Dear Ship of Theseus- Kunigiri (Blue Lock)

Part 4

As it turned out, Kunigami saw him a bit sooner than "next week". Albeit not in person.

"You're rewatching that football game again?" one of his colleagues laughed, gulping coffee from a comically large mug. It was moments like this when he temporarily decided that, perhaps fully automating this industry would be a good idea.

The doctor in question made a "shh" noise and pointed at them, whilst a small white dot zigzagged across the hologram being projected onto a table– the era of "3D screens" had clearly revolutionised more than one industry. One moment the camera was focused on purple and white hair, the next a streak of distinct pink.

"Shut up. It's getting to the good bit. Look look...holy shit." The shot cut to the audience roaring in celebration. Kunigami forced himself to look away, grabbing a bottle of eye drops from his bag and swiftly heading to the toilets.

It should only be a month or two until the lens melted onto his eye permanently. Something something silicon, something something epoxide. He tipped his head back, following the motions and blinking the liquid in. It had taken some time to stop getting the drops on his cheeks, but now he always succeeded on the first try. Which is why he hardly realised the drops rolling down his cheeks instead until they dripped onto his neck. He made a "tch" sound and repositioned himself, loud cheers leaking from the staff lounge. Unfortunately, he'd seen that particular game enough to visualise what was happening– something something "The Red Panther Scores Again!"-- and a large squirt splashed around his eye.

"If anything, you're the one living my dream," he sighed, patting away the excess liquid. Unkept hair stared back at him in the mirror; he had the consciousness to attempt to grow it over the wire, but it was currently at the length where it was prone to tangling instead. But given that Chigiri still recognised him, perhaps he should dye it too. Maybe black? Teenage him probably would've found that cool...but that was all the more reason to not do it. Quite the predicament indeed, he frowned and inspected a segment of hair. Then, he swept it back so that it exposed his forehead, just to see how it looked: like teenage him. Fuck this. He really should dye his hair.

"Former dream, anyway." Former self, anyway.

Torrential wind started to usher in the monsoon season the following days. When they were kids, they could've gotten away with running around a playground at this time of year, and now it was only the madlads who dared step a foot outside a building.

"It's getting worse by the year. That makes me sound like an old man, doesn't it?" Two bottles of iced tea clanked down the vending machine and Chigiri threw one to Kunigami. His arm twitched to catch it, despite his brain actively stopping him from receiving it. Instead, he let Chigiri kick it up to catch with a sigh.

"Fine. Just thought maybe you'd appreciate a parting gift," he said the last two words like a a sulking child. Kunigami's gaze trailed to the metal knee. Any doctor would've been pleased with how well it had taken to its new owner. So much so that he could return to the field sooner than scheduled, probably better than ever, now that there was truly nothing holding him back.

"As if that'll stop you from stalking me," he muttered.

"It's not my fault that you happened to work in literally the largest hospital in the city." Chigiri paused to take a sip of the tea. "Ah, that's a lie. I guess I should take partial responsibility," he laughed and looked for any response more than lack of eye contact, to no avail. So he continued,

"I bet they'd shit themselves if they knew where we are now."

"They only know where you are, bitch," thought Kunigami, resisting the urge to scratch his eye. Sometimes it got irritable after applying the eye drops, which made sense since it was technically a tattoo of sorts. He could barely focus on Chigiri leading them to a nearby bench, still sipping his tea.

"Of course I'm not the world's best striker yet, but you're out here as a hero an-"

"Stop talking." Chigiri's eyes widened.

"So you are listeni-"

"Don't say that I'm a hero," Kunigami ignored this and clenched a fist. The plastic creaked and squeaked under the pressure. "Don't say that I was ever one, and don't say that I will ever be one."

"I could've sworn we've been over this at some point," he replied with a lowered voice, perhaps conscious of other people milling about. Probably not, but Kunigami couldn't guess for the life of him why else. He went quiet again, fist still closed.