Zantetsu Tsurugi lives a simple life.

He's no academic nor is he exceptionally skilled at anything, save for running exceedingly fast. His job is menial, less a challenge of the mind and more a test of muscle. Yet, he's diligent, a stark contrast to a prodigy.

In his perspective, that's okay. After all, if he were different, he might not have had the most important person in his life.

From an early age, Zantetsu understood that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed or the most intellectual. However, he was loved, and immensely so.

His family cherished him deeply, always demonstrating an uncanny ability to see beyond his limited academic prowess to appreciate his unique qualities. They acknowledged that he was unlike them. His intellect didn't burn as brightly, and the allure of medicine that ran in their veins didn't quite captivate him. Yet, they never perceived this as a shortfall.

Instead, they found delight in his differences. They saw his passion for the open field more than the closed study, his exhilaration in the rush of a sprint more than the slow, steady race of intellectual pursuits. They recognized that his strengths were carved from a different mold—they lay not in the realm of stethoscopes and medical journals, but in the world of swift feet and athletic prowess.

And then there was Yoichi, the center of Zantetsu's universe, the one who held his heart in a gentle, unwavering grip. Yoichi was his compass, his anchor in the storm, the constant beacon guiding him home. Yoichi never demanded Zantetsu to be anything other than his authentic self, never asked him to don a facade or strive for an unreachable ideal.

Yoichi was the steadfast cheerleader in Zantetsu's life, a ceaseless source of inspiration and encouragement.

Whether Zantetsu was sprinting on the field, soaked in sweat and gasping for breath, or coming home exhausted after a grueling day, Yoichi was always there. His presence was a comfort, his words a balm, and his belief in Zantetsu a fortifying force that propelled him forward.

Yoichi celebrated Zantetsu's victories, no matter how small, and softened the sting of his defeats. He was the hand that gently nudged Zantetsu, urging him to push his limits, to reach for heights he didn't know he was capable of. And at the end of the day, when the roar of the crowd faded and the lights of the stadium dimmed, it was Yoichi's proud smile, his approving nod, that mattered most to Zantetsu.

Zantetsu didn't need grand gestures or lofty praises. He didn't seek validation in medals or accolades. All he needed was Yoichi—his unwavering belief, his unspoken understanding, his quiet support. Yoichi's faith in him, his acceptance of him, was the fuel that powered Zantetsu's spirit.

With Yoichi by his side, Zantetsu felt invincible, ready to take on the world one sprint at a time.

Zantetsu did not covet his brothers' intellectual prowess, nor did he aspire for his parents' esteemed reputation. His aspirations were simpler, his desires more humble.

All he truly yearned for was the end of each day when he could shed his sweat-soaked jersey, hang up his cleats, and return to the sanctuary that was his home. A place where the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, where he could be just Zantetsu—not the footballer racing against the wind, not the brother in the shadow of intellect, not the son born into prestige, but merely the man cherished by Isagi Yoichi, who was at the heart of this sanctuary, his beacon of comfort and warmth.

Yoichi, who eagerly awaited his return each day, his eyes lighting up the moment Zantetsu walked through the door.

Yoichi, who greeted him not with expectations or demands, but with a smile that felt like sunshine and a loving embrace that melted away the day's exhaustion.

Yoichi, who filled their home with the intoxicating aroma of Zantetsu's favorite meals, each dish a labor of love, each bite a testament to Yoichi's care. The way Yoichi would serve him, the fondness in his eyes, the soft inquiries about his day—all these simple gestures filled Zantetsu with a warmth that no accolade could ever provide.

This was what Zantetsu needed. Not the abstract prestige of titles or the elusive charm of intelligence, but the tangible comfort of coming home to Yoichi.

The unspoken understanding, the shared smiles, the quiet companionship—these were the moments that defined Zantetsu's life, the moments that made all his struggles worthwhile.