going to drown you both,” Hyouma huffs, crossing his arms, and the two of them shoot him matching smirks. Horrible. His teammates suck.
The next time Hyouma runs into Kunigami, it’s in one of the training rooms.
He admits, he came over to Germany’s stratum to, once again, find Kunigami, but he didn’t expect to see him here. Hyouma waits by the door, watching Kunigami position himself, aiming at the goal. He raises his left leg, muscles tensing, and with a fierce kick, sends the ball soaring into the goal.
Hyouma whistles, prompting Kunigami to jump and turn his head. “Nice shot.”
Kunigami’s lips part, nothing but a heavy breath leaving him. His hair is shaggy and falling over his eyes, and he looks exhausted, but Hyouma doesn’t comment.
“Have you fully recovered?” he asks, walking in. He’s not wearing the right shoes, but he steps onto the field anyway, faux grass tickling his ankles.
Kunigami grunts. “I’m training. Don’t bother me.”
“I came all the way here just for you. I’m staying.”
Another football shoots in their direction. Kunigami catches it with his chest, bouncing it to his knee, then locks it under his foot. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“But I wanted to. Do you need a training partner?”
“In those clothes?”
“I can change—” Hyouma begins, but he pauses when he realises where his sports gear is. “Ah, they’re all in my room… Lend me a set of clothes.”
Kunigami scoffs. “If you can find any that fit.”
“Try me,” Hyouma mutters. He heads to the locker room, switching on the lights. The only thing here is Kunigami’s sportsbag sitting on the bench, but when he peers closer, he sees Kunigami’s locker door slightly ajar. Hyouma opens it and is met with Kunigami’s BM jersey, an extra set of towels, and wrist supports.
Well. Kunigami’s already wearing his Blue Lock training gear. There isn’t an official match for BM scheduled tomorrow either, so it’ll be fine for Hyouma to use these today.
When Hyouma finishes changing, he tugs at the black and red jersey, looking at himself in the mirror. It’s loose and definitely a size or two too big for him. The shorts, he managed to tighten with an elastic, and overall, he’ll be able to move in this just fine. The shoes are a total lost cause though. He’ll just have to play barefoot.
Hyouma fills up a bottle of water for himself and walks out with a happy hum. He sets the bottle on the bench, doing some stretches and watching Kunigami shoot again.
Three shots later, Kunigami turns around, and they make eye contact. His eyes flicker down to Hyouma’s frame, and he stills for a moment—
“Agh,” Kunigami groans when a new football shoots out from the machine and rams straight into his skull. Hyouma snorts.
“Focus on your training!” he calls, reaching for another hair tie to put his hair up with. He doesn’t have time for an intricate braid, so this will do.
Finally, Hyouma is warmed up and ready to train. The grass feels a little funny under his feet, but it also feels like being a child and running through empty plains again. Kunigami notices him coming by and, after a bit of consideration, nudges the ball to Hyouma.
“…Was that really the only jersey you could find?” he asks while Hyouma kicks the ball around his feet.
“Eh? Yeah, your locker was the only one unlocked.” Hyouma lifts the ball, catching it with his arms. He looks down at the shirt again, doing a half-turn. “Red’s not really my colour, I think. It clashes with my hair.”
Kunigami clears his throat. “No, it—” He coughs, cheeks a subtle shade of pink. Wow. Maybe he’s still a little sick? “It looks fine.”
“Pfft, if you say so.” Hyouma glances at the goalie, who is still waiting for them to strike. Another goal has appeared on the other side, as if sensing that there are two people on the field now. “Let’s not keep the bots waiting.”
They play a series of one-on-ones for a bit, trying to get the ball past each other and into the goal. The whole time they train, Hyouma is shown just how much Kunigami’s playstyle has changed. He’s always been a tank, but now, he bulldozes past Hyouma like a raging beast, unafraid to knock him aside. It takes his breath away at first, then excites him.
He picks up his speed. Kunigami can’t outrun him, no matter what.
By the time they’ve each scored about seven or so goals against each other, they’re both panting. Sweat drips down Hyouma’s forehead, making his hair stick uncomfortably to his skin, and he’s hunched over gasping like his lungs won’t fill with enough air, but—
But fuck. It’s fun. It’s so fun, and he missed this so much that he can’t help but laugh.
“Why are you laughing?” Kunigami asks with a frown, wiping a bit of sweat away from his own face with his jersey.
“Because it’s football,” Hyouma says, looking up with his hands still on his knees. “Don’t you find it fun, too?”
A beat of silence passes. Kunigami’s breath hitches as Hyouma’s words sink in, and for a moment, Hyouma feels like he’s seeing a different person. Like a shadow has lifted from Kunigami’s face, however briefly, and his eyes grow just a little more alive.
“I guess,” he admits, strained and slow, like he’s afraid of what that answer might mean.
But that’s enough to make Hyouma grin as bright as the sun, a giddy laugh escaping from his twitching lips.
“That’s Kunigami’s shirt,” Yoichi hisses, swatting Hiori’s arm so that he looks away from his gaming console for a bit. Seriously, Nagi and him should never have become buddies. “That’s— Chigiri is wearing his clothes.”
Hiori looks up, where a flash of red hair goes by. Chigiri is gone by the next second, but Yoichi knows what he saw—a loose jersey hanging around Chigiri’s more lean figure, KUNIGAMI printed out in gold on the back. Even if his eyes deceive him, which they never do, BM’s colour scheme could not be more different from Manshine’s. It’s unmistakable.
“Oh,” Hiori says, “good fer them.”
“Why are you so nonchalant about it? He was sweating too, he definitely trained with Kunigami!”
“Why’s that such a big deal?”
Yoichi throws his hands in the air. Because Kunigami has been driving himself into a corner of solitude so much that he’s giving Rin a run for his lone wolf title? Because Yoichi would really like to train with Kunigami too, but Kunigami never lets him on the field, even?
If he wasn’t so glad for his friends, he’d probably be a little jealous.
“…I should ask Chigiri what his secrets are.”
Hiori side-eyes him. “Nah. Ya won’t be able to emulate Chigiri-kun’s special charm.”
“You’re literally so mean to me.”
Two days pass. Hyouma keeps Kunigami’s jersey.
He doesn’t really mean to. It’s just that between regular training, Hyouma’s self-care, staggered meals, and so on, he hasn’t found the time to return to Germany’s stratum since then.
The jersey remains by the foot of his bed, washed and folded. Today, Hyouma sits cross-legged on the mattress, staring at it with his heart skipping a beat in his chest.
It’s not like he doesn’t know what this feeling is. He’s felt it before, and he thought he stamped it down properly to avoid letting it affect his performance here at Blue Lock. Now, though, it’s returned. He’s just… not sure if he’s ready to admit that to himself.
Because so what if Hyouma is still harbouring a little crush on his ex-teammate? It changes nothing.
Back then, before Kunigami was eliminated, Hyouma’s crush felt like fleeting butterflies—sudden moments where his stomach would erupt, where every accidental brush of their fingers felt intense enough to melt his skin off. He’d hear Kunigami’s voice, the way his syllables shape around the affectionate nickname Princess, and it’d echo in his head for hours. Or he’d try to draw Kunigami’s attention to himself, spending extra time doing his hair just so Kunigami would watch him through the mirror for a second or two more.
Now, though, Hyouma’s puppy crush has simmered. No longer is it a boiling pot threatening to spill over, but it’s become calmer now. More steady.
Hyouma’s feelings haven’t disappeared the way he tried to make them—they’ve simply festered, like plants digging their roots into infertile ground to prove that they’re going to remain anyway. Similarly, Hyouma knows that Kunigami isn’t the same person, that maybe they’re not as compatible as they once were, and that he’d be better off moving on.
But stubbornly, like growing ivy, Hyouma’s feelings are here to stay.
Should he feel sorry for himself, for having such work cut out for him?
“Nonsense,” he mutters to himself.
Because yes, Kunigami’s a total piece of work, but he’s still Kunigami. Hyouma still sees him under that cold, dark exterior.
So… feelings or not, Hyouma wants to keep trying.
The door to his room slides open. Hyouma is still staring at the jersey, but he frowns when he doesn’t hear Reo’s usual greeting or the shuffle of Nagi’s heavy feet. They should be at dinner either way. He turns around, wondering who walked into the room, when his voice dies in his throat.
There, at his doorway, Kunigami stands, arms crossed and watching him curiously.
“K-Kunigami,” Hyouma stutters, legs swinging off the mattress’s edge to face him. Did he summon him by thinking of him too hard? What the hell? He clears his throat, trying not to sound so taken aback. “I didn’t expect a visit.”
Kunigami shrugs. His eyes sweep across the room, and Hyouma grimaces when he remembers what a mess it is in here. It’s not like a typhoon happened here, but there are definitely a few towels and socks strewn around, plus all of their beds are unmade. None of his roommates, nor himself, are great at housekeeping.
“I came to collect my shirt,” Kunigami says when he turns back to Hyouma. Hyouma stiffens, a light blush hitting his cheek.
“Right. Sorry, I was just going to return it—”
Kunigami waves his apology away. He steps into the room, and the moment he crosses that invisible border between them, Hyouma’s breath catches in his throat.
The door slides close behind him. Kunigami comes closer, and closer, and closer, his footsteps slow but assured, until he’s standing right in front of Hyouma.
Their knees brush. Hyouma’s throat is beginning to dry.
“It’s. It’s here,” he says when he remembers how to move, stilted as he hands over the jersey. Their fingers don’t touch, but Hyouma almost wishes they did.
“Thanks,” Kunigami mutters, and Hyouma bows until his hair curtains over his face, expecting for Kunigami to just leave, but it never comes.
Instead, Kunigami makes a vague gesture to his mattress and asks, “You haven’t done your leg care?”
Oh. Hyouma glances to the side, where his massage cream is indeed lying, next to his other toiletries and waiting to be used. He always does his leg care after a shower, but he’s surprised Kunigami remembers.
“I haven’t stretched, but yeah, I was just about to,” he replies.
Kunigami drops down next to him, the mattress dipping from his weight, and Hyouma startles. They’re even closer now, thighs just shy of brushing against each other.
“Go on,” Kunigami murmurs as he picks up the tub of massage cream.
Hyouma complies without question. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t dare break this tension between them, this sparking electricity that makes his every breath sharper. Maybe it’s because Kunigami’s voice, so low yet kind, so unlike his new demeanour, has more sway on Hyouma than he knew.
Either way, he gets to stretching. He usually counts in his head, but today, he mouths the numbers alongside his exercises, just to keep his focus and avoid acknowledging the sheer weight of Kunigami’s gaze on him.
When he’s just finished his last stretch, Kunigami hooks his fingers around Hyouma’s ankles and rests his leg over his own lap. Hyouma yelps at the sudden tug, a palm slamming onto the mattress to balance himself, but the sound cuts off when Kunigami picks up his massage cream. He takes out a dollop, bringing it to Hyouma’s knee, and begins rubbing it in with his fingers in smooth, practiced motions.
Hyouma’s throat threatens to close up at the achingly familiar sight. Kunigami is being so gentle, holding his leg like it’s glass. Normally, Hyouma hates being treated with such tenderness, as if he’s going to shatter from a slight bit of pressure, but with Kunigami, it doesn’t feel that way.
He doesn’t feel like he’s being perceived as weak. He just feels adored.
“Kunigami,” Hyouma whispers, not daring to be a decibel louder, “why are you doing this?”
Kunigami’s fingers still. Even when they’re not moving, the pressure and overall presence makes heat rush through Hyouma’s skin.
“Because I want to,” he replies after a beat.
“But why?”
“You know the answer already.” Kunigami looks up, and something in his exterior just cracks, vulnerability seeping through and sweeping Hyouma away in its intensity.
Perhaps so. The days Hyouma has spent with Kunigami, the fact that he was the only one allowed, the way Kunigami seeked him out on purpose today and touched him like someone to be treasured—Hyouma knows Kunigami holds him in a special place, whether he likes it or not.
Still. “I want to hear it from you, though.”
Hyouma leans forward, crossing the distance until their noses almost brush. He can feel his heart thundering in his chest, every beat like a drumroll as he waits in anticipation.
Kunigami’s eyes are pained, and he still has Hyouma’s leg on his lap, and his breathing is laboured like he can’t bear to let himself be honest, but Hyouma is begging, desperate for something, anything—
His answer, one he could only dream of, comes in the form of a kiss.
Kunigami closes the gap and presses their lips together. Hyouma’s eyes flutter close as he can only gasp, melting into a puddle. His fingers twist into the sheets, gripping tightly to steady himself and assure himself that this isn’t his imagination.
A hand comes up to tuck his hair behind his ear before trailing along his jawline, tilting. Like this, their lips slot together firmer, and Hyouma’s every nerve goes on fire.
He reaches back, grasping for Kunigami’s shoulders. The sudden weight makes Kunigami grunt and shift forward, and soon, Hyouma’s head is hitting the pillow, still clinging onto Kunigami like a lifeline.
They part when Hyouma needs a desperate gasp for air and a second to cool himself down, lest he explode. To his delight, though, Kunigami doesn’t look much better, his cheeks a ruby red and his eyes wide with surprise.
“Chigiri,” he says, thumbing along his cheekbone. “I shouldn’t—”
“Shut up,” Hyouma interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear that train of thought. It’s not true. “I want this, too. Don’t give me that nonsense.”
Kunigami’s expression pinches in offense, then breaks into relief. He collapses, still avoiding crushing Hyouma somehow as he buries his face into the crook of Hyouma’s neck. “…I really like you, Chigiri. I don’t think I ever stopped.”
Hyouma’s heart squeezes, a dizzying grin splitting on his face. “I knew it,” he hums, gleeful, pretending he didn’t only just figure it out. He combs his fingers through Kunigami’s hair, breathing steadily. “I do, too.”
“You shouldn’t. I’m not the same person anymore. I—”
“Ugh, I just told you to stop it with that!”
“But it’s true.” Kunigami lifts his head, hovering above him. Hyouma kind of wants to kiss him again. “I was rude to you for ages. I’m sorry.”
“Then you’ll just have to make up for it,” Hyouma replies, giving in to desire and bringing their lips together once more.
At some point, they roll to their sides, legs tangled and chests pressed together. Hyouma kisses languidly, not wanting to rush—despite speed bleeding into every aspect of his life, just this once, he wants to slow down.
He hopes Kunigami can feel it too. The way Hyouma savours the moment, the way his heart pounds like a drum in his chest.
Hyouma doesn’t know how long they lay there, but eventually, he pushes himself upright. “You don’t have to tell me everything. About what happened to you,” he says, resting his hand on Kunigami’s forehead.
Kunigami glances up at him. The tired look in his eyes is still there, but his muscles are relaxed.
“But if you ever want to, I’ll listen,” Hyouma continues. “And I’ll do anything I can to make it better.”
“Chigiri,” Kunigami whispers, reaching upwards until their fingers interlace, hand in hand. Hyouma gives it a light squeeze. “I… I’ll be better. I’ll become someone you deserve.”
Somehow, out of everything that’s been said, that’s what makes Hyouma’s eyes sting with unshed tears. He refuses to let them fall, but he squeezes Kunigami’s hand a little harder. “You’re already who I want,” he confesses, “but alright. That’s fine with me.”
Kunigami’s small, answering smile is all the light he needs.
“So,” Reo says, and Hyouma nearly screams and drops his phone, not realising someone was looking over his shoulder, “when are you introducing him to your family?”
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Answer the question, Chigiri,” Nagi calls from his bed, laying upside down and tapping away on his console.
“I—!” Hyouma purses his lips, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. He holds his phone to his chest, even though there’s nothing incriminating to hide. “I haven’t told my family, okay? I’ll tell them when we get another break from Blue Lock. And I’ll introduce Kunigami to them then.”
“Ooh, make sure you invite me to the wedding.”
“I’ll make you fund our entire wedding,” Hyouma threatens. Reo just laughs, raising his hands innocently.
“Oh, looks like the news got out,” Hiori says, turning his phone to Yoichi, where an article is opened. It doesn’t look like it’s from an official news outlet. Rather, it seems to be from a regular fan’s personal blog.
The headlines are bolded, though, and they read: CONSPIRACY THEORY: BLUE LOCK STARS KUNIGAMI RENSUKE AND CHIGIRI HYOUMA ARE DATING.
“I knew it!” Yoichi hisses. He gets up, throwing his blanket off of himself, a new mission in his head.
“Where’re ya going?”
“To find Kunigami! Maybe he’ll finally train with me again now!”
“One track mind,” Hiori jeers as Yoichi leaves the room, beginning his hunt.
“I kind of like that you have your own room, honestly,” Hyouma says, trailing a finger up and down Kunigami’s sternum. “It’s nice. Private.”
Kunigami hums, laid back on some propped up pillows with his eyes shut. He’s got a hand around Hyouma’s frame, somewhat cuddling, and a soft, subtle smile on his face ever since Hyouma started rambling away. Their finished trays of dinner are on the floor, waiting to be cleared, but Hyouma’s too lazy to get up at the moment.
“Plus,” Hyouma adds, lifting his head. “I get to do this whenever I want.”
He leans over, planting a big kiss on Kunigami’s cheeks, and giggles when it earns him an embarrassed frown and tickle.
“Minx,” Kunigami mutters, sweeping Hyouma’s hair aside to kiss his forehead, and Hyouma preens under the special attention. He’s never felt more like his infamous nickname until this moment.
“You love me~”
Kunigami squints suspiciously. “I guess…”
“You think I’m pretty,” Hyouma continues with a sing-song, winking.
“You are. Objectively.”
“And you’d carry me to the cafeteria right now because my legs are too tired to move.”
Kunigami huffs, flicking Hyouma’s forehead. “Don’t push it.”
It doesn’t hurt, but Hyouma pretends it does. And Kunigami doesn’t actually carry him, but they do end up walking back to the cafeteria together to return their trays, arms brushing and laughing the entire time.