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Chigiri’s arms stretch wide and high above her head, and they shake with the effort as her face twists into a grimace. She curses, scowling at the bedroom wall. The bath she’d taken earlier this night had helped her muscles soften, but the soreness still remains. It’s everywhere. Her neck, her shoulders, her ribs, her thighs, her knee. It’d be easier to name parts of Chigiri’s body that didn’t hurt. Blue Lock was sensational for keeping her in shape, seriously, her abs have never looked so defined, but with that gain comes a heaping pile of pain. Chigiri drops her arms to her sides with a grunt, leaden shoulders sagging. She needs to be in peak condition for tomorrow’s match against Team White, and she knows this isn’t it. It’s pissing her off, all this soreness. If it was just localized to her leg, sure, that’s tolerable. Chigiri expects the dull ache in her right knee to be a constant thorn in her side. But this pain is full-body, it’s stressing her out, and she doesn’t want to be dealing with any of this the night before one of the most important matches of her football career. It’s not as dire as it could be, which is great, and Chigiri is pretty sure that even if Team Red loses, she’ll be fine. It’s nothing against her teammates, but her speed is a weapon she already knows Team White covets. Still, there’s always the chance of something going wrong. If reality can warp and screw her over enough to have her tear her ACL once, something less disastrous can surely happen tomorrow. There is a world in which she can end up losing tomorrow’s game and not be selected over either of her teammates. And then she’ll have to play a game of two against two. Which is far easier to lose. That’s when it gets dire. Chigiri doesn’t like dire. She doesn’t like any of this. The tension is in her jaw now, as if she needs anywhere else in her body to hurt. She groans, fisting both hands in her short hair.
“Chigiri?” Kunigami pads softly into the bedroom. The girl in question jumps at the intrusion, not having seen or heard Kunigami walk in. Her bare feet help her by enhancing the silence, but it’s still impressive given her size. She’s fixing her hair before bed, plaiting her hair into thick braids. Kunigami’s bangs, cut blunt and typically falling in front of her amber eyes, are pushed back with a Blue Lock headband. The braids are normal for her, bouncy and voluminous, but the exposed forehead isn’t. It’s cute.
“You scared me.” Chigiri narrows her eyes at Kunigami, but she’s not angry. Impressed, mostly. “Why do you move so quietly? You’re too tall to be doing all that.”
“Am I really that quiet?” Kunigami stares down at her body, covered by the Blue Lock-supplied sweatsuit, like she’s surprised herself by being so tall. The cobalt garb is baggy on her and leaves everything to the imagination. Chigiri can barely pick out the shape of Kunigami’s curves beneath her clothing, and she certainly can’t see her wildly thick biceps and thighs with this leisurewear. Kunigami’s physique is more than just impressive, she’s already built like the superhero she wishes to be.
“You are.” Chigiri nods. She starts to twist as she watches Kunigami walk farther into the room. Her back cracks, and loudly, as if she’d stepped on a fresh bag of chips. “What’s up?”
“You were, like, yelling?” Kunigami shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you were alright, especially before tomorrow. Is it something with your leg?”
“Nah,” Chigiri waves Kunigami off. “Not any more than it usually is. I’m just sore as hell,” she complains. “Not all of us are as in shape as you, especially those of us recently back from injury.”
Kunigami frowns at her. Her gaze lowers from Chigiri’s face to her chest, and Chigiri might have felt objectified if she couldn’t already guess where this was heading. “The soreness…” Kunigami’s trying to be delicate, Chigiri observes. “Your ribs?”
“One of the many places, yeah.” It’s not a big deal. Chigiri knows what she’s getting into. She isn’t worried about it and neither Ego nor her weird little assistant are making her stop, so Kunigami shouldn’t be so concerned.
“You know, you really gotta be careful.” Kunigami sits down on her bed and begins to roll out her own neck. “I had an old friend who had a pretty bad scare with all that—bruised his ribs and couldn’t play for like two months.”
“Uh-huh.” Chigiri is deadpan. “And I’ve already been out for six months. I could handle two.”
“I know you could.” Kunigami’s frown deepens. “It’s not about what you can handle, Chigiri. I know how strong you are, but getting sidelined for two months here all but gets you locked off. I just don’t think that exercising while binding is all that safe, and—”
“Neither is running on a glass leg,” Chigiri interrupts her. “Yet here I am.”
“So what, then? Are you just waiting to see if you blow out your leg or your ribs first?” Kunigami’s finally finished with her braids. She tosses the one she just finished plaiting over her shoulder. “I know you’re smarter than that. You wanna be the world’s best striker, don’t you?”
“I don’t need the lecture, hero,” Chigiri crosses her arms in front of her chest. “But I’ll admit your chivalry is at least sweet.”
Kunigami sighs with thinly veiled frustration. “I do have a point, you know.”
“And you’re welcome to make it.” Chigiri takes a seat on her own mattress and follows Kunigami’s lead, trying to stretch out her own neck. It’s not easy. She’s lacking a full range of motion, and hopes that Kunigami is too engrossed in her own stretching to catch a glimpse of Chigiri’s struggles.
“That friend who was wearing his binder on the pitch too much, he switched to this thing—taping—and it seemed to help him out a lot.” Kunigami gesticulates around herself. It’s endearing, the way her hands flap, as she tries to use the fluttering of her fingers to explain her point. “I’m not too familiar with it, but I know it put a lot less pressure on his chest. His back, too. He could wear the tape for so much longer than he could wear the binder, and he was just a better player after making the switch.” Kunigami smiles fondly, remembering her old teammate. “Defender, so a little different than what you’re doing here, but all the stuff that matters, stamina especially, he was like a different person.”
“Tape?” Chigiri questions. She’d only ever heard of the duct tape method, which certainly couldn’t be what Kunigami was referring to. No way that’s anywhere near safe.
“The kinesiology stuff,” Kunigami elaborates. “I’ve seen your leg care kit before, I think the strips you have are thick enough. My friend struggled with getting it on the first few times, but he’s like a pro with it now, says it gets easier over time. I’ve helped him out with it before when he was just starting out, I could always help you if you wanted to try?”
Chigiri laughs. It’s a slightly nasally sound, a little high pitched but resonant in her chest. She knows she’s quite the handsome young woman, and has already been subject to some compliments and attention from the various teams they’d faced in the first selection. Kunigami’s never been so overt with it, but Chigiri knows the other girl thinks she’s attractive. Who wouldn’t think so? Chigiri is gorgeous. She’s tall and thin, her lean build contributing to a more androgynous silhouette that she’s grateful for. Her shoulders are broad, certainly not as massive as Kunigami’s, but wide for her own proportions and they make the taper from her shoulders to her waist seem even more pronounced. Her hair is always soft and well-styled, the straight locks only falling as far as her jawline. Given the nature of what helping would entail, there’s some low-hanging fruit here, a joke to be made about Kunigami’s sincere and well-meaning offer to look out for her health, and Chigiri can’t help but want to take advantage of it. “Help me out?” Chigiri repeats with a smirk. “Kunigami, I’m sure there’s a less roundabout way of saying you’d like to touch my chest.”
“I—”
“Oh, hell no.” Reo’s voice, her protest, rather, enters the bedroom alongside the young woman herself, and cuts Kunigami off, though the tallest of the three is still turning a similar warm shade as her hair. “I don’t know what I just walked into, but I am not hearing any more of it. Nope.”
“You walked into a joke, Reo.” Chigiri placates the heir. Her response serves two purposes. The first is to calm Reo down and make sure she doesn’t overreact—something she’s learning is common about the former Team V player—and the second is to make sure Kunigami knows she only intended to poke fun at her. “My knight in shining armor over here was just trying to offer her services to keep me at top strength.”
“By touching you?” Reo asks. She shakes her head dramatically, hair swishing over her shoulders from the action. Her manicured hands rest on her hips.
“By helping her figure out a safer binding method.” Kunigami jumps into the conversation to catch Reo up to speed. “That’s all it was.”
“Mhm…” Reo’s wide eyes narrow into a suspicious squint. She regards Chigiri and Kunigami with doubt, but after a solid few seconds of staring deep into their souls—at least, that’s what it feels like to the two other girls in the room—she seems to believe them. “You two could stand to be more careful. The physical stuff, yeah—I don’t want you getting hurt, Chigiri—but I mean making friends here is a lost cause.”
Chigiri winces. The moment between Reo and Nagi in the bath earlier had been painfully awkward to witness. Chigiri has her own grievances with Isagi and Bachira for being so quick to abandon her and Kunigami, but it’s nothing like what Reo must be feeling. Chigiri hadn’t come into Blue Lock with anyone; her only prior connections were the Wanima twins and she’s glad to be rid of that pair of freaks. For all her teasing of Kunigami and rejection of her helpful suggestions, Chigiri does truly care for the other girl. She knows she aspires to be the world’s best striker and represent Japan at a national level, and that’s not a title she can share, but she’s already grown close enough to Kunigami where she doesn’t want to lose her. She doesn’t want to think about a future where that’s possible.
“It won’t be.” Kunigami steps in before Chigiri has a chance to, and the pink-haired girl thinks it’s for the best. “We’re going to win tomorrow, and we’ll get Nagi back for you.” It does seem like it’d be the best move. Chigiri doesn’t want to be on a team with Barou despite her skill as a striker, and although she has a lot of respect for Isagi’s game sense, there’s no rivaling what Nagi and Reo are able to accomplish together.
“I don’t want Nagi back!” Reo shouts. Her voice gets a little shrill as it rises in volume. She’s defensive, clearly, but there’s nothing that Chigiri thinks she can say to make it better. Her first thought at combatting Reo’s point that friends within the walls of Blue Lock were pointless was to say that making friends here might not be the issue, and instead the problem was arriving at Blue Lock with friends. Or more than friends. Chigiri doesn’t know what Reo and Nagi really are, or were, to each other. She doesn’t know if they know. She doesn’t think she wants any more information, one way or the other.
“So…” Kunigami tries to fix her approach. “I know the point of us being here is to become the best striker, but I think we could have a really strong defensive midfield with you and Isa—”
“I don’t want Isagi either!” Reo looks genuinely nauseated. Her short brows are furrowed, the wrinkles in the bridge of her nose deep and pronounced. “I want her even less! No, wait, I want Nagi the least. I’d sooner choose that selfish queen than Isagi, and even a thief like Isagi would be a better choice than Nagi.” Reo spits out her best friend’s name like it’s poison in her mouth.
Chigiri sighs. She’s already stressed out, and she can feel her stomach twisting in even tighter knots, affected by Reo’s instability. She feels bad for the girl, of course, but she mostly feels bad for herself. If Reo can’t get out of her own head with this whole Nagi thing, there’s no way they’ll win tomorrow. They already have their strategy, and it hinges on relying on Reo's advanced playmaking and stellar passes to set Chigiri and Kunigami up for pure offensive power. If their playmaker can’t think about anything except her not-exactly-hatred for her best friend, Barou will score a hat trick on them before Reo can throw a single insult Nagi’s way. “Reo.” Chigiri’s trying really hard to sound kind. She is genuinely sympathetic, but sounding that way? That’s where she could stand to practice more. “How about you go do some meditation? Or like…whatever it is that rich girls do for self-care? Do you paint your own nails?” It’s a genuine question. Chigiri is curious.
Reo rolls her eyes. “Mother doesn’t like when I paint my own nails, but yes. Yes I do.” She’s proud of that fact, triumphant at the great accomplishment of not going to a nail salon. “I don’t need to redo them, though.”
“Face mask?” Kunigami suggests. “Deep conditioner? My go-to when I need to destress is always just the bench press but I don’t think you should be pumping iron this close to bedtime.”
Reo taps her foot against the linoleum floor as she considers her options. “Yeah, no way am I getting all sweaty again when I should be sleeping soon. Don’t need to shower again, so that also rules out conditioner. Face mask, though…now that sounds nice.” Reo’s eyes close tightly and then shoot open a moment after. “I still have a few packed! There’s this really good lavender and chamomile one that should be perfect for nighttime. Thanks, guys…” She beams at them. Chigiri thinks she’s genuinely happy. She can never tell with Reo, not when her emotions switch so rapidly. She reminds Chigiri of a kids toy, the one where every time a button gets pushed, a new facial expression pops up. It’s not a bad thing, no, in fact Chigiri admires that emotionality. Reo’s so expressive, and after her injury, Chigiri is still trying to let herself feel as easily as Reo can. “I’d offer to break out some more, but that can be for us to all do tomorrow after we win!” Chigiri wonders if Reo doesn’t remember her own warning against making friends here. She already considers Reo a friend, and even with the reticence, she hopes Reo believes the feeling to be mutual. Reo starts to walk back out of the bedroom, and as she goes, Chigiri can hear her mutter “Nagi won’t know what’s gonna hit her tomorrow.” Well… Chigiri had gotten her to think about something other than Nagi for about two minutes. Progress.
“Y’know, you could benefit from taking your own advice,” Kunigami mentions after a few quiet minutes following Reo’s departure.
Chigiri snorts. “Yeah, I’m not too into the face mask thing.” Washing her face is one thing, she’s hygienic of course, but that’s as intense as her skincare gets.
“I didn’t mean just a face mask,” Kunigami clarifies. “Self-care. You seem stressed. If it can help Reo, it’d definitely help you.”
“Ah,” Chigiri nods. “Low bar to clear, but I guess so.” More leg care can never hurt, she supposes, especially if she’ll be pushing herself to her limits tomorrow. Chigiri hikes up the right leg of her sweatpants, up past her knee. She squints at the scar. It’s like the fluorescent lights above reflect the surgical evidence. When she brings her hands to her leg, it’s soft. Chigiri isn’t the biggest fan of shaving, even when her old coaches told her it was unsightly, that smooth legs would make her more aerodynamic. She knows what she likes, and that includes a thick layer of hair covering her legs. It keeps her warm, keeps her soft, and it helps to cover the surgical scar.
“I meant I wanted to help.” Kunigami interjects. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, facing Chigiri. “I guess I could’ve been clearer about that.”
“That’s sweet.” Chigiri doesn’t even spare Kunigami a glance. She could easily do her knee massage with her eyes closed, but the suspicious part of her believes that it’ll be more effective if she’s keeping a close eye on each intricate move of her hand. It’s just a part of the routine at this point. “But you’re not touching my leg.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to let me.” Kunigami responds. There’s no judgement in her voice, which Chigiri appreciates. “I was more thinking, like, your back. You’ve been acting like it’s hurting you all day.”
It has been hurting her all day. “You’d do that?” Chigiri raises an eyebrow at her. “I know you like to sleep like an hour more than me, isn’t it getting close to your bedtime?”
“Close, yeah, but it’s not just yet.” Kunigami shrugs. “I’ve been told I give good massages. And I want our speedster firing on all cylinders, okay, so this isn’t entirely selfless. I wanna win tomorrow for myself, too.”
Chigiri grins. There’s that flash of Kunigami’s ego. She’s usually so chivalrous and respectable about it, touting that her ego is for the greater good, that she wants to be an inspiration to the next generation of football players. It’s cute, it’s admirable, but Chigiri really likes this side of her. Kunigami can stand to be a little selfish. And, hey, so can Chigiri. Kunigami’s hands are large and warm, and they’d probably feel amazing working the knots out of her back and rubbing away the tension that binding introduces. “Then why the hell not? Should I lay down, or…?”
“Yeah, that’d be easiest I think. Just get comfortable.”
Chigiri can do that. She pulls the crewneck and tee shirt she’s wearing over her head in a single fluid motion, and tosses the clothes onto the floor. She also throws a wink in Kunigami’s direction before she settles on her stomach in just her sports bra and sweatpants. Chigiri folds her hands beneath her face and turns her head to the side, facing Kunigami. “Thanks for this.”
Kunigami’s smiling shyly as she stands and walks the few paces to Chigiri’s bed. “I haven’t even proved that people say I’m good at this for a reason, there’s no need to thank me yet.”
“The offer is reason enough.” Now that Kunigami has moved closer, Chigiri can’t see her anymore. She closes her eyes, no longer needing to stare across the room, and settles deeper into her bed. “I appreciate it, really.”
“It’s a win-win. This kinda stuff is therapeutic for me, too.” Kunigami explains. Chigiri hears a popping sound above her, it’s Kunigami cracking her knuckles in one fell swoop. “I don’t have any oil on hand which is unfortunate… Just let me know how much pressure you like?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t know.” Chigiri admits. “The only massages I’ve ever gotten have been ones for my leg. I’ll tell you if it’s too much, how’s that sound? But my back’s not as fragile as my knee is, so you don’t have to be scared.”
“Alright, sounds good.” Kunigami places her palms on Chigiri’s lower back and starts to draw them up her spine, rounding them over her bare shoulders. The touches are light, but thankfully firm enough that the ticklish Chigiri can stand them without giggling. “And for the record, I don’t think any part of you is fragile.”
“That’s, like, medically untrue.” Chigiri counters.
“I mean, the research on the likelihood of reinjury is kinda mixed. There’s a whole bunch of factors like surgical complications, healing time, y’know.” Kunigami’s hands start to press against Chigiri’s pale skin a little harder. Instead of the broad swipes up her back, Kunigami focuses her large hands on smaller sections of Chigiri’s skin at once. The deeper pressure makes Chigiri let out a relieved sigh. It really does feel nice.
“And how do you know this much about ACL tears?” Chigiri asks. Kunigami didn’t do this for her, Chigiri knows that. Even if she’d like to think so, would feel all warm knowing that Kunigami did all this research on her behalf, they don’t have that kind of internet access here. Kunigami must have known this before entering the Blue Lock program.
“After winning a few World Cups and Golden Boots I’d like to retire into sports medicine. Physical therapy, probably. For youth athletes.”
“Huh.” Chigiri realizes just then that she’s never asked Kunigami about her life after football until now. In fact, even now she hadn’t asked about what Kunigami plans to do after she’s too old for the sport, Kunigami had just chosen to tell her. Chigiri has known for years what her own post-football life would entail—she’d thought she’d be experiencing it within the next few weeks so of course she had to make a plan—but even though she’s grown so close to some of the people on Team Z and Reo, she doesn’t know much about what her fellow competitors want to do after the glory fades. It’s all just football, weapons, rivalries. Chigiri doesn’t know who her companions really are. “And why’s that?”
“It just feels like that’s where heroism should lead. Part of being a superhero is making sure hope stays alive in the world.” Kunigami is so earnest. It’s endearing. Chigiri can picture the smile on her face when she explains a superhero’s job, and she wishes she had eyes in the back of her head to see the grin in person. Her imagination works in technicolor, but Kunigami’s smile would be even brighter than Chigiri’s mind could conjure, she’s sure. “If I can’t do that on the pitch anymore, then what’s better than giving kids a reason to hold onto their dreams? Even if those dreams have to be put on hold, it’s still worth holding tight to them.” Kunigami starts to…punch Chigiri? Softly? She’s trying to figure out what Kunigami’s next move is, and without being able to see what she’s doing, she has to rely on the feeling of the other girl’s hands against her back. Right now, her hands feel like closed fists, knuckles tapping gently against her back muscles. It feels nice, there’s no doubting that, but it feels like a nice series of tender punches in the back.
“That’s really admirable, Kunigami.” Chigiri’s voice wavers as Kunigami’s fists tap against her back. It’s silly, but Chigiri feels too good to laugh at the quiver in her tone. “If anyone can be a football superhero without even playing anymore, it’s you. But you’ve got a long career ahead of you, so there’s no need to even think about any of that yet.”
“I really hope so.” There’s a hint of worry that creeps into Kunigami’s words. “Do you really think we can beat Team Red?”
“I really hope so,” Chigiri echoes. She thinks it’s possible. Most anything is possible. But is it likely? That’s a different story. “We prepared the best we could. Maybe we’re at a little bit of a disadvantage ‘cause Barou’s the only one out of the six of us whose weakness we don’t know, but I don’t think it’ll be that hard to figure out. She needs all the attention, so when Reo and Nagi have whatever their whole thing is, the queen’ll probably get pissed off and something’ll go awry. We can use that to our advantage.”
“So we just have to ignore Barou?” Kunigami asks.
“It shouldn’t be too hard. We have Isagi and Nagi to worry about. And Reo,” Chigiri adds as an afterthought. “If things go really wrong.”
“Maybe we really shouldn’t pick Barou after we win, then.” Kunigami muses. “I’m not sure how serious Reo was being, but if she actually favors the queen, there might be a chat in our near future about picking someone else.” Kunigami starts to work her hands horizontally over Chigiri’s back. She’s almost squeezing the skin as she does so, but not uncomfortably. “A round of four versus four would be even worse for someone that desperate for attention. Barou’s strong as hell, but a major liability if her ego revolves around having the spotlight and a team that bends to her will.”
“It might have to be Isagi then.” Chigiri can’t open her eyes right now even if she tries. She’s incredibly comfortable. Her body feels warm, the tightness she’d forced upon it from binding starting to dissipate. The soreness in her muscles that has become a permanent reminder of what crazy facility she’s trapped inside even starts to ease. Kunigami’s proven herself, she is good at this. “She’s Reo’s second choice, and I liked what you said earlier. Having both Isagi and Reo to make those plays for us would be insane. Your strength, my speed…we’d be unstoppable.” Chigiri can picture their upcoming victories. She can picture herself and Kunigami as paired forwards on Japan’s women’s U-20 team. It doesn’t matter that there can only be one top striker in the world, Chigiri will cross that bridge when they get there. And they will get there.
“Unstoppable,” Kunigami repeats. “I like the sound of that. I think we got it.” When Kunigami starts to rub at Chigiri’s shoulders, pressing her thumbs into the divots between her shoulder blades, Chigiri can’t help but hum her approval. The time keeps ticking, the fateful match looms ever closer, but Chigiri’s ready for it. She’s ready to win.