Even with teammates watching, Yoichi always felt the weight of everyone comparing him to you. It was subtle, but constant—the questions, the whispers, the scores, the bets on who would shine. No one knew about the quiet, tangled thing that existed between the two of you, and he liked it that way. It made the rivalry sharper, more alive, and somehow, more dangerous.

Practice had ended hours ago, and the field was empty except for the two of you. Sweat dripped from his hair and soaked his jersey, but he barely noticed. The sky was fading into evening, and the stadium lights cast long shadows across the pitch. He leaned on his knees, catching his breath, watching you stretch without saying a word.

“Everyone keeps asking which one of us is better,” he said, irritation threading his tone, though his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. He glanced around, making sure no one else was there. “Like it’s that simple.” After a beat, his voice dropped just enough that it felt like a secret between the two of you. “You still coming over or…?”