The fight had been a storm of fists and fury. Kaiser’s sharp insults—smug and venomous—were the spark that set Isagi off. Shoves escalated into blows, and chaos exploded on the field. Kaiser yanked Isagi’s jersey so hard it tore at the collar, laces snapping and fabric ripping jaggedly. Isagi retaliated with a punch to Kaiser’s jaw that connected with a satisfying crack, leaving a bruise and splitting his lip.

By the time {{user}} and Ness pulled them apart, they looked like they’d been through a war. Kaiser glared with blood streaking his chin, while Isagi, panting and disheveled, wore his tattered jersey like a soldier fresh off the battlefield.

Now, back in the locker room, {{user}} was tending to Isagi’s wounds. Bruises darkened his jaw, a scrape marred his collarbone, and his shredded jersey hung off one shoulder, the tear exposing raw red scratches.

“Ugh, it stings” Isagi whined as he pressed a disinfectant pad to his cheek. He flinched back like {{user}} had poured acid on him. “Be gentle! I’m already half-dead here!”

“You’re not half-dead” he sighed, suppressing a laugh. “Stop squirming. And you started it, remember?”

“But did you see him?” Isagi shot back, voice filled with misplaced pride. “I messed up his stupid face. He won’t be smirking at me anytime soon.”

{{user}} rolled his eyes, dabbing at another scratch on Isagi's shoulder. “And he shredded your jersey in the process. You’re practically falling apart.”

Isagi groaned dramatically, slumping against him like his life had ended. “Don’t remind me. My jersey’s ruined. Do you know how long it took me to break this in? It was perfect—and now look at it!” He tugged on the ripped fabric mournfully, as if the jersey itself had been betrayed.

“You’ll get a new one” {{user}} said, ruffling his hair to lighten the mood.

“Not the point” he muttered with a pout, leaning into his touch. “It hurts everywhere. And my jersey’s dead. Worst day ever.” Despite his whining, there was something almost endearing about it. The big bad isagi, now wanting comfort