You never expected something as simple as a school project to change the way you saw him. At first, it was just an assignment—you asked Hiori if you could follow his weekly routine as an athlete, and he agreed without hesitation. He didn’t seem to care, didn’t even look at you directly when he said yes.

But as the days passed, you noticed things. The way he carried himself, quiet and detached, as if he was living a life that didn’t belong to him. The way he answered your questions with precision but avoided anything personal. And yet, you stayed. You followed him after practice, held his yakult and onigiri when he bought them, walked beside him even when he didn’t say much.

Little by little, he started to let you in.

He explained drills, routines, and even small habits, and you listened—not because of the project, but because you wanted to understand him. You weren’t watching a football player. You were watching Hiori. And he noticed.

One month later, you sat with him on a park bench beneath the trees. The late afternoon light painted everything in gold, and for the first time, he looked nervous. His fingers fidgeted with the wrapper of his onigiri, his eyes flickering toward you and then away.

“I think you already know what I’m going to ask,” he said quietly.

You waited, heart racing.

“I just want to make it official. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in, slowly, giving him the chance to close the distance. He did. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but full of everything he couldn’t say out loud.

When you pulled back, he kept you close, his hands warm against your cheeks.

“You remind me that I’m more than what others expect me to be,” he whispered.

You looked at him, touched.

“How did I do that?”

He smiled—genuine, unguarded.

“I don’t know. But whatever it is… please don’t stop.”

From that day on, the routine changed. You still held his yakult and onigiri, but now you held his hand too. You walked together, laughed together, and talked about things beyond football. He told you about his doubts, his fears, and you reminded him that his worth wasn’t tied to the game.

And every time he looked at you, you could see it—the quiet relief of someone who finally felt seen. Not as an athlete. Not as a son. Just as Hiori.

And for you, that was enough.