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When Gouenji rejoined Raimon in Okinawa after going into hiding to protect his sister, he was glad of course, but nevertheless apprehensive. He was happy that Raimon was now stronger than ever with their new additions, but the fact that Kazemaru and Kurimatsu were both gone was an uncomfortable one.
Gouenji watched every single Raimon match on television - of course he did. Although he could not be there to support the team physically, he picked himself up, began to study the Aliea teams and worked on Bakunetsu Storm. Studying teams meant that studying his team’s plays, and by extension the new additions to the team.
He surveyed his new teammates, elated after their victory against Prominence. Their spirits were high - shouts and laughter filling the football pitch as they ran around kicking the ball again after the match.
There was Kogure the prankster, nimble and precise with his movements. Ichinose-obsessed Urabe who was… good, but could be better. Endou’s fanboy Tachimukai appeared to be more interested in goalkeeping than playing midfield. Tsunami the surfer, who was already taking on the role of mood-maker and… Fubuki.
Fubuki Shirou had his interest from the beginning, since Raimon’s final match against Gemini Storm in Hokkaido. Gouenji first saw him on the screen of Hijikata’s family television, warming up at the side of the pitch, introduced as the player who was supposed to replace Gouenji’s position as ace on the team, and somewhere along the way, triggered Gouenji’s deeply-rooted competitiveness.
When the match began with Fubuki strengthening the team’s defence, his movements were smooth, swift and certain. There was an air of effortless grace about him that permeated through the screen of the television and made Gouenji exhale silently in wonder. When he moved up to offence, it was as if he… changed. The speed and confidence remained in him, but there was something else - an aggressiveness that gave an edge to his movements. He could not help but look at that short stature - visibly shorter than Endou even on the television screen - and wonder where all that raw power came from.
Gouenji continued to watch as Fubuki got increasingly high-strung with each match against Aliea Academy, until the horrible impact when they faced Genesis just a couple weeks ago. The news had covered his injury briefly - that he had been admitted to a hospital in Fukuoka from a concussion, and had fortunately recovered quickly.
(“You seem worried,” Hijikata had commented when they were watching the report during dinner, and Gouenji simply replied that he wanted to meet his potential rival with both of them in their best condition.)
And now, Fubuki Shirou stood in the flesh alone at the side of the pitch, away from the rest of his - their - teammates, silver head tipped back to stare up into the sky. He seemed even smaller in person - all narrow shoulders and sleekly-muscled legs. He appeared to be hunched into himself, the grace and gentle confidence to associate with his playing style nowhere to be seen at the moment.
Gouenji had originally returned to Raimon expecting a friendly rivalry, but then he remembered what Endou and Kidou had told him when they pulled him aside earlier, about Fubuki’s struggle with dissociative identity disorder, and of his less-than-stable mental condition at the moment.
I want to talk to him, Gouenji thought to himself, and when someone playfully kicked the soccer ball towards him, he purposefully let it go off-course towards Fubuki. The ball rolled to a stop at white-and-blue shoes, and Gouenji took it as his cue to head over and pick it up.
“Gouenji-kun?” Fubuki had only nodded at him at their earlier introduction and had not spoken throughout the team celebrations. His voice was higher and softer than Gouenji had expected, and there was something about his tone that made him sound a touch fragile.
Gouenji looked up from the ball in his hands. Their eyes met for a brief second before Fubuki’s gaze darted off to the side nervously, breaking off the contact.
“Have you become afraid of the ball?” Gouenji asked quietly.
Fubuki’s eyes widened in surprise. Ah.
Gouenji recalled when he realised his sister was in danger from those people. He, too, had been so consumed by fear he no longer dared to play soccer freely, anxiety consuming him from the inside until he was no longer able to move his body as he wished. “It’s natural to be scared,” Gouenji continued, and watched as Fubuki’s eyes widened further. “I’m scared too.” He stepped closer to offer the ball to Fubuki.
Up close he could see that Fubuki’s eyes were grey-green framed with lashes as thick as (or perhaps even thicker than) Yuuka’s, the hesitance in them clear as day. “You just have to kick the ball while carrying the fear inside of you, that’s all.”
Gouenji wanted more than anything to tell Fubuki that everything will be okay, and to depend more on the team and trust them all to take care of his weaknesses, but he was not sure how to vocalise them.
As he pondered, Fubuki had taken the offered ball with trembling hands. “Kick the ball while carrying the fear inside…” he echoed, and his eyes lifted to meet Gouenji’s.
There was a spark of understanding within them, underneath the fear that furrowed his eyebrows and darkened his gaze.
Gouenji nodded at him in attempt to encourage him, and a small genuine smile grew tentatively across Fubuki’s face, slowly curving his lips upwards.
It was a good look on him.
Something curiously sweet burst open in Gouenji’s chest, and he spent the evening wondering what on earth it could be.
***
Coach Kudou ended Inazuma Japan’s practice with laps around their practice pitch, and when the team stumbled back to the lodge winded, sweaty and famished, they scrambled first to the bathrooms for a shower and then into the common areas for dinner.
“Hey, Fubuki.” It was Gouenji standing behind him, hands in the pockets of his track pants, his hair hanging loose and damp around his shoulders, the gel holding it up having been washed away in their hurried shower.
“Gouenji-kun,” Fubuki smiled at him, trying to be discreet as he admired how good Gouenji looked with his hair down. “I haven’t run laps like this in a long time. I’m so hungry!” he said with a laugh instead of voicing his thoughts.
“Right, you just finished your rehab,” Gouenji nodded. “Your leg is holding up?”
“It feels completely fine, it’s as if I never injured it in the first place,” Fubuki replied, patting his leg lightly to prove his point. It was true. He was extremely fortunate to have recovered completely from the accident in the match against Fire Dragon without repercussions.
They began to move towards the dining halls, falling into step next to each other smoothly like they did on the field as they went to collect their dinner over the counter - Fuyuka smiled at them as they thanked her for the curry and rice the girls had prepared.
They sat down at a table and were shortly joined by Hiroto and Kidou. The two of them appeared deeply engrossed in a discussion about some physics theory that Fubuki was neither interested or knowledgable enough to want to know what it was all about.
Meanwhile, Gouenji settled in his seat across him. “Aa, Fubuki. About further fine-tuning Crossfire, I have a few suggestions.”
Fubuki nodded as he put a spoonful of curry and rice into his mouth, eager to fill his stomach after a day of training.
He almost choked.
The curry was not the usual sweet kind.
It was burning his tongue.
Fubuki swallowed the mouthful because he was the type to never waste food, and regretted it.
As the curry went down his throat, it seared a burning trail through his oesophagus like a wad of hot lava.
Fubuki actually started to choke at this point.
“Fubuki, are you alright?” Gouenji’s spoon was raised to his lips as he stared at Fubuki with concern in his eyes.
“Gouenji-kun, the cur-” Fubuki gasped his warning as he groped for his water at the same time.
He was too late.
Gouenji ate the curry.
Fubuki watched in half-amazement and half-horror as Gouenji’s facial expression did not change, but his eyes started to grow too-bright. Fubuki had to down half a glass of water before he managed to find the voice to speak. “Gouenji-kun, are you okay?”
Next to them, Kidou and Hiroto were similarly suffering from the unexpectedly spicy curry.
At this moment, Aki’s voice rang loud and clear from the kitchen. “Fuyuka-chan, I forgot to tell you I knocked over the entire bottle of spicy oil into the curry earlier! Did you already serve the - oh no!”
Aki came rushing out into the dining area, apologising profusely. “You must have heard everything, I’m so sorry everyone, I was going to fix it before-”
“It’s okay!” Tachimukai said brightly. “I love it!”
“Shut up Tachimukai!” someone hissed, and the room erupted into laughter.
The tension left Aki’s face. “Really though, you guys don’t have to eat it if it’s too bad,” she said when the laughter died down.
“I grew up being taught to never waste food!” Kabeyama said.
“Of course we’ll do our best to eat it!” Endou chimed in, to the agreement of most of the other members of the team. “You guys put your heart into cooking each meal for us, and this will not be an exception!”
“I’m really, really sorry!” Aki said again. “We’re going to get everyone some milk to help with the spice, please bear with it for a while!” And hurried into the kitchen again.
Fubuki watched as Gouenji ate another spoonful of curry and did the same, fanning at his mouth when the spices exploded on his tongue.
“It’s not that bad,” Gouenji said calmly as a tear ran down his face.
Fubuki could not help but giggle a little through the burning. “But Gouenji-kun is tearing up a little bit.”
“I’m alright.” Gouenji swallowed and followed the mouthful with some water. “I’m alright,” he repeated.
And that was when Fubuki noticed that Gouenji’s lips were a little red and swollen from the spices.
It… was not a bad look for him.
“I don’t think I’ve seen Gouenji so defeated by food,” Fubuki remarked as he ate another mouthful himself, and thanked Aki when she placed a glass of milk next to his water.
Gouenji chuckled.
Fubuki tried not to stare at the curve of his reddened lips.
“I should say the same for you,” Gouenji said in a light, teasing tone.
Fubuki gave him a questioning look as he sipped gratefully at the milk.
“I’ve never seen your face this red before.”
Quickly touching his face, Fubuki realised that his cheeks were indeed burning beneath his fingers. But he was not entirely sure, whether it was from the spices or the sight of…
“Gouenji-kun’s lips. They are a little red and swollen too,” Fubuki blurted out.
There was a pregnant silence. Kidou and Hiroto’s voices at the side faded into white noise as Gouenji and Fubuki stared at each other, unable to tear their eyes away.
The curry was burning down Fubuki’s throat still and he felt like he could unleash a Fire Tornado with his mouth, but at that moment, Fubuki thought to himself as he allowed himself to trace his eyes along the swell of Gouenji’s scarlet lips, perhaps spicy was not so bad after all.
***
Gouenji was finishing up his revision for his high school entrance exams when his phone buzzed with a text. The screen lit up, showing “Message from Fubuki Shirou”.
Pushing his books aside, Gouenji unlocked his phone and got to his messaging app.
hi gouenji-kun. how’s everything going for you?
Gouenji noted the lack of the usual kaomojis and frowned. Something was up. He began to type up his reply immediately.
just finished revision, you?
It was a while before Fubuki’s reply popped up onscreen.
everything’s good
(Fubuki is typing…)
actually can i call you? will i be bothering you?
Gouenji did not bother typing out a reply, and directly dialled Fubuki instead.
The dial tone played once, twice, thrice before Fubuki picked up.
“Hi, Gouenji-kun,” Fubuki’s voice sounded a little muffled.
“Hey,” Gouenji returned.
“Sorry I texted so late.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Un.” There was a small, barely-noticeable hitch of breath over the line.
Moving to sit on his bed instead, Gouenji waited until Fubuki spoke again, his heart twisting with worry.
“It’s just… it’s the eighth anniversary of the avalanche.”
It had been eight years since Fubuki’s family died.
Gouenji hummed his understanding and let out a silent sigh.
Fubuki inhaled, the breath rattling in between his teeth audibly. “It’s the first one without Atsuya with me.”
It seemed a long time ago, but it had been only one year since the Aliea Academy fiasco, meaning Fubuki had managed to merge his Atsuya personality with his original only months ago. Fubuki had once told him, the day the Raimon Caravan found him on Northern Ridge was the seventh anniversary of the accident. The team had happened to find him when he was done paying his respects.
“Talk about it if you want,” Gouenji prompted gently.
“I went to pay my respects earlier. I left my parents flowers and Atsuya a soccer mochi as usual,” Fubuki said softly. “I’ve mostly come in terms with their deaths already, but it’s just…” Fubuki fell quiet. It was without a doubt that he was composing himself.
“Today my head felt so empty without Atsuya. I know it was for the better, that we- I got better. But today I thought to myself, if only Atsuya’s personality -” Fubuki began, uncharacteristic bitterness tinging his voice.
“No if onlys,” Gouenji interrupted.
For a few moments, there was only Fubuki’s ragged breathing over the phone.
“I’m sorry,” Fubuki breathed.
“Don’t apologise,” Gouenji replied.
“It was stupid of me to even think something like that.”
“It was.”
Fubuki laughed wetly.
“I… understand you, to an extent,” Gouenji continued. “My father… he never comes home on my mother’s remembrance day. It’s always just Yuuka and I at night. She’s too young to remember much, but I… her absence…” Gouenji trailed off, unsure how to vocalise the hollow loneliness he had come to associate with home since his mother’s death and his father’s growing distance from their family.
“Un. That feeling,” Fubuki agreed quietly. “Rationally I know that Atsuya has been gone for the last eight years, and the Atsuya in my head had been part of myself all along - an alter - and not the brother I had lost. But he felt so real. It was as if he never truly left me. And today, it was the first time I paid my respects without his voice in my head.”
“Over time, it will get easier,” Gouenji told him. “Whenever it feels lonely in your head, call me. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, Gouenji-kun, for listening to me. Talking to you always helps. I’ll also be there for you if you need me to listen.”
Gouenji could not stop the smile that found his way on his face. As long as Fubuki felt better. And it was reassuring that he also had Fubuki’s support. “I’m glad. What else did you do today?”
“Oh…! I got some spare time so I went through some of my parents’ old things. When I moved in with my grandmother, she helped me store them away in the attic. I’ve never really looked through them before though.”
“What did you find?”
“My father’s diary,” Fubuki said. “His handwriting… I had forgotten until today, but mine really looks like his. It’s also small and round.” He laughed a little at that, and the bitterness from his voice had dissipated a bit, and the wrenching of Gouenji’s heart eased up along with it.
“I also read a few entries. I was surprised to know that he met my mum through soccer, too.”
“Did both of them play?” Gouenji asked.
“No, it was only Mum who did. She was a retired pro-league player. I knew this much as a child, and that Dad was a researcher. But definitely not that they met because he studied hissatsu and Mum was his subject as part of his research.”
“Soccer was your mother’s influence,” Gouenji mused.
“I would say so,” Fubuki sounded brighter at that. “Mum taught Atsuya and I how to play. She would practice with us during weekends and take us on camping trips in the forest.”
“She was big on outdoor activities?”
“Un,” Fubuki replied. “She would take Atsuya and I bear-hunting too, and we would bring home bear pelts to make winter carpets and coats. She would also sell some of them to tourists. Dad always looked a little scared when we brought back pelts…”
Gouenji continued to listen, smiling in relief as he heard the bitterness slowly slip from Fubuki’s voice with each word.
This year, he decided, on his mother’s remembrance day, he would call Fubuki after he has tucked Yuuka into bed. Perhaps Fubuki’s soft tone and and gentle words would help wash away the bitterness too, just like he had done for Fubuki today.
***
Fubuki glanced anxiously at the time at the top right corner of his laptop for the fifth time in three minutes, where he was already streaming the news channel. Any time now.
Gouenji had already told him two days ago the time it would go live - at around three in the afternoon, he had said before they exchanged their final goodbyes with an embrace and a soft kiss.
(“It’s unfair you have to do this,” Fubuki had protested.
“I know,” Gouenji had replied. “I’m the one most suitable for this job.”
“Please stay safe,” Fubuki had whispered.)
“And now to the Holy Emperor inauguration ceremony,” a reporter said, and the camera cut to a smartly-dressed female reporter standing before the Fifth Sector Headquarters. Behind her was a sea of other journalists and citizens.
Fubuki quickly sat down on his sofa, and moved the laptop onto his thighs to watch more closely.
“The next Holy Emperor has just arrived at the Fifth Sector Headquarters,” the announcer reported.
The camera zoomed in from afar to a distant of figure getting off an expensive-looking black car, and Fubuki’s heart clenched at the familiar set of shoulders - he would recognise them no matter what the person they belonged to wore. This time, they were stiff and rigid in the blood-red suit jacket that covered them. He must be feeling as tense as Fubuki was.
The camera followed as Gouen- Ishido Shuuji was lead into the entered the building and disappeared behind dark glass doors.
“Ishido Shuuji is to succeed Senguuji Daigo as the new Holy Emperor of the Fifth Sector,” the reporter explained. “He is rumoured to be a soccer player himself. With his personal experience and involvement with the sport, it is believed that he will be able to continue guiding Japan’s soccer along the right path.
“The inauguration will take place on this balcony. It can be seen that microphones are already prepared for the event.
Onscreen, the camera focused on the large balcony of the Headquarters, directly above the crowd of reporters and spectators that were waiting for the inauguration ceremony. It had a clean, modern design, with pillars of dark mirrors and black steel. It looked elegant, cold and alien.
Fubuki’s phone buzzed on the sofa. He grabbed it, unlocked it, noticed the text message, dug from his trousers pocket the key to their code and quickly decoded the text. He would soon commit the code to heart, he thought determinedly, but until then, he would have to refer to it to communicate.
miss you already. remember the plan. take care of yourself.
Looking at the code key, Fubuki typed out a reply as quickly as he could.
me too. be careful. i love you.
“Seiguuji Daigo and Ishido Shuuya have arrived at the Headquarter balcony, they appear to had some time to discuss privately prior the ceremony.” the reporter announced. Fubuki tore his eyes away from the screen of his phone to look at the livestream on his laptop instead.
Senguuji stepped forward, smiled charmingly at the cameras and began to speak into the microphones. Fubuki barely heard a word he said, hyper-focused on Gou- Ishido next to Senguuji, his angular, painfully familiar features twisted by an alien mask of arrogance and satisfaction.
Something sour bled into Fubuki’s veins at the cold, unfamiliar expression.
Then Ishido moved, brushing back long green-streaked blond hair (it looked awful and did not suit him at all, Fubuki thought) and moved to stand before the microphone. Fubuki remembered the nights the two of them spent bent over his dining table, perfecting every tiny detail of the speech, and watched the ongoing stream with bated breath, praying that everything would go according to plan.
“Citizens of Japan,” Ishido began. “I am more than honoured to take on the title of Holy Emperor of the Fifth Sector. I would like to express my gratitude to Senguuji Daigo, my predecessor, for his guidance and trust throughout the handover process…”
At this moment, Fubuki’s phone buzzed with another text.
Fubuki, are you watching the news???
It was Endou. Time to put the plan in motion.
Yes, Endou-kun, I am.
The Holy Emperor inauguration right???
Yes.
He looks and sounds exactly like Gouenji.
Fubuki did not reply him yet, instead first turning back to the livestream.
“… and finally to all of Japan. I fully understand that you have entrusted to me the future of soccer-playing. I promise the enforcement of equal opportunity and fairness in soccer. I promise the continual spread of soccer as a powerful national sport. I promise the protection of the happiness of each and every soccer player.”
The crowds exploded into cheers and the cameras flashed, illuminating Ishido’s tanned skin with cold silver light.
Fubuki breathed out slowly. At the very least the speech went smoothly. Now on to the next steps of the plan. Fubuki reached for his phone and finally typed a reply to Endou.
I don’t want to believe it.
Fubuki’s phone started ringing mere seconds after he sent the text. It was an incoming call from Endou. To protect soccer, he told himself. To protect Shuuya, and picked up the call.
“Fubuki, are you okay? Please tell me I’m seeing things. I never thought he would do something like this.” Endou sounded horrified and uncertain.
“I don’t know,” Fubuki whispered into the phone.
“Is Gouenji still in Hokkaido with you?” Endou asked.
“He…” he steeled himself for the worst lie he knew he would have to live for the coming months, possibly years. Acid was filling his heart and lungs even as he opened his mouth. “Endou-kun, we broke up two days ago.”
Endou was silent. “For this?”
“I don’t know,” Fubuki choked on his oncoming tears. “I don’t know. He didn’t explain much.”
“Fubuki, I…” Endou paused. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” He hated having to lie about he and Gouenji. He hated having to lie about such a horrible thing to his friends. It left a foul, sour taste on his tongue, and made his chest grow indescribably heavy. “I want to look into this,” Fubuki said instead, guiding Endou along to the plan.
When Endou spoke again, he sounded like his usual determined self - albeit more serious than he ever had. “I will continue resisting the Fifth Sector. Will you investigate with me, Fubuki?”
“Count me in.”
***
Gouenji left the room he and Fubuki shared and entered the dining area with his hair tied into a low ponytail and wearing plain a black shirt and shorts. Fubuki was already at one of the tables with two glasses of warm water and two cereal bars, his silver hair still unstyled and framing his face softly.
“Apple or raisin flavour?” Fubuki asked when he stood next to him to drink from one of the glasses.
“Which one do you want more?” Gouenji returned.
“Kind of feeling like apple this morning,” Fubuki admitted with one of his little sheepish laughs. Cute.
Gouenji nodded and unwrapped the raisin one.
“Thanks, Shuuya.” Fubuki did the same to the other cereal bar and took a thoughtful bite. “Which route should we take this morning?”
Going on a run in the morning had been Gouenji and Fubuki’s habit ever since they were teammates in Inazuma Japan. They would run a few laps together around the training field in the morning. They continued to run together when they studied together at Raimon High school, on the mornings they did not have soccer practice (Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays), and went on to do the same when they went to Raimon University for their bachelor’s degree (Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays). Now as members of Inazuma Legend Japan, they had been invited to participate in an international soccer championship after the Fifth Sector had been taken down. Naturally, the team had gotten together to train for a couple of months before the tournament.
Gouenji and Fubuki smoothly kept up their routine of jogging early just like they did at home despite staying in Tokyo for training, and this morning - their second at the lodge - was no exception, as would the coming two months.
“The one we took yesterday is too close to the highway.”
“Un,” Fubuki agreed with a soft smile. “Then let’s turn right instead of left at that intersection next to the park later.”
Gouenji finished the last of his cereal bar. “Aa.” He heard the sound of Fubuki balling up both their wrappers into a fist. “Let’s go.”
Fubuki threw out the wrappers while Gouenji went ahead to take their running shoes from the shelf at the doorway of the training lodge.
They put on their shoes quickly, did their stretches, and they were off, leaving the training grounds through the wooden gate.
At five-thirty in the morning, this part of Tokyo was not awake yet.
They jogged past the neighbourhood at a comfortable pace, noting that most of the curtains of the houses were still drawn shut, and there was only one elderly woman who was tending to her plants. When she greeted them, they both smiled and waved at her before continuing on.
In minutes, the residential area was behind them, and they neared the park Fubuki mentioned earlier. It was early, so the swings were still, the monkey bars remained unoccupied, and the early morning sun reflected, undisturbed, off the shine of the paint job on the sides of the slides.
They closed in on the aforementioned intersection. Gouenji turned his head to the left to look at Fubuki, and their eyes met in that moment of mutual understanding.
They exchanged a smile, and without breaking their strides, turned right.
This new path led them down a long, gentle slope that was partially shaded by trees at the side, and Gouenji automatically moved closer to the edge so Fubuki could run beneath the trees too.
They both looked up to admire the dappled sunlight filtering through the green leaves, passing by their heads in a bright green blur.
“Flowers,” Gouenji said when he noticed the bushes growing under the trees had pale pink blossoms on them, and pointed at them with his chin.
“Un, that shade of pink is really pretty!” Fubuki commented.
They admired the flowers every now and then, until Gouenji sensed Fubuki’s strides growing longer and faster as the slope curved and gradually grew steeper, and sped up to match him.
Fubuki threw him a wolfish grin when he noticed and accelerated.
Gouenji returned a smirk of his own and also went faster, determined to keep up with him.
The ground eventually levelled beneath their feet into a path overlooking a riverbank not unlike the one near the Inazuma Steel Tower. By then, they were flat-out charging forward, Fubuki going faster and faster beside Gouenji.
He truly excelled in speed, Gouenji thought as Fubuki began to pull ahead of him little by little, visibly trying to rein himself in so they could continue running side by side, despite Gouenji already running at full speed. He knew - they both knew intimately Fubuki was faster than he was, Gouenji having more stamina instead.
“Final stretch to that bridge?” Fubuki asked breathlessly, referring to the steel structure around four hundred meters away from where they were.
“Let’s go,” Gouenji nodded, and he watched as Fubuki put on a seemingly-effortless burst of speed and overtook him completely, leaving Gouenji running behind him.
Gouenji let himself stare openly at the movement of Fubuki’s hips, the familiar shape of his back in that pale blue shirt and the flex of his legs as he ran ahead.
They both slowed down to a jog about a hundred meters from the bridge, before stopping completely in its shade, stretching again to wind down, quietly admiring the view before them. The sun had risen further during their run, the morning rays pouring over the ripples in the river and making each of them sparkle like glass shards.
“Good run?” Gouenji asked, as he shook a few stray locks of hair from his face, his ponytail having come a little loose during their exercise.
Fubuki turned towards him with his usual bright smile, eyes warm with affection - the way they almost always were when he looked at him. “It’s always good if it’s with you.”
Gouenji’s heart was still pounding after their morning exercise, yet it skipped a beat all the same. It had been so many years, and Gouenji continued to find reasons to love Fubuki more everyday. It’s always good if it’s with him.
Unable to stop himself from smiling, Gouenji leaned forward to cradle a hand over the curve of the back of Fubuki’s neck, uncaring of how it was damp with sweat as he pulled them close.
Their lips met for the first time that day, and Gouenji tasted the salt of Fubuki’s perspiration at the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah. Me too."