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Something Yoichi learnt very quickly was that Meguru was a very physical guy. At every moment, he was always either clinging to Yoichi’s arm or clambering up him like a climbing frame or leaning his head on Yoichi’s shoulder.
Which was fine— more than fine, if Yoichi was being honest. He liked the touch, the affection, and it didn’t escape his notice that he was the only person Meguru was so outwardly physical with. Sure, sometimes he liked to try to coax Kunigami into letting him ride his shoulders or punch Chigiri in the shoulder, but nothing more than that. With Yoichi, it seemed constant.
And it didn’t hurt that every time Meguru’s skin touched his own, Yoichi could’ve sworn he felt a sudden buzzing beneath his skin at the contact, a heat to his cheeks.
It was only one day, however, that Yoichi felt hot. Hotter than usual. Sweat clung to his skin and didn’t leave even as he forced himself through a cold shower in the morning, and a foggy cotton clung to his head and made his vision spin. Everything felt too bright, too much.
At least they didn’t have a game today. If Yoichi came down with something, they had a couple of days before the next match-up with Team V to claw his way back to physical health and be allowed to play. (Even if he wasn’t fully better, would Ego stop him from playing? He didn’t know.)
Today’s training was focused on building up endurance — being able to explode into bursting sprints up and down the field for the whole ninety minute game was one of extreme importance. No matter how much water Yoichi swallowed and how much he tried to concentrate, he couldn’t shake the cling of fever that swamped his entire being.
Even as Jingo barked at him to run faster, Yoichi felt himself lag and stumble. They were running a drill in pairs, starting at opposite ends of the pitch and running back and forth until one caught their partner, or their partner caught them. It was a mix of sprint tactics and stamina, and Yoichi was slowing down.
And Bachira was on his heels. He tried to kick up, tried to drive his feet into the astro turf to push him further but it was too late. He could feel Bachira’s breath, the wisp of his fingers brushing against Yoichi’s bib.
A beat, as time seemed to slow, then something heavy and forceful slammed into Yoichi’s back. Arms curled tight around his shoulders— and in a painfully slow realization, Yoichi realized that Bachira had pounced on his back.
Usually, Yoichi would stagger a step or two, then stabilize himself. Usually, Yoichi’s hands would reach out on instinct and hold Bachira tight. Usually, Yoichi would be able to stand the force of his best friend jumping onto him.
This wasn’t today, though.
Today, Yoichi’s chest was winded, cramping, by the force suddenly atop him — like an attack from behind — and before he could catch them both, the imbalance caused his knees to buckle. Yoichi fell, and the ground rushed up to meet him. Blankness blinked around him.
He could distantly feel hands upon him, turning him over, and the scritch of artificial grass against his cheek. Blurs of light as he tried to open his eyes, a scattering of half-conscious thoughts he tried to snag onto.
His lips felt glued shut, his tongue heavy and swollen as he fumbled around murmuring, “what?” but it came out like an unintelligible groan.
Then a cool hand against his cheek, and a panicked, “shit! He’s burning up!” And then strong arms around his shoulders, positioning him further upright, leant against something warm and sturdy.
Yoichi forced his eyes to open. The light blinded him suddenly, like barbs behind his eyeballs, and he groaned, reaching up to cover his face with his hand.
“Hey, hey. Isagi, you okay?” A voice. A voice he knew. Yoichi sluggishly parted his fingers and squinted through the fluorescents.
A face stared back, expression pinched, hair haloed by the light above, sending the bleached yellow tips alight. A couple of others craned over him, disrupting the sterile light from far above.
“Ba—Bachira?” Yoichi croaked.
“Everyone back up,” Bachira looked up and snapped, then the other faces retreated back slightly. Bachira shuffled and Yoichi felt the lap he found himself leaning against the jostle. Ah, was he lying in Bachira’s lap?
He didn’t have time to really process that, as Bachira leant over and brushed the tickling dark bangs from Yoichi’s forehead.
“You fell. I think you fainted.” Bachira’s brow furrowed, and Yoichi’s eyes traced the way he worried on his lower lip. “Someone is coming to help, don’t worry. Just try and lie still. Did you hit your head?”
“Coming to help?” Yoichi shivered, “I don’t need…”
“You literally collapsed,” Bachira teased lightly, flicking Yoichi in the forehead, but Yoichi, even when half-delirious and feverish, could detect the layer of concern layered beneath his airy tone. “Did you hit your head?”
Yoichi’s brow scrunched, “No… I…” He tried to sit up, tried to push against Bachira’s hold, but that only caused the arms to tighten, and he sighed, leaning back into Bachira’s lap with a grumble.
Bachira smiled at him, but it was close-lipped and tight. “Sorry,” he said, and it was softer this time. “I should’ve noticed you were under the weather. I’m sorry for jumping on you.”
Yoichi released a breath with a good-natured huff. “‘S okay,” he muttered, “I like giving you piggybacks.”
Bachira’s smile softened a little, “Yeah?”
Yoichi hummed, trying to squirm and adjust himself on Bachira’s lap. “Let me up.” He harrumphed, “Bachira . Let me up.”
“No way,” Bachira replied, amused, “I’m not letting you fall flat on your face and eat shit again.” Yoichi rolled his eyes— then squeaked and wrapped his arms around Bachira’s neck as the other hooked his spare arm under the crook of Yoichi’s knees and stood with him in his arms, bridal style. “If that help isn’t coming to us, I guess we’re going to them.”
“Put me down.”
Bachira looked down at him, his amber eyes glinting, “If you keep this up, we’ll have to start calling you princess instead of Chigiri, eh?”
"I hope you die."
Bachira's eyes sharpened, "and I hope you tell us next time you feel bad, okay?"
"Yeah," someone else snorted. Yoichi craned his neck to see Jingo watching them, his dark eyes flicking between them, looking somewhat unimpressed, "so Bachira doesn't crash into you like a goddamn bowling ball."
Yoichi looked back to Bachira, with half lidded eyes. "At least he got a strike."
Bachira released a barking laugh and Yoichi found himself grinning despite his febrility.