Chapter 29 : First Step

The soft autumn breeze rustled through the trees on the sprawling campus of Luton University. Aoyama stood at the entrance, his crisp blazer unwrinkled and his leather satchel hanging perfectly from his shoulder. His posture was immaculate, his expression serene. Beside him, Barou loomed like a mountain, arms crossed and lips curled in an irritated scowl. The stark contrast between them was impossible to miss.

It wasn't just their physical appearances that drew stares—it was their reputation. Whispers fluttered through the crowd like leaves on the wind.

"OMG are those the Luton Town players! The ones People calls Rahmat secret weapons?"

"Yeah, that's Aoyama— Mr Clean and Barou, the 'King of the Field.' They're incredible!"

"Why are they in college? Aren't they, like, professionals?"

Barou's deep voice broke the moment. "College, huh?" He squinted at the sea of students rushing around, some laughing, others lugging books. "Looks stupid. What's the point of this when we could be training?"

Aoyama adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white shirt, making sure they lined up symmetrically with his blazer. "Education and football go hand in hand," he said smoothly, ignoring Barou's groan. "Besides, this is where we can sharpen our minds."

Barou let out a loud snort. "The only sharpening I need is for my instincts on the field."

Before Aoyama could respond, a stray soccer ball suddenly rolled toward them. Aoyama froze. His eyes widened at the sight of the ball, covered in dirt and mud from the grass. A student jogged toward them, panting.

"Sorry! Could you pass it back?" the student asked.

Barou raised an eyebrow, about to kick it, but Aoyama stepped forward, holding up a hand like a referee. "Wait." He crouched, producing a sanitizing wipe from seemingly nowhere. With surgical precision, he wiped the ball clean, ensuring not a single speck of dirt remained. Only then did he gently roll it back.

The student blinked, bewildered. "Uh, thanks?"

Barou buried his face in his hands. "You've got to be kidding me, Clean Freak."

Aoyama straightened, dusting off his hands as if handling the ball had physically drained him. "Cleanliness is the foundation of discipline, Barou."

"Whatever," Barou muttered, stomping toward the main building.

---

The chaos began almost immediately in their first class. As soon as they entered, a group of girls began to whisper excitedly.

"Oh my gosh, it's Aoyama-kun! He's sooo handsome!"

"IKR he could compete with those Kpop stars i mean Look how perfect his hair is!"

Aoyama, as oblivious as ever, walked to his desk and wiped it down with a disinfectant cloth. The whispers grew louder.

"Barou's with him too… He's kind of scary, but… in a cool way."

Barou, unimpressed with the cramped desks, grumbled under his breath as he squeezed himself into one. His imposing presence only seemed to add to the girls' fascination.

Midway through the lecture, one particularly bold girl approached Aoyama. "Aoyama-kun, I'm such a big fan! Can I shake your hand?"

Before he could respond, another girl chimed in. "Me too! And maybe we could study together sometime?"

Aoyama leaned back, visibly uncomfortable. He didn't want to be rude, but the idea of sharing a study session—and potentially his hands—was unthinkable. "I'm… flattered, but—"

"Back off!" Barou growled, stepping between Aoyama and the group of girls. His towering frame and fierce glare sent them scurrying away. "He doesn't have time for this."

The girls froze, their faces pale. One by one, they muttered apologies and scurried away—except for one, who lingered, staring up at Barou with wide eyes.

"Wow," she whispered, clutching her notebook to her chest. "You're...amazing."

Barou blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

The girl flushed and ran off before he could say more. Aoyama adjusted his collar, suppressing a smile. "It seems your intimidation tactics have...unexpected side effects."

"Shut up," Barou muttered, his ears turning red.

What neither of them noticed were the lingering glances some of the girls shot at Barou as they walked away. "He's so intense… but kind of hot."

"Do you think he and Aoyama are a thing?" another asked.

"What?! No way. But... imagine!"

Barou's eye twitched. "What are they talking about?"

Aoyama, unbothered, adjusted the strap of his satchel and began to re-cleanin his desk.

---

Later that afternoon, the duo headed to the hospital to visit Wakabayashi. The ride there was a mix of bickering and silent judgment—mostly from Aoyama, who refused to touch the bus rails without wearing gloves.

When they finally entered Wakabayashi's room, they found him propped up against the bed, a cast covering his leg. A notebook and pen sat on his lap, while his phone buzzed with updates from Rahmat.

"About time you showed up," Wakabayashi said, his tone as commanding as ever despite his injury. "What took you two so long?"

"College," Barou grunted, slumping into the chair by the bed. "Waste of time."

Aoyama, as always, remained poised. "It's an adjustment."

Wakabayashi smirked, his sharp eyes scanning his visitors. "You know, I wish I could've joined you two. But thanks to this," he gestured at his cast, "I'm stuck here."

"Maybe it's for the best," Barou said bluntly. "You'd just steal all the attention."

"Like you guys don't already do that," Wakabayashi shot back, grinning. Then he turned to Aoyama. "How's Barou handling himself?"

"Poorly," Aoyama replied without missing a beat. "He scared off most of the orientation committee."

Barou slammed a fist on the armrest. "They couldn't handle a king's presence!"

The room erupted in laughter, even Wakabayashi chuckling despite himself. For a moment, it felt like they were back on the pitch, trading jabs during practice.

---

Before they left, Wakabayashi grew serious. "Listen, both of you. This injury has been a wake-up call for me. It reminded me that even the strongest need to adapt. College isn't just about education—it's about building resilience. Remember that."

Barou folded his arms, frowning. "Resilience? I've got plenty of that."

"Then prove it," Wakabayashi said, his tone firm. "Because if you two can handle college life, you can handle anything on the pitch."

As they stepped out of the hospital, Aoyama looked over at Barou, who was unusually quiet. "Thinking about what Wakabayashi said?"

Barou smirked, his confidence returning. "Nah. Just figuring out how to make these professors bow to their king."

Aoyama shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "Focus on not intimidating the cafeteria staff first."

The two walked off into the crisp evening air, the challenges of football and college life waiting for them—but for now, they were ready to take their first steps.