The adrenaline from the victory had finally begun to fade, but the atmosphere in the player's lounge was still electric. The team had made it through their first match in the Brawl Stars World Championship, but the real challenge was just beginning. The excitement was noticable, yet everyone knew there was no time to rest. The tournament was brutal, and the competition was fierce. Every team in the bracket had come this far for a reason.

You leaned back in one of the chairs near the stage entrance, watching as the team huddled together, strategizing. Moya's energy had finally calmed down, though he was still bouncing around the room with excitement. Tensai was sprawled out on one of the nearby couches, laughing at something Relyh had said. Relyh himself was usually quiet, but even his reserved demeanor was relaxed now that the first match was out of the way.

Sitetampo was sitting a bit farther away.

He stood apart from the rest of the team, his expression calm but focused. His gaze was fixed on the screen in front of him, studying the replays from the match they had just played. Even now, after the victory, he was already thinking ahead—thinking about the next step. His posture was as solid as always, but there was a subtle tension in the way he carried himself, an air of responsibility that had never left him. It was that same unwavering determination that had led the team to this point, and you knew it would carry them further.

"How's the team doing?" you asked, approaching him cautiously, not wanting to disrupt his focus.

Sitetampo looked up at you, his eyes momentarily softening as he recognized you. "We're good," he replied with a small smile, his voice steady and calm. "But there's still a lot to prepare for. The next match will be harder."

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "You'll be ready. You all will."

Sitetampo gave a quiet chuckle, but there was a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. "Thanks. I appreciate the support." His voice held a warmth that made your heart flutter, but he quickly returned his attention to the screen in front of him, already processing the strategies for the next match.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration. His commitment to the team was unwavering, and it was that drive that had earned Crazy Raccoon their place in the tournament. You could see the weight of his leadership in the way he carried himself, the careful planning that went into every decision. It wasn't just about winning for him he was making sure the team was always at their best.

You wanted to be part of that. Not just as a supporter, but as someone who understood that unspoken drive. Maybe, just maybe, you could help him carry the weight, too.

"Alright, team, let's go over the next match," Moya said, his voice full of energy as he rounded up the group. "This next one's gonna be tough, but we've got what it takes!"

The team gathered around a table, their eyes locked on Moya as he quickly began to outline the next match's strategy. Sitetampo, as usual, was quiet, but his input was always sharp and concise when needed. Relyh spoke up next, offering his thoughts on the defensive approach, and Tensai weighed in with a few playful comments that managed to ease the tension in the room.

You couldn't help but smile as you watched them work together. There was something so special about the way they operated—something almost effortless in the way they communicated, even without words. They played together and thought together. Each of them understood their role, but more than that, they understood each other.

As the team continued to discuss their strategy, you felt a pang of excitement mixed with nervousness. You knew the stakes were higher now. Winning the first match had been a relief, but they were only just getting started. The rounds after this would only get more difficult. The competition was stiff, and every team had their eyes set on the championship title.

But then, as if on cue, the noise around you seemed to fade away. Your attention was pulled back to Sitetampo. His calm presence helped you, and you felt the familiar warmth of his gaze before he spoke.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. There was a softness to his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, surprised to find that he had noticed your distraction. "Yeah," you replied, your voice a little softer than usual. "I'm just... I'm excited, but nervous. It's a lot to take in."

Sitetampo's smile deepened, and for a brief moment, he stepped closer, his proximity sending a wave of warmth through you. "I understand. But we've got this. Don't worry." He paused, his eyes meeting yours in a quiet, unspoken connection. "You've been with us this whole time. You're part of this team. That's not gonna change."

There was something in his gaze—Something personal. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, it made you feel as if he thinks you're special compared to the others. You wanted to say something in return, but the words felt stuck in your throat. Instead, you offered him a quiet smile.

"Thanks, Sitetampo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he returned to the team's strategy discussion. But you knew, in that instant, that the quiet moment between you had meant more than any words could express. You felt your heart race again at the thought.

The rest of the team continued to discuss their strategy, but now, there was a soft undercurrent of tension between you and Sitetampo. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was new. You found yourself stealing glances at him more often, your thoughts drifting to the way you felt under his gaze.

The strategy session ended, and the team got ready to leave. The next match would be tomorrow, but for tonight, there was a moment of calm before the storm. The players began to pack up their stuff, there was no rush. Everyone was tired after a long day of matches, and though there was still a lot of preparation to be done, the team needed some time to unwind.

"Alright, guys, good work today," Moya said with a smile, his energy still high despite the late hours. "Let's all get some rest. So we can give our best tomorrow."

The team nodded, exchanging good-nights, and began heading towards the exit. You grabbed your things and followed Sitetampo out of the lounge. The cool night air was a refreshing change from the heated atmosphere inside. As you walked toward the exit together, you couldn't help but notice how easy it felt to be near him.

"See you tomorrow?" you asked, your voice quiet, almost unsure.

Sitetampo glanced over at you, and for a moment, his expression softened. "Yeah," he replied, his tone calm but sincere. "Get some rest. We'll need it."

The two of you stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence stretching between you. He gave you a small smile before turning toward the exit. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Sitetampo," you whispered, watching him walk away. As he disappeared into the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest. The connection between you two had grown in subtle ways, and you knew that this tournament was more than just a competition—it was an opportunity to get even closer.

Later that night, as you settled into bed in your hotel room, your thoughts lingered on the day. Your mind kept drifting back to Sitetampo's words, his small smile, the way his presence felt so grounding. You had never imagined that a World Championship could hold so much more than just the game. There was something special about this team, about the way they worked together, and about the way Sitetampo made you feel.

Unable to shake the feeling, you reached for your phone and unlocked it. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before you began typing.

"Hey. I just wanted to say that I believe in you and the team. I know tomorrow's match is going to be tough, but I'm sure you'll all do great. Good luck."

You paused, your heart racing for a second. Was this too much? Too soon?

But you hit send before you could second-guess yourself. Almost immediately, you saw the three dots appear on the screen as Sitetampo began typing a response. Your breath caught in your throat, and you waited anxiously.

A moment later, the message popped up.

"Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot. I'll do my best, for the team—and for you."

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. Your heart swelled, warmth spreading through your chest. There it was again—the unspoken connection between the two of you, quietly growing with every exchange. You typed back quickly, feeling a new sense of confidence.

"I'll be cheering for you, no matter what. Goodnight, Sitetampo."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

With that, you set your phone down, a soft smile lingering on your lips as you closed your eyes.