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[It's the first time he's heard Hakuryuu say more than a sentence since the match at God Eden. And what a sentence it is. It certainly wasn't one he was expecting, and when Hakuryuu's eyes snap open, Fudou's looking at him with a bit of a blank expression, blue eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He's quiet.
But the silence only lasts for about a second before Fudou's expression changes. His eyes snap closed and his mouth opens, a loud noise leaving his mouth immediately after--]
Haha!
[Laughter.]
If only more athletes were like you. [Himself included, Fudou thinks silently.] Well, it makes it easier if I know your preferences, so I'll keep that in mind.
[So many things race through Hakuryuu's mind in that one second. Was he rude to say that? Was it ungrateful? Sure, it did seem that way...after all, Fudou had opened his house to him. Shouldn't he be happy with whatever he gets? Fudou could have thrown a bag of chips at him and he would have accepted it. Even if it went against his diet he'd built up for himself.
Hospitality was hospitality.
He half expects to get the door pointed out, saying he can leave if udon was too unhealthy for him. Or that he can just go without dinner if that's how he's going to act. But before he can think a moment longer on it, Fudou laughs, jovial and bright, as Hakuryuu can only stare dumbfounded, mouth agape, at the man.]
Y-Yes. [It's stammered out of sheer confusion as Fudou takes his leave, wondering just what happened in those few seconds and how he proverbially stopped the world from ending without really doing anything. He was...complimented? For a comment like that?
...
Fudou had said he could soak as long as he needed to, and with his joints aching and his muscles practically twisted into knots at this point, he welcomed the warm water and the way it soothed out those pains. He doesn't take too long--he has no idea what counts as Fudou's 'long enough', but if it was anything like God Eden's way of bathing, this was pretty much a luxury to even get more than 10 minutes. The hot water's so intoxicating, though, the way he can move easier, his legs don't feel like they weigh 500lbs each...
A smile escapes for just a moment before he realizes that maybe this was long enough, that he should probably get out and into those pajamas that Fudou had bought for him. Grabbing his towel, he exits the bath and briefly pats his hair dry, turning to clean up the water that might have escaped on his exit and getting into those soft pajamas. They felt like clouds on his skin, too comfortable to be legal. The fabric was loose, but kept the heat his skin emanated from the bath inside, making it like its own little blanket of warmth as he puts the towel around his shoulders, only walking out once he's finished cleaning up.
As if no one had even been in there.
Putting his slippers back on, he wanders out into the main section of the apartment, cautiously looking for Fudou.]
[When Hakuryuu gets out of the bath, the heater they turned on earlier has done its job. The apartment is permeated with comfortable warmth, now, not overwhelming but having completely defeated the chill from earlier. The light adds to it, making even the simple, pretty undecorated apartment look welcoming and lived-in. Adding to it, lastly, is the smell of the promised dinner.
Fudou is standing behind the kitchen counter, jacket sleeves pushed up his arms and out of the way as he's cutting up the last of the udon's toppings. Kamaboko fish cakes, abura'age, some green onions -- simple, but colorful and healthy toppings to complete the kitsune udon he was preparing. He'd even taken a moment to make sure the udon's broth wasn't going to be too strong, knowing that that usually meant it would be too salty. He personally didn't care, usually -- food was food -- but if "healthy food" was going to be the one thing Hakuryuu specified despite all that skittishness, then healthy food was going to be one thing he'll make damn sure the kid gets.
(Until they get used to it and he drags him out to Tobitaka's to get some ramen, at least, that is.)
He's just finished cutting and sprinkling the green onions into the noodle bowls when he hears the boy step into the room, putting the knife out of the way into the sink and sliding the cutting board in after it as he raises his head, focused expression easing into a smile again. For now.]
Hey, how was the bath...?
[For now, because after asking the question, the emotion slips off of Fudou's face for the first time this evening, smile shrinking as his lips press together into a point, cat-like eyes opening a fraction wider in what could be confusion, curiosity, or thoughtfulness. It doesn't change into anything beyond that, however, as he picks up the bowls and carries them to the table where placemats and chopsticks had already been laid out at seats across from each other, setting them down...
and turning to Hakuryuu with a now-freed hand held out in a beckoning, "come here" gesture.]
[The house is warm, Hakuryuu almost drunk off its heat as he steps into the main living area. The lighting was a little low, either from ambiance or saving on electric bills, but it gave it a cozy atmosphere that the boy had never really experienced. God Eden had two lightings: Darkness with whatever sunlight could break through the fortress, or the artificial harsh lighting of the training grounds. Neither were particularly welcoming. Unlike this place... The apartment had quickly transformed from a new-environment to a home in the time it took him to soak properly.
It's a slow meander through the hall and out to the main area, his head poking curiously around to see that table already set. The bowls of udon were by Fudou himself, who'd been busy chopping up what looked like scallions. It smelled...amazing, if Hakuryuu was being honest. The steam off the noodles mixed with the green onion and the Kamaboko flakes... How long had it been since he'd had a homecooked meal like this? Sun Garden had provided food, naturally, but with so many newcomers, Hitomiko and Reina couldn't make enough food like this for them all. So onigiri and convenience store items had been Hakuryuu's diet for the past few weeks. A small, childish instinct inside him wants to make a break for those bowls, more starved than he'd ever remembered being on his walk into this place.
But it's an urge he holds back, drawn back to reality as Fudou addresses him.]
It was relaxing. [It's still a short answer, given everything, but he's not restricting himself to 'yes' and 'no' at least.] I made sure not to take too long.
[Fudou's searching, curious eyes catch his attention, though, red ones staring back almost questioningly as they track those bowls in his hand. A child, no matter how adult they try to act, is still a child, and nothing gets their attention quite like a bowl full of warm food.
Thankfully, his self control wins out, and he watches as those bowls get put down, only for Fudou's next request. The towel...was he not supposed to bring it out? Sure, maybe it was a bit damp from the bath...he should have definitely left it back in the bathroom.
Obediently, his hands move up to slide the towel out from his shoulders, offering it over to Fudou without question.]
[He doesn't want the noodles to soak up all the broth, and he can tell Hakuryuu's hungry from the way those eyes follow the bowl. He intends to make this quick, but he also intends to do this now -- if he lets the kid keep his hair like this for too long the water will cool on his head, soak into his clothes, and he'll get cold. Who knows how susceptible fresh-off-the-island soccer players are to the common cold? He's not risking it.
The towel is taken, slipped out of Hakuryuu's grasp with deliberate gentleness, then Fudou steps around behind him to drop it back over his head, hands coming down softly to ruffle his hair through the fabric and soaking up some of that excess water. He makes sure to wrap the longer strands with the towel and pat them dry before they can drip onto the boy's back, hands squeezing with practiced ease. His grip is firm but he never yanks or snags at the hair, massaging into his scalp and fluffing up the top of his head before he pulls the towel away.]
There. You wanna make sure your hair's dry before you come out, so do it thoroughly -- you're not in trouble or anything, but it's still pretty cold in Tokyo this season so you'll catch a cold if you're not careful.
[With a light pat on his shoulder, Hakuryuu is free to move. Their first, brief, minute of contact ends peacefully as Fudou takes a moment to go back to the bathroom and toss the now-wet towel into the hamper as well. He calls from the hallway.]
Can you grab the jug of tea from the fridge? It's barley.
[The whole thing takes less than a couple minutes, between Fudou taking the towel and the towel being flopped over his head. Eyes widen as the room suddenly goes dark, and for a split second, the hairs on the back of his neck raise up, his body tenses, and he's ready for SOMETHING to happen.
Before his mind can really drift to anything necessarily bad, hands go to his head, bracing for what was going to be a smack or a punch, clearly. What he gets? Light ruffling of his hair. There's a soft choked sound underneath the towel, more out of surprise than anything panicked. The towel fluffs his hair, the moisture leaving it significantly lighter than it'd been earlier, but much cleaner and softer than he'd had it before the bath.
It felt...nice.
His heart leaps at the feeling, as if something woke up in his heart that hadn't been felt in years. Hands affectionally ruffling his hair, massaging his scalp through the cloth of the towel. And for just a split second, before his brain quickly shoves it away, he wanted to believe that it was as affectionate as he hoped.
But his heart is not so easily won. While he doesn't shove the gesture away, he does shake his head much like a dog when Fudou stops, towel removed and hair now fluffy and lightweight. His eyes can only stare at Fudou in wonder, as if he were truly the strangest adult he's ever seen in his entire life (not that it was that far of a stretch for Fudou, the man didn't exactly dress like anyone with good taste). This was a boy who'd known nothing but rigorous training, fighting for survival, and letting soccer prove his worth, suddenly in an environment where he was not only welcomed, but cared for as if he'd always belonged there. There's no words to describe what he's feeling right now.
Hope would be a good one, if he were a little more optimistic. The best he can settle for is 'hesitant' and 'curious'. Fudou piqued his curiosity more than anything.
Because why DID Fudou take him in? Questions he should ask him later, maybe.
At the question, though, he perks up and makes his way to the kitchen where the fride is, studying it for a moment before opening it up to get the jug of tea sitting right in front. While the fridge wasn't overly stocked to the point of abundance, it had the necessary items - Eggs, milk, some tupperware containers marked with either days of the week or the names of the people who'd given them to Fudou.
Observant eyes make note of it, but no further comment, other than calling back to him.]
[Fudou's already making his way back from the bathroom as he says this, pulling down the ends of his sleeves as he does, running a hand through his long, messy hair to push some strands out of his face. Rather than head for the table to let Hakuryuu get the cups he rounds the counter, holding his hands out for the jug and cups with a nod of his head toward the set out dinner.]
Here, I'll take over. Go ahead and get started eating -- you hadn't eaten all day, right? Hitomiko-san mentioned it.
[The jug is held in one hand, arm holding it effortlessly as he makes his way to the microwave. Thankfully, he'd been blessed with quite some height for his age, and it didn't take much for him to open up the cabinet and pinch two cups between his thumb and forefinger and pulling them out. It's quick, expertly done as he uses his elbow to shut the cabinet once more and setting those glasses down.
Not that he has much time to do anything after that. Fudou's there in an instant, those blue eyes looking at him with a sort of hidden eagerness Hakuryuu'd never seen on an adult. He freezes on the spot, fingers loosening around those glasses to let them set on the counter completely, other arm obediently handing over the jug.]
I can wait for you.
[Fudou'd worked hard to make this food, and despite his own hunger pangs that sunk their claws into the sides of his stomach, he knew it was rude to start without everyone at the table.
Was this a test? So far everything had been genuine, and he'd played it pretty safe except for that one comment from earlier. His hand plays with his now-fluffed hair, as if he hadn't felt it completely down in quite some time. It'd gotten so long...
There's soft hesitance, as if he's somewhere in a strange limbo of wanting to do as Fudou says, and knowing he probably should wait.]
She said to eat light--it'd be easier on the stomach if I was going pretty far.
[Fudou didn't know Kira Hitomiko that well, but from what he did know of her from those two encounters in middle school and the last couple of weeks of working with her and the Sun Garden... he could see her saying that. But as he takes the jug from Hakuryuu's hands and pours the tea into those cups, he thinks to himself that even if she had said that, this child must have eaten much less than his temporary caretaker had meant.
Oh, well. He's getting food now.
The tea is poured, Fudou picking up one of the glasses for Hakuryuu to take -- his glass, of course -- before he gathers up his own along with the jug, then nodding to signal that they can now, finally, go take their seats at the table.]
Wouldn't have taken long, [he says, voice as soft and even as it's been all evening, stepping forward to lead the way.
Once seated, he doesn't waste any more time for Hakuryuu. He only makes sure that the boy sits first and that he's situated before he says, to give him explicit permission just in case he needs it,] Dig in.
[He takes the glass eagerly, eyes lit up with an intent to please as he looks at it. Food was so easily handed to him now, and while they didn't necessarily starve the kids in God Eden (that would have made for poor performance), it certainly didn't make it less of a shark tank. Here, there's no one to fight for the best food, there's no time limit to eat it all in before getting back to training. His glass was his, and he didn't have to shield it from someone else who might have wanted seconds.]
It's why I didn't mind waiting.
[For someone who tended to call his keshin out two seconds into a soccer match, he certainly had the patience when it came to food or drink. Maybe it's because he's afraid of losing it, if he acts too out of line. He follows Fudou to the table, setting the glass down and looking at the display--it was like a real meal, something he hadn't had in quite some time. The broth smelled delicious, the strong scent of green onion flooding his nostrils and opening up feelings of nostalgia. The warmth hit his face as he sits down, staring at the whole thing in awe as he takes his chopsticks.
Permission seemed to be the last thing holding him back, it seems, taking to that bowl like he hadn't eaten in weeks (and let's be real, he probably hadn't, not properly). The appetite of a teenager is not to be underestimated, it seems, as he's already having to take a small break for air (and to swallow), letting the warm food slide down and fill his stomach.
And for a split second, his stoic exterior drops to show a small smile as he sighs, satiated if only for the moment.]
It's good...
[Red eyes close, soaking in the moment to reflect on everything that ha happened tonight. His own room, a bath, food. Fudou had given him everything that was taken from him in one night, and so easily too. It doesn't go unnoticed, either, eyes opening once more to stare into his broth and watching the seasonings swirl and mix into the noodles.]
Fudou-san. [Was that what he was supposed to call him? That seemed like a safe bet. They'd only truly met just the other day when he got the news he'd be going to his home to stay. But his question hangs in his throat for a split second, before letting it come out.] I remember back in God Eden...you play soccer too.
[Granted, he'd only seen him for a split second on the field, the rest of the time he was on the bench.]
[It's not that Fudou doesn't eat, either. He's picked up his chopsticks, and he's scooped up a few noodles, carrying it to his mouth and slurping it up at a decent speed, although it has nothing on Hakuryuu's. It contributes to making it look like he's not eating, at first, as when Hakuryuu pauses his inhaling of the food to take a breath and start talking again, Fudou's eyes are on him, watching that change of expression.
He doesn't point out the smile on Hakuryuu's face. But he remembers it, carving it into his memory so that he would never forget, along with the vow to himself that that smile is now his duty to ease out and protect.
Endou Mamoru would give him the most shit-eating grin.]
Midfielder.
[He has to pause a little to think about how else to add to that. He didn't quite ever figure out how to talk about himself in that way -- most people just picked it up from watching him, or only talked to him after seeing his play. Hm.]
[The conversation does well to distract him from the new situation he's in, and he'll gladly take the topic of soccer as a comforting familiarity. Someone out there, someone with cheerful slate-blue eyes and brown hair would say soccer had a way of bringing almost anyone together, even those who were only strangers that morning. Hakuryuu wouldn't say that himself, but he could at least admit that it made dinner warmer than just the noodles.
Midfielder.
It somehow makes sense. He couldn't really see the man as a forward, something about that personality seemed to place him in the center of the field. And he'd been too mobile during the game with Raimon to be a defender like that bearded man and blue haired man he'd seen.
A tactician? He holds his next bite by his mouth, some of the noodles falling out of the chopsticks in thought.]
[Honestly, when Fudou thought about it, the term "playmaker" only made him think of one person. Lighter, dreadlocked hair, goggles that were now replaced by sunglasses, wrinkles constantly formed between those brows except in moments of soccer-related delight. A brilliant mind who'd found the light at the end of the tunnel, placed at the side of a man who shone like the sun...]
I'm not sure if I was much of a playmaker as opposed to the guy who jumped in to change the flow of the match when necessary. Breaker, more like.
Every guy has a different role on his team, don't you think?
[That puts him into silence, half because he's gone back to eating, and half because he wants to mull over what Fudou had said. His stomach was not so patient in that it would sit quietly and let him chat away when food was warm and ready to be eaten, and in some ways, he's a little grateful for that. Noodles are shoved in his mouth to occupy it, letting it slide down and warm his entire insides, a satisfying breath released each time.
So he wasn't a playmaker by his standards, but something of a joker type of player. Interesting.
But one he doesn't remark further on. It's Fudou's next statement that catches his attention more. Every guy has a different role on his team, don't you think?]
Yeah.
I was the team's ace striker. [As if that wasn't obvious by the battle against Raimon, but he felt he should clarify in case Fudou hadn't been looking at the number on his back at the time.]
That's right. I was watching your play -- don't know too many guys who can kick like you.
[He's seen dozens of strikers, handfuls of aces. To this day, the ultimate striker is one he remembers from Inazuma Japan, the man who spun like a fireball and shot the ball with unparalleled power, but years down the line, or perhaps not even, he can see kids like Tsurugi Kyousuke and this one, Hakuryuu, usurping that legend.
He leans back in his seat, not forgetting his food but letting it sit for now.]
Hakuryuu, this is just a suggestion. It's up to you whether you'll accept it or not, but now that you're not on that island, it's up to you what you do next.
Pretty soon, the Sector will be gone. If Raimon wins this Football Frontier, then that'll be the end of it, and soccer will go back to the way it used to be. If you still want to play the sport, and want to see how far you can go with it... then I'll arrange things so that you can keep playing.
[It comes out almost like a mantra, like some training technique or coping mechanism he'd given himself to not be intimidated by other teams. He'd earned his power.
He breathes out, letting the food he'd inhaled settled before shoving more down. He'd finished about half the bowl, and he can feel the warmth seep into his stomach and the broth warm him where the bath hadn't, healing a little bit of his soul along the way. He notices Fudou do the same, setting his bowl down and leaning back.
And Hakuryuu listens.]
How can you be so sure the Sector'll be gone, just like that? Look how long it took God Eden to go down.
[Granted, God Eden was the source of Fifth Sector's Seeds. Without supersoldiers, it'd be a lot harder to control soccer. But he had a feeling it wouldn't be as easy as cutting a single, poisonous weed.]
[The answer is given without hesitation, Fudou's voice never losing that even tone, blue eyes as calm as an untouched lake as he meets Hakuryuu's red ones.]
They've been at the forefront of a resistance against Fifth Sector since the start of Holy Road. The semi-finals are next, and should they win, there's a new Holy Emperor who'll disband the Sector as he's appointed.
I'm not the one fighting these battles. The least I can is believe in the ones who are.
[And that answer works. Hakuryuu stares down at his bowl, remembering the strength of Raimon at God Eden, remembering how they'd pulled through with only a few words from their coach and evolved to something even stronger than he could be. If anyone could stop Fifth Sector, it would be Raimon.
The fire in his eyes softens to a warm glow, trying to hide the small smile growing on his face as he picks up his chopsticks once more.]
Tsurugi will be getting stronger. I can't slack off and let him become better than me. I'm his greatest rival, and I'll show him what my real soccer is.
[Before he goes back to eating, he pauses.]
Can you help me with that?
[Hakuryuu was always one to sacrifice everything for power. He had to on God Eden, where power determined your worth. It's what connected him and Shuu together originally on Zero. But this was different--he was sacrificing for strength, and somehow...that didn't seem like such a sacrifice after all.]
[Fudou is no Endou, Kidou, or Gouenji. He doesn't like to assume that things will go his way as those three are often wont to do. Endou had a way of moving people, and the other two were too used to following him around. Fudou, on the other hand, had picked up a habit of assuming that things wouldn't often go his way, and of increasing efforts to narrow the margin of error as much as possible.
But right now, in this moment, he feels what might be a fraction of what Endou Mamoru feels. Hakuryuu's response has him relax his shoulders, eyes narrowing with approval, and a small voice in the back of his mind says, "I thought you'd say that."]
If you ask me, you're uncut stone. Your strength and talent is real. Nobody can deny that potential, but you're still rough and jagged around the edges.
I won't make you change your play style, but I'll show you how to refine what you already have. You might be surprised by what some polishing and sharpening might do for you.
[That's new. In God Eden, there were only two groups you were classified to be--strong, or not strong enough. Hidden potential was just a hurdle that needed to be overcome or face the consequences. It's a new environment for Hakuryuu to find himself in, one he most certainly treads carefully on.
But the way Fudou's speaking, it's not out of criticism. It's...praise? Something like that. There's a hint of pride in the man's voice, like when Hakuryuu's training had gone well and God Eden's trainers often spoke him marvel about his power.
But it was different, too. A gentleness that seemed to value the person underneath the power.
He takes another step out from the corner he'd metaphorically hid himself in.]
Close to it. I'm not questioning your ability to keep the ball and kick it properly, but it could be added to.
[Footwork could be one's greatest weakness or a weapon to make use of, depending on how a player honed that ability. Hakuryuu wasn't naturally an abrupt, strength-based player like Gouenji or Tsurugi were, or even he himself could actually be. He had naturally high speed and agility, two talents that got buried under the Sector's focus on resistance-crushing power.
He breathes out through his nose before picking up his chopsticks again to resume eating.]
Quicker, smarter, more controlled. You don't need my help developing hissatsu or controlling your keshin, but I can strengthen your foundations.
[Hakuryuu's silent as he takes in Fudou's words, letting the noodle occupy his mouth instead. It's weird, not being told you're incomplete. That you're not good enough. That if you don't get stronger, more powerful, you're not even worth alive. 'Uncut stone' had such a nice ring to it in comparison.
The real question is...
How does he answer?]
I want to get better.
If you can help me do that, I'll do whatever it takes. If my hissatsu and keshin are already strong enough according to you, then tell me what it takes to become unstoppable.
[There are some things that'll change immediately. Warming up to someone you just met, learning that you're not going to be yelled at for a simple sentence...
[That's it, then. That's all the answer he needs. Fudou lowers his chopsticks from his mouth for one last pause, the blue of his eyes brighter than they've been, the smile confident.]
I can give you a path to follow. I'll guide you. Whatever I can give you, it'll be yours to take and make into yours.
[And here, he leans forward, raising his free hand to extend across the table -- an offered handshake.]
Fudou Akio. Once more, nice to meet you, Hakuryuu.
[And that was it. Before he knew it, Hakuryuu was on a training regiment to become the best he could be. Not the most powerful, or the most ruthless, but truly becoming strong in the core aspects of the sport. Things that people would say he was lacking.]
Show me everything you can.
[That hand reaches forward to meet Fudou's, taking it with all the strength he could (although caution is noticable in its grip) and giving it a nice shake.]
Thank you, Fudou-san.
Whatever you give me, I'll make my own. I won't let you own.
[He can't afford to.]
...Fudou-san.
[His hand falters in that shake, holding it there apprehensively. It looks like there's something that's been on his mind since he got here, his voice faltering at that moment as if his proverbial house of cards would crumble if he spoke it out loud.
In a way, it's not a WRONG mentality, even if it would never apply to the situation. Still, his own self-preservation wins, and he quickly goes back to stuffing his face with noodles.]
[Fudou Akio was never the pushy kind. Not in the way that Endou Mamoru was. He isn't going to drag a response out of Hakuryuu if that's not what he desires, but he watches him with a smile on his face.]
I'll hear out anything you want to say, Hakuryuu. If you want to tell me later, just talk to me.
[But for now, they better finish the noodles before they absorb all the broth. He releases the boy's hand but briefly pats the top of his now-fluffy hair with a gentle touch, pulling back after to go back to his dinner.]
This is your home now, too. Or, well... what I've got here so far.
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But the silence only lasts for about a second before Fudou's expression changes. His eyes snap closed and his mouth opens, a loud noise leaving his mouth immediately after--]
Haha!
[Laughter.]
If only more athletes were like you. [Himself included, Fudou thinks silently.] Well, it makes it easier if I know your preferences, so I'll keep that in mind.
Udon it is. I'll have it ready, then.
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Hospitality was hospitality.
He half expects to get the door pointed out, saying he can leave if udon was too unhealthy for him. Or that he can just go without dinner if that's how he's going to act. But before he can think a moment longer on it, Fudou laughs, jovial and bright, as Hakuryuu can only stare dumbfounded, mouth agape, at the man.]
Y-Yes. [It's stammered out of sheer confusion as Fudou takes his leave, wondering just what happened in those few seconds and how he proverbially stopped the world from ending without really doing anything. He was...complimented? For a comment like that?
...
Fudou had said he could soak as long as he needed to, and with his joints aching and his muscles practically twisted into knots at this point, he welcomed the warm water and the way it soothed out those pains. He doesn't take too long--he has no idea what counts as Fudou's 'long enough', but if it was anything like God Eden's way of bathing, this was pretty much a luxury to even get more than 10 minutes. The hot water's so intoxicating, though, the way he can move easier, his legs don't feel like they weigh 500lbs each...
A smile escapes for just a moment before he realizes that maybe this was long enough, that he should probably get out and into those pajamas that Fudou had bought for him. Grabbing his towel, he exits the bath and briefly pats his hair dry, turning to clean up the water that might have escaped on his exit and getting into those soft pajamas. They felt like clouds on his skin, too comfortable to be legal. The fabric was loose, but kept the heat his skin emanated from the bath inside, making it like its own little blanket of warmth as he puts the towel around his shoulders, only walking out once he's finished cleaning up.
As if no one had even been in there.
Putting his slippers back on, he wanders out into the main section of the apartment, cautiously looking for Fudou.]
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Fudou is standing behind the kitchen counter, jacket sleeves pushed up his arms and out of the way as he's cutting up the last of the udon's toppings. Kamaboko fish cakes, abura'age, some green onions -- simple, but colorful and healthy toppings to complete the kitsune udon he was preparing. He'd even taken a moment to make sure the udon's broth wasn't going to be too strong, knowing that that usually meant it would be too salty. He personally didn't care, usually -- food was food -- but if "healthy food" was going to be the one thing Hakuryuu specified despite all that skittishness, then healthy food was going to be one thing he'll make damn sure the kid gets.
(Until they get used to it and he drags him out to Tobitaka's to get some ramen, at least, that is.)
He's just finished cutting and sprinkling the green onions into the noodle bowls when he hears the boy step into the room, putting the knife out of the way into the sink and sliding the cutting board in after it as he raises his head, focused expression easing into a smile again. For now.]
Hey, how was the bath...?
[For now, because after asking the question, the emotion slips off of Fudou's face for the first time this evening, smile shrinking as his lips press together into a point, cat-like eyes opening a fraction wider in what could be confusion, curiosity, or thoughtfulness. It doesn't change into anything beyond that, however, as he picks up the bowls and carries them to the table where placemats and chopsticks had already been laid out at seats across from each other, setting them down...
and turning to Hakuryuu with a now-freed hand held out in a beckoning, "come here" gesture.]
Lemme see that towel for a sec.
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It's a slow meander through the hall and out to the main area, his head poking curiously around to see that table already set. The bowls of udon were by Fudou himself, who'd been busy chopping up what looked like scallions. It smelled...amazing, if Hakuryuu was being honest. The steam off the noodles mixed with the green onion and the Kamaboko flakes... How long had it been since he'd had a homecooked meal like this? Sun Garden had provided food, naturally, but with so many newcomers, Hitomiko and Reina couldn't make enough food like this for them all. So onigiri and convenience store items had been Hakuryuu's diet for the past few weeks. A small, childish instinct inside him wants to make a break for those bowls, more starved than he'd ever remembered being on his walk into this place.
But it's an urge he holds back, drawn back to reality as Fudou addresses him.]
It was relaxing. [It's still a short answer, given everything, but he's not restricting himself to 'yes' and 'no' at least.] I made sure not to take too long.
[Fudou's searching, curious eyes catch his attention, though, red ones staring back almost questioningly as they track those bowls in his hand. A child, no matter how adult they try to act, is still a child, and nothing gets their attention quite like a bowl full of warm food.
Thankfully, his self control wins out, and he watches as those bowls get put down, only for Fudou's next request. The towel...was he not supposed to bring it out? Sure, maybe it was a bit damp from the bath...he should have definitely left it back in the bathroom.
Obediently, his hands move up to slide the towel out from his shoulders, offering it over to Fudou without question.]
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The towel is taken, slipped out of Hakuryuu's grasp with deliberate gentleness, then Fudou steps around behind him to drop it back over his head, hands coming down softly to ruffle his hair through the fabric and soaking up some of that excess water. He makes sure to wrap the longer strands with the towel and pat them dry before they can drip onto the boy's back, hands squeezing with practiced ease. His grip is firm but he never yanks or snags at the hair, massaging into his scalp and fluffing up the top of his head before he pulls the towel away.]
There. You wanna make sure your hair's dry before you come out, so do it thoroughly -- you're not in trouble or anything, but it's still pretty cold in Tokyo this season so you'll catch a cold if you're not careful.
[With a light pat on his shoulder, Hakuryuu is free to move. Their first, brief, minute of contact ends peacefully as Fudou takes a moment to go back to the bathroom and toss the now-wet towel into the hamper as well. He calls from the hallway.]
Can you grab the jug of tea from the fridge? It's barley.
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Before his mind can really drift to anything necessarily bad, hands go to his head, bracing for what was going to be a smack or a punch, clearly. What he gets? Light ruffling of his hair. There's a soft choked sound underneath the towel, more out of surprise than anything panicked. The towel fluffs his hair, the moisture leaving it significantly lighter than it'd been earlier, but much cleaner and softer than he'd had it before the bath.
It felt...nice.
His heart leaps at the feeling, as if something woke up in his heart that hadn't been felt in years. Hands affectionally ruffling his hair, massaging his scalp through the cloth of the towel. And for just a split second, before his brain quickly shoves it away, he wanted to believe that it was as affectionate as he hoped.
But his heart is not so easily won. While he doesn't shove the gesture away, he does shake his head much like a dog when Fudou stops, towel removed and hair now fluffy and lightweight. His eyes can only stare at Fudou in wonder, as if he were truly the strangest adult he's ever seen in his entire life (not that it was that far of a stretch for Fudou, the man didn't exactly dress like anyone with good taste). This was a boy who'd known nothing but rigorous training, fighting for survival, and letting soccer prove his worth, suddenly in an environment where he was not only welcomed, but cared for as if he'd always belonged there. There's no words to describe what he's feeling right now.
Hope would be a good one, if he were a little more optimistic. The best he can settle for is 'hesitant' and 'curious'. Fudou piqued his curiosity more than anything.
Because why DID Fudou take him in? Questions he should ask him later, maybe.
At the question, though, he perks up and makes his way to the kitchen where the fride is, studying it for a moment before opening it up to get the jug of tea sitting right in front. While the fridge wasn't overly stocked to the point of abundance, it had the necessary items - Eggs, milk, some tupperware containers marked with either days of the week or the names of the people who'd given them to Fudou.
Observant eyes make note of it, but no further comment, other than calling back to him.]
I got it!
Where are the glasses?
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[Fudou's already making his way back from the bathroom as he says this, pulling down the ends of his sleeves as he does, running a hand through his long, messy hair to push some strands out of his face. Rather than head for the table to let Hakuryuu get the cups he rounds the counter, holding his hands out for the jug and cups with a nod of his head toward the set out dinner.]
Here, I'll take over. Go ahead and get started eating -- you hadn't eaten all day, right? Hitomiko-san mentioned it.
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Not that he has much time to do anything after that. Fudou's there in an instant, those blue eyes looking at him with a sort of hidden eagerness Hakuryuu'd never seen on an adult. He freezes on the spot, fingers loosening around those glasses to let them set on the counter completely, other arm obediently handing over the jug.]
I can wait for you.
[Fudou'd worked hard to make this food, and despite his own hunger pangs that sunk their claws into the sides of his stomach, he knew it was rude to start without everyone at the table.
Was this a test? So far everything had been genuine, and he'd played it pretty safe except for that one comment from earlier. His hand plays with his now-fluffed hair, as if he hadn't felt it completely down in quite some time. It'd gotten so long...
There's soft hesitance, as if he's somewhere in a strange limbo of wanting to do as Fudou says, and knowing he probably should wait.]
She said to eat light--it'd be easier on the stomach if I was going pretty far.
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Oh, well. He's getting food now.
The tea is poured, Fudou picking up one of the glasses for Hakuryuu to take -- his glass, of course -- before he gathers up his own along with the jug, then nodding to signal that they can now, finally, go take their seats at the table.]
Wouldn't have taken long, [he says, voice as soft and even as it's been all evening, stepping forward to lead the way.
Once seated, he doesn't waste any more time for Hakuryuu. He only makes sure that the boy sits first and that he's situated before he says, to give him explicit permission just in case he needs it,] Dig in.
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It's why I didn't mind waiting.
[For someone who tended to call his keshin out two seconds into a soccer match, he certainly had the patience when it came to food or drink. Maybe it's because he's afraid of losing it, if he acts too out of line. He follows Fudou to the table, setting the glass down and looking at the display--it was like a real meal, something he hadn't had in quite some time. The broth smelled delicious, the strong scent of green onion flooding his nostrils and opening up feelings of nostalgia. The warmth hit his face as he sits down, staring at the whole thing in awe as he takes his chopsticks.
Permission seemed to be the last thing holding him back, it seems, taking to that bowl like he hadn't eaten in weeks (and let's be real, he probably hadn't, not properly). The appetite of a teenager is not to be underestimated, it seems, as he's already having to take a small break for air (and to swallow), letting the warm food slide down and fill his stomach.
And for a split second, his stoic exterior drops to show a small smile as he sighs, satiated if only for the moment.]
It's good...
[Red eyes close, soaking in the moment to reflect on everything that ha happened tonight. His own room, a bath, food. Fudou had given him everything that was taken from him in one night, and so easily too. It doesn't go unnoticed, either, eyes opening once more to stare into his broth and watching the seasonings swirl and mix into the noodles.]
Fudou-san. [Was that what he was supposed to call him? That seemed like a safe bet. They'd only truly met just the other day when he got the news he'd be going to his home to stay. But his question hangs in his throat for a split second, before letting it come out.] I remember back in God Eden...you play soccer too.
[Granted, he'd only seen him for a split second on the field, the rest of the time he was on the bench.]
What position are you?
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He doesn't point out the smile on Hakuryuu's face. But he remembers it, carving it into his memory so that he would never forget, along with the vow to himself that that smile is now his duty to ease out and protect.
Endou Mamoru would give him the most shit-eating grin.]
Midfielder.
[He has to pause a little to think about how else to add to that. He didn't quite ever figure out how to talk about himself in that way -- most people just picked it up from watching him, or only talked to him after seeing his play. Hm.]
Mostly there for tactics and strategy...?
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Midfielder.
It somehow makes sense. He couldn't really see the man as a forward, something about that personality seemed to place him in the center of the field. And he'd been too mobile during the game with Raimon to be a defender like that bearded man and blue haired man he'd seen.
A tactician? He holds his next bite by his mouth, some of the noodles falling out of the chopsticks in thought.]
So you were a playmaker.
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[Honestly, when Fudou thought about it, the term "playmaker" only made him think of one person. Lighter, dreadlocked hair, goggles that were now replaced by sunglasses, wrinkles constantly formed between those brows except in moments of soccer-related delight. A brilliant mind who'd found the light at the end of the tunnel, placed at the side of a man who shone like the sun...]
I'm not sure if I was much of a playmaker as opposed to the guy who jumped in to change the flow of the match when necessary. Breaker, more like.
Every guy has a different role on his team, don't you think?
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So he wasn't a playmaker by his standards, but something of a joker type of player. Interesting.
But one he doesn't remark further on. It's Fudou's next statement that catches his attention more. Every guy has a different role on his team, don't you think?]
Yeah.
I was the team's ace striker. [As if that wasn't obvious by the battle against Raimon, but he felt he should clarify in case Fudou hadn't been looking at the number on his back at the time.]
Just like Tsurugi.
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[He's seen dozens of strikers, handfuls of aces. To this day, the ultimate striker is one he remembers from Inazuma Japan, the man who spun like a fireball and shot the ball with unparalleled power, but years down the line, or perhaps not even, he can see kids like Tsurugi Kyousuke and this one, Hakuryuu, usurping that legend.
He leans back in his seat, not forgetting his food but letting it sit for now.]
Hakuryuu, this is just a suggestion. It's up to you whether you'll accept it or not, but now that you're not on that island, it's up to you what you do next.
Pretty soon, the Sector will be gone. If Raimon wins this Football Frontier, then that'll be the end of it, and soccer will go back to the way it used to be. If you still want to play the sport, and want to see how far you can go with it... then I'll arrange things so that you can keep playing.
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[It comes out almost like a mantra, like some training technique or coping mechanism he'd given himself to not be intimidated by other teams. He'd earned his power.
He breathes out, letting the food he'd inhaled settled before shoving more down. He'd finished about half the bowl, and he can feel the warmth seep into his stomach and the broth warm him where the bath hadn't, healing a little bit of his soul along the way. He notices Fudou do the same, setting his bowl down and leaning back.
And Hakuryuu listens.]
How can you be so sure the Sector'll be gone, just like that? Look how long it took God Eden to go down.
[Granted, God Eden was the source of Fifth Sector's Seeds. Without supersoldiers, it'd be a lot harder to control soccer. But he had a feeling it wouldn't be as easy as cutting a single, poisonous weed.]
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[The answer is given without hesitation, Fudou's voice never losing that even tone, blue eyes as calm as an untouched lake as he meets Hakuryuu's red ones.]
They've been at the forefront of a resistance against Fifth Sector since the start of Holy Road. The semi-finals are next, and should they win, there's a new Holy Emperor who'll disband the Sector as he's appointed.
I'm not the one fighting these battles. The least I can is believe in the ones who are.
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The fire in his eyes softens to a warm glow, trying to hide the small smile growing on his face as he picks up his chopsticks once more.]
Tsurugi will be getting stronger. I can't slack off and let him become better than me. I'm his greatest rival, and I'll show him what my real soccer is.
[Before he goes back to eating, he pauses.]
Can you help me with that?
[Hakuryuu was always one to sacrifice everything for power. He had to on God Eden, where power determined your worth. It's what connected him and Shuu together originally on Zero. But this was different--he was sacrificing for strength, and somehow...that didn't seem like such a sacrifice after all.]
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[Fudou is no Endou, Kidou, or Gouenji. He doesn't like to assume that things will go his way as those three are often wont to do. Endou had a way of moving people, and the other two were too used to following him around. Fudou, on the other hand, had picked up a habit of assuming that things wouldn't often go his way, and of increasing efforts to narrow the margin of error as much as possible.
But right now, in this moment, he feels what might be a fraction of what Endou Mamoru feels. Hakuryuu's response has him relax his shoulders, eyes narrowing with approval, and a small voice in the back of his mind says, "I thought you'd say that."]
If you ask me, you're uncut stone. Your strength and talent is real. Nobody can deny that potential, but you're still rough and jagged around the edges.
I won't make you change your play style, but I'll show you how to refine what you already have. You might be surprised by what some polishing and sharpening might do for you.
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[That's new. In God Eden, there were only two groups you were classified to be--strong, or not strong enough. Hidden potential was just a hurdle that needed to be overcome or face the consequences. It's a new environment for Hakuryuu to find himself in, one he most certainly treads carefully on.
But the way Fudou's speaking, it's not out of criticism. It's...praise? Something like that. There's a hint of pride in the man's voice, like when Hakuryuu's training had gone well and God Eden's trainers often spoke him marvel about his power.
But it was different, too. A gentleness that seemed to value the person underneath the power.
He takes another step out from the corner he'd metaphorically hid himself in.]
You're talking about the basics, aren't you?
[A good place to start.]
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[Footwork could be one's greatest weakness or a weapon to make use of, depending on how a player honed that ability. Hakuryuu wasn't naturally an abrupt, strength-based player like Gouenji or Tsurugi were, or even he himself could actually be. He had naturally high speed and agility, two talents that got buried under the Sector's focus on resistance-crushing power.
He breathes out through his nose before picking up his chopsticks again to resume eating.]
Quicker, smarter, more controlled. You don't need my help developing hissatsu or controlling your keshin, but I can strengthen your foundations.
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The real question is...
How does he answer?]
I want to get better.
If you can help me do that, I'll do whatever it takes. If my hissatsu and keshin are already strong enough according to you, then tell me what it takes to become unstoppable.
[There are some things that'll change immediately. Warming up to someone you just met, learning that you're not going to be yelled at for a simple sentence...
Some things...would take a little more time.]
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[That's it, then. That's all the answer he needs. Fudou lowers his chopsticks from his mouth for one last pause, the blue of his eyes brighter than they've been, the smile confident.]
I can give you a path to follow. I'll guide you. Whatever I can give you, it'll be yours to take and make into yours.
[And here, he leans forward, raising his free hand to extend across the table -- an offered handshake.]
Fudou Akio. Once more, nice to meet you, Hakuryuu.
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Show me everything you can.
[That hand reaches forward to meet Fudou's, taking it with all the strength he could (although caution is noticable in its grip) and giving it a nice shake.]
Thank you, Fudou-san.
Whatever you give me, I'll make my own. I won't let you own.
[He can't afford to.]
...Fudou-san.
[His hand falters in that shake, holding it there apprehensively. It looks like there's something that's been on his mind since he got here, his voice faltering at that moment as if his proverbial house of cards would crumble if he spoke it out loud.
In a way, it's not a WRONG mentality, even if it would never apply to the situation. Still, his own self-preservation wins, and he quickly goes back to stuffing his face with noodles.]
N-Nevermind. It's nothing important.
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[Fudou Akio was never the pushy kind. Not in the way that Endou Mamoru was. He isn't going to drag a response out of Hakuryuu if that's not what he desires, but he watches him with a smile on his face.]
I'll hear out anything you want to say, Hakuryuu. If you want to tell me later, just talk to me.
[But for now, they better finish the noodles before they absorb all the broth. He releases the boy's hand but briefly pats the top of his now-fluffy hair with a gentle touch, pulling back after to go back to his dinner.]
This is your home now, too. Or, well... what I've got here so far.
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