Childish Behaviors (Watching him win)

by MasaX2 (Ssen)

Summary:

The crowd cheered, but they knew. This thumbs-up was theirs. It was for them and no one else.
Watch me win, he had texted. Watch me win, his posture said.
Shindou nodded. They weren’t going to miss a second of it.

(Or: the "Earth Eleven surprise Ibuki by coming to his basketball match" fic I wanted to read and no one would write.

It was Tetsukado who had originally suggested it. 

But as soon as everyone else agreed, it was Shindou who took the matter into his own hands to make sure it would really happen. He booked train tickets for everyone, kept reminding the most forgetful ones to be on time. Tenma was his main worry. The boy was obsessed with soccer and only soccer, and could he be trusted if the ball was slightly harder and more… orange? That was debatable.

“Shindou, yes, I’ll remember,” Tenma had told him with an embarrassed little laugh. “You’ve told me about five times since we agreed on it!”

“What’s making you so anxious anyway?” Kirino added. “It’s not like you have to save the galaxy again. It’s just a match, it’s fine.”

Shindou did not answer. For some reason, he did not like Kirino taking part in this conversation. As much as he loved his best friend –and he really, really fucking did– he hadn’t been there with them back then. He could not understand exactly what was happening, the subtleties of it. Heck, he still disliked a few guys from Earth Eleven, out of some petty jealousy or feeling of rejection or something. Ibuki included. 

He stared down at the ground, lips tight, knowing Kirino had every right to be a little concerned. Shindou should not have brought it up during practice. That was on him. Yet he could not bring himself up to break the awkward silence that had settled.

“... It wouldn’t be the same if one of us was missing,” a deep voice ended up stating. Shindou glanced up, and Tsurugi was already looking back. Tsurugi knew. He understood. He had spent a lot of time with Ibuki, at the beginning; before he got kidnapped and replaced by a clone – God, that had been something. The two of them had practiced together, times and times again, even at night when everyone else was eating or resting. Ibuki was always the one to ask for it. For such a lone wolf, it had seemed easy for him to reach out to Tsurugi, out of everyone on the team. Yes, the two of them had been friends. He understood.

“Right.” Shindou answered with a nod. He picked the black and white ball up. “Okay everyone. Back to practicing.” 

 

___

It had been a mistake to worry at all. In the end, Shinsuke and Tenma seemed to be the most excited of all of them. 

“What.” Tsurugi deadpanned when he joined them at the train station. “Is… this.”

He looked the two first years up and down, one eyebrow arched at the sight of their matching dark-grey headbands, at the forest green tank tops they were wearing, with a big white “15” at the front, at the cardboard signs in Shinsuke’s hands and the rolled-up paper under Tenma’s arm. 

“Don’t ask,” Shindou answered with the same tone, but he was smiling. He quite liked Ibuki’s new team’s colors. It was not a big change from the black and green he wore in space, which suited him so, so much better than the white and blue of their jackets back then. The new green was a bit darker, a bit more subdued; not quite exactly as good as his goalkeeper uniform, but not bad. Shindou was not cheesy enough to say that dark greys and greens brought out Ibuki’s vivid mulberry eyes. But, well. It did.  

He was a bit curious to see what the cardboard and paper were about, though.

 

___

Ibuki texted them in their group chat, reminding them that his game was starting at 11. Once the four of them had settled in the train, Shindou looked at his phone and huffed a quiet chuckle. “ We know, Ibuki. ” he typed. Then he switched to their private conversation. 

to Ibuki, 9:28 am.

Shindou: Feeling ready? 

The answer was almost immediate. Shindou smiled and kept typing.

Ibuki: More than.

Ibuki: The match is recorded so don’t forget to watch it!

Shindou: Somehow I’m aware.

Shindou: I feel like I’ve been told so a few dozen times already. 

Ibuki: Yeah well that means now you have no excuse if you don’t!!

Shindou: Indeed.

Shindou: Ah, I guess that leaves me no choice.

Shindou: Did you sleep?

Ibuki: Yeah

Shindou: How much?

Ibuki: Not much

Ibuki: So sorry, mum

Shindou: I’m not your mum. 

Shindou: Just take care of yourself. 

Ibuki: I will when I’m done winning this season!!

Ibuki: But hey, I did sleep more than usual

Ibuki: I knew you’d scold me so I didn’t train too late

Shindou: Thank you.

Ibuki: ???

Ibuki: For not training??

Shindou: For trying to sleep more. 

 

Ibuki: I mean

Ibuki: It’s not like I did it for you 

Ibuki: I mean I know I gotta be at my very best today

Ibuki: The FINALS, man!!

Again, Shindou smiled, having learned to recognize when Ibuki got flustered even through texts. He then switched back to their group chat, which was full of notifications already. He scrolled through the messages but did not answer. Tenma and Tetsukado’s enthusiasm and Matatagi’s sass were already more than enough, he thought. 

“Any progress?” Tsurugi’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up, and the boy nodded toward his phone. Shindou hesitated. 

“...Yes and no.” 

He left it at that. Tsurugi was strangely observant and perceptive when it came to… more-or-less-romance-related things. He had not been there when the two of them had been saved by soccer-playing birds on a volcanic planet – definitely a bonding experience –, but when he returned he had been very quick to realize that things between them had… shifted. The way Shindou seemed softer, kinder to their goalkeeper. The way he allowed Ibuki to seek his presence, how they would always stand or sit next to each other when they could. It had not even been conscious on his part, and probably not on Ibuki’s either. They had just… gotten closer. Unlocking a spirit animal from deep within after nearly facing death together would do that to some people.

Though, if Shindou was honest, it had started a bit earlier – there were a lot of memories he made on this planet that ended up being dear to him, somehow. He kept them close to his heart, never really understanding why they felt so important, so nostalgic. He remembered Ibuki’s messy hair spread on his pillow when he turned his worried eyes to him, the darkness around them as the boy finally, finally seemed to open up a little. He remembered the softness of his voice when it was just the two of them, the numerous times they saved each other, the trust, the care, the fingers around his wrist. It was all a blur of heavy feelings and deep heartbeats, something he could not really make sense of. He just knew that things had changed. Their relationship was already ambiguous before that little kidnapping session. It had been even worse since then. The kind of worse that made Shindou feel soft and very, very heavy at the same time. 

 

He felt stupid to admit it, even to himself, but he really could not wait to see Ibuki again. 

 

A new notification lit up his phone screen and he shook himself back to reality. If Tsurugi was still staring at him with a thoughtful pout on his lips and both eyebrows raised, he decided to ignore it. And if he heard him shift closer to Tenma and whisper something about needing to find a way to leave these two alone together at some point, he did not comment. The new message was more important, and his traitorous heart thumped.

Ibuki: Watch me win, Shindou. 

A second passed, Shindou’s thumbs hovering above his screen. 

 

___

Shindou: Make it worth watching, Ibuki. 

 

___

The emotions that Shindou felt because of Ibuki often made him feel childish. This was so unlike him, he thought, to react this way. To feel his heart speeding up when he received a particular text. To stutter because of an unexpected touch. To glare at a school building with a wariness bordering on hostility. 

I am more mature than this, he thought to himself. He was not foolish. He knew a mere building couldn’t hurt anyone… unless it crumbled into ruins, which at the moment did not seem likely. But it was his first time seeing Ibuki’s new school, and while his former teammate did seem happy in the texts they exchanged since he transferred, Shindou couldn’t help inspecting all its nooks and crannies as if he was looking for a hidden menace. Could he really trust this place to take good care of his friend? The goalkeeper needed something that could challenge him, but also bring him reassurance and advice. That was hard to find. As the whole team walked in the corridors, chatting and laughing, he kept quiet. He did not like this place. It was not good enough. Though he could not pinpoint exactly why .

It was childish anyway. He shook his head, hair dancing in the air for a second before falling back into its usual flowy shape. He was being stupid. 

To distract himself from these thoughts, he chatted with Sakura and Konoha, catching up. It had been a while.

 

___

There was something weird about being the ones in the stands. Today’s match was held in Ibuki’s school, and when they entered it, Shindou’s eyes fell on the soccer field by force of habit. Sakura’s focused on the gymnasium, Matatagi’s on the running track. Neither of those was where they were heading. Instead, the seats around the basketball court were rapidly filling up, and they had to hurry to find a place where they could all sit together. 

“What on earth is that ?!” Matatagi’s laugh caught Shindou’s attention. Tenma had unrolled his paper. It was a whole two-meter-long banner. It was painted in greens and pinks, the calligraphy hazardous at best and the corners scattered with little drawings Shindou was not always sure how to interpret. 

“It’s so we can cheer Ibuki on!” Tenma beamed. “Shinsuke and I made it together!!”

Matatagi shamelessly cackled, and Minaho looked like he wanted to as well. Sakura, Tsurugi and Manabe didn’t make much effort to hide their unimpressed faces. The banner was not exactly pretty, but it made Shindou smile. “GO, IBUKI, GO” occupied most of the space, even bigger than the name and emblem of the school itself. For some reason, he felt even more excited and impatient after seeing it. It was cute, and made him think of Ibuki’s own awkward kind of charm. 

He closed his eyes and sighed, a warm smile stretching his lips. How ridiculous. 

“It’s nice,” he ended up praising. “Thank you for doing this. It’s very thoughtful of you.” 

Shinsuke and Tenma stayed quiet for a moment, visibly caught off guard. Then, the joy kicked in, and, synchronized as always, they beamed in pride. Excited, Shinsuke proceeded to show them the cardboard signs. 

Matatagi’s laugh only grew louder, and even Shindou’s smile turned embarrassed. If those were supposed to represent Ibuki, then… he hoped the goalkeeper was a better player than those two were painters. 

Both Kusaka and Tetsukado requested one sign, so they could hold them up during the match. Shindou took one as well. Tsurugi decided to hold one side of the banner. 

 

Shindou felt warm. 

 

___

Ibuki was not the team’s captain. He had been asked, but it was his decision not to accept. He was new in the school, and insecure about his capacity to get along with this team. He never said so, of course, this was not something he would ever admit. But Shindou knew. Teamwork had worked, in the end, when Earth Eleven were playing together. But would Ibuki be able to keep it up with different people? Had he really changed, or was it just because their team was special, unique? Were they an exception? Could he make Shindou proud by applying what he had taught him to another team, or would he disappoint him and go back to what he was before? Selfish, arrogant, untrusting?

He did not seem to know that Shindou was already proud, had been since the moment Ibuki decided to give basketball another try. Or was it even before, when he mentioned wanting to get a clean start in a new school where he could try to get along with his teammates? Was it when they saved the universe, when Shindou gazed at his surprised, dumbfounded face as he held his large hand in his? Or was it when Ibuki yelled “Help me, Shindou” from the goals, all those months ago? 

He had been proud for a while. 

Now he just wanted to see him play. 

 

___

 

Ibuki was not the team’s captain, so he was not the first to enter the court. Yet the moment a messy mop of snow-white hair was spotted, one part of the stands suddenly got much, much louder. Even Konoha joined, with her small voice that could barely be heard over Shinsuke and Tetsukado’s yells. Shindou did not make a sound, though he would have probably wanted to, normally. 

Ibuki simply looked handsome in his basketball clothes. And had he grown taller since the last time they saw each other, or was it an illusion because his pants were a bit shorter than the ones he wore for soccer? Had his shoulders always been this broad, his arms this toned? Had he always… looked so good? 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Proximity makes it thump. So heavily that for a moment, Shindou’s chest hurt. 

 

___

He would make sure to remember the sight of Ibuki’s shocked face, he told himself. The second they were spotted, fierce, sharp mulberry eyes widened. Lips parted for a moment as those irises slowly scanned the seats his former team was occupying. He needed to pay attention to what the referee was saying, needed to play his part and look serious and solemn until the game started. But his head kept turning to them, incredulous as he was, and those eyes kept meeting theirs. Shindou had a constant smirk on his lips, a chuckle stuck in his throat, threatening to bubble out any moment. He watched as Ibuki read the signs. Watched the surprise turn into amusement, then exasperation mixed with fondness that anyone else but them wouldn’t have been able to spot. 

 

GO, IBUKI, GO!!!

 

Ibuki Munemasa, savior of the galaxy and basketball genius

 

Ibuki champion! Ibuki champion!

 

YOU CAN DO IT IBUKI!!!! (from your fave goalie :D ;) )

 

Soccer is proud of you!!!

 

The white-haired boy shook his head at them, mirth in his eyes. His huge grin turned determined and arrogant. Good, that part hadn’t changed. And with a confident smirk, he raised his hand to the sky.

The crowd cheered, but they knew. This thumbs-up was theirs. It was for them and no one else. 

Watch me win, he had texted. Watch me win, his posture said. 

 

Shindou nodded. They weren’t going to miss a second of it. 

 

___

If Ibuki in the cages had become a comforting view, something that they could see behind their back and feel reassured by, something they could trust… Ibuki on a basketball court was something else. He seemed to shine brighter. It felt like the spotlight was on him, all the time, every second. His team was good, of course, that was part of why he chose this school after all. Both teams were excellent, actually. As should be expected for the finals. And maybe Shindou was biased, but Ibuki was stealing the show from everyone. He was on a whole other level. He did not understand everything at basketball but he knew for sure that no one in this room could compare.

And it made him so, so, so proud, he felt he could implode from the feeling alone. 

 

“Come on Ibuki!!” Manabe shouted when the other team scored. “According to my calculations there’s a 92% chance for you to win!”

“Yeah! So if you lose it means you’re really really shitty!!” Matatagi added. 

“You can do it!!” Tetsukado yelled a bit later.

“Yes!! Well done! Again!!” Shindou found himself joining, heart beating fast. 

“IBUKI CHAMPION!!”

“Come on, come on!!!”

Ibuki scored. His focused, intense expression turned into a big, big smile for a second.

Everyone in Tenma’s former team mirrored it. Yes. Even Tsurugi.

 

___

Because it made him feel very childish, Shindou didn't like admitting to himself that he might, maybe, possibly, have been a little bit in love. Yet there were times when it just hit him like a train, so hard and fast he could do absolutely nothing to shield himself from it. And how could Ibuki ever doubt how proud of him Shindou was? When he was… like this ?!

He was playing so well. He was simply impressive. And if he hadn't known how new this team was for him, Shindou would have thought they had been playing together for years. Their amazing teamwork was obvious when Ibuki ran towards the basket and everyone else defended for him. It was obvious when he jumped, bright orange ball in his hands and the defenders from the other team jumped as well, blocking him, and no one panicked. It was very, very obvious when Ibuki smirked at them, all smug and confident and handsome, and threw the ball… behind his back. 

Blindly. 

Without looking. 

And as if he already knew it, as if he had eyes at the back of his head, one of his teammates was there, ready to receive it. When Ibuki landed on the floor, so did the defenders. The path was all clear for Ibuki’s teammate to shoot. 

3 more points for the forest green team. 

Shindou cheered at the top of his lungs. 

 

Afterward, he was left so flustered that he received a pat on his shoulder from Tsurugi, a much less gentle hit on the other one from Ichikawa, a bright happy laugh from Tenma, and a smartass comment from Minaho. The room felt warm, and he might have been blushing from the tip of his ears to the base of his neck. 

Sometimes it just hit him with a force so strong that it was a wonder it left him alive at all. And to see Ibuki be so happy, so smug about an action made in duo with someone from his team, to see him so damn proud … He had come so far, grown so much. And as he always did, he had worked so hard. It made Shindou feel like… like something heavy and full to the brim with water that threatened to spill from the corner of his eyes. 

It's just a match, Kirino had said. 

He really, really did not get it. 

 

___

The other team, though Shindou knew basically nothing about them, was not an opponent to underestimate. They were good. There were a few times when the soccer team felt scared– times when Shindou bit his lip and tightened his grip around the railings, heartbeat speeding like crazy; times when Sakura exclaimed “Nooo!!” in a plaintive voice; times when Tsurugi squinted his eyes and cringed; times when even Matatagi winced with a little “oof” breathed through gritted teeth. But the outcome of the match was never questioned. 

Ibuki won, of course he did. 

He had never been good at doing anything else. 

Yells of joy and relief echoed everywhere in the room, shoes squeaked against the smooth floor, strong laughs emerged. Some green-clothed players hugged each other, others high-fived, wrapped arms around each other’s shoulders. No one tried to hug Ibuki, they must have known how weirded out he was by this kind of contact, how unused to it he was. But as he was celebrating their victory the way he always used to – big bright grin and tight fist held up in the air while he yelled that “ they did it!!!! ”, tearing an indulgent, affectionate chuckle from all his former teammates, a man with light sage green hair elbowed him on the side. Ibuki startled a little, surprised, then smiled wide at his teammate, and elbowed him back. Another one came and punched him playfully on his shoulder. A third one was somehow tall enough to reach up and ruffle his hair. 

Ibuki was letting them, accepting and retaliating, smirking as they all played with the public who looked delighted to see such joy on their favorite team’s faces. The clapping had a hard time dying down, even when the other team left the court, when some seats began emptying. 

In the midst of all of this, Ibuki eventually turned to them, chest heaving, chin up, tall and proud. He met their eyes and raised a brow.

And Shindou was so, so proud of his team that his whole chest started feeling so warm it burned a little. Because in one single, synchronized movement, without consulting each other, all eyes kept on Ibuki… 

They all gave him a thumbs-up. 

The grin on Ibuki’s face was unmatchable. 

 

___

A simple nod towards the changing rooms had been enough to make them understand that Ibuki would meet them outside. The exchanges between them all along the match, however, had drawn attention to them, and some people eventually recognized them as Earth Eleven , the soccer team, the bunch of kids who saved the world. They had become some kind of celebrities when they landed back on Earth after the tournament, and although now, months after, things had started slowly dying down, people couldn’t seem to miss this opportunity. In small groups they came to ask questions, shake hands, congratulate, ask for autographs. And thus had started a big game of hide and seek. 

Matatagi had always been the best of them at avoiding these kinds of crowds. “ I’m an asshole and I’m fast, ” he would say, scoffing smugly. “ There’s nothing they can do. ”

Shindou usually had a harder time. He had come to accept that sometimes, people’s eyes would fall on him when he entered a room, no matter the context. He was not tall, and he didn’t consider himself anything special, really – he dressed normally, had a pretty ordinary hair color, and was not loud in public by any means. Still, people seemed to see him more than his friends, for some reason, and that made escaping them all the more difficult. He laughed and panted as he and Manabe roamed the corridors, trying to find a decent hiding place. They knew, deep down, that it was pretty rude to run away from people like this, and the media probably wouldn’t like it. But they were young, barely teens – something people tended to forget, sometimes – and honestly they just wanted to spend some time with their victorious friend. They were happy, and excited, and impatient, which for people their age was a highway to being chaotic, a little thoughtless; dumb, even. Shindou pressed his back against a classroom door and a hand against his mouth to muffle his chuckles, and he felt free. 

 

___

They had broken out into small teams, and most of them were already before the changing room’s door when Shindou and Manabe arrived, finally alone. Smiles on all their faces, they were chatting and playing, waiting for the Boy Of The Day to make his grand appearance. Shindou took the time to look at each of them, endeared. It had been a while since they had all been able to gather like this, a bit more than a full month, and despite what some of them would say, they had all felt the absence. After spending so much time together and facing so much hardship, all day, every day, going back to their respective lives had been a shock. Separating had been more than that. It had been… a bit painful. Well, maybe even more than a bit. They tried to meet often, but having saved the galaxy did not mean that they were free from school, tight schedules, strict parents, and dysfunctional means of transport. Sometimes they couldn’t see each other for weeks.

Yet, in this unknown place with white walls and scarily high ceilings, it felt like nothing had changed at all. 

Konoha and Kusaka were holding hands like nothing had changed at all. 

Sakura was getting mad at Minaho like nothing had changed at all. 

Matatagi was averting his eyes and scratching his cheek, flustered by Tenma’s enthusiasm, like nothing had changed at all. 

Tsurugi was listening to Tetsukado and Shinsuke’s incessant retelling of the basketball match, hands in his pockets and gaze calm and indulgent, like nothing had changed at all. 

“Don’t get all emotional on us now,” Manabe warned. “Ibuki is gonna be there soon.” 

Shindou turned his head to him. He chuckled at how flustered his friend looked despite having said this. There was no way to mistake the emotion on Manabe’s own face, the way he avoided his gaze while pushing his glasses up his nose, the fake annoyed face, the subtle blush across the back of his neck. He, too, was soft.

Shindou closed his eyes and put a hand on his hip. 

“Right. You’re right.” he sighed, smiling. “Now is not the time.” 

 

___

When Ibuki exited the locker room, it was with a calm, casual gaze, laid-back demeanor, and an eyebrow raised. “What are you all doing here?” he asked in that deep voice of his. Shindou had to pretend his heart didn’t miss a beat.

The thing was, Ibuki had been the first of his team to get out, his hair was still wet and even more unruly than usual, raining small water droplets on his headband and down his neck. He was wearing his jacket inside out, and his bag wasn’t fully closed, wrinkled clothes coming out from one side and threatening to fall. If Ibuki wanted to pretend he didn’t rush his shower to meet them as fast as he possibly could, he was failing. 

And, honestly, wasn’t that just adorable?

“We came to see you play!!” Shinsuke exclaimed, practically jumping to Ibuki’s side, all excited and happy to see him. The basketball player looked down at him, giving him a nod and a soft smirk, while everyone else, Shindou included, also stepped closer.

“I saw that,” he stated. “So what’d you think, heh? Pretty great right?” 

“Heck yeah!! The moment when you–”

They started talking, often on top of each other, trying to greet Ibuki and get greeted back. He, of course, was enjoying the attention immensely and was grinning from ear to ear, even if he kept being interrupted left and right. Shindou, keeping quiet, walked even closer and took the strap of the taller’s bag to slide it down his long arm. Ibuki looked at him weirdly, raising both eyebrows, but he was so distracted by the others that he let it go. 

It was when Shindou started taking the jacket off of him that he really reacted. Shindou was trying to be soft about it, pulling the sleeve delicately, and yet it made him all tense. How unfortunate.

“Yeah, yeah, our Captain’s pretty great– Shindou what are you doing?!” 

Shindou blinked innocently and gave him a coy smile. “Six-feet-something tall already, and you still haven’t learned how to dress, Ibuki? Does your grandma help you into your clothes every morning?” 

“Ah.” Ibuki made, looking down at his jacket. Because of his tan skin, the teenager did not blush easily, but Shindou could see how flustered he got just from the look in his eyes. “...Oh, right, it’s inside out.” 

He started taking off the garment, but Shindou still helped, keeping it in his hands. And when it was done, he held it for Ibuki the way his maids and butlers sometimes held his coat for him, with all the elegance and poise that was requested from them, and Ibuki frowned. 

“I can put it on myself, you know?”

Shindou’s smile stretched larger. “Can you, really?” he mocked. “Because it did seem–”

“Oh, shut up.” Ibuki cut him off, rolling his eyes, getting that little rasp in his voice that sometimes appeared when he was annoyed. Shindou chuckled, and Ibuki let him help him into his jacket, complaints kept silent but not unseen, and they both tried to ignore the unimpressed look they were getting from their teammates. 

Instead, Shindou kept a soft smile on his lips when he smoothed the fabric over Ibuki’s chest, knowing that Ibuki was allowing it, despite how flustered it got him, only because it was from Shindou . 

Unimpressed stares, he could deal with. He almost chuckled thinking of the reaction Kariya would have had instead had he been there, the blush and the loud complaints and the obvious disgust he would have shown at seeing him so blatantly and shamelessly–

 

… 

 

… Flirting? 

Was that what it was?

The thing was, there was something so lovely about teasing Ibuki. He loved doing it, loved seeing the reaction it got out of him. How he struggled to keep his unbothered and confident demeanor, how he averted his eyes and frowned to hide his embarrassment, how he smiled and scoffed sometimes when Shindou was sarcastic because he knew the meaning behind it. It was gratifying to be the one to make him react this way, to be the only one who could get these expressions and this tone of voice out of him. 

It made him feel less alone in this. As if this… thing between the two of them was not something that Shindou had to endure, but something that they shared, and could overcome together. Something that could be fun. Something… pleasant and comfortable.

 

“Where’s Ichikawa, anyway? I thought I saw him in the stands.” 

Just like that, as if nothing happened, the conversation started again. They all ignored what happened, not commenting, and the pianist felt very smug and maybe even a little bit giddy for a moment.

“Oh, he’s still chatting with his fans, I think!”

“Yeah. He’s never been good at escaping them.” 

“You know, I think he might actually like it. Being “famous” and all that.”

“...Still, we should probably go save him.” 

They walked down the corridors again, trying to spot their friend, and Shindou was reminded, again, of how this thing in his chest felt a lot lighter when Ibuki was by his side, as if there were now two pairs of hands to carry the weight of it. And Ibuki had always had strong hands and arms, hadn't he?

They shared a look. Ibuki’s eyes were inexpressive, closed off as always, but Shindou could read through him. He smiled and nodded. Ibuki hesitated a second, then nodded back. 

 

___

“Are you sure this is not a bother for you guys?” Tetsukado asked the basketball team, but it was Ibuki who answered instead. A huff, a roll of his eyes, and a loud, deep voice. 

“Of course it’s not! They talk so much about you guys it’s honestly becoming annoying. They’ve been pestering me to make them meet the saviors of the galaxy for months!”

“Well then… okay!!” Tenma exclaimed. “Let’s all eat together!” 

When Tenma used that voice, they were all programmed to answer “yeah!!” with clenched fists and bright grins. Force of habit; the captain could find optimism and enthusiasm from deep within the worst people and wrench it out with only smiles and kind words. Their synchronized reaction brought amused smiles from some of the forest-green team players, especially from the one with sage green hair. He was the team’s captain, it seemed, and elbowed Ibuki, joking about him being way less obedient when he was the one giving orders. 

Ibuki’s answer was a cheeky shrug, and he started saying that, yeah, but it was because his demands were way less appeal–

But then he cut himself off, because he had suddenly noticed the missing weight on his shoulder. He looked down at himself, before his eyes frantically darted around, searching. Until they fell on Shindou and he froze. 

The pianist tilted his head, playful. “Something’s the matter?” he asked with a slow smile. Ibuki huffed, incredulous. The corner of his lips twitched almost unperceivably.

“Have you been carrying that this whole time?” he pointed at the dark bag Shindou had thrown on his shoulder a while ago, when Ibuki was so into his conversation with the others that he had completely forgotten about it.

“Yes.”  Shindou nodded. “A problem?” 

Again, Ibuki looked like he simply could not believe him. He blinked, dumbfounded, shook his head, and finally, frowned. “No problem,” he answered, offering Shindou his hand, one eyebrow raised as he waited for him to return the bag to his owner. 

Shindou lightly chewed the inner corner of his lips. He was toying with the idea of just taking Ibuki’s hand – intertwine their fingers together and pull Ibuki forward, probably saying something about them having to go to the restaurant, or about him getting hungry. That would surprise and fluster the white-haired teenager, but perhaps it was a bit… too much. Shindou liked teasing him, sure, but he didn’t want to… break him. Or offend him. He wanted it to stay kind and light, and… somewhat subtle. It was all a bit unknown to him, the way he was behaving. He was having fun, but it was also a bit scary. There was a line he knew he shouldn’t cross. He just wasn’t sure where it was. This maybe-flirting thing that he had initiated had to be nice for the both of them. He needed to tread carefully. 

So he just stared at the extended hand instead, looking Ibuki down and up again, making it very obvious that he had seen it and decided to ignore it. “So, where are we going?” he asked the sage-haired captain, turning around, ignoring Ibuki’s annoyed tsk. He received a kind, soft smile from the older man, who had a spark of playfulness in his eyes. He totally knew what he was doing. 

 

___

“Excuse me, but can I sit here? It’s been a while since I’ve been able to chat with Ibuki. I’d like to catch up.” 

The dark-haired basketball player who had claimed the seat next to Ibuki looked up at him. He had thin eyes, with a color so light they looked almost transparent and contrasted with his dark skin. The way he stared made Shindou feel a bit intimidated, almost like he was analyzed, and, of course, he hated it. He stood his ground, keeping the smile on his face kind and polite.

The man turned his stoic gaze to Ibuki, as if asking for his opinion. And why would he need to do that? Why would he think Ibuki might not want Shindou to sit next to him? He was his friend, one of his best friends even, probably. He had every right to want to be next to him. They were always next to each other, it was almost a rule. Back when they were in space, after their time on Gurdon, they had spent so much time together that it was hard to get used to the other’s absence now. Sometimes, Shindou still had the impulse to glance to his right and find pinkish eyes already looking, communicating in their own way. Sometimes Ibuki’s lips would twitch in the smallest hint of a smirk and he’d make a small head gesture towards someone, and they would silently mock whoever that was, for no particular reason, just because they liked smiling together. Sometimes Ibuki would be frowning, tense with worry, anxious in a closed-off way that only Shindou could read, and he would try to reassure him with a soft look, a nod, maybe even a touch if he was feeling brave. 

But lately, most often, there would be no pinkish eye at all, and Shindou would be left with the bitter taste of loneliness at the back of his throat. 

His time shared with the goalkeeper was getting so rare, so sparse. He didn’t appreciate someone trying to take it away from him, and he did not appreciate those expressionless eyes. That guy was rude. 

Ibuki didn’t seem to appreciate it, either. He returned the stare without a word, but one of his short eyebrows was arched, provocative. Like he was daring the guy to say something about it. It lasted a few seconds too long, during which they seemed to be communicating in a way that Shindou wasn’t sure how to interpret – and didn’t that make him frustrated. He waited, smile growing tighter and tighter. 

In the end, the guy relented. He sighed. “A’right,” he mumbled, changing seats. He didn’t spare another glance for Shindou, who couldn’t tell if that made him less irritated or even more. Yeah, for real, that guy was rude . 

“Ah, me too, please!!” Tenma exclaimed and requested the place on Ibuki’s other side. It was given to him without trouble this time. 

“So, what, have you suddenly become popular or something?” Matatagi asked in a provocative tone that contrasted with how fast he sat opposite of them. “Can’t understand why.” 

“Yeah, I’m not surprised that you can’t relate,” Ibuki sassed back with a broad smirk, leaning forward to cross his arms on the table. It made Matatagi frown and his eyebrow twitch. 

Shindou didn’t exactly listen to his answer. He was busy staring at Ibuki, watching the joy and playfulness on his face, the light in his vivid eyes. He had such a broad smile, all the time. Even when he was facing something dangerous, it was still there. Hadn’t he been grinning, too, when the birds were carrying them, just before they threw them into that volcano? Shindou couldn’t quite remember – the fear and adrenaline had made everything blurry, like it had all happened in a fraction of a second. But he was pretty sure that he had seen the flash of that big, big smile, and a deep voice yelling “ Bring it on!!! ” or something similar. Even in situations like these, Ibuki was brave and bold and wore that fierce grin on his face. Shindou hadn’t had time to be impressed back then. He was, now. For some reason.

Seeing Tenma so excitable, and the soft smile on Tsurugi’s face, and their bickering with Matatagi, it always got Shindou a little warm, a little nostalgic. But Ibuki had a patient, open look on his face when he caught him staring, and that was what really made Shindou relax all the way. He came back to reality, blinking. When he exhaled, he decided to put a smile on his own lips, too. Smaller, of course, because that was who he was. A calmer, quieter version of Ibuki’s more obvious pride and stubbornness.

Ibuki tilted his head and smiled back, a little tentative. 

“So, that was quite the match,” Shindou told him, hiding the sudden overwhelming feeling in his lungs by opening the menu. “How have you been, Ibuki?” 

“Good, yeah. Great. Been training a lot. You?” 

“Just as well.” 

Slowly, he looked up. And they stared. Both a bit shy, a bit curious, though neither showed it outwardly. Once again, something that only they could see. They tried to find answers in each other’s eyes, to figure out what they should say, how they should be acting. 

The waitress interrupted them, and Shindou hurried to hide his face back in the menu. His cheeks felt warm. 

How childish. 

 

___

Despite the awkward start, their lunch was definitely going well. Shindou was immersed in a very interesting conversation with Ibuki’s captain and the rude guy sitting next to him, who seemed less and less rude and more… cold and reserved, like Tsurugi had been at first and still was sometimes, even after all this time, when he built his walls back up. The musician was much less talented when it came to dealing with these kinds of people than Tenma, who could seduce anyone with his smiles and big soft puppy eyes, but he still was having a pleasant time. Ibuki’s team seemed… nice enough. Sure, Shindou was still wary, still thought that it was not exactly what Ibuki needed – again, he deserved a team that was both challenging and comforting, to keep him on his toes. That was how he worked best; being constantly pushed forward into getting better and better, but always having someone to train by his side, someone who wasn’t afraid to give critical advice, to be a little mean sometimes, if it meant that Ibuki could learn from it; but also someone who could look him dead in the eyes and tell him what to do, and that they would win, and that everything would be okay.

Someone like Shindou. 

Ibuki’s new captain, although lovely to talk to, seemed maybe a bit too nice, too lenient, and the rest of his teammates were huge fans of Earth Eleven for the most part, putting Ibuki on a pedestal that would, worst case scenario, bring the player into a false sense of security where he would think he’s done enough and he wouldn’t keep putting his absolute best in his plays. Of course, knowing him and his obsession with training and sports in general, it was not likely. But he knew how easily Ibuki could get trapped in a mindset that wouldn’t let him see what he was doing wrong, and that sometimes someone had to tell him, shake him, be harsh; bring him back to Earth and off of that unreachable platform his ego had put him on. None of these guys here seemed like they could tell him no . Too kind, too soft-spoken, too intimidated. 

But still, Ibuki was winning, and, most importantly, he was happy. He looked happy, much more than he did when the Japanese team was first formed and all he wanted was to prove Shindou wrong, more than he did in space when there was always something to worry about – the matches, the guilt of desperately trying to win despite knowing it would kill their opponents in the end, the pressure, Tsurugi’s kidnapping,... 

Now he was here, in a restaurant, happily chatting with Tenma, Tsurugi and Matatagi, while eating as much as four people at once and still finding time to grill some meat for Shindou and discretely put it on his plate when he thought he wasn’t looking. 

They had come a long, long way.

 

Shindou ate each bit with a smile, feeling all warm inside. Back then, Ibuki always had his fists clenched, his arms crossed, his jaw tense and lines below his eyes from all the frowning he was doing. The same went for the rest of the team. Shindou had quickly realized that everyone was expecting him to be the sane one, asking him whether they should believe Tenma and his visions, seeking him for advice. He had been trying his best to seem strong, had been fighting against tears of frustration more often than not. Tenma had been hopeful, then furious, then depressed, with no in-between. Konoha had been terrified, Kusaka had dealt with guilt and grief, Matatagi with shame and mistrust and self-hatred, and absolutely all of them with pressure; the weight of a planet on their shoulder. 

And now they were all smiling as if seeing each other was the simplest of joys, as if they had no worries in the world other than winning their next competitions, getting good grades, and how much they missed each other. And, apparently, cooking good meat. 

“Is it good?” Ibuki asked out of the blue, elbowing Shindou lightly to get his attention.

“Huh?” he answered, chopsticks frozen mid-air.

Ibuki nodded toward the piece of meat at the edge of Shindou’s plate. “I’m making them for you the way I eat them. But it might be too cooked for you. Should I grill them less?” 

He had a sincere, expecting look on his face, one hundred percent serious. It was sweet. Surprised he would acknowledge this at all instead of pretending he was not practically feeding Shindou himself, the musician took the time to bring the latest piece to his mouth and chew, enjoying the taste as well as the patient stare he was given. 

“Mh, it’s… fine.” He made sure to raise a brow, to look as vain and patronizing as he possibly could. “I eat better at home, but I’m sure it’s the best you can do.” 

A small shrug, and he blinked up at him, gauging his reaction. Ibuki had an annoyed smile on his face, his eyes closed as if he was trying very hard to keep his composure, to not yell in the middle of the restaurant. But then he sighed, and when he opened his eyes again, his smile was softer, and his gaze almost… affectionate. 

“You haven’t changed, Shindou.” He stated. That brought a larger smile out of him. 

“You have. You’ve grown taller again, haven’t you?”

“A bit, yeah. My grandma’s started complaining. It’s becoming a bit expensive to buy new clothes so often.” 

“And you’ve gotten a trim.” 

“Ah.” Ibuki blinked at him, surprised. “I have, you noticed? My hair was getting in my face even with the headband, it was annoying.” 

“It’s still messy, but it suits you. I like it.” 

The white-haired boy opened his mouth only to close it right after. “...Mh. Thanks.” He made in the end, averting his eyes to the grill in the middle of the table, where a piece of meat was burning. Shindou watched him put it to the side on his own plate, before placing two new pieces of meat to cook, still avoiding his gaze. 

He really hoped Ibuki was embarrassed for the right reasons, the ones that felt good. He hoped he felt as nice and comfortable as he did. He deserved it.

 

___

“You think it's funny, don't you?” 

Shindou turned to the transparent-eyed dude, caught off guard. Ibuki had excused himself from the table to go to the bathroom, and the basketball player seemed to think it was the right moment to start a conversation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Flirting with him, making him hope for something more and then retracting. You’re having fun, aren't you? You think it's a game?” 

“...Excuse me?” Shindou repeated, in a colder voice this time, very much disliking the tone the boy was using. If this was about his relationship with Ibuki, then he was really, really out of line. 

Eyelids closed before transparent irises for a moment and their owner sighed. “Listen. I know you're smart, a’right? That's like, your whole thing. So it can't be that you don't know. Ibuki’s feelings for you are obvious enough. You can't keep–” 

“Mate, that's enou–” Their captain started, only to get cut off. 

“No. It can't keep going on like this, don't you see? He'll end up getting hurt.” Mate, apparently that was his name, turned back to Shindou. His gaze was the same as before when the pianist required to change seats: intense yet almost empty-looking, judgemental, cold, analyzing. Remarkably irritating. “This is not what he deserves. Ibuki should have someone genuine. Someone who truly cares, and about all of him, not just the surface. Somehow you're lucky enough that he wants you, so stop playing around and do better.” 

“Mate, that’s–”

“Hey, don't talk to Shindou like that!” Tetsukado intervened, all tense and looking ready to get up and fight for Shindou’s honor. That was when Shindou noticed that everyone around the table was staring at them, frowning with various levels of anger or worry. Oh, that was just perfect.

Though flattered by Tetsukado’s intervention, Shindou felt like boiling. Because how dared that guy say something like that to him? How dared he pretend he knew Ibuki better? He had known him for a couple of months at most. Had he been in space with him? Had he lived with him for a while in a flying train? Had he saved the world by his side, to dare say something like that? 

The anger in Shindou’s veins was hot, but his answer was icy and slow. 

“Thank you for caring, Mate, but I do not think I have anything to learn from you when it comes to Ibuki.” He gritted out through the tightest of smiles. “I don’t know what is making you believe that you know his needs better than I do, but–”

“Because I’m looking.” Mate cut him off – that jerk – and his eyes still looked almost bored, but his voice had turned darker as well. “ Really looking. Because I am genuinely interested in who he really is.” 

“Oh, I see. So, just because you have a crush on him, you–” 

“I don’t have a crush on him, that’s the thing!” Mate should really stop cutting him off if he wanted Shindou to remain somewhat cordial. “I’m in love with him, for real. I’m not playing, I’m serious when it comes to him, not like you! You keep flirting, and you see he’s receptive, so what are you waiting for, huh? Are you gonna–” 

It was Shindou’s turn to interrupt him this time, mainly out of spite. “Why should I care about that? Just because you’re in love with him and he is not, I am not allowed to be a bit careful? Or shy?” 

“Is that what you’re being? Because to me it seems like you’ve just been toying with him and his feelings. No offense.” 

“Oh, none taken.” Shindou rested his chin on his hand and smiled sweetly, absolutely fuming. “I love it when people who don’t know the first thing about me just assume I’m a manipulative asshole. Always a delight .” 

“Well, maybe you–”

“That’s enough!” Tetsukado did stand up in the end, his fists clenched and shaking at his side. His chair made a big screeching sound that startled them both out of their nice little conversation.

“Yeah, that’s enough,” the captain nodded, more quietly, but he was definitely mad as well. “Mate, you’re way out of line. This is not how you welcome your teammate’s friends. Now you either stop it or you leave.”

Glancing at his captain, Mate’s transparent eyes went back to their normal, almost sleepy state. He released a little sigh and held both hands up in surrender. 

“Listen, if careful and shy is really how you feel about him, then I’m sorry for insinuating that you were not genuine. But still, you’re toying with him, you’re making him wait, and that’s a bit cruel. You should reflect on that.” 

“You have no right to say something like that,” Sakura mumbled, brows furrowed and arms crossed against her chest, not knowing when to stop. “It’s obvious to everyone here that Shindou is the right person for Ibuki. He’s perfect for him, so don’t you dare insult him!” 

Tsurugi, ever the sane one, tried to calm her down and get her to drop the subject with a light touch to her arm, all the while glaring at Manabe and Minaho who were both solemnly nodding at the other end of the table, and gesturing at Tetsukado to sit down. But it was already done, and again, Mate turned his annoying, expressionless eyes to Shindou and looked him up and down in a patronizing way that he did not like. 

“A’right, I believe you,” he said slowly, looking like he did not, in fact, believe her. “But is he right for you as well, or are you just going to dump him once you’ve gotten bored of that little game you’re playing?” 

On top of the anger, Shindou could feel his cheeks heat up at being the center of attention like this, hearing people talk about his own feelings that he was still not completely comfortable with, as if he was not even in the room. It was none of their business, was it? He could keep defending himself, say that he was not playing, that he liked Ibuki, for real, and that he knew the real him much better than that brat did. But it was not something he had ever said out loud, and to be honest he had had enough of this stupid exchange. That was not how he wanted to find out whether Ibuki truly had feelings for him or not. That was not how he wanted to admit to his friends that he maybe probably surely did. Hell, he had not even officially come out to some of them yet. 

In addition to being rude, it was a clear invasion of both his and Ibuki’s privacy. 

Finally looking away, he sighed. “I have neither the need nor the desire to keep discussing this with you, thank you.”

Again, the man raised his hands as if he were all innocent and had nothing to be blamed for. “Okay, okay. Just think abou–”

“What are you all talking about?” 

Shindou tensed all over again. His heart skipped a beat and a cold feeling washed over his nape and his whole back. Ibuki’s voice had raised right behind him, deep as always but without an ounce of that casualness he would usually use in a normal conversation. No, it was purposeful, and had the intensity of when he would point his finger at Shindou and declare something important, or when he was… angry. 

Mate shrugged, leaning back against his chair in a nonchalant manner. “Nothing m–” 

“You.” Shindou spoke above him. He turned on his seat and tried giving Ibuki his best, sweetest, kindest smile, tilting his head, trying to flatter. 

But that thing about being able to read Ibuki’s mood so easily, it seemed to go both ways. Cold mulberry eyes stared at him for a second, in tense silence, before they turned away with an annoyed click of his tongue and… fell on Mate. His brows furrowed further, even when the player held his gaze, looking bored, uninterested. 

“... Well, you should stop. It doesn't seem to be making you very happy.” He stated, that rasp in his voice that Shindou knew all too well, and he noisily sat down at the table that had fallen awkwardly silent.

Without even realizing it, Shindou had turned back to his plate and looked down, fear pumping in his veins. What if someone told Ibuki what it had all been about? Was that really how things would go? Was that really the way he would have to confess? In front of a crowd, because he was forced to, by people he barely knew? He needed to get prepared for that eventuality, but he had really thought that, when it happened, it would have been… more private. On his own terms. It was dangerous here. He couldn't mess up. What was there to do? What should he say? 

Ibuki’s voice rose again, still full of anger. 

“Fucking hell, Mate, what did you say to him? I thought you were going to behave!” 

Shindou was startled back to Earth. Ibuki had been staring at him, and he had seen, of course, how tense he was. Shit, shit, he needed to pull himself together. He was still too angry, too anxious, and Ibuki could apparently read through him now, it was… bad! His fist was clenched tight, shaking on top of the table when the jade-haired captain spoke out. “Leave it, Ibuki. He was being disrespectful but he apologized. Let's not dwell on it.” 

“But–” 

“Nope. It's over and done with. Now we move on.” 

Shindou would have scoffed. He would have rolled his eyes, declared in an icy voice that those could barely be considered apologies at all and that Mate did not seem to be regretting his words and actions much. He could have fixed him with one of these disdainful looks he was so good at, looked down at him despite being shorter, he would have had the right to complain, retaliate, maybe even yell. 

But then again… what was the point. 

“Right.” he stated curtly. “Don’t bother, Ibuki.” 

Again, a tense silence settled over the table. Shindou could feel many eyes on him, vivid mulberry among them, but he ignored it. He was still too angry. He kinda wanted to leave. 

This was really not how he had wanted that day to go. 

A moment passed, when he just ate, chin held high, trying to salvage the bit of pride he still had. Thankfully, some of the basketball team guys broke the silence, chatting between themselves, and soon enough they were imitated by Shinsuke and Tenma, then Konoha, then Ichikawa… And, bit by bit, everything went back to normal. 

 

In the midst of all of this, a certain white-haired boy kept silent. And when Shindou least expected it… he felt an arm wrap around the back of his chair. 

 

___ 

He had never actually thought about it. Most of his thoughts had been about whether or not he could be good for Ibuki, or even just about… Ibuki himself. His looks; tan skin, sharp eyes, sharp jaw, broad shoulders, and that height of his… all things that Shindou could spend hours thinking about with warm cheeks and a heavily beating heart, pretending he couldn't feel those flutters in his stomach, this want to reach out, brush, thumb at... kiss…

And not just that; thinking about his personality was even worse. How hardworking he was, fierce, so bright and bold and uncaring yet paradoxically very much caring. He was someone to be discovered through small hints. Beyond that thick honesty and obvious want to always give it his all, to be the very best, there were some subtleties in him that many would probably not suspect. There was a huge empathy hidden there inside of him, something that could rival even Tenma’s own, so, so much care even for people he barely knew. He would sometimes let it show, without shame, like when he worried about Minori, or about the inhabitants of the planets they visited… It was rarely seen but Shindou knew it was there, always, covered by Ibuki's thick layer of obvious brashness and confidence. 

There was also a bit of anxiety, questions and doubts turning in his head at night, something only Shindou had witnessed. Something that made it hard to sleep, that made him restless, always wanting to do something. It was obvious to anyone that Ibuki was not someone who could just… stay still. He didn't know how to be patient, or to cool down, or to stop practicing at fucking 3 am the night before a match. It was something that Shindou found very admirable most of the time, or even endearing, or cute. But sometimes… sometimes he would find it kind of sad. 

Because when did he rest, then? 

The answer, he had found out, was: very rarely. At his worst, Ibuki would skip meals, stay awake, never stop until he was beat down and exhausted. He would not care about basic needs or injuries; he would keep on going and going and going until someone physically forced him to stop. And even then he would not really be able to rest, would he? He’d say, Shindou, we should not be here, we have a match tomorrow, Shindou, we should be training, Shindou– 

The poor guy simply hadn't learned how to press pause and let himself relax for a minute. 

Subtleties. Things one would not notice at first glance, things that Shindou surely did not notice until late in their time together. He had been so focused on his flaws at first he hadn't even glanced at the other things, the little things that made Ibuki who he was. Something more than just a genius basketball player.

 

Yeah, now he really could spend hours thinking about it, collecting all these little things and organizing them into a list. Ibuki Munemasa, and why he is good and really not as much of a jerk as everyone seems to think he is. 

The first time, it had, just like every other time since then, hit him like a train, unexpected and devastating. And for a while, Shindou's feelings for the goalkeeper had been so obvious, so all-encompassing, that he had not even thought about questioning them and what they entailed. He… liked Ibuki. Maybe another little word could even have been used. What was certain was that: he wanted Ibuki. Wanted to look at him, talk to him, spend time with him, touch his hands for some reason, feel his gaze on him, laugh with him, stand close to him all the time, have their own little private conversations in public that always made him feel like they lived in a parallel world where only the two of them mattered. 

Why would he have asked himself if Ibuki was right for him ? 

He wanted him, wasn't it enough? 

In that moment, though; after asshole Mate dude almost ruined everything, when he felt Ibuki’s arm fall on top of the backrest of his chair, not touching him at all yet so undoubtedly there, Shindou knew. 

He understood the gesture. It was obvious enough. He had been asked to drop the subject, but of course, Ibuki was one stubborn fucker, and he had to go out of his way to tell Shindou he was on his side. This was an arm that meant, we're okay. I'm not mad at you. 

If stretched a little further, it could even have meant that he didn't think that Shindou had done anything wrong. It could even be… a way to comfort him. All the while not very subtly hinting at Mate to back the fuck off. 

It was obvious, at that moment, why Ibuki was right for him. The thing was… Shindou actually did like to be coddled. That was why he had hated this team at first, it was way out of his comfort zone, he couldn't even understand those guys. He would have rather played with his friends, his former teammates, whose personalities and techniques he already knew by heart, and with whom making up strategies would have been so easy. Shindou was different from Ibuki in the way that he liked comfort. The purring of his cats, Kirino’s smell, the warmth of a fluffy blanket, the smooth feeling of piano tiles under his fingertips.

That was not to say he didn't like a challenge once in a while. He was proud and competitive and always determined to win, but it was rarely for selfish reasons. Winning was good but it wasn't that important in itself, it was all the consequences of it that mattered. His friends’ joy, the pride he could see on his parents’ faces, the feeling of accomplishment. Yes, winning a challenge felt amazing. But at the end of the day, Shindou still craved to just… feel comfy. Cozy. 

Which was why Ibuki felt like such a weird choice. He was not exactly comfortable, was he? All harsh and sharp and though he was softer than he looked, compared to people like Tenma or Kirino he was still definitely a bit rough around the edges. If Shindou wanted comfort, his first choice would have been his best friend. Someone who always hugged him when he cried, someone he could invite home and cuddle with on his couch, who was all soft and calm and sweet – with him, at least – and smelled like home. In Kirino’s arms, he could let go, allow himself to look as weak as he actually was, and didn't need to play a role. There would be words of comfort at his ears and if he got lucky, even slow fingers playing with his hair, and everything would be good. 

Ibuki was… definitely different. Often, Shindou had found himself being the one to comfort him, though in a much more subtle manner, and he had to admit that he found himself becoming very… protective of him. It was ridiculous, but he worried all the time. For no particular reason. Ibuki was tall and firm and strong, he didn’t need to be protected, had never asked for it. But the feeling was there and it was not something that Shindou could control. Just like on their night at the birds’ temple, being with Ibuki often meant being collected, taking initiative, doing most of the difficult talking, just so Ibuki didn’t have to. And it was not because he did not trust him – they had solved that problem a long time ago. It was just that he really, really did not want the boy to be burdened with all that. He had this naive way of seeing life sometimes, a weird kind of optimism that felt out of character but that was also so him. Ibuki was only ever focused on working hard, training his hardest, giving everything he possibly could, and he believed it would be enough. 

He had a one-track mind. To someone else, it might have made him seem a bit childish, immature even. To Shindou, it was adorable. It kept reminding him that they were only teens, and there was a lot he would give to protect this innocent mindset. He'd struggle to be the mature one if it meant Ibuki didn't have to. 

Ibuki, in return, was a firm presence beside him, always there, always having his back. He had become a real goalkeeper in the end, hadn't he? He'd second him in anything he said, remind them all to keep on fighting. In any group of people Ibuki would always be the last one to feel defeated. He had kept them all motivated even when Tenma couldn't, focused as he was on Tsurugi’s “betrayal”. 

 

With Kirino, Shindou felt safe, like nothing wrong could happen. With Ibuki, he felt safe, because even if something wrong did happen he knew he could find ways to deal with it, and he would always have someone by his side, and together they could achieve anything. Anything. Ibuki brought him out of that comfort zone of his and proved to him that it was okay. As if he was some kind of mirror that always showed Shindou the very best version of himself. 

It was a different kind of comfort, yes, but not a lesser one by any means. 

Which might have been the only logical reason as to why such a simple gesture, just an arm on a chair, made him feel so, so much better. His anger evaporated almost instantly. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend there was only this. Him, a chair, and a tall, quiet, still a bit angry boy who started cooking meat for him again. It didn't come to his mind to wish for more – a real touch, the arm tightening just a little to brush against him, a hand gripping his shoulder, maybe even a hug, who knows? 

No, but this… this was good. This was perfect.

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair a little, just enough that he knew the ends of his hair brushed against the boy’s sleeve. He probably couldn't feel it at all through the thick fabric, but it was fine. It was just a way to tell him that he got it. And that he was thankful. 

Yeah, he had an asshole at his left, but what did it matter? He had Ibuki at his right. That's what was important. 

They’d dealt with way worse.

 

Of fucking course Ibuki was right for him.

 

___

“Why are you cooking them like this? Why don't you grill them more like before?” 

Wide mulberry eyes met chestnut ones in something that looked like confusion.

“But you said–” 

“I was teasing you, Ibuki. Do it your way, it was better.” 

Once again, the two stared at each other for a long while. Ibuki was stunned into silence as if Shindou's words had meant more than what they really did. Which..  he had not planned, but, well. There was some truth in it. Ibuki should always do things his own way. 

They kept staring and staring… until Shindou noticed in his peripheral vision, once again, a very black-looking piece of meat. 

“Umh, maybe not that much though,” he said through a soft smirk. 

Ibuki startled, saw it, panicked, forgot chopsticks existed, and burned the tip of his fingers trying to retrieve it before it actually caught fire. 

“Ah, shit, fuck,” he said. 

“Language!” At least three different voices answered. Shindou had to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a chuckle.

 

___

“Are you okay? You should put your fingers under cold water.”

“What? I'm fine, it's nothing.” 

“Are you sure? You–” 

“Don't be annoying, Shindou!” 

He looked away with a roll of his eyes and a smile, half exasperated, half amused. Ibuki was always so predictable. 

Had they been alone, he would have asked him not to worry instead. 

 

___ 

“No, she couldn't come,” Shindou says with an apologetic smile. After spending the whole afternoon together – playing soccer, what else? – they were now heading back to the train station where they would all have to separate again. The sun was already starting to set and the wind was gradually getting colder, autumn finally making itself known after a particularly hot few weeks. For some reason (a little scheme from Raimon’s first years, probably), Ibuki and Shindou were left together at the very back, several steps behind everyone, walking slowly. Ibuki had asked about Aoi. 

“I'm sorry about that, I really wanted everyone to join,” he continued. “But there was no other option. She does say hi, though, and she asked for pictures and videos of your match. I think she even decorated one of Shinsuke’s cardboard signs? Sneaky, the three of them. We had no idea they would do this, otherwise we would–” 

“Shindou.” 

Ibuki suddenly interrupted his ranting, and stopped walking altogether. Shindou, surprised, stopped as well and turned back to him. 

He had a hand in his jacket’s large pocket, shoulders tilted back in his infamous “ I don't give a fuck ” posture. There was wind in his fluffy white hair and a serious look in his sharp eyes, although he was looking down, not directly at him. 

Shindou was surprised and confused. The mood had been great all afternoon, just them playing and laughing carelessly without a worry in the world, like the silly teenagers they were finally allowed to be. 

And now it seemed Ibuki had something important to ask. He had acted like this before, Shindou could recognize this kind of behavior. But he had no idea what it was about. 

“Yes?” he encouraged, knowing that it was a moment where listening was important. When Ibuki was like this, it meant he was going to say things purposefully, after having thought them through. He'd be clumsy about it though, probably, so the delicate task of interpreting his words was left to Shindou. He had to get it right.

Ibuki swallowed before looking up. He had that specific look on his face, that glare, his brows furrowed but not in anger. It was more like… determination. With a lingering hint of anxiousness, if Shindou was not mistaken. 

“Listen. I don't know exactly what Mate told you about me earlier, but it was probably bad if it made you uncomfortable.” 

Shindou blinked, waited for him to continue, but there was nothing. Ibuki just kept staring intently, his plum eyes getting darker with the receding sunlight. 

The pianist exhaled slowly as he thought, humming, then attempted a little smile. “It doesn't matter what he said. I know better.” 

“Yeah…” Ibuki’s eyes went left, right, then fell on him again. “True. Look, I'm not saying you should forgive him or anything. Mate can act like a brat.” Shindou fought the urge to roll his eyes. Wasn't that an understatement. “He often seems insulting to other people. But he rarely means to be.” 

This time, it was Shindou’s turn to frown. He tried to keep his voice calm and devoid of any reproaches when he answered. The last thing he wanted was for the two of them to argue right now. “Are you trying to say that I overreacted?” 

“What? No.” He huffed. “You can react the way you want to, looked like he deserved it anyway. No, I'm just saying that…” A pause, and then he gave a little shrug. “He takes some time getting used to. But once you understand how he works, he's fine, most of the time.” 

It took him a moment to understand the hidden message, but when he did it wrenched a genuine smile out of him. How cute. This was Ibuki’s clumsy way of telling him that he got along with his team even though some individuals had been more work than others, that Mate was not ruining the mood. This was him telling Shindou not to worry about it, because he knew how wary he could be. 

Huh. They really knew each other quite well now, if his animosity toward any detail in Ibuki’s daily life that could possibly be a nuisance was so obvious. 

“I see… So that's what you meant.” He said calmly as he started walking again. Ibuki had a spark of relief and satisfaction in his eyes. He took one, two big steps to catch up, and then they were back to walking together, synchronized and relaxed, hair flying in the wind. 

“Yeah. He's young and way too smart. Usually he's quiet and nice, but he can get pretty intense… especially when it’s about… me.” 

“Oh… so you know?” Shindou glanced at him, surprised. 

“He’s not hiding it. He told me pretty early on.” 

“And isn't it… weird, for you?” 

Ibuki shrugged, but Shindou could feel the subject was making him a bit awkward. The hand he had in his pocket raised up to rub at his nape. 

“Yeah, it was really weird at first, but, I don't know? He made it clear he did not expect anything from me so I guess it's fine. He can take no for an answer. Kinda like Kusaka and Konoha at first, you know? There are strange moments but I try not to think about it too much.” 

“I see…” Shindou repeats, pensively. This would be another thing that he would take time to process, so he made sure to store it for later. He didn't quite know how to feel about this. Should he be jealous? Ibuki was hanging out daily with someone who had no shame admitting he was in love with him, and they were getting along. Sure, Ibuki was obviously not very receptive, and Mate did not seem to be a… threat to whatever the two of them were shyly building. But how nice would it be to be allowed to be this open about his feelings? Most of the time he couldn't really understand them himself. It must be nice, for everything to be so clear, so sure.

They kept walking in silence, Shindou lost in thoughts after what he had heard. Several steps before them, the rest of the team was in a different mood, a different universe. Bursts of laughter echoed in the park they were crossing, carried by the wind. They did not seem to care about the darkness of the dusk or the chill in the air. They were all cheerful and carefree, walking close together, teasing each other. Twice, Shindou saw one of them turning back, their eyes meeting as they checked the two of them were still following, smiled cheerily, then faced forward again. 

 

Shindou felt they were all so, so far away from his fears. 

“Shindou, say, did Mate tell you – I mean, did he say something about me – erm…” 

Except for this one boy. 

 

He let himself chuckle discreetly. Of course the one person who would share his worries would be him . It felt like the universe was toying with them. Trying really, really hard to pull them closer and closer. 

Well, who was he to try to go against the universe?

 

“I have a question, too,” he answered softly, because again, he did not wish for this to happen because of Mate . He would do things his own way. Their own way. “Do I make you feel good?” 

“Huh?” Ibuki froze in his steps again. He looked… absolutely dumbfounded. “What?” 

“You said Mate and your new team don't make you feel bad. What about me? Do I make you feel good?” 

“I'm – That's – Shindou, what kind of question is that?” 

He tried not to lose his confidence. He kept his voice calm and his eyes soft, his smile just a tiny bit playful. “Let me reformulate. Do you feel good, when you're with me?” 

“I – I don't know? I guess so? I mean, no, I mean – Yeah. Yes, Shindou, I like spending time with you.” 

Shindou smiled, amused by his choice of words. Leave it to Ibuki to simplify things, make them all seem that much more… basic. It may have seemed like some meaning was lost along the translation, but Shindou knew better. When learning a new language, the first step was always to understand. That, they had handled. 

But trying to speak another language was always the hardest part. 

It was more than okay if Ibuki decided to speak his own. 

Shindou felt a gust of wind in his hair, Ibuki’s darkened eyes fixed on him. He tilted his head and looked back. His heart was so light and warm, it felt easy to admit this time: 

“I feel good when I'm with you, too.” 

And Ibuki, well – he… frowned. 

His brows furrowed and he stared. 

No word, no sound. Just dark eyes and a tight jaw. 

Shindou was confused, for a moment.

And then, oh. He understood. 

He felt his own gaze soften. That was when he realized that Ibuki was simply… Nervous... Scared? Would it be a push to call it fear? It was hard to tell with him. He was so used to him hiding behind a carefully crafted mask of calm and casualness. 

That was what first made Shindou question Ibuki’s feelings for him, actually. This calm. It had been such an unexpected change to his personality. Once again, this was something he noticed when they spent that night together on Gurdon, when they got to spend hours alone together for the very first time. Ibuki, with his best friends on the team – be it Tetsukado or Tsurugi or, later, Shinsuke – was bold and abrasive. With Shindou, however, as soon as their bickering ended for the most part and they became able to share a look without yelling or glaring at each other, as soon as Ibuki stopped clenching his fists and gritting his teeth at any sight of him – With Shindou, he became collected, quieter, more laid back. When with his friends he would mock, smirk, point a finger, laugh, challenge, alone with Shindou he would murmur, chuckle, care, shrug his shoulders or just quietly stare. 

It had taken Shindou long hours, at night, laying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, to understand that sudden change. Not during their travel through space, of course; he had much more important things to worry about. But back home, alone in his huge room, when he had tried desperately to make sense of everything that had happened, and to understand why it had happened to them, teenagers, without protection or knowledge of anything at all… Sometimes he would uncover questions he had buried deep in a corner of his mind. 

To think about later – if I survive. 

Had he gone too far with Ibuki? He truly meant it when he told himself that he was only this mean to him to teach him a lesson, a critical one. But still, he had mixed a bit of his own feelings in there, as he was always prone to do, always such a dramatic sensitive crybaby. He had been angry, frustrated, so so fed up with the lack of explanation and all these people who did not seem to care about soccer at all. Maybe he had been too harsh. Maybe he had hurt Ibuki’s pride in a permanent way, one that would mean he would always, always dislike him. 

And that would have been fine, for the most part. But no, it couldn’t have been that. Ibuki was not the kind of person who would hide his dislike for someone, that’s what was weird about it. If he still hated Shindou he would have let him know. Wouldn’t he have yelled, frowned, reproached, maybe even insulted, hot-headed as he was? 

It had all made sense, in the end, as they got closer and closer. Ibuki was honest, hadn’t lied a single time as far as Shindou knew. He would show off his anger, his pride, his joy, his drive, to anyone who would so much as glance at him. But as soon as his feelings grew more subtle, harder to interpret, a bit more shameful… 

That, he would hide all in. 

He’s protecting himself, Shindou had realized, suddenly wide awake. From… me?

He had been wrong again. Ibuki was not scared of him, and it had become obvious at that point that they enjoyed being together, that they had become friends. No, he must have been scared of the unknown. And who could blame him? Shindou knew damn well how scary feelings could be. Especially if you’re feeling them for the first time. Especially if they make you feel all lost and lonely. 

That was a theory he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about. But, well, all theories needed to be tested at some point. And what better time than the present? 

 

___

Shindou took a breath, bracing himself. 

He took one step forward.

Then another. 

Ibuki was still watching, wary, puzzled. Shindou smiled, trying to reassure him. They were so, so close – closer than they had ever been. It was scary. Shindou had lived through a lot of dangers, threats, risks, but this was… something, for sure. The heaviness in his heart could definitely compare with the one he felt when he was sent to space all these months ago. 

But he… He was ready. 

He tried to be as gentle as he possibly could. His gestures were slow and oh so delicate when he cupped both of Ibuki’s cheeks. They felt warm under his palms. They gazed into each other's eyes, quiet but communicating either way. Ibuki's eyes were wide, shocked. When he released a shaky breath, so discreet it could barely be heard, Shindou felt it on his own skin. 

He wet his bottom lip, swallowed. His heart clenched in his chest when he realized that to get closer he couldn't move forward anymore – he had to go up. 

God, that height of his . 

He stood on his toes, slowly, gently. Making sure that if it was not what Ibuki wanted, he could pull away. But he was not, he was watching, his eyes glinting, his lips parted, every limb perfectly still. He looked kind of like a deer caught in the headlights, so Shindou paused. Let the both of them take a few breaths. Let himself enjoy the moment, the adrenaline, the emotions threatening to burst out of his chest as if it was filled to the brim with a thousand pointy sparkles. 

And when Ibuki still did not push him away, he did it.

 

It…

It didn't feel like much. 

 

Lips on lips, Shindou closed his eyes, tried to enjoy the moment. His heart was beating and beating and beating and Ibuki’s skin under his fingertips felt warm. Thin strands of white hair tickled his forehead, dancing in the wind.

But then Ibuki – Ibuki gasped and tensed, the first movement he made since what felt like forever, and suddenly he… he stepped away. 

Having nothing to hold on to anymore, Shindou's hands fell at his side in slow motion. He opened his eyes, the fear that was pumping warm in his veins turning ice cold. Ibuki was standing there, eyes wide in shock and something that looked too much like horror, both hands covering his lips. For the first time ever, Shindou thought he could see the hint of a blush on his cheeks and his ears, a wash of red watercolor on the craft paper of his skin. But it might have been the yellowish light of the street lamps that had just been turned on. 

Shindou looked at him, and… And suddenly it was too much. 

It had been too much before – right on the cusp of breaking him, of overflowing, of destroying everything in him and all around – but never crossing the threshold, always overwhelming but never truly painful. Now it was painful, because he had tried, and Ibuki had pushed him off, he had rejected him, and everything exploded. If the kiss had proven to him that the “first kiss fireworks" were just a cliché, the feeling of a heart breaking into pieces was definitely real. And who thought it could break so easily? Shindou was emotive, bruised easily, and had to be careful with his leg since it broke because it was still a bit sensitive, but he wasn't fragile, was he? He had been through a lot and always ended up successful! He never truly gave up, though there were times he had definitely wanted to. No, no, he was strong, and resilient, and so why did he – why did he suddenly feel like crumbling, like he had failed it all? Why was there such a disgusting taste at the back of his mouth and why was his throat so tight and why did his eyes sting so hard as if tears were suddenly pushing out, trying to escape his body as if it was suddenly too broken, too helpless to be their host anymore. Even water was running from him, was that how worthless he was?

No, no, no, he had to pull himself together. Ibuki was visibly panicking as well, and it was his fault. He had tried and he had made a mistake. Now he had to man up and do some very necessary damage control. It was his responsibility.

“I – Ibuki,” he tried calling. His voice was all weird and brittle, with how tight his throat was. It was heard, fortunately or unfortunately, he couldn't decide, and Ibuki startled hard . He jumped and tensed and looked up at him with the widest eyes and his hands fell to his side at high speed as if he was doing a military salute. His mouth opened but no sound came out. 

Seeing this made Shindou feel so… sad. So he took a breath and tried again. 

“Ibuki, did I do something wrong?” 

Again, no answer. Ibuki closed his mouth, swallowed, opened it again, and his ears reddened even more. But not a word, not a sound. 

“Look, I'm – I'm sorry if you… I mean, I thought I was supposed to do that. I didn't mean to make you feel bad.” 

…

He looked down in shame. He couldn't bear to look at Ibuki's panicked eyes anymore.

“Can you, erm… say something?” Tears were starting to leak from the corners of his eyes, completely out of his control. His next breath sounded broken. “Listen, I know it looks like I'm just toying with you sometimes, but I promise you I am not, and I –” 

“What are you talking about?” 

This time it was Shindou’s turn to startle, looking back up despite himself because of the way Ibuki had blurted it out so suddenly. He was looking – He was looking a bit angry, out of nowhere, or maybe even very angry – furrowed brows and clenched jaw and sharp, dark purple eyes.

“Is that what Mate told you?!” he hissed through gritted teeth and tightened his fists. “That asshole, I’m gonna…” 

He made a move as if to turn around, and Shindou panicked. “I told you it doesn’t matter what he said!” he exclaimed, gripping the boy’s jacket. “I don’t care what he thinks, I know I look like I’m playing sometimes and – And sometimes I am ! When I tease you I don’t always mean what I say, it’s just for fun, but this, this wasn’t just for fun, and I don’t care what Mate says, it’s – It’s you I care about! So I’m sorry if I made it seem like –”

“Shindou, shut up!” 

Good idea. 

He did just that. 

Ibuki was staring with an intense gaze, something purposeful once again. And then he stepped forward, until they were very close again, and… Put a hand on Shindou’s back. 

It wasn’t a hug. They were not touching, not anywhere else anyway. It was just… Just a firm hand on his back, sliding to the middle of it in some sort of caress, something tender yet strong, unmistakable, in a way that only Ibuki could pull off. He was not pulling him forward, not moving, his hand was just – there. Warm and large and sturdy against his back. 

“H-huh…”

“I know you’re not toying with me.” Ibuki frowned as if the very idea of it displeased him. “That’s not something you would do, if Mate told you that he’s even more stupid than I thought.”

“Ah… I see…” Shindou tried, and failed, to collect himself. Ibuki’s hand was too warm, shielding him from the chilly wind, and wasn’t it the very first time the boy had initiated physical contact with him? He could barely focus on anything else. “Then why did you, umh…”

“I was surprised, that's all.” 

“Oh, but… I mean, I was… Very slow…” 

“Yeah, I, erm.” Ibuki’s eyes went back to normal, and he untensed. His hand stayed where it was. The other one went to rub the back of his neck. He averted his eyes. “I kind of short-circuited there for a sec.” 

Oh. 

This felt like something Shindou would chuckle at, normally. It was a bit funny and extremely cute, the way Ibuki was suddenly kind of shy, and how he admitted to the effect the “kiss” had on him. Yet he couldn’t tease him, not here, not now, not when he still wasn’t completely sure that he hadn’t ruined everything between them. The fear was still there, and although his heart had started slowing down, it was still cold in his veins, and yes, the tears had stopped, but it felt like it was only momentary. 

“So… Does it mean that…”

“It means that next time, I’ll be ready.” Ibuki quickly shifted back to that intense expression, as if he was trying to convince Shindou of something very important. 

“Next time…?” 

“Whenever you want.” For what felt like the first time in forever, Ibuki smiled. Something sweet, inviting. Shindou felt like he was suddenly thrown out of the water he was not even aware he was swimming in, and he could breathe again. “It’s up to you, Shindou. The ball is in your hands.” 

Shindou blinked. Then breathed out. Then smiled. 

“Surely you mean ‘at my feet’?” He teased. There was a little pause before Ibuki rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, soccer freak.” 

They looked at each other, for a second there, all quiet with smiles on both their faces. Then they started laughing.

Shindou felt so, so relieved, he felt like all the heaviness in his lungs had evaporated. All that was left was a light feeling of comfort and happiness, so light he thought it could actually make him fly. His heart was still beating a thousand times too fast, but it was good, it was okay. He knew it was alright. Because he might have been a bit clueless about all these love things, but Ibuki’s hand was still so present against his back, getting warmer and warmer the more it stayed there until it felt like a whole fireplace, and his words echoed in his ears as well as his low laughter, the promise of a next time, the admission that he would do what Shindou wanted, that he was maybe just as nervous as him. And he wasn’t stupid. He knew what that meant. 

Ibuki felt the same. 

He felt the same!!

 

___

Their laughter soon died down to give way to a calm quietness instead. It had been more due to the adrenaline and nervousness leaving their bodies than to the real humor of the situation – Which, while there was some, Shindou had not had time to process it, and he was more focused on the seriousness of the moment. 

He had Ibuki in front of him, his arm around his waist, his large large hand on his back and it felt like paradise. A gust of wind made his white hair fly for a moment, before it fell back into place, as slow and elegant as snowflakes. He was insanely pretty. Of course, it was no news to Shindou, but, well, it still hit him. He was gorgeous, and his plum eyes were stuck on him as if there was nothing else he would rather have been looking at, and everything was good. 

“So… not a rejection, then?” 

Ibuki scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, then shook his head. “Nope.” 

“Good, that's good, I'm… I'm glad.” 

“Yup.” 

Shindou chuckled. Ibuki was being awkward, in his own very peculiar way, and it was adorable. And Shindou, well… It may have been childish, or cliché, or cheesy, but he was in love. He didn't care. People would say that Ibuki looked like a jerk, or arrogant, or too self-centered; others that he was immature, too loud, but Shindou didn't care. He was all that, yes, plus a huge dork, and there was no one Shindou would rather share a small universe with. He was perfect, just perfect, and his heart was so full of him. 

It was so awkward, just looking at each other like this, but at the same time it felt like it was exactly what they were supposed to do. Neither moved a finger until Shindou felt like he should do something with his hands, which were still hanging dumbly at his sides, so he brought them up to Ibuki’s shoulders. Oh, but how long had he wanted to place them there? It was crazy. It was happening. 

“May I?” he asked with a small tilt of his head, making sure Ibuki wouldn't short-circuit this time. 

“Y-yeah.” Ibuki answered, all dumbfounded and grumpy-looking, his blush coming back. Shindou felt so smug and satisfied and giddy. He was making Ibuki blush! 

Deciding the taller was not red enough yet, he repeated the same moves as earlier – getting closer, standing on his toes, letting his hands glide up Ibuki’s neck until they were delicately cupping his jaw, getting closer, and then – 

And then, when Ibuki was so scarlet he looked like he might explode, and Shindou’s own cheeks felt hot as fire, he stopped. And smiled. 

“This is next time, by the way,” he stated smugly. 

“I - !! I know that, you asshole!!” 

“Dumbass.” 

There was a chuckle in his throat when he brought their lips together again. And this time, this time… 

He would never say again that a kiss did not feel like much. 

There was no fireworks, nope. Definitely a romance book cliché. But it was so, so much. Just… so much. 

It was more about the meaning of it than the kiss itself. Because this time, as promised, Ibuki was ready, and as soon as their lips touched, his other hand, the one that was not on his back – definitely pulling him forward this time, that one, by the way – shot up to cup the back of his neck. It was so warm. How did his body run so hot? He was like a damn heater, how did he survive on Gurdon? If Shindou stayed in his arms he would never have to worry about getting cold ever again. 

And it looked like he would stay in his arms, because Ibuki didn't seem to want to let go. He was clutching at him, keeping him in place, the grip around his nape not exactly gentle, but again, that was just him . It was very much to be expected, and Shindou wouldn't change it – he loved how firm and sure it was, how each fingertip pressed into his skin, how the hand against his back helped keep him up, carrying some of the weight for him. He loved the way Ibuki tilted his head, loved the sharp curve of his jaw under his palm, loved the messy hair strands tickling his forehead, loved, loved, loved. 

And the kiss itself – well, the kiss itself! It wasn't bad, that was for sure. Ibuki was obviously not very experienced, and to be honest, neither was he, not exactly. It probably wasn't either of their first kisses, but it was not their fifteenth either, and it was alright. It was perfect. Ibuki's lips felt chapped and hot on top of his, so undoubtedly him that Shindou felt like drowning. Because it was not just any kiss. It was a kiss shared willingly by Ibuki Munemasa, the best basketball player of his generation, Earth Eleven’s goalkeeper, his friend and partner he had traveled across the galaxy with, and been kidnapped by weird alien birds with, had won with, the very man who could get Shindou flustered simply by looking at him, or catching him before he fell, or even just standing up and showing off his height. 

 

It was perfect. Clumsy, but perfect.

 

Shindou’s heart was still beating like crazy, but it was perfect. 

He was gradually getting out of breath, and a bit tired of standing on his toes, but it was perfect. 

Shindou still had a giggle trying to bubble out of his chest, and sometimes he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, and Ibuki did not seem to like the disruption, because he would voice a complaint in the form of a cute tiny groan, and it was perfect. 

Shindou could do this forever, would do this forever, if the world let him –

“Hey guys! That's cool, congrats and all, but Minaho’s train is leaving soon, we gotta hurry!!” 

Their reaction was instantaneous and identical. Ibuki gripped his shoulders and pushed him away, Shindou pushing at his chest at the same time until they were kept at an arm's length. Shindou’s cheeks were very, very very hot when he saw the whole group, his whole team, a few steps ahead, all of them looking and waiting.

Right. He had kind of forgotten that they were not, in fact, alone in their universe.

Barely a second passed before both of them eliminated every single contact point between them. Shindou took a step back, pretending to be dusting his coat, and Ibuki released his shoulders from the death grip he had on them and scratched his jaw. They didn't look each other in the eye. 

“Right.” Shindou cleared his throat and started walking, probably crimson red at this point. “We should go, then.” He heard Ibuki’s steps behind him, quickly following, but not saying a word. 

 

When they were back in the group, they got separated. Shindou heard Tsurugi’s voice start saying something that sounded like “congra–” before he was interrupted by a loud “shut up!!!” He laughed, liking the awkwardness in Ibuki's deep voice, and loving that he was able to know how flustered he was without even having to look. 

He was distracted when Shinsuke and Sakura bumped into him, one with a mischievous smile, the other wiggling her eyebrows, and he couldn't help but laugh again, shoving them away playfully. 

Maybe, just maybe, being a bit childish was not that bad sometimes. 

 

___

To Ibuki, 10:57 pm.

 

Shindou: You played well, by the way. It was a good match. 

Shindou: I'm proud of you. 

Ibuki: Coward

Ibuki: Say it to my face next time

Shindou: Hug me for real next time, you coward. 

Ibuki: Huh

Ibuki: Touché

Ibuki: But you know what

Ibuki: Yeah, OK, I will

Ibuki: Oh and for what it’s worth

Ibuki: I'm proud of you too.

Shindou: Not worth much, but I appreciate that you’re trying. 

Ibuki: Asshole.

Shindou: Dumbass. 

Shindou: See you soon.

 

Notes:

I called the rude guy Mate because I was a bit addicted to maté when I started writing this. It's like coffee but make it Argentinian. Very good. Very addicting. A delight.

Anyway I hope you liked it, english is not my first language so please do tell me if you spot any mistakes, and thank you for reading!! I'll go hide for a while now