As Shirase and Nakano Itsuki left, Miura Yumiko crouched beside Hayama Hayato and asked gently, "You alright?"
"It's just surface stuff. I'll be fine in a couple days."
Hearing that, Yumiko lowered her voice. "You were too impulsive just now."
Hayama didn't answer directly. He kept looking in the direction Shirase had gone. "You've always wondered why I pay special attention to Shirase, right?"
"Hm?" Yumiko blinked, caught off guard.
As if he hadn't noticed, Hayama went on, almost to himself. "At first, I just wanted to be friends—he blew up right when school started, and I was curious about his whole 'hero' thing. I didn't think too hard about it. If he hadn't wanted to hang out, I wouldn't have forced it."
His tone shifted. "But then I saw how seriously he studies every day. After I dragged him into the soccer club, I realized Shirase's actually way more impressive than me."
"Seriously?" Yumiko was genuinely surprised.
Hayama smiled, sounding relieved. "I mean it. Like that recent pop quiz—he's already passed me academically. And even in soccer, where I've always done well, he's left me in the dust."
He paused, then added, "If nothing unexpected happens, a lot of pro teams are going to notice him."
Thinking of Shirase's explosive speed on the field, he had to admit the captain was right. Thank goodness Shirase was on their side.
"Could he really go pro?" Yumiko's interest was piqued. Someone from their school making it big was a fun thought.
"I don't know. Depends on whether Shirase wants it. But with his current level, even in a pro youth program he'd break into the first team easily. More than that, he's a genuinely good guy—someone worth being friends with. Looks like my read on him was right."
...
Under the night sky, Shirase and Itsuki walked quietly toward home.
They hadn't gone far when Shirase noticed her pausing now and then, brows drawn, her complexion a little off.
He stopped. "Did you twist your ankle when we ran?"
Itsuki gave a small, embarrassed "Mm," surprised he'd noticed.
Then Shirase crouched in front of her. "Get on. I'll carry you."
Itsuki instinctively wanted to refuse, but he cut her off. "Unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder. Imagine how that'd look."
"I do not!" she huffed, half indignant, half amused. She didn't hesitate further, climbing carefully onto his back, cheeks turning pink.
As he carried her, his voice softened. "Given our relationship, you don't have to act tough. And a twisted ankle isn't embarrassing. I used to sprain mine playing soccer."
"…It's not the same," Itsuki muttered. She felt useless for getting hurt and not helping—natural embarrassment for a prideful girl.
"It's basically the same. Just an ankle," Shirase said lightly.
Itsuki didn't answer. She leaned against his back, face warm, lashes fluttering.
So a boy's back is this warm and broad.
It was her first close contact with a boy, and she felt both shy and nervous.
Then Shirase spoke again. "If something like that happens again, run earlier. Don't just stand there."
"If it happens again, I'll call the police right away," she said, cheeks burning. Realizing how that sounded, she quickly added, "You're the dumb one."
"Fine, I'm the dumb one."
Hearing his deliberately helpless tone, her lips curled up.
Curiosity slipped into her voice. "Are you actually good at fighting?"
"Decent, I guess. You already know—when the school year started, I…"
"You fought your way from the school gate to the street. I've heard," Itsuki said with a bright laugh.
Shirase couldn't refute it—even if it had all been the damned system's fault.
He could only repeat, serious now, "Anyway, like I said—run early next time. If I lose, we're in real trouble."
"I'd buy medicine for you," Itsuki blurted, face going even redder.
Shirase paused, then laughed. "You might as well call an ambulance. That'd help more."
Itsuki lightly punched his shoulder, mortified. "Don't jinx it, idiot."
"Hey, I've put up with it long enough—calling me an idiot nonstop. Does the soccer club's ace have no pride?"
"Soccer club ace? You're just an idiot," she said, laughing even brighter.
"Also, could you not press so close? Your chest is right against my back."
Her smile vanished; her face flamed. "Who says that out loud? You idiot!"
"Again?"
"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!"
On the lively evening street, Itsuki lay against his back, smiling. She didn't loop her arms around his neck—not out of politeness, but because she was too embarrassed.
Under the streetlights, she stole glances at his profile, warmth spreading through her as she rested on his back.
This is so nice.
That was all she thought.
Nearby passersby—well past their teenage years—watched the teasing, bickering pair and couldn't help sighing to themselves:
Ah, that's what youth looks like.
When they reached her building, Shirase finally set her down at the door.
Before leaving, he reminded her, serious again, "Remember to put medicine on. If you end up limping Itsuki, that'd be pretty funny."
Itsuki shot him a look. "Do you think I'm as dumb as you? Of course I'll use medicine."
"Good. I'm off." Shirase turned to go.
Itsuki hesitated, then blurted, "Wait."
"What is it?" He turned back.
Her expression turned awkward; her eyes darted. "Um… about the photos… Is it really okay if I tell Nino?"
"Of course. Like I said, you can tell Nino openly. I'll tell her too." Shirase waved and stepped into the elevator.
Only when it started descending did Itsuki look away, cheeks glowing. She stood there for a moment, then smiled to herself. "Actually… I won't tell Nino. If you want her to know, tell her yourself."
She pulled out her phone, glanced at the photo they'd taken together, smiled, created a new private album, dropped the photo in, and locked it with a password.
When she knocked, Nakano Ichika opened the door. Seeing Itsuki's odd gait, Ichika asked, worried, "Are you hurt?"
"I twisted my ankle. Is Nino home?" Itsuki asked.
Supporting her inside, Ichika frowned slightly. "What time do you think it is? Where else would Nino be? Why?"
"No reason. Just curious." Itsuki smiled faintly.
Just curious, really.
---
T/N: uih oh
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