Chapter Text
“Brat.”
“...We’ve been living together for years, Jin-san. You could at least call me by my name,” Isagi muttered as he swiveled around in his chair to face the lanky man leaning against the doorway of his bedroom.
“Whatever,” Ego replied, waving a white envelope in his hand. “Remember that new job I said I got a few months ago?”
“Yes?”
“It starts next week. It’s full time, on site, 24/7 for maybe the next year or so,” Ego said casually.
Isagi's grip on his pencil tightened, careful to keep his expression neutral despite the disappointment he felt.
“Oh… congratulations, I guess.” Isagi steeled himself. “Is this your way of telling me that you’re throwing me away now?”
“No,” Ego cocked his head. “I’m here to give you an opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” Isagi echoed, catching the envelope the man threw at him.
The envelope had a single piece of paper folded up inside, and at the top…
“Special training program… from the Japan Football Union,” the paper crumbled a bit.
“It will be led and directed by me. I’ll have the final say regarding anything that goes on within the program,” Ego said, causing Isagi to look up at the man. Like his tone, the man’s face betrayed nothing. Isagi understood what Ego was saying.
The choice was up to him. Ego wasn’t forcing him to participate, nor would he be judged if he did or not. But...
“Is there a reason why you agreed to lead a program like this?” Isagi said as he placed the paper on his desk.
“Hm. Because it sounded fun?” Ego grinned. “A gathering of diamonds in the rough, and an environment that can polish them with my direction- what’s not to like? What do you think will happen when all sorts of conflicting egos are forced to clash head to head in a program with their careers on the line?”
Isagi let out a huge breath.
“So what’ll happen if I don’t go?”
“Then you’ll just stay here. I’ll come back twice a week or so, and I’ll have Anri come check on you everyday,” Ego shrugged.
He’d be alone then. A part of Isagi wondered if this was really a choice at all.
“I’m not pressuring you to go,” Ego said as if he had read his mind. “Regardless, isn’t it time you stretched your wings? Whether it’s by going into this program or becoming independent and navigating this world without me, you need to move forward.”
“I know,” Isagi mumbled.
“Think about it,” Ego said, straightening from his position. “If you’re worried, then I’ll take care of dinner tonight-”
“Oh no you don’t,” Isagi immediately snapped. “You promised. No more than one instant noodle a week. I’ll take care of dinner. We still have some leftover curry in the fridge anyway so all I need to do is prepare the rice.”
“Tch.”
Thump. Thump.
Isagi trapped the returning ball, then bumped it up into the air. The moment before it hit the ground, he kicked it at the cement wall where it hit one of the small dots drawn in chalk.
The ball sailed back and Isagi caught the ball.
His breath came out in a misty swirl of white that dispersed in the winter night sky.
Even now, he could feel it. The rush of adrenaline that came from meeting a challenging opponent, the power-trip when everything seemed to go according to his will, and... the crushing anxiety of being watched.
He could feel the strangling expectations placed on him like a collar pulled tight against his throat and cuffs trapping his legs, and the uncomfortable sting of eyes that looked upon him with anything but kindness that left him with a lingering sense of paranoia even years later.
Isagi's teeth grinded.
Fear. Frustration. Anger. Longing. Regret.
Isagi let out yell loud enough for the heavens to hear, then kicked the ball hard enough that it rebounded back towards the house and just missed the window on the second floor.
Isagi panted as he looked up at the sky. A night sky far enough from the city that stars could be seen sprinkled across the darkness.
Thank god they lived far away from other people. Any neighbors would have had a word or two to say about his wall drill practices and occasional outbursts. He ran a hand through his hair.
He wondered if Jin-san would finally complain about how noisy he was.
With a sigh, he picked his way through the vegetable garden where the ball had bounced into. He brushed off the dirt that clung to the ball then walked back towards the house, each step strengthening his resolve.
“I’ll do it,” Isagi said the next morning, handing over the crumpled, but signed paper to Ego. One of Ego’s fingers pinned it to the table to slide towards him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I can’t run away forever. I’m scared out of my mind but…” Isagi looked up at Ego, eyes burning. “More than that, I hate the way I am, and I’d hate myself more for not doing anything at all. I hate the people who made me this way and I hate the way things ended. If I go, then regret it, then I can drop out. But if I don't, then there's nothing I can do since I already passed it up, can I?”
A wide grin that was all teeth stretched across Ego’s face.
“Is that so? I hope you don’t expect me to comfort you if you run away in tears after failing.”
“Just the thought of you doing such a thing gives me the creeps. If I want comfort, my pillow will do just fine,” Isagi said with a face.
If possible, Ego’s grin grew even wider.
“Welcome to Blue Lock, Yoichi-kun.”
Bachira was half-awake when the first game was explained and completely aware the moment the monk singled him out as an easy target. He flipped himself up, slamming the heel of his foot into the guy’s face causing several shouts of alarm to ring out across the room.
“Only handballs are against the rules, right?” Bachira interrupted the bald guy’s complaints, rubbing at his eyes. “Morning.”
Yet another participant- a tall guy with orange hair was quick to reprimand him on his dirty play, only to become a victim of it himself as the shorty nailed him in the face with the ball.
Bachira hopped back as the tall guy. Kunigami Rensuke, rank 291, the screen in the room displayed. So the tall guy was one rank below him. If there were twelve people in the room, the strongest guy would be whoever was ranked 289.
Bachira's eyes scanned the room, trying to make out all the numbers written on each person’s bicep.
The bald guy grabbed a nearby guy with dark hair in front of him like a shield as Kunigami positioned the ball with a glare that promised death. The reaction was instantaneous.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” the dark haired boy snarled as he grabbed the shorter boy’s arms and flipped him over in a judo throw that had the shorter boy wheezing.
The action caused Kunigami’s ball to miss the dark haired boy by a hair’s breadth, but the ball rebounded against the wall to nail the poor guy in the back with enough force to send him toppling forward.
The screen changed again.
Isana Yo. Rank 299.
Isana stood up with a hiss, rubbing at his back. The boy glanced at the clock to check the time, then did a double-take, a look of surprise on his face.
Bachira cocked his head as the boy continued to waste time, staring at the screen with a look of confusion. Bachira also looked up at the screen. Was it the caricature that had the boy so surprised? He supposed it did look like the facility had hired a little kid to do it.
Bachira turned away, eyes continuing to scan for the strongest guy. Kunigami definitely felt strong, but no one else really seemed to stand out to Bachira.
Bachira jumped on Kunigami’s back, with a mischievous grin on his face, feet locking around the boy’s waist and arms surrounding the guy in a headlock.
“Hey~ Here’s your chance,” Bachira called out to Isana, causing his blue eyes to snap towards them.
The boy blinked, then walked over to where the ball had rolled, effortlessly bouncing it up to rest on top of his foot.
Despite Bachira's best efforts, Kunigami ripped him off and threw him. Conveniently enough, Bachira's fall was cushioned by the mini monk himself.
Bachira allowed himself to be pushed off again, when he spotted it. The blond guy with a beauty mark by his right eye. Bachira grinned. There he was. Rank 289.
“Isana-kun, hurry up and hit him!” the blond shouted. The monk Bachira had crashed into was on the ground, one hand covering his ankle and the other outstretched protectively before him.
“No… wait. Stop, timeout!”
Thirty seconds.
“Hurry up!”
“...Hah. Going after someone who is injured and below me in rank defeats the whole purpose of this, doesn’t it?” Isana muttered loud enough for Bachira to catch. To Bachira's absolute delight, Isana turned, eyes glinting with something dark.
“I like you,” Bachira declared as the boy’s eyes met his. “You’re right. If you’re going to beat someone…”
Bachira rushed forward and stole the ball, eyes fixed on the blond.
“It should be the strongest one here!”
The blond’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Me?!”
Bachira grinned maniacally as he kicked the ball. The blond reacted quickly, jumping out of the way of the ball and ducking under Bachira's kick. Guess he wasn’t the strongest for nothing.
Bachira was about to spin around and hit the fleeing blond in the back when he saw the monster move out of the corner of his eyes.
Not the blond, the monster whispered. The other one. Pass it to the other monster. Pass it here.
For some reason, Bachira knew exactly who his monster was talking about and though his future was at stake, he kicked the ball in an arching pass without hesitation.
There was a monster inside Bachira that came out to play whenever he played soccer. The monster was ruthless and selfish, but also Bachira's ideal partner. Unlike the rest of his teammates, the monster was clever and fast, always in the position Bachira would have liked for his teammates to be in to pass the ball. But his monster existed only within his eyes- the monster couldn’t receive his passes so Bachira could only play as the monster dictated and try to work around his teammates.
But today, the image of his monster overlapped with a boy Bachira had never met before- the perfect position, the perfect timing, and the perfect shot that nailed Mr. Rank 289 in the face with practiced precision and force.
Bachira was ecstatic.
When Isana turned to question him, brows furrowed, the answer came easily.
“Because I knew you’d kick it. It was written all over your face,” Bachira said. “‘Only results matter here’”, right? So I made a bet and believed in you, and I won right?”
The boy stared at him, blue eyes wide in disbelief before he turned his head away, hand covering his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Pft. What the heck. You’re nuts,” the boy said, and Bachira smiled brightly at the lack of malice behind the words.
...
Bachira kept an eye on Isana as they conducted their fitness tests. The boy was ranked second to last but… he was oddly fit?
He didn’t have the raw power like Kunigami or some or the guys in their group did, and he was perhaps shorter than average, but his agility and endurance might have been much better than the others.
Bachira set down his tray and took a seat next to Isana during lunch who looked surprised at his appearance. Bachira smiled, and when Isana shifted in discomfort at the distance, he scooted back a bit, recalling how Isana had snapped at Igaguri.
“Is-a-na~” Bachira sing-songed. “Mind if I sit with you?”
“...Well you already have, so I don’t see the point of saying no at this point,” the boy averted his gaze, face burrowing in the collar of the jacket the facility had provided to all of them.
“Yay,” Bachira cheered. “Hm? You only got natto?”
“Yeah, since the food is based on ranking… ranked based on arbitrary and biased decision-making indeed,” Isana sighed.
“Want some of mine?” Bachira offered. “I got karaage.”
The boy twitched with interest.
“...No. It’s okay. In the first place, I already kind of owe you for the admissions exam.”
“Hm,” Bachira stuffed a piece of the fried chicken in his mouth. “There’s nothing to it. Besides, you showed me something interesting as well.”
“Is that so…” Isana said, chopsticks picking at his natto. “Hey Bachira, is there a reason why you’re talking to me?”
“Hm?”
“I mean, you have the highest rank in this group now, don’t you? I don’t see why you’d be talking to someone who’s basically last place.”
“Eh? I think you’re pretty strong though? At the very least, your potential is higher than that guy that got kicked out,” Bachira said as he chewed.
“But if I didn’t have any potential and I’m not as good as you think I am, would you still…” Isana paused, hands clenching nervously.
Bachira stared at the boy, and suddenly felt like he was looking at a mirror.
“Hey. Isana, let’s be friends,” Bachira said leaning towards the other.
Isana recoiled.
“Friends?”
“Yeah. You and me. It’d be pretty dull being alone for however long we’re here, even if we are competing against each other and I really like you. So let’s be friends.”
“Friends… I haven’t had a friend in a long time,” came a whispered confession.
“Me neither!” Bachira clapped his hands together. “We can be each other’s first friend since forever. FFF’s.”
Bachira saw a small smile pull at the shy boy’s lips.
“That does sound... nice.”
“Yup. Let’s survive together, Isana.”
“Oh. Um, you can just call me Yoi- I mean Yo. Isana is a little…”
Bachira shrugged.
“Sure, Yo-kun. Then you can call me Meguru.”
“Isn’t Bachira fine?”
“Eh? Now that’s not fair. I get to call you by your given name but you’re just going to call me by my surname? Trying to set boundaries, Yo-kun?”
“That’s not it,” the boy mumbled, curling in on himself a little. “I’m just not used to all this…”
Bachira pouted.
“I’ll let it go this time, but one day, you also have to call me Meguru, got it?”
“...Sure,” Yo agreed, looking relieved.
“Oh,” Bachira perked up, suddenly remembering something. “Then was that Kira guy not your friend? You seemed to know each other.”
“We just ran into each other on our way in. He didn’t even know my name until I got tagged.”
“Do you not like being touched?” Bachira asked as they entered the training field for a late night practice session.
“What?”
“Well, I just thought you were really freaked out back when the Igaguri grabbed you.”
“Oh,” Isagi said. He was amazed Bachira had noticed- he thought most people would pass it off as nerves of being in a high stress situation, especially with their futures on the line. “I don’t hate it all the time- just when it’s strangers or people I’m not particularly close with.”
After a moment, Isagi adds, “Contact during soccer is fine though, since it’s part of the game.”
“Alright, just wanted to check,” Bachira hums as he begins his warmup with Isagi following suit.
Isagi felt a strange warmth in his chest.
“Thank you for asking, Bachira.”
They finished stretching and stood across from each other, Bachira starting off with the ball.
“Say, that Ego-guy is pretty interesting, huh?” Bachira said as he danced away with the ball, Isagi in pursuit.
Isagi snorted.
“Interesting is a mild way to put it. He’s one sadistic man.”
“Yeah. It’s the first time someone other than my monster told me not to pass.”
“Yeah,” Isagi said, pausing as he watched Bachira thread the ball between his legs with impressive skill. “I’ve also always been told I should pass and work as a team, for the team.”
It was the first time Isagi had heard Jin-san say anything like this, though he supposed it was because Jin-san, with what miniscule kindness he had in his heart, had not brought up soccer unless prompted the past few years they had been living together.
"Wait, did you say monster?” Isagi asked as the rest of his brain caught up.
“Yeah. When I play soccer, a monster comes out and talks to me. ‘Score a goal’, ‘play and weave around more’,” Bachira says, pacing with the ball that had half of Isagi's attention.
Bachira suddenly shoved forward, and Isagi suddenly found himself face to face with Bachira.
“But at that moment, strangely enough, the monster said to pass the ball to you. It said that you too had a monster within you.”
Isagi stepped back. A monster…
“Messi, Christiano Ronaldo, and all those other amazing players,” Bachira said as he juggled the ball from one foot to another. “I think they all have monsters within them too. That must be what makes a good striker- or at least, that’s what I believe.”
With one hard kick, the ball sailed towards the ceiling.
“That’s why, Yo-kun. I’m glad I came here, because I got to meet you.”
Isagi felt his heart skip a beat. Unconsciously, he reached up to clench at the fabric over his heart.
He didn’t understand what Bachira meant by monster but… for some reason, whether it was the boy's demeanor or words- his heart simultaneously ached and felt lighter.
Something about him...
“I’m glad I also decided to come here as well, Bachira, and I’m glad I got to meet you. Truly…”
If I had never left the house, then I would have never met you.
“Who knows? Maybe, just maybe...”
This won't be so bad.
“Maybe this won't be so bad after all.”