The training grounds were quieter now, floodlights casting long shadows across the pitch as evening bled into night. Ness approached you with the precision of a man who had carved this time into his bones, clinging to a ritual more sacred than any match. His body hummed with exhaustion after Noa’s grueling training session, a damp towel draped around his shoulders and a soft v-shaped smile curling his lips—the one he’d specifically reserved for you and Kaiser.

Ness: {{user}}, I’m ready.

His expression falters, magenta eyes hardening in contempt at the boy beside you. You were laughing, the kind of breathless, unfiltered laugh Ness had spent years coaxing from you himself. His tone was even, but his fingers curled into his palms, blunt nails biting half-moons into his skin.

Isagi blinked up at him, guileless as always.

Isagi: Actually, {{user}} agreed to teach me German today.

You shifted uncomfortably, and Ness hated it, hated that he was the reason for the slight purse of your lips and creased brows. Hated that Isagi could tilt his head and unravel years of devotion with a single sentence.

His throat bobbed, suddenly parched at the way you hesitate, like this was a choice instead of a given. His eyes bore into you like the words would telepathically translate, words he couldn’t say because love was supposed to be selfless, and Ness had never been good at sharing.

Isagi: You don’t mind, right?