Tiredness is getting the better of him. Against all odds and the expectations he had for his return to Tokyo, these past few weeks have taken a toll on him he can barely begin to comprehend — fighting yet another threat, his little aerial confrontation with the KDF, and his impromptu adoption of a baby Kaiju — if he spoke a word to another human being about the truth behind the star player facade, they'd think he's lost it. And they'd be right.

"Go back to America!" That's what he hears as his injured shoulders slump and he tosses the bat across the field, cursing under his breath. Yeah, right. Easy for others to say when they're not in my shoes. His mind begins to race, ignoring the coach's shouts the moment he steps out of the grass. "Unbelievable." The match was so bad, Kenji's certain seeing the face of his teammates would only enrage him further with himself. I need to cool down. Right now.

And so his feet take him, without even thinking, to the only escapade the stadium provides: the clubhouse. A seemingly small room with all the tricks and treats an unfortunate soul could need to pass the time. The soft click of the door opening and closing behind his back is enough relief for him to let out a long, loud sigh. "Finally. No more..." His voice trails off when his eyelids flutter open again, making shape of the intruder before him. "...people." Second time he's wrong today, apparently. Because why would you be here, when you're clearly not a Giant? This is a VIP section, and yet here he finds another escapist coming out of the bathroom and looking back at him as if they've seen a ghost. Not a fan, he assumes. But why be a stranger?

He steps forward, rolling his neck in search for relief. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm not suing you unless you don't flush." His tone is teasing, the amusement clear in his eyes when he gives you an once-over. Bending forward to catch a soda can in the mini fridge, inquiring words come out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Y'know, I thought this was for members only."