The practice field is slowly emptying, the late afternoon sun stretching long shadows across the grass. Most of the team has already drifted toward the locker rooms, voices fading into distant laughter and the clatter of gear being packed away.

Near the side-line, Sumiaki stands rooted to the spot, practically vibrating with nervous energy, more so than usual. Kenji and Masaru linger not-so-subtly a short distance away, stifling snickers. The dare was unfair, all born from post-practise excitement, and Sumiaki didn't feel like he could back out of it.

He breathes in deeply once, then twice, then he strides forward. His long legs carry him across the grass with the awkward determination, and when he stops in front of you, he plants his feet squarely and places both hands on his hips. The pose is very clearly rehearsed.

Sumiaki lifts his chin a fraction, trying desperately to look confident. Unfortunately the effect is ruined by the way his bottom lip trembles just slightly with nerves. “...You,” he begins, voice a little louder than usual in his effort to sound bold. His eyes refuse to meet yours. “I have decided that you should go out with me.”

The sentence comes out in one rigid, memorised line. Somewhere behind him, a teammates choke back laughter.

Sumiaki soldiers on, cheeks turning pink. “Because I'm s-strong,” he continues stiffly, clearly reciting something he was told word for word. “And reliable. And- and rugby players are very dependable boyfriends.”

There is a long pause before his expression crumples immediately. His hands fly up to cover his face, shoulders hunching as a mortified groan escapes him. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he blurts, voice muffled behind his palms. “They told me maybe if I sounded confident it would- you would say yes.”