Why I Dress in Red
I never liked the red tracksuit.
The reason was simple—it was too flashy, too attention-grabbing. Within school, it wasn’t so bad, but during trips or training camps, combined with our team members who already stood out, like the tall guy with the rooster head or the mohawk, the bright red group drew unnecessary attention, making me feel uncomfortable. The uniform was one thing, but making the tracksuit red too? That just felt excessive. I genuinely thought so.
“Whoa, red really does look cool!”
Shōyō exclaimed joyfully, spinning around in front of the mirror. Each turn sent the red fabric fluttering, leaving afterimages in my vision. It made my eyes sting a bit.
The tracksuit Shōyō was wearing was mine. Practice had ended, and we were taking a short break before dinner. Spotting me, Shōyō had rushed over and, without any preamble, said, “Kenma, lend me your tracksuit!”
I didn’t have a reason to refuse, so I handed it over. He eagerly put it on and began turning in front of the mirror. If I asked why, he’d probably just say something simple like, “I wanted to try wearing Nekoma’s tracksuit.”
In my hand was Shōyō’s black tracksuit. True to its name, “Karasuno,” it was jet black with bold white kanji spelling out the school name in a formal font. It looked pretty cool.
If only our team’s tracksuits were this color, we wouldn’t stand out so much, I thought. When I lifted my gaze, there was Shōyō, fidgeting with the hem of the “NEKOMA”-emblazoned jacket he wore, not tired of it yet.
Red suited Shōyō, too. Maybe it was his bright personality that didn’t shy away from bold colors.
“Kenma!”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t Nekoma’s red cool? It looks strong.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah. Plus, it feels fresh.”
“It suits you.”
“Really?”
When I said what I was thinking, Shōyō’s eyes lit up, and he smiled in a way that made his face almost crumble. I couldn’t help but smile a bit too.
Shōyō pulled at the hem of the jacket, stretching it out in front of him as if to examine it.
Tracksuits don’t vary much in design aside from color and some lettering. What’s he looking at so intently? I wondered as I watched him.
Suddenly, as if realizing something, Shōyō lifted his head. Our eyes met directly.
“…What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking that when we first met, you were wearing that tracksuit.”
He was right. Back then, I was in my tracksuit. Shōyō was wearing a school T-shirt, so I realized that the bold, friendly boy who had come up and spoken to me without hesitation was my next opponent.
I was genuinely surprised back then. Normally, you wouldn’t start a conversation with a stranger sitting and playing on their phone, right? Especially with how people say I look kind of ‘rough around the edges’ now.
Curiosity bubbled up inside me.
“Hey, Shōyō.”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you talk to me back then?”
Shōyō’s eyes widened in surprise, like he was thinking, “Why are you asking me that?” He probably knew by now that he could brush off a question like that if he wanted to. But Shōyō didn’t say “Why?” Instead, he thought about it, ready to hand me an answer.
“Hmm… Why, huh? I guess you caught my attention… Oh, right, the tracksuit.”
“The tracksuit?”
“Yeah, I thought, ‘Wow, that’s a really bright red tracksuit.’ I hadn’t seen one like it, so I got curious.”
As he spoke, Shōyō took off the red jacket. He handed it back to me, and we swapped, him putting on his black jacket while I slipped into my own.
It still held a trace of his body heat, making it feel like something that wasn’t quite mine. Shōyō wrapped himself in the black, shifting from the pelt of a red beast to the dark wings of a crow.
Yeah, that’s Shōyō. That color suits him best.
As I narrowed my eyes at the familiar color, Shōyō looked back at me with eyes that mirrored the shade.
“…What?”
“Nothing, I just think you look good in that color,” he said.
“Red?”
“Yeah. Not just good—it’s very ‘Kenma’ to me.”
His lips curved into a smile. It wasn’t one of those bright, dazzling smiles he usually gave, but a softer, more unbalanced one that seeped out naturally. A shiver ran down my neck, making my hair shift as if it was standing on end, but it was somehow pleasant.
“I like you in red, Kenma.”
I never liked the red tracksuit. It stood out, it got me called ‘delinquent-like,’ and it felt too intense, too vivid, too uncomfortable.
But if wearing this color meant meeting Shōyō, then maybe I could swallow all that discomfort and keep wearing it. It made me realize just how simple, foolish, and deeply in love with Shōyō I really was.
He smiles, so I smile too.
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“I like you in black too, Shōyō.”
----------------------------
written by Kicho
※This fanfiction is originally written by me in Japanese and translated with ChatGPT’s help.
※Do not reupload my fanfiction
The reason was simple—it was too flashy, too attention-grabbing. Within school, it wasn’t so bad, but during trips or training camps, combined with our team members who already stood out, like the tall guy with the rooster head or the mohawk, the bright red group drew unnecessary attention, making me feel uncomfortable. The uniform was one thing, but making the tracksuit red too? That just felt excessive. I genuinely thought so.
“Whoa, red really does look cool!”
Shōyō exclaimed joyfully, spinning around in front of the mirror. Each turn sent the red fabric fluttering, leaving afterimages in my vision. It made my eyes sting a bit.
The tracksuit Shōyō was wearing was mine. Practice had ended, and we were taking a short break before dinner. Spotting me, Shōyō had rushed over and, without any preamble, said, “Kenma, lend me your tracksuit!”
I didn’t have a reason to refuse, so I handed it over. He eagerly put it on and began turning in front of the mirror. If I asked why, he’d probably just say something simple like, “I wanted to try wearing Nekoma’s tracksuit.”
In my hand was Shōyō’s black tracksuit. True to its name, “Karasuno,” it was jet black with bold white kanji spelling out the school name in a formal font. It looked pretty cool.
If only our team’s tracksuits were this color, we wouldn’t stand out so much, I thought. When I lifted my gaze, there was Shōyō, fidgeting with the hem of the “NEKOMA”-emblazoned jacket he wore, not tired of it yet.
Red suited Shōyō, too. Maybe it was his bright personality that didn’t shy away from bold colors.
“Kenma!”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t Nekoma’s red cool? It looks strong.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah. Plus, it feels fresh.”
“It suits you.”
“Really?”
When I said what I was thinking, Shōyō’s eyes lit up, and he smiled in a way that made his face almost crumble. I couldn’t help but smile a bit too.
Shōyō pulled at the hem of the jacket, stretching it out in front of him as if to examine it.
Tracksuits don’t vary much in design aside from color and some lettering. What’s he looking at so intently? I wondered as I watched him.
Suddenly, as if realizing something, Shōyō lifted his head. Our eyes met directly.
“…What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking that when we first met, you were wearing that tracksuit.”
He was right. Back then, I was in my tracksuit. Shōyō was wearing a school T-shirt, so I realized that the bold, friendly boy who had come up and spoken to me without hesitation was my next opponent.
I was genuinely surprised back then. Normally, you wouldn’t start a conversation with a stranger sitting and playing on their phone, right? Especially with how people say I look kind of ‘rough around the edges’ now.
Curiosity bubbled up inside me.
“Hey, Shōyō.”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you talk to me back then?”
Shōyō’s eyes widened in surprise, like he was thinking, “Why are you asking me that?” He probably knew by now that he could brush off a question like that if he wanted to. But Shōyō didn’t say “Why?” Instead, he thought about it, ready to hand me an answer.
“Hmm… Why, huh? I guess you caught my attention… Oh, right, the tracksuit.”
“The tracksuit?”
“Yeah, I thought, ‘Wow, that’s a really bright red tracksuit.’ I hadn’t seen one like it, so I got curious.”
As he spoke, Shōyō took off the red jacket. He handed it back to me, and we swapped, him putting on his black jacket while I slipped into my own.
It still held a trace of his body heat, making it feel like something that wasn’t quite mine. Shōyō wrapped himself in the black, shifting from the pelt of a red beast to the dark wings of a crow.
Yeah, that’s Shōyō. That color suits him best.
As I narrowed my eyes at the familiar color, Shōyō looked back at me with eyes that mirrored the shade.
“…What?”
“Nothing, I just think you look good in that color,” he said.
“Red?”
“Yeah. Not just good—it’s very ‘Kenma’ to me.”
His lips curved into a smile. It wasn’t one of those bright, dazzling smiles he usually gave, but a softer, more unbalanced one that seeped out naturally. A shiver ran down my neck, making my hair shift as if it was standing on end, but it was somehow pleasant.
“I like you in red, Kenma.”
I never liked the red tracksuit. It stood out, it got me called ‘delinquent-like,’ and it felt too intense, too vivid, too uncomfortable.
But if wearing this color meant meeting Shōyō, then maybe I could swallow all that discomfort and keep wearing it. It made me realize just how simple, foolish, and deeply in love with Shōyō I really was.
He smiles, so I smile too.
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“I like you in black too, Shōyō.”
----------------------------
written by Kicho
※This fanfiction is originally written by me in Japanese and translated with ChatGPT’s help.
※Do not reupload my fanfiction
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