Chapter Text
The metal clanged as the football struck the side of the goalpost, the sound bouncing off the white walls and straight back into Kaiser’s ears. He panted, wiping sweat from his face with his forearm and pushing his hair back out of his eyes. The night sky loomed overhead, a cool breeze drifting across the practice field. Kaiser picked up the bottle plastered with a large Blue Lock logo from the ground, popped the cap off with his thumb, and drank deeply, cooling the burn in his throat from the endless practice. Suddenly, another football rolled to a stop at his feet. He lowered the bottle and turned to find Ness standing beside him, holding a towel and wearing a look of concern. Kaiser gave him a small look of appreciation and took the towel, lightly pressing it to his face. Sometimes, the small things Ness did really helped Kaiser calm down.
“Kaiser, I think you should rest. You’ve done enough practice tonight. I know you’ll beat Isagi next game.”
Until he opened his fucking mouth.
“Piss off, Ness,” Kaiser spat, shoving the cap back onto the bottle and hurling it to the ground along with the towel.
“Kaiser, really, you’re looking like you’re about to collapse,” Ness replied, his voice laced with worry.
Kaiser’s head snapped toward him, his expression twisted with disdain and irritation.
“I said piss off, Ness. That means fucking leave.” His body tensed, coiled tight like he might lunge at any second.
Ness started to say something, but Kaiser cut him off, pointing toward the entrance of the field.
“Leave.”
Ness lingered a moment longer, his eyes searching Kaiser’s face for something—anything. Finding nothing, he sighed and turned away, footsteps fading as he disappeared into the shadows. Kaiser watched him go, his expression unmoving. His breathing quickened, a single name echoing in his mind.
Isagi Yoichi.
Kaiser’s brows knit together as his gaze dropped to the ball at his feet. Fucking Isagi Yoichi. When he’d watched the Blue Lock vs. Japan U-20 match, his eyes had lingered on Isagi, on his playstyle, his instincts. That final goal had sealed it. Isagi became his target. Coming to Blue Lock had been simple: secure an offer from Re Al and earn his ticket out of Bastard München. He needed to expand his empire. But since arriving, Isagi had tested him again and again. Kaiser wouldn’t leave the Neo Egoist League until he crushed him.
Kaiser’s arm locks around Isagi’s torso, yanking him back just as Isagi braces to shoot. Their bodies collide, pressed tight as the ball rockets toward them. Isagi whips his head toward Kaiser, shock flashing into raw hatred. Kaiser had blocked him — stealing the goal and stealing the moment.
His moment.
“Look, Yoichi,” Kaiser sings, smug and delighted, “your climax is getting ruined by me.”
The ball drops at their feet. Isagi stares at him again, disbelief sparking before his lips twist into a prideful, defiant smirk.
“Yeah, Kaiser,” he says slowly, “you’re perfect.”
Before Kaiser can register it, Isagi swings his left leg back and fires the ball behind them. Kaiser huffs sharply, eyes widening at the betrayal of momentum
The ball soars toward Yukimiya. Yukimiya, who’d already given up, whose expression shifts from hopeless to stunned as it lands right at his feet.
Kaiser’s attention snaps back too late. Isagi’s first has already seized the front of his shirt.
“Did you imagine this last pass, Kaiser?” Isagi growls, pulling him closer. His grip tightens, knuckles whitening against the fabric. “My challenge was to beat you at anything at all.”
He drags Kaiser in until they’re nearly nose-to-nose, breath hot between them, eyes burning straight into Kaiser’s.
“Tell me, Kaiser…” Isagi murmurs, leaning in just a fraction more, the chill in his voice slicing through the heat of their struggle.
“How does it feel to be the clown in my story?”
Kaiser’s vision focused harder on the ball in front of him, his breathing quickening once again.
“We’re strikers, right? So let’s settle with actual goals.” Kaiser’s fingers ruffle Ness’s hair a little, watching Isagi as he stands there in front of him. “Yoichi… What do you say?”
Isagi stares for a moment before opening his mouth to speak, but instead, Kaiser is met with him falling face-first towards him. In an instant, Kaiser lets go of Ness’s hair and grabs Isagi’s hair as he falls, noting how soft it is. He looks down at the unconscious Isagi on his knees, Kaiser’s arm tensing as he holds his grip to keep Isagi up on his knees. A feeling inside him grew that he thought he’d never feel for his rival.
Concern.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Noel pipes, slowly walking towards them.
“He’s overheated,” Kaiser replies, his eyes lingering on Isagi’s resting face, “playing to the point of exhaustion…” He mutters under his breath, his eyebrows arched just enough to show a hint of worry. “What are you, a kid who doesn’t know his limits? You damn egoist…”
“FUCK!” Kaiser’s shout tore across the empty field as his foot slammed into the ball. It curved sharply through the air and smashed into the post once more. The clang echoed back at him, mocking. Kaiser’s jaw locked, his fists curling so tightly his nails bit into his palms, sharp enough to sting.
“Yoichi… I’m going to fucking kill him.”
Dim hallway lights cast soft shadows across Isagi’s face as he walked quietly through the corridor. Late at night, the lights in Blue Lock always dimmed, leaving the halls in a strange mix of calm and unease. Normally, he would already be in bed getting his usual seven hours, but tonight was different. Right after the match against Manshine City, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion. One moment, Kaiser was declaring their next goal-scoring duel, and the next thing Isagi knew, he was waking up in Noel Noa’s room, being told he’d been out for ten hours. After a brief talk with Noa, he’d finally gone to shower, something he hadn’t been able to do after the match.
“How does it feel to be the clown in my story?”
…
“We’re strikers, right? So let’s settle with actual goals.” … “Yoichi… What do you say?”
Isagi chuckled to himself at the thought, a prideful smile creeping across his face. For now, he had won against Kaiser, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. But this wasn’t the time to get hyped up; he really should go back to resting after collapsing the way he had. He lifted the towel around his neck and pressed it to his damp forehead. Raising his arm, Isagi shook his water bottle from side to side, gauging how much remained inside. When he felt how little was left, he sighed.
“I guess I’ll stop by the cafeteria for a refill before bed,” Isagi muttered under his breath, changing his path for the cafeteria.
The automatic doors slid open to a spacious area filled with tables and chairs. In the center stood a large pentagon-shaped pillar, fitted with multiple screens, trash chutes, and water dispensers. When Isagi came here during the day, it was alive with people, the noise filling the room. But right now, there wasn’t a soul in sight. The emptiness made it feel like a scene straight out of a horror movie. He marched forward, heading straight for the water dispenser, eager to leave as quickly as possible. Twisting the cap off his bottle, he pressed it to the spout and listened to the quiet hiss of water streaming in. He exhaled softly; somehow, the sound of the water calmed him amid the uneasy silence. It didn’t help that it was 2 a.m.
Suddenly, Isagi felt a presence behind him, like someone was watching. Heat crept up his neck, goosebumps prickling across his skin. The sensation was familiar, yet it still scared him. Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Kaiser’s from across the room. Kaiser sat at a table, a tray in front of him with a plate of what looked like pasta. He wore a white hoodie and loose black shorts, a pair of beige slippers on his feet. Isagi’s gaze drifted up to his face. Kaiser’s eyes were sharp, sending daggers his way. His hair clung slightly to his skin, still damp as if he’d just showered, the rat tails bunched at the front. He was halfway through a bite of food, his left cheek puffed out. The sight almost made Isagi laugh, his mouth twitching upward despite himself.
“Are you going to keep fucking staring, Yoichi?” Kaiser shouted from across the cafeteria, loud enough for Isagi to hear. The sound made Isagi flinch slightly. He turned away, finished filling his bottle, and started toward the exit, but his feet stopped just before he reached it.
Isagi turned back. Kaiser was still glaring at him.
“Why are you up and in here at two a.m.?” Isagi asked. Kaiser was closer now.
Kaiser’s brows furrowed as he scoffed.
“I was practicing, and I worked up an appetite.” He set his fork down, resting his elbow on the table and his chin against his fist. “Why? Is there an issue, Yoichi?”
Isagi huffed, fingers tightening around his bottle. “No, there isn’t, Kaiser,” he said, his voice low, each word coiled with quiet annoyance.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. No words, no movement, just sharp looks cutting back and forth. Isagi realized he’d rarely seen Kaiser outside of practice or matches. He’d only ever known him in the Bastard uniform, never like this, dressed casually, almost… normal. It was strange, unsettling, to see him as a person rather than just a rival on the field. He wasn’t sure why the thought lingered.
“Are…” Kaiser started, his expression flickering with hesitation.
He stopped himself, eyes fixed on Isagi as if caught between finishing the sentence or swallowing it whole. Turning away, he picked up his fork again and idly poked at his food, visibly at war with himself. With a quiet sigh, he lifted his head once more, gaze flicking back to Isagi.
“Are you… Alright?” Kaiser finally asked, turning to face him fully. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint trace of concern. “You had the whole team worried when you fainted earlier.”
Isagi blinked at him in disbelief. Is he really asking if I’m okay? The one who spat venom at him every chance he got? A quiet chuckle slipped free.
“Does that include you, Kaiser?” Isagi shot back, a smug smile tugging at his lips.
Kaiser’s glare returned instantly, his fist tightening around his fork.
“No. But it was quite annoying to have everyone ogling over you like a celebrity who’d just gotten hit by a car.” He scoffed, turning back to his food. “It was also a fucking pain in the ass carrying you all the way to Noel Noa’s room.”
Isagi froze, his expression flickering between disbelief and confusion. He carried me? A small, awkward smile crept onto his face as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his jumper.
“I’m… okay,” he said quietly, making Kaiser look back at him. “And—thank you for carrying me.”
Kaiser hummed, eyes darting briefly over Isagi’s face.
“Don’t ever mention it.”
Isagi snorted, holding Kaiser’s gaze for a moment longer. The silence between them thickened, too heavy, too strange. Finally, Isagi turned toward the exit, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Go to sleep soon, Kaiser. Can’t have my clown underperforming, can I?” He said with a sly smirk before stepping out of the cafeteria.
“Fuck you, Yoichi!” Kaiser shouted after him, the automatic doors sliding shut. A soft chuckle escaped Isagi as he walked back down the dim corridor once again.
When Isagi had first met Kaiser at the start of the Neo Egoist League, there had been nothing but spite and hatred between them. It showed in every game, every training session. Sometimes, Isagi felt like prey being hunted, like someone had painted a bright red target on his back, and Kaiser was aiming straight for it. Sly remarks. Countless body checks. Stolen balls and ruined shooting opportunities. Not only in practice, but in matches too. It never failed to test Isagi’s patience, yet it only gave him more reason to rise to the challenge and dethrone Kaiser
A hand slides beneath Isagi’s jaw; a thumb tilts his chin upward, forcing him to meet the light blue eyes of the man who just blocked his shot, Michael Kaiser.
“Yoichi..” Kaiser’s voice is low, almost thoughtful, as he studies him. “I came here to meet you. Blue Lock’s ace striker, Yoichi Isagi.” A faint smile forms on Kaiser’s lips, curious, deliberate, and far too self-assured. “Don’t disappoint me, new hero.”
Isagi jerks back, slapping Kaiser’s hand away.
“Stop it! Don’t touch me!” he snaps, heat flashing behind his glare.
But Kaiser moves again, catching Isagi’s wrists before he can step away. The sudden closeness steals the air between them. Their foreheads nearly brush; Isagi’s pulse quickens, not from fear but from the sharp, electric pressure hanging in the space they share.
Kaiser’s smile returns, colder now, a challenge carved into it. “Shut your mouth,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving Isagi’s. “Give me a reason not to feel like coming here was a waste of time.” His grip tightens slightly, as if daring Isagi to break free. “I want you to get in the way of my life, Yoichi.”
Shouts erupt from behind them, teammates alarmed by the sight, but neither looks away.
Isagi exhales through gritted teeth. “...Shut up.” Isagi’s eyebrows knit together, another glare forming. “Fine. I’ll do it, Kaiser.” He twists his wrist, catching Kaiser’s hand instead, locking their fingers in a vice-like grip. “Like you asked, I’m going to destroy your life.”
So… why had they just shared a moment that seemed so… normal? Isagi shook his head at the thought as he stepped into the four-man room he shared with Hiori, Yukimiya, and Kurona. He tread lightly; the others were already asleep. It was late. He set his towel on the small shelf beside his bed, then slipped under the sheets.
“Nn…”
Isagi’s head snapped toward the sound, guilt washing over him at the thought that he might’ve woken someone up. Hiori stirred, sitting up with half-lidded eyes.
“Isagi…?” Hiori murmured, rubbing his eyes as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. When he realized it was real, his eyes widened. “Isagi!” he said again, louder this time.
“Shh! Not so loud!” Isagi whispered, throwing up his hands, but it was already too late.
Kurona and Yukimiya sat up next, blinking blearily around the room until their gazes landed on him.
“Isagi!” They both said in unison, the third time that night.
“Are you okay?” Yukimiya asked, pushing his glasses up as he sat fully upright. “Everyone’s been worried. The others heard about the fainting, too. Bachira came storming in, asking what happened.”
Isagi let out a small snort and scratched the back of his head, giving them a sheepish look before sighing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t mean to wake you guys, though.” He yawned, and the others followed suit soon after. “We can talk tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”
They hummed in agreement, settling back into their beds. A few quiet goodnights passed between them before the room drifted back into silence.
Isagi’s last thought before sleep was a simple one: he was thankful no one here snored. Team Z at night had been a room full of chainsaws.
Isagi woke to the blaring alarm from across the room. He let out a groan, forcing himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes still heavy, he glanced over at Yukimiya’s corner to see him also sitting up, turning off the digital clock next to his bed that read seven a.m. The room was quiet for a moment, all four of them still waking. Kurona was the slowest, still buried under the covers and blinking sleepily at Isagi. Hiori was the first to stand, stretching his arms toward the ceiling before grabbing his water bottle from the shelf beside his bed.
“Alright, I’m going to go clean up. I’ll meet you guys in the cafeteria,” Hiori said, pointing to the door before heading out.
“Food, food,” Kurona mumbled as he finally crawled out of bed.
“I’ll see you guys in the cafeteria,” Isagi said with a yawn. He grabbed his small bag of toiletries, waved to the remaining two, and left the room a moment after Hiori.
The hallway was fully lit now, unlike last night, and Isagi’s feet carried him toward the bathroom to get ready for the day. Inside, the hiss of the showers filled the air. He opened his toothbrush case and scanned the sink area—no toothpaste. Isagi sighed, glancing again in stubborn hope. The last time this had happened was back in the early Team Z days. In his peripheral vision, a blue tube angled toward him. Turning, he found Kunigami standing there, damp hair falling against his forehead, eyes cold but not unkind, arm extended with the toothpaste. Isagi met his gaze and reached for it, giving a small smile.
“Thank you, Kunigami.” He said, eyes lingering on Kunigami’s just a moment longer.
For a split second, something soft flickered across Kunigami’s face, gone as quickly as it came, but unmistakable relief. He hummed in response before turning away. Isagi watched him for a moment more, then returned to his own sink, finished up, and headed toward the cafeteria.
Entering the cafeteria, he scanned the room for his friends. In the far distance, he spotted Hiori and Kurona, giving them a small wave before picking up a tray. His meal slid out of the machine: omurice, light but filling. He carried it to their table, slipping into one of the seats and setting the tray down. Kurona was practically inhaling his food, while Hiori took normal-sized bites, tapping intently on his tablet.
“What are you looking at, Hiori?” Isagi asked, cutting into his omurice with his spoon.
“I’m watching plays from yesterday’s game.” Hiori glanced up, tilting the tablet toward him. “Do you want to watch some?”
Isagi pulled the tablet closer.
“Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.”
Hiori nodded and resumed eating.
Without realizing it, Isagi spent the next thirty minutes glued to the screen—obsessively replaying moments from their match. His eyes latched onto every interaction between himself and Kaiser. He studied Kaiser’s movement, his runs, the small details he had completely missed yesterday. Hiori and Kurona exchanged a look.
Isagi hadn’t touched his food in minutes.
They both chuckled softly before gathering their trays.
“Isagi, we’re heading to the locker room to get ready for training,” Hiori said gently. “We’ll see you later, okay? Also, make sure to bring my tablet back.”
All he got was a distracted hum.
Once they were gone, Isagi leaned even closer to the screen. His foot tapped rapidly against the floor as he rewound the same clip for the fiftieth time. In his mind, branches of possibility scattered everywhere—different angles, different choices, different outcomes he could’ve forced.
But no matter how far he rewound, every path led straight back to Kaiser.
Kaiser’s interference. Kaiser’s smirk. Kaiser’s read on him. The footwork, the spacing, the split-second timing that cut off Isagi’s line of sight. There was something in Kaiser’s movements he couldn’t shake. Something he needed to understand, break down, destroy.
Isagi clenched his fist, leaning so close to the screen that his breath fogged the glass.
“What were you thinking…?” he whispered to the image frozen on the screen.
He didn’t realize how long he had been staring until he checked the time. Another fifteen minutes had slipped by, and his food had gone cold. Exhaling sharply, he stood, gathered the tablet and tray, and tossed the untouched meal into the waste bin. Then he stepped out of the cafeteria, heading for the locker room.
The moment he set a foot outside the locker room, he felt the temperature drop, a cold atmosphere rolling off the room and crawling up his spine. His body tensed as the automatic doors slid open. With that chill, he should have known exactly what sight awaited him.
The familiar slender, toned frame. Blond hair fading into blue. Two rat-tail braids resting on the shoulder, marked by that damned blue rose tattoo, vines winding down to the crown on his hand. Sharp red eyeliner making those blue eyes cut like blades.
Michael Kaiser.
He was putting on his compression gear, sliding fabric up his legs before turning toward the sound of the door. Whatever relaxed expression he had vanished. In its place came a cold, razor-edged stare, eyebrows tightening as his eyes locked onto Isagi’s. For a moment, neither moved. Tension rose instantly, thick and sharp, hatred, challenge, something deeper Isagi didn’t dare name.
Isagi tore his eyes away first. He walked to his locker, pulling out his own compression gear. Shrugging off his white sweater, he stuffed it into the metal box, feeling Kaiser’s stare burning between his shoulder blades, like he was trying to peel him open. He exhaled quietly and pulled his compression top over his head. Hooking two fingers through his cleats, he let them drop to the concrete with a dull thud. Kneeling, he tightened the laces. But the moment he stood—
A force slammed into him.
His back hit the lockers with a metallic crack. Kaiser’s forearm pinned him to the chest, the space between them almost gone. Kaiser leaned in, breath ghosting over Isagi’s skin. His stare was sharp enough to bruise, stripped of all pretense, raw, ugly, and twisting something in Isagi’s gut. Isagi grabbed his wrist, trying to push him away, but Kaiser shoved harder, pressing him tighter against the locker.
“Stay the fuck out of my way today, Yoichi,” Kaiser growled, voice low and unrestrained. Isagi gripped his wrist tighter, irritation flaring, eyebrows knitting.
Kaiser pushed him once more against the metal, then released him abruptly and stormed out without looking back. Isagi stayed where he was, breath caught in his chest, still pressed against the cold locker as the door slid shut behind him.
He stayed quiet, breaths quick in the silence. Kaiser had gotten far more aggressive, clearly shown in that brief interaction. He’d figured something like this could happen after yesterday’s match.
And yet… last night, they had shared a normal conversation for the first time. Kaiser had even seemed like he cared about how Isagi was doing after the incident. So why was last night so different from today? Why had Kaiser shown something other than his usual ruthless, insufferable attitude? Isagi couldn’t make sense of it, and he didn’t have time to, because he was already late for training.
He grabbed a towel from his locker, slammed the door shut, and headed toward the training field.
Walking onto the turf, Isagi spotted everyone gathered, clearly waiting. He flashed a sheepish, apologetic look.
“Isagi, you’re late.” Noel Noa turned to him, eyebrows pulled together in mild annoyance. “Care to explain?”
“Sorry. I got caught up watching yesterday’s match and lost track of time.” He admitted honestly.
Kaiser smirked. Isagi had never wanted to roll his eyes harder.
“Don’t let it happen again. Be on time,” Noa said, before turning back to the group. “Let’s get started.”
Noa reached for two sets of jerseys, white and black, and tossed one to Isagi and the other to Kaiser.
“Today I’m splitting you into two teams. One led by Isagi, one led by Kaiser. I’ll rotate players through each side for a three-on-three. I want to see who performs best under Isagi’s style of soccer and who performs best under Kaiser’s, as well as how everyone meshes overall. You all know your usual partners, so I’ll be throwing in some unusual combinations. You need to be comfortable performing even when the people you normally sync with aren’t available.”
He tossed a yellow captain’s band to Isagi and a red one to Kaiser. Isagi caught his, glancing over—only to find Kaiser already staring at him with that stupid smug smirk.
…
Great.