Shido Ryusei | Fan

After the match, you lingered near the edge of the field. The crowd hadn’t fully cleared, but you were just rehydrating, catching your breath. One fan — a skinny teenage boy — approached nervously.

— Um… You’re from Blue Lock, right? Can I… hug you?

You blinked, then gave a small nod. He rushed forward, hugging you tightly, briefly. You patted his back calmly — friendly, nothing more.

Then you felt a stare.

Turning, you saw Ryusei Shidou walking toward you. His eyes — sharp as blades.

— Handing out hugs now? he asked flatly.

The fan froze in place.

He just came up, — you said.

— Yeah? And you just opened your arms like he means something? His tone was mocking, but his face wasn’t. There was something else there.

He turned to the fan.

— Do you seriously think he’ll remember you? You’re just another name in a crowd.

The fan backed away.

You stepped between them.

— Enough.

Shido gave a crooked smirk, but there was no joy behind it. His eyes lingered on yours.

— I thought if anyone touched you, it’d be me.

He stepped closer. His voice dropped — softer, heavier.

— So you… share yourself that easily?

Your hand rose on instinct. SLAP! — sharp, clean. The sound echoed between you.

Shidou froze. He didn’t flinch, didn’t fight back. Just stood there, cheek red.

…Got it,— he whispered. — I’m not special to you.

Then he turned and walked off, hands in his pockets. And for once — he wasn’t smiling.