Getting injured in hockey isn’t exactly uncommon. Nicky getting hurt, even less-so. Although usually his aren’t bad enough to completely take him out of a game… Even if the scale of what counts as ❛ bad enough ❜ can be pretty skewed in the sport. But as someone who has dragged themself around with plenty of not-bad-enough injuries, Kichiro has grown numb to it can’t judge. They can however, understand it means one should LISTEN when being told something warrants leaving the ice.
Having followed as quickly as they could after seeing Nick escorted to the locker room— tiny body unceremoniously pushing through the tightly-packed crowd —with the need to check on him and know just how much worry the injury warranted, Kichiro steps through the door to an unexpected sight… and blood that definitely isn’t Nicky’s.
Startled by Kyle holding a gushing nose ( courtesy of a well-placed punch ) , they hastily direct their attention to a struggling Nicky. Argument too loud— a plethora of voices merging together —and in a language they have yet to learn, Kichiro can’t make out specifics. But context clues offer plenty, the spouse trying and failing to interject themself into the chaos thanks to a teammate abruptly grabbing a shoulder to hold them back.
Honestly, it was probably for the best.
Kichiro still struggles against it though. Huffing and wriggling like an aggravated bunny as they irritably shrug off the helpful hand ( but at least they now stay put ) , they try to get Nicky’s attention through the din. ❝ Hey! Hey, hon— ❞ Voice fretfully small in the space, but doing its best. ❝ What’s going on? ❞ — (( *surprise boops* ))
This is his worst nightmare, an actual fucking nightmare he's trying so hard to wake up from, that he's had every single night for the last month, but unfortunately he's not asleep, there isn't Kichiro here to wake him from his uneasy slumber, no Clover to hold and settle his nerves. The anxiety doesn't dull, doesn't flicker or fade as he sits in the locker room, Kyle talkng to him despite knowing Nicky can't hear him right now. It's not until Kyle says he should quit for the night that the goalie snaps to with a loud "Fuck that!" shouted into the small room in his mother tongue, Kyle unphased as he responds back in French, only for a one-sided argument to start. They've been here before, Kyle having been Nick's unoffical medic since they were kids, he knows how the man can be, but this is a level of anxiety he hasn't seen since high school. It's what throws him off enough for Nick to get the hit in when Ky tried to stop him, with him stumbling back a few steps as one of Nick's teammates step inbetween the two as if that would stop the notorious Moose if he decided to barrel through.
Still, Kyle isn't phased, simply meeting the punch with a muted "Ow..." (despite the pain thundering through his skull) as Kichiro came into the room. No one tries to stop them, the team having learned rather quickly that they were one of the few that could wrangle a rampaging moose without issue, at least most of the time. But this isn't like any situation they've been through before, this was Nick's first season playing pro, not only that, but his first time in pro playoffs, it having been hard work to get the team where it was. If he quit now, even for this one game, he would be letting them all down. He couldn't do that, not after how hard he's worked, everything he's been through to get where he was. It didn't matter if there would be other games, if this was a small bump in the larger road, if he let something like this keep him down, then he wasn't a real pro player. And everyone that thought him unfit for the position would be proven right.
Nick doesn't answer in English, still too hot to realize he's not talking to Kyle anymore after their brief back and forth in French, it leaving the medic to fill in the blanks as he accepted a towel someone was handing him for his nose. "He sprained his wrist catching that last puck. It's not bad, but it would be better if he didn't push it, even though he technically could. It might be fine, it might not, better to play it safe...I'm gonna leave now. Good luck, hop-along." And with that, he made his way out of the locker room to rejoin Julian in the stands, it unbeknownst to Nicky that soon he'll have far worse than a sprained wrist to deal with: a pissed off cat.
But that was for another day, Nick too busy fighting with his coach in French to process the fact that he even hit Kyle in the first place. After a moment, he would finally acknowledge Kichiro, his accent thick as he gestured to his coach with his good hand. "Tell him! Tell him I can still play! That I have to go back out!" If anyone was going to understand, it was Kichiro, just perhaps not in the way Nick thought he needed them to right now.
janainaart
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
germansingergirl
prguitarman
