#matsuo x ebumi

[hyperbolicgrinch]

Hiya~About the fanfic prompt, can I have #40 for Matsuo and Ebumi? ＾∇＾It'd be lovely to see your work!

I have taken so long with this, the manga has now finished… (next time I’m here going, yeah, I can totally handle a few prompts, send them over, you all have full permission to slap me across my lying face). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(I guess this ramble is now also my little thank you to Shiori Amase, for all her wonderful hard work bringing All Out!! to us over the years. 🙏🙏🙏)

Prompt #40 was: “You make me feel like I’m not good enough.” I tried something a little different writing-wise (brace for impact, it’s over the top) and this is what got spat out (heads up, it’s Matsuo’s point of view).

So, after a thousand years, here you go, @dahdah-rigeru. (~￣³￣)~ Enjoy it, or don’t. That’s entirely up to you. My job here is fecking done. I’m off to stare in disbelief at the last few weeks of 2019. ✌️

(Many thanks to the people who threatened to kick me into a ditch if I didn’t finally post this. You are the best guinea pigs ever. 😇)

_

It’s the way they look at him. The way they treat him. The way they speak to him.

It’s judgement he doesn’t deserve, an unfairness which is becoming heavy. He tries and he tries. But it’s never enough. It’s never right.

He knows he’s not a natural. It’s the most obvious thing in the world. He stumbles, he drops easy catches, he mixes up plays.

But he’s new at this. He’s trying, he’s learning, he’s growing. Bit by bit, he thinks he might end up enjoying it.

So the upperclassmen pretending to understand is the most terrible thing. Because they don’t, he can hear it in their careless laughter. They don’t care, and they don’t get why he does.

“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.” He doesn’t say to them. Over and over again.

He wishes he was. One day he might just be good enough.

*

It’s red hair and lightning eyes. It’s a face squeezed with joy at a well done play. It’s pointy teeth and endless pranks. It’s contentment. Seen from afar. He wants to chase after it.

They practice endlessly. Teaching themselves behind the third years’ backs. Ignoring the pain, and the rain, they go till their edges split.

He’s in awe, both drawn towards it and pushed away. How do you join in with something like that? It seems like you can only have it by being there from the start. And he hasn’t. He’s been a spectator. A longing gaze from the sideline. A poor throw. A dropped ball. A source of frustration instead of excitement.

It’s you make me feel like I’m not good enough but without meaning to. It’s just someone trying harder and doing better than you at the same thing. It’s a wish that you’d make yourself do the same.

He’s not good enough for them. Not yet.

*

Another year of expected turmoil turns into something great. They gather around him, now the ones in awe. 

“That play!” They say. 

“That was amazing! You’re amazing!”

“Come practice with us? Come teach us that!”

He treasures it. The way they push and push each other. Congratulating on the small and big, nothing ignored. They make each other feel good enough. 

He’s good enough, for them, for now. He’s content.

*

Ebumi’s a ball of fury without a target. He’s flashy and loud, dominating. Being close to him is like asking to be drowned.

Taku knows he’ll be fast, says he’ll be worth it once tamed. Mutsumi sees his enthusiasm and is willing to work with whatever else surfaces along with it. But the third years can’t deal with him, can’t intimidate him, can’t stand him. So he’s ignored. Left off the field. Left to boil over. Underestimated like all the rest.

Matsuo can’t believe you’d want to tame him in any way. Can’t believe you’d only want to put up with him. Can’t believe you’d ignore something so bright. Can’t believe no one else pays it attention, that soft little flame inside Ebumi. The one that blows up into wildfire whenever challenged, but is otherwise clutched to his chest.

The world has been smothering him, taking any chance to blow him out. The fact that he still blazes is breathtaking. As though gasoline and matchstick, they’re tossed towards each other, and Matsuo doesn’t resist catching alight.

The attitude Ebumi has built to defy the world seems made up of you make me feel like I’m not good enoughs. Every one he’s ever felt, been given, or told. But he wears them as something different. He wears them to show you how you’re wrong. They’re defiant fuck yous. His badges of pride.

He’s vicious and brutish. Obsessive, obnoxious. More willing to snap than bend. Tough but not without his cracks. To knock him down is to have him get back up again. He’s the most beautiful thing. And dangerously addictive. Matsuo doesn’t do drugs, but he thinks Ebumi might be just like a hit.

It becomes a challenge they both seek. Like an inside joke they share. When you’re made to feel like you’re not good enough, you keep going anyway. 

Ebumi dares him to be good enough, and he can’t back down from that.

*

Another year closes down and the third takes its place. He’s happy. He’s ready. Until his dad is on the ground and the emergency lights are giving him a headache and his chest won’t stop being so tight.

But it’s nothing to worry about. Nothing. He’s told to go live his dreams still. To not worry or be sorry. To have his own life. To keep on going with his ridiculous college plan even as his dad’s cough keeps them all up.

Training after school is an escape, and that makes him feel guilty. He’s needed at home, no matter how much his parents deny it. He’s needed by his little brother. He’s needed there, not here. Not here with Taku’s joy, or Mutsumi’s laughter, or Ebumi’s excited ya-has. Not here with these repetitive drills, these directionless plays, this exhaustion. This strange peace.

There’s new kids coming in and his place is going to slip away anyway. Maybe this is meant to be… Maybe he should just let it end this way? But his promise to Taku is still a desire. His wordless one to Ebumi pounding at his insides whenever he dares to doubt.

He could still be good enough… Couldn’t he?

He turns up to be there, to keep up appearances. To pretend everything is okay. It’s easier to do that here than at home. But now it’s there again, it’s come back. You make me feel like I’m not good enough. This time he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. It’s just inside him.

*

Coach turns up. Unasked for, unexpected. They’re unprepared. He makes them all feel like they’re not good enough. Standing on the pedestal of his success, he speaks from his experience. He knows he’s good enough. He’s shown the world. Matsuo doesn’t like him very much.

He’s rough at the edges but so full of the secrets they all dream of knowing. Nothing they can think of could compare to his reality. He’s the other end of their story. He’s been there, done that, and come home. They’re just at their beginnings, so graciously lost.

As he starts to share with them, they find the weight of being directionless disappearing. He points them to the path they’ve been searching for. To be lead instead of leading is freeing. It’s almost progress on its own.

So when they’re rasping for breath at the end of every elaborate practice, that thought sneaks in. Maybe we will be good enough…

*

Maybe they are! Winning is unbelievable. It’s better than anything. Matsuo got lost in the game, gave it his all after so long trying not to care anymore.

Their plans actually worked outside of practice. Their skills have heightened. They can beat other teams! They can win! They’re getting better. They’re getting somewhere.

Coach is smiling, small and proud. Taku is speechless, blinking wide, laughing nervously. Mustumi is dumbfounded but has his arms around the guys, ruffling hair. Ebumi is something lit on fire, smoldering underneath the surface, pupils huge. It’s too much.

You make me feel like I’m not good enough is now you make me feel like I could be good enough, and that’s heartbreaking. It’s worse. Because now, instead of just chugging along, trying their best, going as far as they could manage… They could actually be good. They could go far. And Matsuo can’t go with them. 

Improving is such a vicious reminder of reality. So unexpectedly double edged. He was proud of their progress before and that wasn’t fair. He was holding back and hiding. He shouldn’t be a part of this now. He’s not going all out. He isn’t needed here, he’s needed at home.

He has to say it. He has to turn away from these promises and keep a more realistic one. He has to let this all go. He has to break away before he can’t get out anymore. Before he gives himself one too many just one more days. Before he’s so deeply buried here he starts to grow.

But it’s agony just to imagine turning away from that unwavering strength and tender touch even to the opposing team. Turning away from Taku. Or giving up that bolt of speed across the field, madly clawing out success and yanking him close in the excitement. Giving up Ebumi.

He dreads Taku and Ebumi no longer waiting for him once they know. That glow in their eyes going out. Heading away separately, without him, to find stronger dreams. He dreads the whole damn team standing in front of him and asking why he’s running from them and not with them.

He can’t tell them. He can’t even say it to himself. He’s not good enough to do even that.

*

It hurts so deep he thinks his heart must of shattered. The physical pain of heartache, growing deep and thick. He’s infested with it. There’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away again.

They’re so confused, so worried. So angry. They deserve to know the truth but it’s easier if they hate him. That they despise the words he says, and in the end, despise him. Forget him. Move on from him. Hate is a weapon, and he’s wielding it on his friends.

They don’t truly believe it, of course. They wouldn’t. They know him. How scary is that? They know him well enough now to see his bluff. That makes his heart rip even more. They’re a team.

Mutsumi knows it’s bullshit, his eyes don’t look quite right when holding so much sorrow. Taku is thrown, hurting the loudest, filling up the room with his stunned silence. Kashima loathes the lies, disgusted at him for it. His face looks like he wants to spit.

The rest of them fit anywhere from betrayed to devastated to sympathetic. There’s guilt too, the starting of pity even. Desperation even makes an appearance. But confusion and disappointment are the main hosts of the party.

Matsuo leaves. He can’t stand it, he can’t stand himself. They don’t deserve this.

*

And, Ebumi. Oh, Ebumi. He’s like a lost hound with a scent of home, mercilessly getting ever closer. He wasn’t in that chilly room with those concerned faces, but it feels as though he could have been. He almost knows without knowing.

There’s a reason Ebumi is good at what he plays in rugby. There’s a reason he’s who he is. He’s full of instinct, always finding those places to push. He runs at them knowing they’ll crumble. The looks he’s giving, the glares he’s piling on, are calculated. He knows something is fighting to get out, and he’s harassed by it. Irritated that he hasn’t already worked it all out. Acting as though he’s lost the upper hand to it in a fight.

And, like the others, he should know the truth, but Matsuo’s lost his strength for this war. He’s ready to just go home with his wounds. Telling Ebumi would be a second war itself. It’d blow everything up. It’d be a bad idea. It’d be a stupid idea, he’s giving up, he’s going to be what his family needs, he’s not going to keep playing, he’s fooling himself if-

*

He tells Ebumi first. Or tries to. After their nightly run when they’re heaving, standing just a little too close but never yet close enough. He tries to let it all go before he can get his breath back and remember this would be the last thing his plan ever needs. But he can’t get it all off his tongue. It sticks and feels so heavy, the truth hurting too much to force out. To say it would change too much. Knock his denial off balance. 

So he gives an abridged version, even though he knows Ebumi can clearly tell it’s not everything. But Ebumi doesn’t interrupt, unless it’s to call him on some supreme bullshit. It reminds Matsuo of the night back on that naive training camp at school. When coach had just turned up and they didn’t know what was coming yet. Of sitting out underneath the stars, with Ebumi proving him wrong about his comment of “you don’t talk much, do you?”

Ebumi had spilled himself that night, like a knocked over glass. He’d let Matsuo sneak in. Let Matsuo have a chance to listen. Maybe as just someone to unload on, but he’d placed some type of trust into Matsuo then. He still cradled that. They’d grown from it.

Now Ebumi was returning that. Letting him know that he heard. That no one was going anywhere till this was told. That he knew he was being given some secrets to hold. It was all in those eyes.

“You reckon we’d actually get anywhere without you?”

It’s not a question, it’s a dare. Ebumi daring him to even think about answering with anything but what he’s decided is the truth.

“Cause we wouldn’t. We wouldn’t achieve shit.”

Matsuo can’t help the bitter little laugh. It’s sweet but Ebumi is laying it on. Matsuo has been on the sidelines, he’s been watching them achieve without him.

The headbutt isn’t gentle but it doesn’t crack his skull either. There are pinpoints in his vision, a sting in his nose, and then Ebumi is back, mouth a snarl precariously close to his.

“How about you stop thinking this crap and just come with us? It’s your last year, fuck whatever happens! I don’t know how far we have to go, but I’ll be going to the top! And you better be there! You hear what I’m saying, huh? College or not, hell with all that. That’s later. We’re winning now. Don’t ruin it!”

“Ebumi. It’s not that simple.”

“Bullshit.“ 

He sighs, arguing that won’t change anything. Ebumi is probably right anyway. He usually is with quick fire things. He’s also outside the problem. He can see more of it.

He ignores the hand clenching up in his shirt, ready to yank, or just opportunistic, and closes his eyes. He focuses on the biggest thought. “I don’t know how to tell them…”

Ebumi’s forehead lessens its pressure against his, but only slightly. “Just say it.”

Even with such a numbness in his chest, he scoffs. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks.”

Ebumi drops back down to his heels and pushes him away. He snorts. “Go screw yourself then. Tell them. Don’t. All I know is Mutsumi’s always raving about how teams don’t work if teams don’t talk. And this team has to work to win. Fix your shit before it fucks us.”

He trudges off. Hands dug into his pockets, hood aggressively pulled up. Shoulders stiff, bracing, seeming to expect resistance from even the night.

Matsuo watches him go, stemming the tease of blood from his smarting nose. Hope digs its way out of the misery.

Fuck. What happened to his plan? 

It wasn’t good enough to withstand Ebumi. They never really were…

*

But he does it. He pulls out his phone the next evening after helping his parents with the garden stock and stares at Taku’s number. It’s a crushing feeling to have anxiety come from something that once only comforted.

He’s giving up because nothing seems right and then he remembers Ebumi’s face so close their noses are smashed together, hissing ‘bullshit’.

Just say it. 

-I want to talk, Taku. Please-

SEND is the biggest thing in his life for a millisecond before he presses it and closes his eyes. The adrenaline doesn’t settle down.

When the reply comes back, he’s nearing a meltdown. Maybe he hurt him too much? Maybe destroying your friend’s dream is something you don’t get to say sorry for.

-Where?-

Oh, thank you, thank you.

It’s more than he feels he’s worth. He pulls on his shoes, hugs his parents when his request to go out is granted by tired smiles, ruffles his brother’s hair, and dashes out the door.

Maybe he’s good enough to fix his mistakes.

*

The water fountain is not as calming as he hoped. It’s too loud, blocking out the sound of footsteps and the night feels so small around it. His hands shake as he hides them in his pockets. He’s finally stopped checking his phone.

He knows Taku will come. He doesn’t stand people up. He’s not the kind.

But he’s long enough to let the doubts grow like dense weeds. Maybe explanations won’t be enough? Maybe it’s too late? Maybe excuses aren’t worth Taku’s time anymore? Maybe he can’t have his friend back? It’s all a constant ache that refuses to find rest or release.

Then, Taku is there. And he’s not happy.

“Toshi.”

Matsuo breathes out some relief. It’s still Toshi.

“What do you want? Don’t you realize we’ve got a match tomorrow?”

We. 

He grimaces. Shit. Of course he knows they do. He’s wildly aware. He shouldn’t have waited so late to find his guts and do this. He looks away, even more ashamed. Now he’s messing up Taku’s routine. 

Apparently him not responding is Taku’s chance to let him have it.

“I’m angry with you, you know!?”

A question and a declaration.

“I’ve been mad ever since you acted up at training camp.”

Shit.

“At first, I just thought you had something on your mind!”

All the time these days.

“You never tell us anything!”

That’s true.

“You just go off on your own somewhere.”

Because it’s easier.

“You never pay attention during practice.”

It hurts too much.

“You don’t listen to anyone.”

Nothing they say can fix it.

“Even the first and second years have noticed.”

Funny how the world still watches you when you’ve forgotten about it.

“I’m fed up with your shitty attitude!”

He doesn’t mean for the tears to start but that one does it. He tries to laugh them off but Taku’s shock won’t allow it. He’s become speechless, and now Matsuo’s got to explain what he came here to explain.

He pulls himself together. For them both, for everything. Taku is patient enough but the news about his dad startles him. He’s grabbing his wrist, demanding why he wasn’t told. Matsuo doesn’t know. After all, friends tell each other these things. Don’t they? 

He excuses it with a truth, that he really didn’t think it was too bad. The hospital stay had been short. Hope had been a blindfold. But then it feels like lying again. Cause there’s another reason. That he didn’t want to be felt sorry for. That he didn’t want to receive pity. He wasn’t good enough to accept it. He couldn’t handle it. It wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t change anything, so why open himself up to it?

He finally admits it. To himself. Outloud. Taku holds his arm, desperate to give him comfort, to give him strength. Heart on his sleeve, as always.

The tears start coming again, they don’t wait for the words he still has to say. But Taku does. 

“I’m sorry. Taku, I’m so sorry.”

And Taku thinks that’s good enough.

*

Winning this is delicious. It’s the sweetest thing Matsuo’s ever tasted. The taste of dreams finally caught.

Taku and Mutsumi are on him as soon as the siren goes. It’s a tame celebration. Nothing compared to what’s firing inside them. Nothing compared to what it will be later, in private. But they are still on the field and there’s still a place for rules. Even the unofficial ones. Everyone deserves their respect out here.

But their hearts all know what’s happened. “We’re good enough, we are good enough, we’re good enough”, they say so loudly in their chests. We made it. We reached it. Together. They drown in laughter and tears. Their hugs fierce. Content.

Then he doesn’t even get through the first bow before Ebumi is against him. Something about winning stirs Ebumi up. Ruffles him in the most appealing way, shaking all that naked adrenaline to the top. He stinks of pleasure. Unbelievably smug. Unabashedly proud. Unbearably cocky. Standing out like he’s the only beacon lit. Unhinged in the most glorious way, roaring his intent with those eyes. Not caring for the consequences, not believing in them. Done running around this.

He tastes like a bush fire. Burning rough and reckless. Controlled only for a brief second before bursting away unrestrained again. Desperate and scorching. His pulse a searing ember under his flesh, his heart thrashing to get out. It’s like he’s trying to steal every last breath Matsuo will ever take again. It’s finallyfinallyfinally. It’s howdoyoulikeusnow? It’s takethat! It’s fuckyoutoo.

It’s-

“We were good enough.”

Ebumi’s teeth bite into the kiss.

“Fuckin’ told you so.”

[strawberry-mayo]

Hiruma and Ebumi are dynamite togheter, surely! 

Their adorable boyfriends prefer to watch only 

[lizzozzil]

little rugbabies gettin’ ready for the cold ~*~*~*

a gift for @tsundere-sports-anime-senpai

[hyperbolicgrinch]

ebumi/matsuo #26

Congratulations @glameowstic, here’s your prize a thousand years too late! I’m also dedicating this to @dahdah-rigeru cause I haven’t forgotten yours but I don’t know when I’ll get to it. 😅

Many cheers to @upsetapplecart and @cass-act for giving these a read before I tossed them out into the void. Any mistakes and general terribleness left is down to me.

Prompt 26 was: “come over here and make me.” and my brain supplied two different answers so you can all just shush and have both. 😗

Find them under the cut, if you dare. 👇🙈

Ebumi wasn’t sure why they were back again. This wholerugby deal seemed kind of lame, all they ever did was throw some balls around.But Ise seemed to enjoy wasting time here and he supposed it was something todo at the end of another useless school day.

He just wished there was some more running involved.That, and tackling, came later though according to Hachioji-senpai. First, theyhad to get the basics down. Which apparently meant tossing a weird arse ballaround until it was decided they could pass and catch it accurately enough notto accidentally kill someone, or themselves.

This was all taught by the second years without a thirdyear in sight. Ebumi had two theories on this: 1) it could be because of somestupid rugby tradition, and from what he’d seen of the sport so far, that wasn’tjumping the gun. Or, 2) it was because the third years were lazy bastards thatdidn’t want to deal with or teach the newbies anything and had happily giventhis brain numbing task to the second years without even a thought.

He strongly suspected it was the latter; having faith inhis ability to spot arseholes when he saw them. Not that he could see any ofthem, unsurprisingly there were no third years here again today.

“They’ve all gone home already.”

“Huh?” Ebumi turned back to Ise, and remembering it washis turn to pass the ball, chucked it pathetically over to him, “and how do youknow?”

Ise managed to catch the ball after a few awkwardbounces, “Uh, I asked, uh, Hachioji-senpai…”

He squinted at Ise’s sudden blush but shrugged it off asunimportant and motioned for him to send the ball back. “What the hell kindaupperclassmen are they?”

Ise glanced around quickly, making sure no one was too closeby. “Not very good ones…” he grumbled in nervous rebellion beforeattempting to spiral the ball like they had been shown.

Ebumi dodged spectacularly just before it could take offhis head. “What the hell was that!”

Ise shrugged hopelessly, “An attempt?”

He sniggered and turned around to find the ball.

One of the second years had already picked it up and waswaiting to throw it back. Ebumi remembered him from the last few practicesIse had dragged them to. His smile was always friendly, he had an approachableair about him, and he drove Ebumi up the damn wall.

“Here you go.”

Ebumi snagged the ball as it was tossed gently to him.“Yeah, whatever.” He turned his back on the guy and rolled his eyes at Ise’sexasperated expression.

“Thank you, Matsuo-senpai!” Ise smiled wide, way tooeager. The second-hand embarrassment was gag worthy.

Matsuo returned it with a little laugh, ignoring Ebumi’sscoff, “don’t mention it, Ise.”

“We weren’t going to.” Ebumi snarled, hisadrenaline waking up.

Giving him an annoyed elbow to the stomach, Isepersisted with the willing puppy routine. “We really do appreciate it!”

But Matsuo wasn’t looking at Ise anymore, he wasstudying Ebumi. “You know, if you actually put the effort in you’d have itdown already.”

“Yeah?” He snorted, prickling at being sized up, “Comeover here and make me.”

Ebumi had been in enough fights to know when one wasabout to start. There was always that pause, a second when the other partyweighed their chances and their pride before they either came back swinging ortried to be the better person and walk away.

It surrounded him and this damn second year now, seepinginto everything. And maybe he was just paranoid but for once the pause feltlike it was for him and not his opponent. He didn’t enjoy that feeling, itwiggled its way into his stomach and stirred up his heart rate.

Was this prickgiving him a moment to walk away? Fuck him.

There was a chuckle, one that would possibly beconsidered friendly if you weren’t paying attention. “Okay.” Matsuo passed theother ball he was holding to another second year near him and started over.

The way he moved made Ebumi want to growl. It was lazy,almost bored, like he wasn’t expecting much but he’d humour him anyway. Bristling,he spread his own feet apart and pushed his hip out further, aiming to take upmore space and steal attention away from his hitched breath.

Ise groaned in an exhausted fashion that meant he wasn’tparticularly surprised by the sudden changed in their situation and was morejust over it entirely before it had even begun.

Matsuo came to a stop several spaces away and motionedto the ball still in Ebumi’s hands, “pass it.”

“Huh?” He squinted, “what the hell!” This was not whathe’d been gearing himself up for.

Matsuo laughed, light and casual, “the ball. Pass ithere.” An amused smile was on his lips, but his eyes were full of all types ofchallenge.

Ebumi looked down at the oddly shaped ball and thenglared back up at that never-ending smile. “Whatever, man.”

He tossed it in a way he hoped let all the arseholeswatching know he really couldn’t care less about this.

“Hmm…” His throw was caught effortlessly and with atwitch of a smirk. “You could do better.”

“What did you say, turd?”

“Ebumi, don’t.”

He ignored Ise and kept his teeth gritted in Matsuo’sdirection.

“I said it could use work.” Matsuo’s lips became softer,“but that’s to be expected. It takes most people a while to get a handle on themechanics.”

Something in the way he said it rubbed Ebumi raw. “Yeah?And you were an exception, huh?”

The smile changed to something he couldn’t read,something he wanted to step away from. “Yeah, something like that. How’s your marking?”

“Huh?”

“Let’s find out.”

Ise sighed in frustration. “Why do you always manage toescalate everything?“

Taking a small, light step backwards Matsuo ever socasually dropped the ball onto his cleat and booted it up into the air.

“What the-!”

“Catch it,” Matsuo smiled, his eyes full of lifenow, “if you can…”

“Screw you!” Ebumi snapped back, furious at not wantingto look away from the change taking place in Matsuo’s gaze.

“You’re that fast? It’s not waiting for you.“

He finally grinned back with allhis teeth, anger left behind, “you better freakin’ believe I’m thatfast!”

Matsuo put out a hand that said: convince me.

Ise’s face-palm was audible as Ebumi tilted his head backto search the sky for the ball’s location. It had stopped soaring and startedplummeting.

He smirked, eyes still watching it descend and heartblazing. “Watch this, you arse.”

He took off. Heading for the shape falling through thesunset. He was racing gravity and that was his favourite thing to beat. That,and smug second years who didn’t know what was about to hit them.

Now this was what he called a good waste of time. No way washe losing. No freakin’ way!

*

Ise was still on the ground clutching his head, pain theonly thing on his face.

Ebumi felt his hand transform into a fist. He hadn’tbeen playing rugby all that long but even he could tell that wouldn’t bewritten anywhere in the dos of the rulebook.

“Oi! Jackass. Lay the hell off!”

The guy who had moulded Ise into the playing field wasbig. Everything about him was big. Ise really hadn’t stood a chance. But Ebumihad learned a long time ago that big didn’t mean nothing if it was on its own.The guy was showing all the signs of a raging idiot.

“Come over here and make me.” 

A line from an idiot. Especially when you were talkingto someone like Ebumi. Someone who would.

He curled his lip, feeling the prickle of anticipationrush over him. “Make you, huh?”

“Yeah. Makeme. You squirt.”

Ignoring the senior players on his own team trying toget his attention as they ran over and a whistle blowing somewhere on thesidelines, Ebumi lunged. Quick, fast, and unpredictable. It was how he lived,and it was how he fought. It was how you won.

Soon hands started pulling hard on the back of hisjersey, trying to tug him off, but the guy still had that smile on, like he’dwon. Like he was the biggest dick alive. Like Ebumi hadn’t just scared himshitless. He couldn’t think of anything but knocking those stupidly white teeththrough that big, thick head. Going through anyone who wanted to try and stophim only seemed appropriate.

He swung them both around and away from the hands,ripping the guy’s jersey into his fists and pulling. A second whistle went off,sounding angrier than the last. Ebumi couldn’t care less about it. He pushedforward, getting right up close and personal, teeth all out, nose slamming intothe guy’s own. “Go at Ise again and you’ll pay!”

The cocky smile wasn’t so sure anymore, there was morewhite than smugness showing in the arsehole’s eyes now.

Ebumi made his own eyes bigger, knowing he looked insaneand unhinged. Enjoying it. “I’ll fucking end y-!”

His shirt collar choked him and he gagged. Then he wason the ground, face buried in the muddy turf, his lungs empty.

Pain rolled along his shoulder blades and the echo of anache started in his temple. Through the dizziness he heard the movements ofcleats on mud and the fuzz of voices.

“Knock it off, Ebumi.”

He knew thatvoice.

“Go screw yourself, Matsuo-san!” He clenched his jaw,his teeth felt like plastic and his tongue like lead. The spots in his visionhad danced with every word.

“That was two of a possible three.” Matsuosaid it like that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there was nowdirt in Ebumi’s mouth.

A hand touched his shoulder and he hissed from the extrapain it grew. His head was spinning too much to know if it was friend or foeand instead of releasing a growl of warning as planned, he only managed acoughing fit.

“Ebucchi?”

Ise. Fadedfrom the thunder in his head but still Ise.

“Let’s get you up.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced for another punch ofpain as he was rolled over. As suspected, it moved down his arm and ground intohis fingers, fresh and angry at being ignored.

Ise apologized at his grunt and attempted to dust himoff. Which was ridiculous, but Ise was ridiculous, so Ebumi let him. The mudonly smeared even more into the fabric and Ise’s frantic hands. “You okay?Matsuo-san yanked you super hard…”

Ebumi spat onto the sloppy field and tried to pull someair into his resisting lungs. “Bloody bastard.” He rasped.

“He didwarn you before the match,” Ise said, his face less sympathetic than Ebumithought it should be. “Nothing above the shoulders, don’t continue totackle after the whistle is blown, no giving pointless penalties to the otherteam, absolutely no fighting, no- Should I go on? You did all of those, you moron.”

Ebumi glared, wishing his head wasn’t so fucking painfulso he could give Ise a proper look of murder. “Fuck off, teacher’spet.”

Ise only rolled his eyes. “You okay to stand?”

He shrugged in response and seriously regretted it assoon as his shoulders shifted. Trying to pretend the pain wasn’t there, he bitdown on his tongue and accepting the offered hands, allowed Ise to pull him tohis feet. Standing unsteadily, he waited for the world to stop itssomersaults and then pushed off Ise; trying to find some balance on his own.Breathing was like a kick in the chest.

After finally constructing a decent glare, he aimed itat Matsuo. This didn’t have the reaction he’d been going for as Matsuo didn’tseem to notice, his eyes flickering from whatever was still happening behindthem with the idiot thug and then in the direction Ebumi knew their ownsubstitute bench was.

He bit down on his lip angrily, needing to feel it tearbetween his teeth, and shot Ise a look instead.

Ise was already shooting him a look of his own. Aworried look. A look that said maybe they should pick their battles and notgleefully scoop every single one up like they were candy. That maybe theyshouldn’t go head first into everything cause one day they may lose said heads.A look that also said it knew backing down wasn’t in Ebumi’s hemisphere. A lookthat was going to try asking anyway.

Ise rubbed at his neck as he started, looking exhausted.“Ebumi, maybe we should just sit it-”

His tone already said he knew Ebumi wasn’t going to listenand his tone was damn right. This wasn’t over.

“You ready to go again?” He meant: ‘Are you hurt? Do you need me to go backover to that dick and finish that?’ and‘You can sit this out but it’s going to be fucking awesome! Let’s beat theselosers into the ground!’ and he knew Ise would hear that.

Ise blinked. “I’m fine. Leave it. It was- youreally shouldn’t- you think they’ll still let you play after that mess?”

Ebumi snorted and stared hard at Matsuo. Wanting achallenge, receiving amusement. “Obviously. Why do you think we’re in tostart with? They need us.”

Matsuo only raised his eyebrows, not convinced, notsceptical. Just casual, irritatingly comfortable, and right. Always so bloodyright. “Next time you’re out for good,” was the only thing he gave them.

His unimpressed face drove Ebumi red hot. He steppedforward, getting close, glad frustration was now covering the savage beating inhis head. “Whatever! I’ve got a plan, arsehole!”

“Really?” The eyebrows went up again, possiblyintrigued this time, or just bored. “Well, do tell us.”

Ebumi snarled. There was a beat where his fist was backin his hand and that brilliant feeling of getting into a fight nearly bleweverything else out of the water. Nearly.Winning was just as good.

He was going to get this win; thewhole crappy team be damned. He’d show that big idiot that you couldn’t justthrow Ise down and get off with nothing. Show them all how fast he couldactually go. Show the world he didn’t need them, he didn’t need anything else,he just needed that look of defeat on the other team’s faces. Just the glow ofcoming out on top of all of it.

Of out running it all.

And standing this close to Matsuo felt like the bestfight of his life. It felt like every win he’d ever had tenfold. Like everyhard night run he took with no company but his pulse.

He could feel Ise’s loyalty behind him, Matsuo’s breathon his face, the plan wrestling to escape off his tongue. Crushed together,that all felt like growing wings. It made his heart fast and dangerous.

So, he told them.

[hyperbolicgrinch]

The way Matsuo looks at Ebumi is too much.

A RIDICULOUS BONUS:

[hyperbolicgrinch]

Hi~I also want to send you an ask about the little test! Can I have 001 for All Out? Please! (・∀・)

THANK YOU SO MUCH for asking!! This will be a mess, but a fun mess!

01 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character:

Gossssshhh, this is such a hard question! Wow! But probably Hyosu. He’s such a

beautiful donk, so sweet and precious.

Ise is also awesome though, I love everything about him. Especially

his puffy eyes and yellow shoes/shirts. Oh, and Kasuga!!! Is just fantastic! I’m so biased for him.

Also, Adachigahara (or, thanks to drunk google, Hexi) is such

a queen bitch, love him. Ooooo, but I’m getting seriously fond of Kibi and Kokuto now!!

OHMYGOSH

Argh, you guys seriously can’t have expected me to say just one

and be done with it, right??!

Least Favorite character: Ummmmm…. None??? Is that a thing??

I’m not majorly for Ise’s brother and his dickbag ways but I wouldn’t say I

have a least favorite character.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Ooooooooh, boy… Let’s do this!

- Matsuo x Ebumi (fight me, they are a wild ride

and I love a good power couple)

- Ise x Mutsumi (do not get me started on this, I

will never shut up. They are too pure and good)

- Gion x Iwashi x Miyuki (never shipped a poly

ship before but these guys kinda gave me no choice in the matter)

- Kasuga x Hyosu (they’re basically married

already so it’d be embarrassing not to…)

- Hirota x Miki-chan (this was so out of nowhere

for me but I am so on board with it and never getting off)

Character I find most attractive: KASUGA HIROKUNI (though

Matsuo and Kashima are both handsome as hell!)

Character I would marry: Well, according to the system Umeno

laid out, it should be one of the forwards, so… Shinshi??? Although, I don’t really

want to marry him, more just be able to witness his beauty every day until I

pass into the void.

Character I would be best friends with: Hyosu!!! But I’d

probably hang with Kibi too.

a random thought: The way the managers are treated is really

refreshing. They are great characters on their own and don’t feel any less of

one because they are the managers. They are not there just so there’s a girl??

They also interact with each other and seem to get along, which is also a nice

change from the usual ‘girl automatically dislikes only other girl for no clear reason’ cliche.

Also, I have to say, the different body types are so INCREDIBLE. I wasn’t

expecting it, I went in blind and have not been that pleasantly surprised in a

good while. Everyone is important to the team and all have different things

they are good at. No one is a joke because of their size and every character appears

equally important and gets fleshed out no matter who they are.

An unpopular opinion: Once again, I have no idea if this is

an unpopular opinion… Really, it’s just a headcannon. But my brain has Sekki

down as asexual/demisexual???

my canon OTP: Coach and his wifey 100%!!

Non-canon OTP: Ise and Yellow? Though that’s pretty canon,

he looks AMAZING in it.

most badass character: Probably Coach. Dude has been

there, done that, and he’s adopted a whole rugby team made of dweebs. Plus, his

wife married him so he must have been something to catch her eye. But shout out

to Keta too because, man, what he did takes so much guts and if that isn’t

badass then I don’t know what is!

pairing I am not a fan of: I’m pretty chill with all of them,

actually. But maybe Hanadate and Ebumi…??? Just, I don’t know, I don’t really

see traumatic scarring as a great way to start any relationship. But whatever,

guys. Ship what you want, who really cares.

character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or

another): Screwed up as in, caused them large amounts of emotional pain? Then for

now, I’d say Matsuo. Stud Spud has that sad smile down to an art form, like, ouch.

favourite friendship: And I thought all the other questions

were hard!! Ummm… Gion and Umeno’s is pretty darn cute, so maybe that?? Ebumi

and Ise are really sweet too, obviously! And I love Sekki’s and his support squad’s (Mutsumi and Matsuo). Awww, but Kashima and Kamo’s is so good as well….

OKAY, I JUST LOVE ALL THE FRIENDSHIPS, DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE!!! Another thing

All Out does so well is the friendships. I live for them.

character I want to adopt or be adopted by: Can I adopt all

the first years that haven’t had much screen time yet?? Kitamachi, Hirano and Mikami.

Cause those guys are super cute and I want to see them get more focus (which I’m

sure they eventually will get).

HOORAY! We got through it!!! I put way too much time into this! I have such a habit for rambling and not making just one choice. But, I had fun and that’s what counts, so cheers again for sending me this! :)