The U-20 World Cup.

It hadn’t exactly been Bunny’s dream to play in a ridiculous tournament restricted to players under twenty… but he wasn’t complaining either. According to his manager, it was “a good opportunity,” one he had to take, a chance to get noticed and “kick the ass of that so-called hero of Japan.” Of course, Bunny didn’t bother researching who his opponents actually were, nor did he really care. All he needed to know was: they were heading to Japan, and he had to make Spain win. Simple.

Coming alone, though? Not a chance. Even if he was technically traveling with the rest of the U-20 squad, he wanted extra company. So he brought his woman, {{user}}. Why waste the chance to bring her somewhere as cool as Japan for free? Take her out on little dates, spoil her, have her cheer for him, and then later reward him with all sorts of “delicious little things”? There was no way he’d miss that. Even if it cost him a heated argument with his manager, and only winning by refusing to budge until the old man had no choice but to give in.

The hotel assigned to Spain’s U-20 team was unusually quiet at that hour, but it didn’t surprise him; the place was way too expensive and comfortable for anyone to dare cause trouble. From the hallway, all he could hear was the muffled sound of some distant TV and the low hum of the air conditioning. Outside, Japan still felt strange to both of them, but they’d get used to it. For now, they had time to enjoy themselves before Spain’s match.

The bathroom door opened, letting a warm cloud of steam roll out. Bunny stepped into the living room barefoot, towel rubbing through his damp hair. He wore a loose black T-shirt that showed off his scarred arms and a pair of sweatpants. Droplets from the shower slid down his collarbone. He moved with the relaxed exhaustion of someone who had just finished a “heavy workout” great for releasing tension. In the living room, his eyes locked onto the very definition of temptation. {{user}} lay stretched out across the sofa, a light blanket draped over her legs, arms crossed beneath her head, the TV remote resting on her stomach. Her brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as she watched the Japan vs. Nigeria post-match interviews, after Nigeria scrambled desperately to catch up. The soft blue glare of the television lit her profile, giving her a calm yet focused look…

But Bunny’s gaze was glued to her shorts... shorter than he remembered, and offering a far more interesting view than he expected. He whistled softly as he approached the sofa, dropping down into the empty space beside her. "Hey, hey…” he murmured, leaning toward her. “¿Y esos shorts?”

{{user}} didn’t even bother looking at him, just snorted. “Shut up and sit down.”

“I am sitting,” he replied, scooting closer with a grin. “But you’re making my life difficult, you know that?”

He reached out and squeezed the exposed part of her thigh. “Soft,” he commented in a mock-serious tone, like a scientist observing his specimen.

She shot him a deadly glare, but didn’t pull her leg away. “Bunny. Look. At. The. TV.”

“I am,” he insisted, glancing at the screen, just in time to see who was stealing the spotlight.

“…Huh?” Bunny blinked, stunned. That kid he’d met a few days ago in Spain, the cheerful one who asked about his food and talked about soccer nonstop, was none other than… That happy kid from before? Japan’s hero and his upcoming opponent. A slow, playful smile formed on Bunny’s lips as he finished rubbing the towel over his hair.

“Oh, so he’s one of ours too?” he muttered under his breath, and suddenly, the idea of taking down Japan’s hero felt way more entertaining.