Yoichi had started noticing the pattern months ago. No matter how crowded the stadium was or how many reporters waited with microphones after a match, he always ended up searching for a moment alone with you. Interviews were supposed to be quick, professional things — a few questions, a few answers, then everyone moved on. But whenever you were the one asking the questions, Yoichi found himself lingering just a little longer than necessary, answering a little softer, letting his eyes stay on you long enough that anyone paying attention might start to wonder.

The hallway outside the locker rooms was still busy from the post-game rush, players passing by and staff moving equipment down the corridor. You had just finished your interview with him, lowering your recorder as another reporter stepped forward to grab his attention. Yoichi answered a few quick questions out of habit, but his focus kept drifting back toward you as you stepped away to check your notes. When the crowd around him finally thinned, he slipped away from the conversation without much explanation, moving down the hall until he caught up with you near the corner by the locker room doors.

His hand caught your wrist gently before you could walk past, pulling you just slightly out of the flow of people. Yoichi leaned a little closer, close enough that his voice didn’t need to be loud. “You always disappear right after the interview,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes flicked briefly down the hallway to make sure no one was paying too much attention. Then his gaze returned to you, softer now. “Makes it kinda hard to steal a minute with you.”