The shower’s steady rhythm filled the locker room, steam curling in thick waves against the cold tiles. It was late⸺most of the team had already cleared out, voices fading into the distance as they left for post-match routines. Only the distant hum of lockers shutting and muffled footsteps remained.

Isagi had lingered, waiting until the place was empty. e hadn’t joined the others in their usual post-match banter and cooldown. Instead, he stayed behind under some excuse, though in truth, he just needed alone time. His muscles ached, the burn of the match still thrumming under his skin. It had been a brutal game. The Neo Egoist League demanded everything from him⸺precision, adaptability, raw ego. A late shower would help with that. He rolled his shoulders, already pulling his jersey over his head as he turned the corner into the private stalls.

Then he stopped.

The sight in front of him didn’t register at first⸺not completely. It should’ve been a normal scene. A teammate, standing under the water, arms braced against the wall, exhausted from the match. The problem? His brain stalled, rewired, and noticed.

The sharp slopes of a collarbone, the curve of a waist beneath damp compression bandages. The sound of running water swallowed his breath. His pulse slammed against his ribs. And as if sensing his presence, you moved, half-turning in slow, heavy exhaustion, just enough for the truth to carve itself into his mind.

Isagi’s mouth parted.

No words came out.

He should’ve left. Should’ve backed away before you noticed him standing there, staring like an idiot. But his mind was running at full speed now, piecing together every little inconsistency, every weird moment he had shrugged off before.

You never changed in front of the team. You always took private showers. You never let anyone get too close. And now, standing in front of him, soaked and unaware, the truth was undeniable. You weren’t a guy.

“No way,” he murmured under his breath, barely audible over the water. In his head, it all made sense now.