Archive of Our Own

For Sae Itoshi, living in Madrid as a promising young Real Madrid player was, without exaggeration, a total adventure.

It all started with Valdebebas. Imposing, modern, but too far from the city center to do anything without thinking twice. Especially when you were craving something as specific as... salted seaweed. Its favorite, essential complement to any decent meal.

The problem was that to get them, he had to go to the Japanese area in the center of Madrid. And that meant taking a bus. And if you knew Sae Itoshi, you knew that, at almost sixteen years old, GPS or not, he'd end up completely lost.

So there he was, standing in front of the grand gates of Valdebebas, staring at his phone with a frown and a growing sense of defeat. The Madrid sun beat down mercilessly, and the concrete gleamed as if mocking him.

And then, out of nowhere, Bunny Iglesias appeared.

As if he had come out of a magic portal or, worse, as if he had been spying on him from the gym.

Sae gave a small start and frowned even deeper.

"What the fuck?" he asked, his brow twisted in an expression that was half confused, half threatened.

Bunny Iglesias, his teammate and perfect wingman for his impossible plays, smiled with his typical dramatic flair. Tall, athletic, with that impossible-to-ignore lavender hair and red eyes that seemed to see too much. The scars across his face—one over his right eye, another on his cheek, and yet another marking his neck—made him look like something out of an urban legend. And yes, he was wearing the club's tracksuit. Which meant he was probably coming from the gym. Again.

"I had a feeling my dearest companion was in trouble," he declared, with an exaggerated bow.

Sae seriously considered hitting him. But he just sighed.

—I just want to buy some salted seaweed.

Bunny snapped his fingers, excited as if he had been offered tickets to an idol concert.

—I can help you! I know a couple of amazing places. Let's go!

Sae sighed again. Deeper this time.

"But first," Bunny added dramatically, "we have to ask permission."

Sae looked at him as if another screw had fallen off.

-Permission?

"Of course," Bunny said solemnly. "You're still a minor. You can't just disappear into Madrid without warning. There are protocols. And cameras. And a coach with a murderous glare."

Sae was silent for a moment, before murmuring:

—I hate this city.

[🍵]

Was it difficult to get permission to leave Valdebebas? Hell.

And not a metaphorical hell. No. A real hell, with paperwork, long faces, and looks that said, "Are you kidding me, kid?" Because of course, Sae Itoshi couldn't just go out and buy some salted seaweed like any normal person. No. He had to go through the protocol .

First: warn Juan Alonso, former Real Madrid player, a legend in the 1990s, and now coach of hormonal teenagers with communication problems (like Sae). A serious man with permanently furrowed eyebrows, his voice sounded as if he were always at a press conference.

Second: notify Giraud Debadie, his club-assigned tutor, who was tasked with ensuring that Sae didn't end up lost in Lavapiés asking if anyone spoke Japanese.

All this… to buy seaweed.

Sae stood like a statue in front of Juan Alonso's office, his back straight and his soul a little broken. Beside him, Bunny Iglesias suppressed laughter in an almost respectful way, as if this were the premiere of a comedy and he had a front row seat.

—To buy “ that " You say?" Juan Alonso asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Seaweed. Salted. From Japan. I always eat it with rice. Good,” Sae replied, using Spanish that would make any high school teacher cry… but which somehow conveyed the urgency of the mission.

From outside the office, Bunny listened, pressed against the door, with a broad smile and hands clasped as if he were watching his favorite program.

"Duolingo would be proud..." he murmured, almost with tears in his eyes.

Meanwhile, inside, Juan Alonso was running a hand over his face, like someone considering giving up everything and opening a beach bar in Cádiz.

—And you need… company?

"Yes. Bunny. He's a guide. He knows places. I... get lost. The bus is chaotic," Sae explained, very seriously, as if he were requesting an expedition to Mars.

Juan Alonso looked at him for a long time, then looked towards the door—where, of course, Bunny pretended not to be spying—and finally sighed in resignation.

—Okay. But if you don't come back in two hours, I'll send Giraud. He'll hunt you down as if you were fugitives.

Sae nodded solemnly, as if he had been given permission to enter a war zone.

Bunny burst onto the scene like lightning.

—MISSION SEAWEED, GO AHEAD!

Sae was already regretting it. And they hadn't even left the building yet.

[🍵]

To get to the center of Madrid, and more specifically to that Japanese region where salty seaweed reigned supreme over umami, the journey wasn't exactly direct. No, sir. It was a long journey.

First, bus 158. A morning creature that wound its way through the vast outskirts until it slowly approached the city that pulsed with rushing, honking horns.

Next, the metro. The great underground dragon. Crisscrossing colored lines like spaghetti on a map that Sae thought was more abstract art than functional guide. Their destination: Puerta del Sol. The beating heart of Madrid, where people always seemed to be late and the pigeons looked like they knew more than they were letting on.

And finally, another bus. One more. Because of course, the seaweed temple couldn't be close. No. It was on a hidden street somewhere in the Japanese area, far enough away to make anyone hesitate. Except for Bunny Iglesias.

Bunny was already dressed for the occasion: an oversized white T-shirt, sunglasses, a teddy bear pendant, and jeans with such strategic cuts they looked handmade by some underground stylist. He walked as if they were parading down an invisible runway. Meanwhile, Sae... walked as if he were dragging chains.

"Come on, Sae!" Bunny said, with a joy that bordered on the criminal.

Sae walked with his feet glued to the ground, each step more dramatic than the last. As if instead of going to buy seaweed, he were crossing the Sahara Desert in wet socks.

"This feels like the Odyssey itself…" he murmured, as if he expected some Greek god to intervene and take him flying.

Bunny turned on his heels, walking backwards while smiling.

—And I am your Athena?

"You're more like the Cyclops, really..." Sae growled, staring at the ground.

"I'm in! But a sexy one," Bunny replied, giving an exaggerated wink.

And so their journey began. A serious Japanese man with the soul of white rice and an eccentric Catalan with the soul of a showman, crossing Madrid in search of a packet of seaweed.

As if the fate of the world depended on it.

[🍵]

First stage of the Odyssey: the bus.

Sae and Bunny waited at the bus stop, under the merciless Madrid August sun that seemed to melt even the asphalt. The air was so thick you could cut it with a fan, and the thermometer read a glorious 35 degrees. Torture for anyone. But especially for two teenagers with zero patience and little tolerance for heat.

Sae was engrossed in his phone, reading the Real Madrid news with his usual expression of serious concentration, as if he were analyzing stock market movements instead of a sports report. Beside him, Bunny glanced at him. Occasionally. Covertly. Or so he thought.

You had to admit it: Sae Itoshi was handsome. And not in a casual way. No. He had that kind of beauty that seemed sculpted: magenta hair that fell over his forehead as if perfectly combed by accident, blue-green eyes as intense as an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and long eyelashes that shaded everything he looked at. He looked like something out of a manga, but in HD.

Bunny, despite trying to concentrate on his task at hand—which was basically surviving the heat—started to feel his heart beating a little faster than necessary. Enough to annoy him.

But no, he wasn't going to let that control him.

Then Sae's voice broke the silence with that Japanese accent that made the sentences sound like they were part of a poorly structured poem:

—What are you looking at, soulless rabbit?

Bunny jumped, as if he'd been caught cheating on a test.

—N-nothing! I just thought... you've never been to certain places in Madrid, right?

Sae put down his phone and looked at it, curious.

—Like what?

Bunny tried to concentrate. But the heat, the sun, and Sae's gaze were sabotaging him.

—Well… the Prado Museum, Independence Square, oh yes, also the important… Gran Vía.

Sae blinked. So many names. Too many. And all in rapid-fire Spanish. She stored them in his brain like someone stuffing messy socks into a drawer.

—A lot. A lot, he snorted.

Bunny laughed. Sae's broken Spanish always amused him, although, deep down, he liked the way it sounded. As if the language danced to a different tune as it came out of his mouth.

"I promise I'll give you a ride, Sae-chan," he joked, giving his a silly bow just as the bus finally appeared on the horizon, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Sae looked at him, with a half smile.

—First… algae. Then… we'll see.

And with that, they boarded the bus, like two anime characters embarking on a Madrid adventure, with no weapons other than a travel card and a sense of humor that could withstand the heat.

[🍵]

The bus felt like a sauna on wheels.

Despite the air conditioning—which barely managed to emit a warm breeze—and the wide-open windows, the interior of the vehicle seemed blessed by the Andalusian sun itself. The heat clung to your skin like a second shirt, and the atmosphere had that density that makes you question your life choices.

Sae and Bunny sat together in the back seats, right next to the window. You'd think two elite athletes would be used to physical exertion... but the heat was a different kind of enemy. A treacherous one, invisible and sticky.

Sae, as always, maintained his composure. She leaned slightly against the window and stared at the landscape: the vast highways winding toward the center of Madrid, the cars whizzing by at full speed, and that sense of a metropolis stretching as far as the eye could see. A vibrant, imposing city that seemed never to end.

Bunny, on the other hand, was… struggling.

Fighting with himself.

Not because of the heat (well, because of the heat too), but because of the closeness. Because of course, the space between them wasn't exactly wide. The seats didn't help, nor did the backpacks, and suddenly, Sae's leg brushed against his.

“Too close,” Bunny thought, feeling an electric shock run down his spine.

She discreetly brought his hand to his mouth, as if trying to stifle a silent scream or perhaps hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. The sweat wasn't just from the temperature anymore.

He tried to look away. Count the posts. Read the signs. Breathe.

And Sae…

Well.

Sae continued looking at the landscape.

Calm. Oblivious. Zen. As if nothing was happening.

As if he didn't have a Bunny Iglesias about to implode at his side.

And so they advanced through the city, one hypnotized by the road... and the other, completely trapped in his own internal monologue of chaos and racing heartbeat.

[🍵]

After getting off the bus—where Bunny nearly met his Greek tragedy-like end from heat exhaustion and pent-up emotional tension—the two stood in the middle of the sidewalk as if they had just survived a mobile apocalypse on wheels.

Bunny took a deep breath, hands on his knees, as if he really needed oxygen.

Sae, who had barely broken a sweat, watched him with his typical neutral expression.

"And now?" he asked impassively, like someone following instructions in a video game.

Bunny stood up as best he could, his T-shirt half-sticking to his back from sweat, and pointed ahead with the enthusiasm of a dramatic tour guide.

—To get to the Japanese area… we have to take the subway —he announced, giving it an almost epic tone.

They were on Calle de la Princesa, an elegant shopping avenue lined with shops, bars, and restaurants with terraces packed with people. The classic facades shone in the sun, and the colorful awnings seemed to wave like welcoming flags.

"We have to take the subway to Puerta del Sol," Bunny continued. "You've never seen the town hall, have you? I want you to see it."

Sae looked at him with the intensity of someone who has been betrayed.

—And my seaweed?

Bunny patted him on the shoulder, as if comforting him.

-After.

At that very moment, Sae cursed the moment he got off the bus. She cursed the heat. She cursed the pretty streets. She cursed Madrid City Hall.

And of course, he cursed the soulless rabbit who had just changed his route through the local culture.

But still… he walked behind him.

Because at the end of the day, the seaweed was waiting. And Sae, for some incomprehensible reason, also wanted to see the famous city hall.

Or maybe he was just too tired to argue.

[🍵]

And the subway?

A nightmare in three acts for Sae Itoshi.

First: he arrived three minutes late. Three . Minutes. In Japan, that would be unthinkable. Unthinkable. There, if a train is delayed, they apologize publicly. Here, the subway just... shows up whenever it feels like it.

Second: there were too many people. A compact, sticky, noisy human mass. The air conditioning barely worked, and everything smelled like a mixture of cheap perfume, sweat, and coffee with milk.

And third - the most serious, the most dangerous -: he was too close to Bunny.

Not that it bothered him.

That was the problem.

Because when their arms brushed against each other with every jolt of the carriage, when he could feel Bunny's breath on his ear as he spoke to his half-jokingly, half-seriously, when the other's body pressed against hers because of a curve... Sae felt something. go up .

No anger.

No bother.

Worse: serotonin.

And that made him angry.

Meanwhile, Bunny… well, that was it. dead . Completely defeated by the confinement, the heat, and the fact that he was so close to Sae that he could count his eyelashes if he wanted to (spoiler: he did). But he didn't say anything. He clutched the handrail with a face of silent suffering, like a martyr in penance.

And then he came the bad of the bad .

The subway stopped abruptly on the curve toward the El Sevilla stop. Bunny, taller and with an unstable center of gravity, fell forward. Or rather: towards Sae .

Too close. Closer than ever. Literally face to neck. Chest to chest. Leg to leg.

And as if the universe was mocking them, right in front of them were three young girls, sitting with their backpacks full of keychains of Pokémon They wore plush ears, anime t-shirts, and had wide eyes.

They were screaming internally, each with a small emotional breakdown worthy of a K-drama.

— It's happening! Oh my God, it's happening! —one murmured.

— It's a real enemies-to-lovers! —whispered another, holding back a squeal.

Bunny wanted to disappear. Evaporate. Become a Diglett and bury herself in the floor of the car. Sae… just closed his eyes.

And he murmured:

—I'm going to jump at the next stop.

But he didn't.

And that, for Sae, was the most suspicious thing of all.

Finally, after surviving the subway—the heat, the crowds, and the damn emotions —, they arrived at the Puerta del Sol station.

But, as expected on Sae Itoshi's trip to Madrid, nothing could be easy.

The escalators were out of service. Useless. Mute. Silent. Like monuments to suffering.

So Sae had to go up. Walking Step by step, as the air grew heavier, his legs noisier, and his soul a little more impatient.

But then—upon reaching the surface, his forehead slightly damp and his spirits on the defensive—he looked up.

And he remained silent.

In front of him, the square buzzed with life: tourists taking photos, street performers playing guitars, the smell of freshly baked churros, Iberian ham, and strong coffee. A vibrant city.

And there, dominating the landscape, is Madrid City Hall, also known as the Cibeles Palace, standing like a white jewel of stone and detail. Its neoclassical architecture was elegant and powerful, with its towers, columns, and sculptures that seemed straight out of another century. A perfect blend of royalty and tourist attraction.

Sae stared. For once, without saying anything.

Beside him, Bunny took off his hat—more out of warmth than respect—and stood next to him, with a half smile.

"Surprising, isn't it?" he said, without looking at him directly.

Sae nodded very, very slightly.

Bunny then pointed his hand to the left, as if he were about to reveal a secret.

—If we continue down that street… we'll see something even better. The Victory Arch, one of the most important. And then… maybe the Parque del Oeste?

Sae looked at him sideways.

—And my seaweed?

Bunny gave a small laugh.

—Afterwards. This also feeds… the soul.

Sae sighed.

But he didn't turn around.

And that, for Bunny, was enough.

[🍵]

They solemnly swore that they would search started . Word of footballers.

But, of course, the reality was different.

They'd been sightseeing in Madrid for at least an hour, caught up in a spontaneous tour of culture, food, and warmth. Bunny talked nonstop, comparing Catalan and Madrid cuisine every time they passed a local produce store, as if he were a human documentary with long legs and lavender hair.

"Calçots are Catalan, Sae, but here's a calamari sandwich. It's another religion," he commented, pointing enthusiastically at the display cases.

Sae, initially skeptical, ended up falling into the trap of local flavor. Because yes: despite the unbearable heat and his Japanese soul that cried out for seaweed and rice, he ended up trying it.churros with chocolate. And not one. Several He did it silently, without looking anyone in the eye. But he did it. And that was a personal victory for Bunny.

They had passed several important places—the Plaza Mayor, the Teatro Real, even Arenal Street—when fate decided to add an unexpected twist.

In the middle of a busy square, two tourists approached them with a map in hand and a slightly lost air.

The first: a boy of average height, pale skin, magenta hair and eyes, and a natural, seemingly permanent smile. He wore a white T-shirt, sunglasses dangling from his neck, and an energy so bright it contrasted with the heat of the day.

— Excuse me —he said with a charming foreign accent—. We want to find the Prado Museum.

At his side, a man with an imposing presence. Blond, with electric blue eyes, a defined body, and blue rose tattoos peeking out from his neck and left arm. The kind of tourist who looked more like a celebrity escaping the paparazzi than someone seeking culture.

Bunny, happy to socialize, stepped forward with a diplomatic smile and responded fluently in English, pointing in the right direction.

But in the meantime…

Leave andKaiser (because yes, the blond one clearly is a Kaiser in spirit) were looking at each other.

They didn't say anything to each other.

But the tension was clear. That kind of look that mixes analysis, competence, and a bit of silent judgment.

As if they had both recognized each other as alfaby pure intuition.

The air got a little stuffy. And it wasn't because of the sun.

Bunny, oblivious to the microdrama, ended his explanation kindly.

—It’s just down that way. Ten minutes walking. You’ll see the Retiro Park entrance too!

— Thank you! —the one with magenta hair answered, with a small bow.

Kaiser nodded coldly, giving Sae one last look before turning away.

And Sae… just huffed, arms crossed, as if the day had just gotten longer.

"What was that?" Bunny asked, raising an eyebrow as the Germans walked away.

"Nothing," Sae said, looking away.

But it was something.

And they both knew it.

[🍵]

After a few hours of walking in the sun, among streets filled with tourists, wide plazas, and shop windows that seemed to shout out to them, the day began to stretch into afternoon. The heat was no longer the same stinging heat of midday, but it was still sticky, following them like a shadow that never left.

On a bench next to a small terrace was Sae. He sat with the same elegant and rigid posture as always, but with a detail that broke all the discipline of his aura: a cone ofchipsin your hand. Crispy, golden, glistening with oil. Something that, in theory, I shouldn't be eating A professional footballer, even in training, had to take care of his diet like a monk takes care of his temple. Fat and salt weren't in the manual. And yet, there he was, popping a potato into his mouth with the casualness of someone indulging in a forbidden treat.

Bunny Iglesias stared at him, half amused, half fascinated. He had that smile of his—wide, clean, beautiful—that seemed reluctant to disappear, as if he were secretly keeping a private joke. Perhaps, deep down, he enjoyed watching Sae break his own rules.

Sae looked up and caught him staring. His blue-green eyes narrowed slightly, inquisitively.

"You know we're going for the seaweed, right?" Sae said tersely, as if he wanted to recall the original purpose of that journey that already felt endless.

Bunny sighed, leaning back on the bench. The smile didn't disappear, but it became softer, almost melancholic. For a moment, he didn't think about seaweed or markets. He thought about something else. He thought about those tourists from earlier, about the look on the blond boy's face—Kaiser, he'd heard his name called—and how he'd exchanged a strange spark with Sae. And he also thought that, perhaps, it would be better to invite Sae to thePrado Museum, distract him with art, with history, with something deeper than a package of salty seaweed hidden in Usera.

But, of course… the seaweed. Always the seaweed. The goal Sae wouldn't let go of.

Time continued to pass and, as evening fell, the two found themselves waiting for the penultimate meter of the day. The destination:Usera, in the southern district. It wasn't a tourist spot, it wasn't a postcard. But there, on Calle Carmen Bruguera, was Madrid's small Japanese neighborhood, with its restaurants, shops, and supermarkets that held treasures for those who needed a piece of home in a foreign city.

Sae stood by the platform signal, still, staring into the dark tunnel as if he could summon the train with the strength of his patience.
Bunny, at his side, turned his head slightly to look at him. In the dimness of the station, the white fluorescent light highlighted Sae's magenta hair, his perfect features, and that constant expression of cold calm that contrasted with the chaotic life around her.

And, in silence, he thought: Seaweed or no seaweed, this trip is turning out to be more than I expected. .

The roar of the subway arriving interrupted everything. The mission continued.

The subway car moved forward with its monotonous clatter, heading south.Last stop: Usera.
There weren't many people left in the car: just a couple of half-asleep elderly people, a woman with headphones and a backpack, and the two of them, together, after a day that had gone on longer than expected.

Bunny climbed into the seat next to Sae, almost brushing his shoulder, even though there was more than enough space in the carriage. The proximity wasn't a coincidence. It hadn't been all day. Her heart was pounding, racing like a runaway horse.

Oh, gods… he thought, half jokingly, half tragically. What's this? A sixteen-year-old boy falling in love with his teammate in the middle of Madrid? Are we rehashing Achilles and Patroclus in the world's most absurd odyssey?

Sae, meanwhile, was distracted by his phone. He was reviewing the photos he'd taken: the squares, the facade of City Hall, the churros he'd eaten with resignation, the reflection of Gran Vía at sunset. Snapshots he didn't admit to, but which seemed to matter more than he'd admit.

And then, as if she'd sensed it, he turned his face toward Bunny. Her blue-green eyes stared at him with a disturbing calm.

—You looked at me a lot today.

Bunny froze, caught in the accusation. But then he smiled, that crooked smile he used to disguise his nervousness.

—Can't I look at you?

The silence that followed was thick, charged with invisible electricity. Only the clatter of the subway filled the air. Until, suddenly, a dull thud was heard: Sae's fist gently colliding with Bunny's elbow. A sharp gesture, as if trying to break the tension before it grew too large.

Bunny let out a nervous laugh, and Sae looked back at his phone screen, indifferent. But the words were already there, floating in the air between them, impossible to undo.

A beep announced their arrival. The subway screeched to a halt, and the doors opened. They climbed above ground and walked together through quiet streets lit by orange lanterns until they reached theCarmen Bruguera StreetThere, as if hidden in a secret corner of Madrid, the small Japanese restaurant appeared.

A discreet kanji sign glowed a faint red. The display case was stacked with soy sauce bottles, packets of imported ramen, green tea sweets, and shelves full of products that smelled like home. For Sae, it was a portal. Not a supermarket: a piece of Japan in the middle of the Spanish capital.

He stood silently in front of the door. Bunny, at his side, watched him with a calm smile, as if he understood that this moment wasn't about him, or them, or the day's odyssey. It was about Sae.

And when they entered, the fresh air of the place enveloped them, with the aroma of dried seaweed, rice, and spices. Finally, the search was over.

The jingling of the bell on the door announced their entry into the small shop. The air smelled of green tea, varnished wood, and oriental spices. The shelves, arranged with almost Japanese precision, offered products that in Madrid seemed like treasures: imported instant ramen, sakura sweets, small bottles of sake, and boxes of multi-colored tea.

Sae didn't linger too long. She walked straight to the dry goods aisle, his eyes shining as he made out the familiar packaging: packets of salty seaweed neatly stacked. She picked them up with the delicacy of someone collecting a memory, almost as if they weren't just green leaves, but fragments of his home.

The shelf attendant, a middle-aged Spanish woman, smiled at him kindly. "Do you want me to wrap it for you?" he asked in clear, measured Spanish.

Sae looked at his for a moment, and with the serenity of someone who doesn't feel the language barrier, he answered in Japanese:

-Thank you. 

The woman blinked in surprise, but his smile widened, and he nodded as if he understood perfectly.

Finally, Sae held his long-awaited salty seaweed in his hands. “To go with… and to drink,” he murmured, more to himself than to Bunny.

Bunny watched him silently. He couldn't help it: seeing Sae with such a genuine expression, so different from his usual coldness, disconcerted him. He shifted his gaze to the shiny package, smelled it almost instinctively… and raised an eyebrow.

"Is it just me, or does this seaweed smell good?" he whispered, incredulous.

Sae looked at him as if he'd said the stupidest thing in the world. But something appeared on his face that, if it weren't Sae Itoshi, anyone would swear was the hint of a smile.

After exchanging a few brief words with the shopkeeper, Sae picked up two pairs of wooden chopsticks resting in a small glass cup. With a gesture as natural as it was elegant, he opened the package of seaweed and cut off a strip.

"Open your mouth," he ordered without looking at him too much, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Bunny blinked, surprised.

—Huh? Here? In front of everyone?

But Sae was already holding the morsel to his lips, impatient. Bunny, resigned and with his heart beating faster than he cared to admit, obeyed.

The salty, marine flavor exploded on his tongue, and his eyes immediately widened. The crunchy texture and umami hit his palate with unexpected intensity.

Sae watched him intently as he chewed, and for the first time in a long time, something in him relaxed.

"I knew it," he murmured, barely audible.

And although Bunny didn't have real bunny ears, Sae swore that at that moment he saw them, erect and trembling, forming in his imagination above his companion's head, so clear that they seemed to betray the surprise and clumsiness of that bite.

"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bunny swallowed and took a deep breath, his face still flushed.

—...Okay. I admit they're good. But don't feed me like I'm a child again.

Sae looked away, hiding a fleeting smile.

As we left the Japanese shop, the doorbell rang briefly, quickly lost in the murmur of the Usera neighborhood. The evening air was warm, laden with the scent of spices from the nearby restaurants and the bustle of the people still lining the streets.

Sae walked in front, a small paper bag dangling from his left hand. He clutched it tightly, as if he were carrying a trophy worthy of display in a glass case. It was nothing more than packets of salty seaweed, but to him it meant victory: his goal accomplished after an odyssey through the city.

Bunny followed half a step behind, still stunned. He felt the echo of the salty, crunchy taste Sae had made him taste in his mouth, and a strange fluttering in his chest, a mixture of nervousness and joy. His eyes were fixed on the back of the Japanese man's neck, on his magenta hair that reflected the light from the streetlights that were just beginning to come on.

"Damn," Bunny thought, his blush refusing to go away. "Why does it bother me so much? It's just seaweed. It's just Sae... right?"

Sae, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to all of this. His mind worked like clockwork: he was already planning how he would store the seaweed, how he would use it to accompany dinner, and even what drink would pair best with it. In his world, Bunny didn't exist beyond being the tall man who had insisted on accompanying him on that unnecessarily long journey.

"I did it," Sae murmured suddenly, without looking back. Her voice was dry, brief, almost ceremonial.

Bunny smiled, as if those words were an intimate confession addressed only to him.

—Yes… you did it.

But Sae wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy imagining the perfect texture of that seaweed in his next meal.

As they walked down Carmen Bruguera Street together, the lights of the signs in Chinese, Japanese, and Korean illuminated their silhouettes. Bunny looked like a boy entangled in a secret romance; Sae, like a general returning home with a stolen loot.

[🍵]

Finally, after an endless journey of buses, subways, endless stairs, and streets that seemed to go on forever, Sae and Bunny returned to Valdebebas. It was already ten at night. The entrance to the complex shone under the white spotlights, silent and solemn, as if reminding them both that this place was not an amusement park, but the temple of Real Madrid.

And, of course, they had arrived late. Very late.

As they walked through the reception area, they were immediately greeted by the steely gaze of Juan Alonso, their coach. A former club player, with broad shoulders and a deep voice, who didn't need to raise his voice to inspire fear. He was leaning against the office doorframe, arms crossed, as if he'd been waiting for those two fugitives all night.

"Ten o'clock." His voice sounded like a dry hammer blow. "Does the word discipline sound familiar?"

Bunny swallowed and tried to muster an innocent smile. Sae, on the other hand, didn't flinch. She walked straight ahead, his steps firm, still holding the paper bag with its seaweed as if it were the holy grail.

"It was my fault, mister," Bunny stammered, trying to cover it up.

"I didn't ask whose fault it was," Alonso replied, in that tone that nullified any attempt at an excuse. "I asked if they know what it means."be responsible.

Silence fell like a stone. Bunny was writhing inside, but Sae simply lifted the bag and took out a packet of seaweed. Calmly, he opened it and put a piece in his mouth, chewing slowly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

The coach looked at him, incredulous.

—Are you… eating?

"Yes," Sae replied, quite naturally.

Bunny almost raised a hand to his face. Alonso took a deep breath, clearly on the verge of losing his patience.

—Itoshi, do you understand that the rules apply here? This isn't Japan. This is Real Madrid.

Sae shrugged slightly, continuing to chew.

—It doesn't matter the country. Seaweed is seaweed.

The ensuing silence was so thick that Bunny had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Alonso closed his eyes, as if searching for patience in the depths of his soul. Finally, he gestured toward the bedrooms with a military gesture.

—Tomorrow, you'll both have extra training. And I hope this is the last time you come back looking like you're coming from a school trip.

Bunny lowered his head, resigned.

—Yes, sir.

Sae, on the other hand, walked towards his room without looking back, happy as ever: he finally had his seaweed.

After Alonso's brief, curt expostulation, the hallways of Valdebebas seemed much quieter than usual. Cold neon lights illuminated the polished floors, and the echo of their footsteps echoed as the two walked toward their bedrooms. The day had been long, almost endless: buses, subways, streets, tourists, churros, seaweed... and in the end, reality always caught up with them again.

At the fork separating the youth quarters, Sae stopped. Bunny was about to continue on, but noticed the pause. He turned around, curious.

The Japanese man, serious as always, lowered his gaze slightly and, in an almost inaudible voice, murmured:

—Thanks, Bunny.

The Spaniard blinked, as if he hadn't understood well.

-Huh?

Sae raised his eyes, impatient, and repeated more sharply:

—I said thank you, idiot. Don't you listen?

The reaction was instantaneous: Bunny burst into a hearty, hearty laugh that broke the silence in the hallway. It was the first time all day that he'd laughed like that, so unreservedly.

"Yes, I'm listening," he said, still laughing. "It just surprises me. Saying thank you is difficult for you cold-blooded people."

And before Sae could reply, Bunny playfully poked him in the stomach, not too hard, but enough to make his grimace in annoyance.

"Tsk…" Sae grunted, pulling his hand away, though without real anger.

Bunny stared at him for a few more seconds, with that silly grin he couldn't wipe off his face. He smiled, sighed, and thought to himself as Sae walked away toward his bedroom, still holding the bag of seaweed:

"What a pair we are..."

And with that thought, he walked toward his own room, feeling that the Madrid odyssey had been worth it, even if it was just for a mispronounced "thank you" and a look that still made his heart beat faster.

Bunny entered his bedroom and dropped his backpack on the chair. He threw himself down on the bed, still fully clothed, staring at the blank, impersonal ceiling. The echo of Sae's voice resonated in his head: “Thanks, idiot.” .

He smiled helplessly. He'd been hot, he'd been lost, he'd almost fainted on the subway, but none of it mattered. Sae had thanked him.

Bunny closed his eyes, his heart light.

[🍵]