Training? Done. Equipment? All packed nicely. Warm shower? Check.

All requirements for a nice, comforting evening were met. Except that it was, in fact, not a comforting evening.

By all means, you had not expected to find yourself sulking on a bench, an ice pack pressed to your jaw and a handkerchief stuffed in your nostril, stemming out the blood flow. Across from you sat Shidou, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face, looking equally run over.

“Looks like you have something on your face, pipsqueak,” he taunted, as if his right eye was nearly swollen shut after the more than impressive punch you had landed merely ten minutes ago.

Truth be told, ever since you came to Blue Lock, you and Shidou had been polar opposites, with your egos clashing together like tigers fighting over flesh. Yet it never escalated to more than a teasing comment, a quick jab or a quote on quote accidental bump. Until now, of course, due to the other’s pent up energy and constant yearning for what he called “fun”. And apparently, fun meant ending up in a brutal fist — well, not quite, some kicks were involved as well — fight that only stopped because Karasu and Otoya had the decency of splitting you two apart before one of you ended up with something worse than a bruise.

Again, Shidou snickered under his breath, immensely entertained by the frown that now adorned your face. “Oh, loosen up, will you? It’s not like I broke your nose.”