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Chigiri had taken his eyes off Kojiro for one second and he’d gone off and gotten involved with absolute freaks.
“Hey, they’re my friends!” Kojiro pouted. “And what about the freaks you’re involved with?”
Behind them, Bachira was trying to get Isagi to give him a piggyback ride, Yuki was trying to explain to a modeling scout that he was already signed, Nagi was draped over Reo while the heir ignored him, and Kurona was hovering over Chigiri’s shoulder, muttering shark shark shark under his breath.
Chigiri refused to give this criticism any validity.
“I’m so sorry for the trouble,” the boy with the eyepatch and burn scars apologized, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Look, now you’ve made him feel bad! Musashi’s sensitive, Chigiri,” Kojiro chided, interlocking their arms.
He was always full of shit, Chigiri knew that. But he still couldn’t help the squirming guilt as Musashi blinked at him.
“Yeah, fine, whatever. Are you guys in any… danger?” What sort of shit would have them going off the map and smuggling a talking shark into a hotel.
“Not urgently, I guess,” Musashi replied. “We’re just passing the time while we wait for Ikkaku to- for a way out of the city. There’s no danger here.”
Somehow, this led to them all ending up at a playground with a football field.
“Do you guys seriously not get tired of football?” Kojiro asked, stretching his hamstrings out. “You’ve been in football prison for months.”
“It wasn’t prison,” Isagi denied, bouncing the football on his laces. None of them were wearing cleats, but who knew if that would make them hold back. “We could leave anytime.”
“So could I; doesn’t mean it’s not fucking prison,” Ikkaku commented, standing off to the sidelines and heavily unimpressed by all this.
“What?” Bachira cocked his head, the closest to him.
Ikkaku simply arched an eyebrow and refused to elaborate.
For as annoying as the guy was, Kojiro’s other new friend made up for it. Musashi was watching intently as Isagi kicked the ball towards Bachira, just to warm up, and Bachira passed it over to Reo with a single touch.
“You guys are incredible,” he commended, eye sparkling. “I’m not very athletic, so it’s probably not worth including me-”
“Aw, come on, this is for fun!” Karasu slung an arm over Musashi’s shoulders.
“We promise not to take things too seriously,” Isagi agreed, giving him a soft smile. Maybe he meant that sincerely. But he was met with an onslaught of jeers and cackling.
Bachira beamed, poking Isagi’s cheek. “This coming from Mr Devourer-”
Isagi slapped him off, his face bright red. “It’s not like that! This isn’t Blue Lock, so it’s fine. No big deal.”
Sure…
Reo’s face was twitching. Yukimiya looked suspiciously saint-like. Everyone seemed to be in agreement; they wanted to see where this was going.
With Ikkaku refusing to entertain this, they were an even number to split into teams. It took heavy arguing between them all to settle on who the goalkeepers would be.
“No way, you can’t make me!” Isagi was fuming.
“So much for this not being serious,” Otoya muttered to Chigiri.
“I’ll be our goalkeeper,” Karasu broke up the fight. “Just get this show started.”
In Chigiri’s team were Bachira, Musashi, Otoya, and Kurona – the last one sentenced to the goalkeeper position. On the other team were Karasu, Isagi, Reo, Yukimiya, and Kojiro.
The game started at an easy pace. Wearing nice clothes and no cleats meant everyone was moving much more cautiously. But it didn’t take long for excitement to begin taking them over. Bachira tried to dribble past their defenses, but Reo and Isagi managed to pincer him. Isagi tried to dive in and steal the ball, but Bachira passed it over to Chigiri and he tore up the field.
Yukimiya blocked him off, so Chigiri passed it to Musashi. He was clearly inexperienced, stumbling a little when handed the ball, and already wheezing. Luckily, everyone had kept their heads enough to show the guy some mercy, hovering around him and not immediately wresting the ball from him.
Except Kojiro, who whisked the ball away ruthlessly, blazing through the field. Damn, had he gotten faster while Chigiri wasn’t looking?
Chigiri rushed to intercept him, but Kojiro was already pulling his leg back, and arced the ball up and towards – Isagi, the feral hyena.
“GOAL!!!” they cheered.
Chigiri’s heart twisted. Fuck this ‘easy pace’.
The next goal was Chigiri’s torn straight through the center, at a speed no one was expecting.
“Alright,” Isagi wiped at the side of his mouth. “If that’s how you want to play it.”
Musashi, and Kojiro to a lesser extent, found themselves caught in an all-out fight. Kojiro held his own, and Musashi was trying his best, but… it wasn’t going well.
Otoya stole the ball from Musashi before Yukimiya could make a grab for it, and took the shot himself. Karasu, never having played goalie before, failed to stop it from rocketing into the net. Chigiri laughed and punched Otoya’s shoulder, everyone gathering around him.
“That’s 3-2 for us now!” Reo stuck his tongue out at Isagi.
Just a few steps away, Musashi was still standing at the same spot. His panting, which had gotten progressively worse throughout the game, weren’t slowing now that he had the opportunity to rest.
Then the boy fell.
He sprawled onto the ground, his body writhing. His hands clutched at his neck as he gasped for the plentiful air. Something had gone horrifically wrong. Chigiri jolted towards him, trying to straighten his limbs out. Heat radiated off Musashi’s skin, blistering like a furnace.
“Fuck, have you been sick this whole time?” he asked, as if Musashi was in any shape to respond. But Chigiri was sure he hadn’t felt this fever before. Was certain that this level of heat was impossible for a human to survive.
Everyone gathered around him, watching helplessly. A sharp smell was permeating the air, and patches on his clothes began to blacken, charred by some impossible fire. Musashi’s whole body shook with the force of his coughing, and actual tendrils of smoke curled out of his mouth. Tears streamed from his eyes, and it boiled right off reddened, blistering skin.
“Oh my god,” Isagi breathed. “What’s happening?”
“I’ll get a fire extinguisher!” Karasu shouted, rushing off.
The shock was fading, now giving way to panic.
“He’s got, like, an illness, I think?” Kojiro stumbled.
“What kind of fucking illness is this?” Chigiri demanded.
An unwelcome presence barged into the protective circle they had all formed around Musashi. Ikkaku, hands on his hips. Bachira and Otoya gave him a wide berth, letting him crouch down near Musashi’s head. His eyes skimmed over the guy’s seizing body, gaze flat and disinterested.
Then he brought his hand forward, grabbed Musashi’s hair by the roots, and yanked his head upwards, still writhing, the smoke more and more distinct now. “That’s enough, idiot.”
“Hey, what the fuck?!” Chigiri tried to pull Ikkaku off the guy. “Don’t shake him around like that-”
Ikkaku dropped Musashi, just as abruptly. But Musashi didn’t ragdoll on the ground again. He remained hovering half-upright, body rendered still. No more shaking, no coughing, only light wisps of smoke drifting off the charred patches on his clothes. Because right up until a second ago, Musashi had been burning up from the inside out.
Musashi blinked. Readjusted to be sitting properly, one arm holding up his weight and the other knocking sharply over his chest. Coughed briefly, and black smoke curled out of his mouth.
“Thanks,” he croaked, throat raw.
“Shut up,” Ikkaku rolled his eyes. “You were being stupid, anyway, running around for no reason.”
“He’s lying,” Kojiro elbowed Ikkaku with a grin, then ducked when the other tried to hit him. “I’ll get you water, Musashi.”
“Thanks,” Musashi repeated. Then patted down his clothes and stood up. “Sorry that you… had to see that.”
“Jesus. It’s fine,” Chigiri said, shifting uncomfortably. “What was that? We should get you to a hospital.”
Kojiro passed Musashi a water bottle, and Musashi chugged down half the bottle, wiping at the dregs of water dripping down the sides of his mouth. “There’s nothing doctors can really do. Rare medical condition. SHC Syndrome doesn’t have any treatment, so it’s terminal.”
They all sat with this harrowing reality.
“Yeah, yeah, get the pity points in,” Ikkaku drawled. “Can we leave these losers already?”
“No one is asking you to be here,” Yukimiya said, voice frigid.
“We were waiting on you, if I remember correctly,” Musashi jabbed, back to normal now. Aside from the clear singe marks on his clothes and the irritation on his skin.
“And your dipshittery slowed the process down more, so thanks.”
Chigiri stood by the fact that Kojiro’s freaks were worse than his own freaks.