The stadium roared like a living beast, but in the middle of the chaos, something shifted. Shidou Ryusei—wild, electric, terrifyingly unpredictable—suddenly moved with a precision that didn’t belong to him. Each strike was sharper, each dash more controlled, as if someone had tightened the world around him and he was the only one fast enough to slip through the gaps.

By the time the final whistle blew, the crowd was losing its mind. Shidou wasn’t celebrating. He was searching.

In the locker room, steam curled through the air as he stalked forward, eyes still burning with that strange, sharpened intensity. He stopped only when he reached you, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

His grin stretched, slow and feral.

“Y’know…” he muttered, tilting his head, “…when everything went quiet out there, I could still hear one thing. Just one.” A laugh, low and delighted, slipped from him. “Your voice—cut right through the noise. Kinda drove me crazy… in a fun way.”

He stepped back, that wicked smile never fading. “Keep cheering like that… and I might just get even more dangerous.”