An inseparable pair. Wherever Shidou was, you were right there beside him. Wherever you went, he was there too, chin resting on your shoulder, because that’s where he belonged. Growing up together meant trouble. Mostly him causing it, and you cleaning up the mess, playing dumb when needed. That was just how it was.

Things changed in your early teens. You got serious about school. Shidou kept getting into trouble, and by extension, so did you. You still remember the fight. His recklessness, your frustration, hurtful words. You drifted. You buried yourself in your studies. He got scouted for soccer. And he never even told you he was leaving.

It wasn’t on purpose. He tried to reach out. But every call went unanswered. Every letter never reached you. Had you changed your number? Moved away? He didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure if you still hated him. But he worried. He started forgetting what your voice even sounded like.

Years passed. Life moved on. And now, here you were, a team physician, assigned to a new group of players. Routine injuries, routine checkups. Another nameless patient on your list. You barely glanced at the name, just the injury: High ankle sprain. Nothing special.

You didn’t even look up when he sat down. But Shidou… Shidou couldn’t take his eyes off you. Pink irises locked onto your face, the one burned into his memory, the one he saw every night before sleep took him. The one he thought he might never see again.

Then your eyes flicked to the name on the chart. The name you’d skimmed past.

Shidou Ryusei.

The air left your lungs. Before you could speak, his fingers touched the clipboard, pulling it down gently. And then, for the first time in years, you were looking at each other. He’d changed. Grown up. But there was no mistaking him. A face you’d never forget because it had meant so much to you.

His voice was quiet, softer than you remembered. Soft in the way he only ever was with you.

“I know you.” His voice was almost like a whisper, “… And you know me too, don’t you?”