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Karasu looks really long and really elegant when he’s stretching like this, even though him and Hiori are about the same height, Hiori’s pretty sure. Somehow, they’re the only two people left on the practice pitch. Somehow, Hiori finds he really doesn’t mind at all.
It’s been like this before, too: back before their match against the then Japanese U20 team, with Blue Lock on the brink of falling apart. Hiori supposes this is the same, just on a larger scale.
Karasu seems to think the same. “So, world stage’s next,” he says, not looking at Hiori at all, but there’s nobody left but them, them, them. There’s only Hiori to talk to. He stretches his leg out in front of him and then bends over it, fingers reaching for the tip of his cleat, but he doesn’t grunt or sigh or anything, doesn’t make a noise at all. Hiori’d like to hear him make a noise. “Ya scared?”
They didn’t talk last time, though. Last time, they were in the bath together, hot water making the air all foggy, just existing together without saying a single word. It’d been comfortable.
Hiori is a little different, now. He thinks Karasu is a little different, too, but it’s always hard to tell with this guy. Like Hiori’s been letting him wait too long—another thing that didn’t happen last time!—Karasu does glance at him at last, and Hiori can’t help it, he smiles. Smiles even wider when Karasu frowns just a little, sharp features crinkling.
He’s so cute. Getting impatient instead of just staying quiet the whole time. Karasu knows Hiori has changed.
Hiori knows Karasu has changed, too, in the end, almost instinctively, even when he could not pinpoint it exactly. This is Blue Lock, after all; there’s no way around it.
Still, Hiori asks, “Are you?” and Karasu clicks his tongue. Hiori laughs into his hand, lifts his knees to his chest to loop his arms around them. “It is what it is,” he offers. “I can handle it, though. Still, thank ya for protectin’ me earlier.”
“Don’t make fun of me, you asshole.”
He’s not even making fun, though. Not entirely, that is.
Since the coast is clear and Karasu talked to Hiori, first—though he’s gonna start chasing, too; what else is an awakening good for, huh? World stage’s ahead, and all—Hiori scoots closer, and then closer still. Closer once more when Karasu just continues stretching, as if challenging him, and perhaps that’s what he’s doing. Hey, someone needs to challenge the noisy crow, too; it’s no fair if he’s always having all the fun. It’s no fair when he’s the only one who gets to prod at people, who gets to glance over his shoulder with a grin that says Keepin’ up?
“Gonna molest me, or what?” Karasu says, sardonic. The perfect picture of deflection, and of control, as always. “Yer too close.”
Hiori smiles, smiles, smiles. Tips his head over to lean against Karasu’s shoulder where he’s still folded in on himself. There’s a small, stuttering breath in the space between them, but otherwise, Karasu’s not letting anything slip, still. “Am I?”
Karasu huffs a breath, but doesn’t argue further. Hiori wants to crack open his skull and peer inside. Maybe eat it, like an egg. He’s quite sure it would be delicious.
“Quit starin’.”
“So it’s okay that I’m here now?”
Karasu laughs, just a small snort, but Hiori heard it. He gets shrugged off right after, too, but it was still there, so. “Get off,” Karasu says, shaking his head, but all he does is straighten out his other leg to stretch it, too, folding the other leg back. “An’ ya should stretch, too, you’ve just been sittin’ ‘round ever since practice is over. Weirdo.”
Well, that’s true. He has been sitting around. Drinking water, too, though. Hydration is important!
For a few moments more, stretching into this comfortable feeling—see, Hiori’s stretching, too!—Hiori just watches. Apparently appeased by the fact that Hiori backed off just a little—well, got pushed away by Karasu, but that’s just Karasu’s whole deal, ain’t it; though Hiori’s much closer than an arm’s length away right now, can feel Karasu’s human bodily warmth if he focuses just right—Karasu simply continues stretching. He flows like water, seamless and with no discernible weak spots, always, always, always. Even like this, all alone with Hiori.
It makes Hiori feel really rather hungry, somehow. But maybe that’s just because he’s already been lingering for so long. He wonders if the others are all done bathing and are eating now. Wonders if they’ll have the bathroom to themselves, too. Just like old times, eh?
“I ain’t scared,” says Hiori, finally. Karasu still isn’t looking at him. “Promise.”
Makes Karasu snort, apparently. “Don’t gotta promise me nothin’, ya dunce.”
And, well, technically that’s true, but…
Karasu’s been looking out for him all along, Hiori is aware of that. He’s not quite sure why—extraordinary, sure, but he can’t imagine his apathetic listlessness could have been fun to watch whatsoever, or that he was ever much of a threat—but it’s still a fact. Karasu’d been waiting for him, waiting for him to catch up, waiting for him to grow into his own skin.
Waiting for him to become a man at last, Hiori supposes. When didja become all manly? and all that.
Hiori isn’t quite sure about any of that. What he knows is this: Karasu’s shoulders are a little broader than his, and his body is a little more toned in general. His brows are thicker, his eyes and face sharper. They’re the same height, but Karasu’s manlier than him, there’s no way around it. It’s okay, though, because Hiori’s pretty sure he’s found his place in football—in the world—found what he wants to do. He doesn’t mind.
Karasu’s been looking out for him all along—scouting him like he does everyone, but there’s something to be said about Hiori in particular, isn’t there?—and Hiori wants to look out for Karasu, too.
“I still wanna,” Hiori says. And, “Are you scared?”
Karasu pauses, but only for a second. Half a second, maybe. Something like that.
Then he just goes back to what he was previously doing. Since it’s by now frankly ridiculous to pretend those legs need to be stretched any more, he shifts into, what’s it called, butterfly? Hip stretch. Yeah.
“Ignorin’ me now?” Hiori asks, smiling. Karasu huffs.
“Yer an idiot,” he says, which doesn’t answer anything. Man, this guy used to be better at evading questions! But they’re all alone, so that’s fine, Hiori supposes. Don’t want to be cramping his style, after all. “Course I ain’t scared.”
Ah, there it is. Way too late to be in any way convincing, but Hiori’s gonna let him have it. Hiori’s gonna let him have a lot of things if he wants them.
“Hm-hm,” he hums, glancing at Karasu’s slightly pink ears when he goes to stretch his arms next. “Big bad Karasu ain’t afraid of anything, huh? Silly me.”
Makes Karasu roll his eyes; makes Karasu cuff him on the shoulder. Hiori laughs. It’s only in his periphery, right at the very edge of his vision—where it’s currently blurring just a tiny bit—but he catches the way Karasu smiles, too. Just a little, a quirk of one edge of his mouth. A chip in the armor.
One arm’s length away, except Hiori is much closer than that. Except Hiori is planning to get even closer still.
“It’s okay fer me as long as yer not scared,” Karasu says, finally, with the airs of showing a great vulnerability or exposing some big truth or something like that. “An’ as long as ya want ta do it, too.”
Hiori blinks. “Yeah?” he says.
Karasu shoots him a small glare. “Course.”
Huh. Whatever that means. And there must be something on his face, because Karasu’s glare shifts into a frown, brows knitting. His face is still a little dewy with sweat, his hair just a little undone, a few flyaways out of order. Shining under the pitch light what with all that wax in them. Ridiculous crow.
“Ya don’t get it, do ya?”
Hiori shrugs. Karasu stares at him for a few moments more, eyes narrowed, thin lips pursed in thought, and he’s really way too cute, honestly. Hiori hadn’t been bothered by what Isagi said—he’s not afraid of Isagi, and they’re all under pressure and Isagi just wants them to do well, right—but it’d been cute, too, Karasu stepping in. Karasu is so cute.
What were they talking about, again?
Karasu shakes his head. “Fer a moment, I almost thought ya could read my mind,” he says, with a hint of a smile. “Seems I was wrong.”
“Well, I can crack ya open if you’ll let me.”
This time, it’s Karasu who blinks. His ears flush a little darker, too. It’s really cute. “Yer insane.”
“Maybe a little bit.”
Hiori smiles an innocent smile at Karasu’s skeptical sidelong glance, then Karasu looks away again. Lets the pretense of stretching fall off him entirely, it seems, leaning back into his hands into the pitch, and Hiori thinks it’s hardly comfortable, them lingering in their sweat-soaked bodysuits and jerseys. Everyone else has probably already taken their showers or baths and they’re probably all eating, now. Maybe some of them are wondering where they are, just the two of them. Hiori hopes they wonder. Hiori’s kind of hungry, too.
It’s nice.
“Ahhh,” Karasu sighs, eyes closed, lashes dewy, mole inviting, like he thinks so, too. Like Hiori can read his mind, after all. He’s pretty sure Karasu can read his mind, actually. Knows for a fact Karasu was able to see him before anyone else did. It’s special, he thinks, wants to say, even if Isagi did now, too. It’s special. “This got me pumped up. I almost wanna go back to playin’ again.”
“We just got done.”
Karasu quirks a grin, sharp as anything. “And?”
And indeed. And, and, and indeed. They shouldn’t push themselves too hard—and Hiori has always ever just pushed himself just enough—but Hiori gets up on his feet, anyway. It’s so deeply, intimately familiar, the feeling of his cleats digging into the pitch. It’s so deeply, intimately familiar, Karasu next to him, and the tilt of his head.
“Yer still pissed ‘bout what Isagi-kun said, ain’t’cha? Or are ya just pissed at Isagi-kun himself?”
Karasu mutters something that sounds suspiciously like Isagi-kun huh, in an irritated, hissy sort of way. It makes Hiori smile. Cute. Cute, cute, cute.
“Don’t care,” says Karasu, strangely transparently pouty, though perhaps that’s just because Hiori’s gotten so close. Perhaps that’s why he can see it. Perhaps Karasu is letting him see it, though. “C’mere, okay, Hiori?”
His voice is nice, all deep and smooth and sharp or soft where it counts. C’mere, he says, even though he’s the one still sitting, the bully. So Hiori elects to ignore that: sets out to do the next best thing, which is probably what Karasu wanted in the first place, so. Insolent crow. Bully crow. Always making juniors do all the work! Unbelievable!
Not that they’re in a setting where any of that matters anymore. No that it has ever mattered to Hiori before, really, except in a context where he could use it for something, or…
Hm.
He gets the ball where it’s discarded in the net, since they haven’t cleaned up yet. Juggles it on his foot for a bit, tap, tap, tap, then flicks it over to Karasu, who—still sitting—receives it on the tip of his outstretched foot, then snatches it out of the air. Finally, he does get up, making a show of dusting off his pants. Well, getting grass blades off them, Hiori supposes.
“Show-off,” Hiori says. Karasu doesn’t say anything, but he’s grinning again. “I’ll getcha. Put ya in yer place.”
Karasu’s gaze flicks upwards, juggling the ball without looking. “Promise?” he says.