Chapter Text
It hasn't even been forty-eight hours, and Shidou Ryusei's already become the department's favourite rumour.
But to be honest, it isn't all that surprising. It's not everyday you find a six foot sport major with dyed blonde hair, about four piercings, and enough confidence to make up for his complete lack of shame. Though, it probably has more to do with the rumors rather than his looks.
Shidou currently has his forehead pressed against the cool glass of a vending machine tucked into a shadowy corner of the courtyard. He’s staring at a carton of strawberry milk that is currently mocking him. It’s suspended on the little metal coil, just an inch away from freedom, refusing to drop.
Three hundred yen in, and Shidou's convinced the Japanese education system is just an elaborate scam built to rob hungry students.
He mashes the button one more time. Creak.
Nothing.
With a frustrated curse, he kicks the machine hard.
"Woah, dude, it's a little early for that."
Shidou watches as a pair of legs step into his view. The person reaches out a hand, firmly slamming it into the side of the machine. With a low thud, something falls down, and the person leans to reach into the slot before pulling out the carton. "Strawberry? I didn't expect a guy like you to have a sweet tooth."
Standing there, looming above him, is none other than Karasu Tabata. Or was it Tabato? Not important.
Dark hair brushed his cheekbones, messy enough to look effortless. Hoodie, bomber jacket, expensive sneakers. One of those annoyingly cool upperclassmen who somehow made looking tired work.
Shidou contemplates screwing the guy off. But he did just help him get his drink. And he did show him around campus yesterday.
Alright, maybe he wouldn't ditch this guy just yet.
"Fuck off." Shidou easily catches the carton that Karasu drops, staying crouched down as he tears off the plastic wrapper with his teeth before bringing the straw to his lips. He lets the sweet, creamy thickness coat his tongue, ignoring the faint artificial aftertaste that comes with it. Karasu watches him with a detached curiosity, then sighs, pulling his phone out to tap a few keys. Shidou has a feeling he's already a top entry on the 'People to Avoid' list
"So, I heard things got messy at your old uni. It's all anyone talks about." Karasu leans against the wall.
Messy? Yeah, that's a good way to describe how Shidou got jumped by about ten assholes for sleeping with one of their girls. As if its his fault his bitch isn't loyal?
"That place was shit anyway." Shidou stands up to his full height, yawning with a stretch of his arms before looking up at the sky. The previously deep blue has turned brighter, and Shidou's pretty happy he changed schools in the summer. This place has a huge court, and their football team is pretty serious. "Say, you guys got a football team, don't you?"
Karasu scoffs, "We're practically famous for it. Especially since we have a prodigy going here."
"Prodigy?" Shidou hums, rolling the word around in his head like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
It doesn't do much for him.
The title's been watered down so much it's practically meaningless now. These days, anyone with a bit of natural talent and a highlight reel gets slapped with the label. One good performance, a few people singing their praises, and suddenly they're the next big thing.
Shidou's lost count of how many self-proclaimed prodigies he's run through over the years.
Most of them crumble the second someone pushes back.
They play too safe. They’re terrified of looking ugly on the field, which is exactly why they’ll never reach the heights of something truly beautiful. They’re predictable. They’re fragile. They’re boring.
Shidou has spent his entire life grinding guys like that into the dirt. He doesn't want a teammate; he wants a collision. He wants to find someone who can handle the explosion.
That eyebags-looking bastard— the one who scouted him —had looked Shidou dead in the eye and whispered the only thing that could have convinced him to transfer.
"You won't be bored at this school."
A bold claim. A risky one. If it turns out to be a lie, Shidou is going to burn this entire department down, figuratively speaking. Probably.
"Why the sudden interest?" Karasu asks, tilting his head. Those sharp, observant eyes scan Shidou, looking for a crack in the armor. "Thinking of gracing us with your presence?"
"That’s the whole point of being here, isn't it?" Shidou grins, and it’s not a nice look. It’s all teeth and jagged edges. "I’m looking for an explosion. I’m looking for someone worth my time. Someone who doesn't fold when I get. . . excited."
Karasu looks at him for a long, silent moment. The wind rustles through the courtyard, and for a second, the campus feels strangely still. Then, Karasu pulls his phone away from his ear and tucks it back into his pocket. "As long as you don't kill someone."
"It's not like I haven't done that before." Shidou shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking into the building. Karasu blinks with relative concern before tiredly following after him.
--
Every lecture feels like slow death. Shidou listens with little to no interest, instead dwelling on the moment he finally gets onto the field.
The smell of damp grass and sweat. The sound of ankles locking together and the ball thudding across the ground. The feeling of your lungs burning as every single hormone in your body practically gets high is ethereal. Shit, he's getting horny just thinking about it.
He sleeps throughout lunch and accidentally misses his next lecture, which makes him realize he probably should take Karasu in. The guy seems responsible enough to drag him to every class.
By the time classes finish, Shidou's fucking ready. He grabs his kit before practically sliding down the railing of the stairs, which sends like two people flying but who honestly cares? He heads into the locker rooms, and damn, there's a heavy chunk of people already here. Was the football team that exciting?
He doesn't bother looking for a locker, instead tossing his bag onto a bench near the center of the room. He starts unbuttoning his shirt with zero regard for the people currently trying to get changed.
That's when a hand grabs his shoulder. Instead of throwing whoever the hell is touching him off, he makes the effort to turn his head curiously instead. The guy standing in front of him isn't that short, but Shidou still easily looms over him. He's got salmon hair, red eyes, and kinda looks like a bitch.
"New recruits don't change here." He says with a frown, "Go to the far end over there."
Shidou averts his gaze to where the guy is pointing at, before slowly turning his head to make eye-contact again. He blinks once, before a sly smirk crawls over his lips. "Oh yeah? What if I don't want to?"
The man's brows furrow deeply, a snarl grabbing his expression as he steps closer, probably to assert dominance. Conversations falter around them, and now the attention's on them, not that Shidou's complaining. "Don't you know who you're speaking to? Now hurry up before you piss me off."
Shidou feigns a confused expression, before suddenly inching forward until their noses almost brush. The man flinches back, and its pretty pathetic but expected. "Nah. But if you wanna, you can go ahead and try make me?"
"You're really arrogant, you know that—"
The door slams open, and the man winces. Shidou doesn't bother to turn to see who just walked in. He keeps eye-contact, until the man's gaze falters.
"Sendou, you shouldn't be in here. We're starting tryouts give." A new voice, deep and loud without needing to force it, carries itself throughout the room.
"Yeah well I was planning to be out by now. It's not my fault I was bothered by disrespectful brats—"
"Sendou."
Shidou finally looks up, and huh, you don't see two different eye colours every day.
He's tall, probably taller than Shidou himself, with an amused yet calm expression. He cocks his head in the direction of the door, and Sendou stares at him for a few seconds before scoffing, storming out of the room.
The guy runs a hand through his hair before glancing at Shidou with mind curiousity before smirking, "Don't start riling up my players, yeah?"
Shidou huffs, slumping down on the bench with a laugh, "Teach your players not to be so hot-headed. It's too fun."
The man just sighs, before leaving. The locker room is audibly tensed, like everyone's afraid to break the silence. Shidou finishes getting changed, ties his laces, and heads out of the room and down to the field.
With it being mid fall, the sky is a little darkened. The field smells faintly of rain and dew, and a chilly breeze brushes against Shidou's skin, urging an excited shudder out of him. He stretches his hands out in front of himself, cracking his knuckles as he does so before preparing himself.
He could feel eyes everywhere, locking in on him like he's a fifteen-marker chemistry question, and the thick breeze isn't enough to cover their hushed whispers. But Shidou doesn't dwell on them. In all honesty, they're all irrelevant, pathetic leeches. If they can't hold their own against him, they're nothing.
All the tryouts are is a scrimmage. Twenty people split into four groups, and unfortunately, Shidou finds himself playing last. He sleeps for the most-while. Everyone is just so plain and fucking boring that it drains him to a pulp. But the moment the sound signalling the end of the first match erupts, Shidou jumps up with a grin, rolling his shoulders before hopping off the sidelines.
As he waits for the game to start, Shidou looks out onto the observers. Other from the coach and another woman, they're all players. Shidou notices the multi-coloured-eye guy, oh, and the hot-headed dickface. There's a bunch of others, but Shidou weirdly finds himself narrowing down on someone standing on the edge, looking so uninterested he could die. It's a little dark, so Shidou can't see him clearly. But he's got pinkish hair, or is that maroon? And he kinda looks like a girl. Whatever, the main thing is that he's probably hot.
All of a sudden, the whistle blows, and Shidou immediately snaps back into focus.
Now, he's not trying to be cocky. Ugh, what is he kidding. He fucking demolished that match. It was almost too easy. It was rough, and harsh, and he managed to score around fifteen goals. Or was it sixteen?
Though, he has to admit it wasn't fully his effort. There was some kid, probably a freshman, who just gave the greatest fucking passes. It was too good. Anyway, Shidou's feeling a little regretful now. Sure, he's certain he has a determined spot on the team, but he could've stopped at ten. Now his thighs are sore after some bastard practically tried to stab him with an elbow to the leg.
He enters the locker rooms after taking a shower with a groan, grabbing a towel and drying his hair. Is this even the right room? Well it looks the same, so whatever.
He puts on his boxers, and then a pair of basketball shorts Karasu meticulously had to spare, before heavily sighing. He has a few yen left, so he could probably get some fried chicken on his way back. And maybe a red bull. But right now, he still feels restless. He may have played well, but the adrenaline buzzing through his veins shows it's clear he's still excited and needs a very urgent date with his hand to take the edge off.
But he doesn't even get to unzip his boxers when the door rattles open.
Shidou turns his head, a towel slung carelessly over his damp hair, ready to offer some biting, Shidou-esque remark about whoever was foolish enough to interrupt his post-game muscle-soothing session.
But the words die in his throat.
The hot guy, the one from earlier, is standing right in front of him. Now that he can see him clearly, Shidou can second his original opinion and say that damn, this guy really is hot. Teal eyes. Long lashes. Under the harsh locker-room lights, he looks almost unreal.
Shidou takes the risk of lowering his gaze, which future him will greatly appreciate in his dreams. The guy's got a great body, and a nice ass too. He stares shamelessly for a little too long, waiting for the guy to scold him. But when it never comes, Shidou reluctantly lifts his gaze back to meet his eyes.
He's staring at Shidou with the same nonchalance and lack of interest that he had back on the field. Shidou honestly thinks he's not going to talk at all, until the man walks right past him. "You gonna keep eyeing me, or are you gonna get out?"
Shidou snaps back into reality, huffing out laughter as he watches the man open one of the lockers. "If it were up to me, I'd keep staring. Then again, I doubt I'd be able to stop there."
The man stills, just for a second, before he reaches for his bag and scoffs, "Disgusting."
"I don't mind. As long as you give me a name so that I don't sound pathetic tryna chase a high to someone I can't even moan out."
The man chooses to ignore him, closing the locker shut and moving to walk right past Shidou again. But Shidou makes the decision of grabbing the man by his wrist. It's small, Shidou thinks, how cute.
The man doesn't tense. Shidou takes this as an opportunity to keep pressing, "I'm Shidou. I joined the school like— two days ago. You don't look like you belong here."
"Oh yeah?" The man turns his head, easily meeting Shidou's heated gaze without an ounce of emotion. "I don't recall asking."
Shidou laughs, about to say something else, until suddenly he feels a sharp pain dig into the exact spot he got injured on his thigh earlier. He yelps, knees bucking as he crashes against the ground with a thud. Did this guy really just kick him? He groans, pressing his palms against his thigh before looking up.
"Well damn," Shidou says through gritted teeth. "If you wanted me on my knees so bad, you could've asked. I wouldn't have said no."
The man maintains eye-contact for barely more than a few seconds before he turns away with indifference.
When the door closes shut, and Shidou's left alone once again, he slumps back with a chuckle.
Maybe the guy made him join this school was right.
This year was gonna be one whole lot of a challenge.