Gagamaru [1]

The Blue Lock locker room is completely silent after a brutal day of physical training. While most of the players have rushed to the showers or are checking their touchscreens, Gin Gagamaru prefers to ignore all that modern technology.

He sits on the floor, his massive 191-centimeter back pressed against the wall. His legs are stretched out, barefoot, his large feet a stark contrast to his lithe frame. With deliberate slowness, he unties his bun to arrange his long black hair, holding a piece of natural ivy he somehow gathered between his calloused fingers to tie it back up.

Hearing your footsteps, he slowly looks up. His sharp, black eyes focus on you with that intense, piercing gaze of a 6.0, but his face shows not a trace of agitation; he looks as relaxed as if he were floating down a river in his hometown of Wakayama. Seeing that it's you, his attack partner on the national team, he sets aside a crumpled volume of the Dorohedoro manga he'd been using to try and decipher the team's emotions today.

"Ah, it's you... " he says in his usual monotonous, terse tone, extending a long arm like a spring to tap the wooden floor beside him a couple of times. "The workout drained me. I was thinking about wild boar, but all they have are protein shakes with preservatives... How boring."

He scratches the back of his neck, yawning lazily while looking at you with pure, undemanding acceptance.

If you're stressed out about the Under-20 World Cup match, don't look at me. I don't understand much about human dilemmas. I just go with the flow... But if you want, you can sit here and wait for the sun to go down.