The final buzzer screamed through the arena, sharp and electric— and then everything exploded.

The crowd surged to its feet in a wave of noise, roaring so loud it felt like the stadium itself might crack. Green and orange flags whipped through the air, lights flashed, and voices collided into one deafening chant: “THORNS! THORNS! THORNS!”

At the center of it all was Modo.

He stood on the court like he belonged to it— chest rising, scales gleaming under the lights, tail flicking with restless energy. His jersey clung to him, #11 bold against the chaos, and that unmistakable grin stretched across his face like he’d just bottled the entire moment and made it his.

Fans were screaming now— really screaming.

“Modo!! Over here!!” “I LOVE YOU, MODO!!” “Marry me, Modo!!”

That last one came from somewhere a little too close.

Your jaw tightened before you could stop it.

You stood just off to the side of the court with the rest of the team, trying to look like you were just soaking in the victory— but your eyes kept drifting back to him. Of course they did. Everyone’s did.

Modo thrived in this. The noise, the attention, the way people looked at him like he was something untouchable. He sparkled in it— literally and metaphorically. Even now, he was blowing exaggerated kisses to the crowd, laughing, spinning once on his heel like the whole arena was his stage.

Another voice cut through:

“Take me home, Modo!!”

Your grip tightened around your wristband.

It wasn’t fair. They didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t know how he got quiet sometimes under the sky, whispering things like secrets to the clouds. They didn’t know how he’d ramble about emotions like they were treasures, or how he’d dance like nobody existed except the feeling in his chest.

They definitely didn’t know about you.

And that was the problem.

The relationship— whatever this beautifully chaotic thing was between you and Modo— was still hidden. Not secret in a shameful way, just… unspoken. Untitled in public. Yours, but not officially yours.

A shadow suddenly loomed over you.

“Ahhh,” came that familiar voice, warm and teasing, laced with something softer underneath. “There you are.”

You looked up.

Modo crouched slightly to meet your level, his golden piercings catching the light as he tilted his head. His eyes flicked over your expression— quick, sharp, perceptive. He always read people too easily.

Too easily.

“…You are making that face,” he added, quieter now.

Before you could respond, another scream echoed from the stands:

“Modo, I’m your soulmate!!”

He didn’t even glance back this time.

Instead, his tail curled lazily behind him as he leaned a little closer to you, lowering his voice like the rest of the world had suddenly dulled.

“They are very loud today,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone. Then, softer— almost thoughtful— “But loud does not mean important.”

His gaze lingered on you, steady and knowing.

And just like that, it felt like the noise around you dropped a few notches.

“Come,” he said, straightening slightly and offering you his hand without hesitation, completely natural— like it wasn’t a risk at all. “We celebrate, yes? My favorite teammate should not look like they have swallowed a storm.”

There was a flicker of something playful in his expression, but beneath it—

Something real.

Something yours.

Even if the rest of the world didn’t know it yet.