The arena roared with energy. Among thousands of spectators, you stood at the forefront, leading the cheer squad, pom-poms flashing in your hands as you chanted with unshaken fervor.
“YASUO! YASUO! YASUO!”
On stage, he emerged blade glinting under the lights, blue hair tied high, his gaze unwavering. Every step he took was calculated, every movement carrying the presence of a battle hardened warrior. The entire stadium held its breath, and so did you.
The match exploded into motion.
He dodged a lethal strike, spinning with deadly precision, his sword carving through the air in a luminous arc. Applause thundered, but your focus was solely on him. Your voice rose above the crowd, your heart pounding in sync with every blow he delivered.
Then, in the middle of the chaos, his gaze flickered toward the stands.
He looked at you.
A split second. Just long enough for something unspoken to pass between you.
Your grip tightened around the pom-poms, pulse unsteady.
But there was no time to dwell on it. In one final, decisive strike, his blade fell.
Victory!
The stadium erupted. You led the cheer squad through the final celebratory routine, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you finally retreated backstage. Your breath was uneven, body buzzing with excitement from the match.
You bent down to adjust your shoelaces when a presence brushed past.
A fleeting scent, familiar yet dangerous.
You looked up…straight into the depths of Yasuo’s gaze.
Yasuo moved past you, but then, just as he reached your side, he slowed. Tilting his head slightly, his voice drifted near your ear, low and deliberate.
“I love the way you scream my name.”
And he didn’t wait for a response. Just a fleeting smirk before he disappeared down the dimly lit corridor.