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Everybody knows there are no breaks in Blue Lock; it doesn’t matter if it’s the weekends, Ego schedules their next matches with such merciless intensity that for the past few months they are honed to do nothing but get used to it. It’s with this that Igaguri drags his numb feet against the sleek floors in the hallways, unable to even summon the energy to cover his ears at the painful squeak his shoes make against the polished tiles of this hellish institution.
He pushes the doors to the cafeteria open just as a cacophony of noise greets him, jolting him to take a step backwards.
“What’s this all about?” Yukimiya asks curiously, appearing behind Igaguri as he enters, “they’re making a lot more ruckus than usual, huh?”
Igaguri colors. Nobody outside his cluster has ever talked to him, much more the top five — much more a freaking model. He’s seen Yukimiya’s face on the billboards of Ginza and Harajuku for goodness’ sake!
He’s fumbling for a response when someone pushes past him in the entrance again, pausing to stand next to Yukimiya and taking in all the booming voices arguing and squabbling against each other. “Hm. Dunno. But there has to be only one specific reason why even Barou and Nagi of all people are included in all this mess.”
“Oh?” Yukimiya turns to Hiori, bowing politely in greeting while Igaguri in the background foams his mouth in frustration, “I can’t really think of any other reason than football.”
Hiori smiles mysteriously and is about to open his mouth when a crash is suddenly heard, echoing loudly against the room in such resounding vibrations that even the flatscreen up above the ceilings shake from the impact.
A long table has been turned, platters of dishes clattering against the ground and the food moshed haphazardly over. Igaguri mourns for the sirloin steak he spies among the casualties.
“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Say?” Barou grits, eyes oozing out nothing but pure contempt. Igaguri is at a considerable distance away, but the fire in Barou’s eyes make it hard to move without busting a sweat. He suddenly feels pity for the bastard who managed to piss Barou off that much.
“I saaaaid,” Nagi drawls, almost bored, and of course it’s fucking Nagi; Nagi, who is almost apathetic to everything and anything except for two things. Football and his video games.
“I have the best chemistry with Isagi.”
Make that three things.
“Bullshit!” Barou growls, at the same time the table erupts into even more noise, each more insistent and angrier than the next, with Kunigami rising up above to slam his tray against the already beat-up surface.
“All of you shut the fuck up,” he hisses, and when their attention shifts to him, he can’t help the cocky grin that spreads on his face, “any of you can brag all you want, but I bet you weren’t the first person Isagi’s ever passed the ball to in an official game.”
A couple of feet away, Igaguri blinks. “That isn’t even importa—”
But the jealous rage that flares up abruptly in the room is no joke, and even Bachira’s usual silly and amiable demeanor is gone, replaced by a being whose smile is absolutely feral and stone-cold on his face.
“Kunigami, Kunigami, Kunigami,” Bachira tuts, shaking his head, “that’s nothing compared to what I have with Isagi. We’ve stuck together from beginning to end. He and I are meant to be. He chose me in the second selection—”
“And me,” Nagi quips.
“—and now here we are, still together. We’ve been with each other more than any of you combined. We’re meant to be. We’re destined. My plays match with Isagi’s the most. Personally,” Bachira adds, mouth twisted into a smile but his eyes manic with malice, “all of you can just lay off and suck my—”
“Slow down there, Bachira,” Chigiri cuts him off before Barou and Kunigami can even get the chance to sneak up and throttle the hazel-eyed player into existence. “Maybe you’ve forgotten one little detail.”
“Really? What is it? The fact Isagi and I are gonna grow old playing football together forever and ever and ev—”
“Shut the hell up before I—”
“Excuse me he’s going to do that with me—”
“No. The fact that he left you after second selection,” Chigiri says, eyes glowing red with something that makes Igaguri’s skin crawl, “and became teammates with m—”
“Me!” Barou and Nagi shout simultaneously, and they stare at each other callously before they each pick up trays on the floor, sizing each other up.
“C’mon Nagi, stop that,” Reo huffs, trying to grasp Nagi’s arm from throwing a trayful of unagi on both Barou’s and Chigiri’s faces. “Isagi isn’t worth it.”
“That’s not what you said in the breakroom.”
Pause.
“Hm? What is that supposed to mean?”
“What? Nothing! Shut up, Kar—”
Karasu steps up, grin wolfish, “we were in the breakroom, and it was for the Eleven tryouts, and he left all sulky, but then he came back and it was like something changed. A little bird told me he just had a heart-to-heart convo with our dear little Mr. Ordinary!”
“Reo… I see that it’s come to this…”
“Wha — Nagi, you’re the one I want to play football with!”
“But I’m not the only one, aren’t I?” Nagi asks, a glint in his eye. “You’re starting to like Isagi too.”
“That’s…”
“I mean, who wouldn’t?” Nanase sighs, almost wistfully. “Isagi’s so kind. He could’ve just continued playing with Rin and Shidou when we were in Team A — he was the only one who could keep up, after all, but he gave me and Hiori chances to show off our own weapons too! Right, Hiori?”
Hiori, who’s been standing next to Yukimiya all this time, nods. Almost bashfully.
“I know what that’s like,” Chigiri responds, eyes downcast and voice soft, as if he was remembering a very precious memory, “I was injured in the past, and almost quit playing. If it wasn’t for Isagi, I wouldn’t have reached this far. I would have been eliminated a long time ago, even before the first selection started.”
“I know what that’s like too.” Niko murmurs quietly. But everybody hears it. Everybody listens when it’s about Isagi. “When you guys beat me and Team Y, and Isagi kicked that final goal… I was devastated. I swore I’d get revenge. But it took me this far to realize that the only one who changed me to who I am was — him. Isagi.”
“I was bullied my entire childhood and adolescence, and never had a single friend until I met Isagi. There. Boom. I win!” Bachira declares proudly. When he’s met with horrified looks, he raises his brows. “What?”
“That’s unfair. I don’t have a sad background story,” Nagi pouts, “dammit, Reo, couldn’t you have bullied me or something?”
“Nagi you ungrateful little—”
“But it’s not like I don’t know what everybody means. Everything in my life was boring until the moment we lost too. Stupid Isagi and his stupid goal scent. His stupid direct shot.” Nagi huffs, then says, quietly to himself, “stupid Isagi and his stupid face. I’d blow my load all over if I c—”
In one second Nagi’s face is impassive and clean, the next it’s bombarded with six different trays of leftover food.
“Nagi,” Bachira breathes, eerie and still and utterly demonic. If one squinted, they could almost see the shadow of a monster behind him. “Care to repeat that? Hmm? Hmm?”
“You guys are fucking trash! That isn’t the way to treat Isagi!” Barou roars, indignant, “I’d treat him gallantly, like what he deserves. Just like a… like a—”
“What, a queen?”
“Damn right! Because I’m the king!”
“We’d go on a couple of dates first, then maybe we could…” Kunigami trails off, face flushing, “I mean, I’d have to research first. But I’m sure we could pull it off. He’s braver than anyone here I know. He’s like a hero, too. He—”
“I wonder if Isagi would like to visit one of the Shinto shrines in my hometown,” Nanase voices out dreamily.
“I don’t want him to meet my family,” Chigiri mumbles worriedly, biting his thumb, “big sis is gonna steal him away.”
“I wouldn’t mind taking Mr. Ordinary out too,” wonders Karasu, “he held up pretty well in that one-on-one. Heh. I bet he’d hold on longer in b—”
“Well too bad because none of you guys can do that!” Bachira shrieks, “only I can! Because I have the best chemistry with Isagi! We’re partners for life! Partners five-ever! Period!”
“Shut up, seaweed head. Just because Isagi gives you passes doesn’t mean he doesn’t do that to the rest of us—”
“We went to the bath together. He washed my back.”
“I was there too. He washed all of our backs, Kunigami.”
“We were on the same team!”
“We drank from the same cup!”
“We both like udon noodles!”
“He was the only one to keep up with me.”
“Okay, and? You’re more like a gorilla than a king, Barou. That isn’t a flex—” Thwack.
“He was there for me when no one was,” Yukimiya confesses somberly, and everyone stops arguing to give each other supportive grunts and nods of affirmation, gushing about Isagi, when they suddenly stop and stare hard at Yukimiya.
“Oops. Was I caught?”
“Do you even know our lord and savior Isag—”
“We’re both strikers!” Nanase bursts out happily, looking very satisfied with himself.
They stare again.
“You are all wrong,” someone says, and everybody freezes at the sound of his voice.
Rin Itoshi carelessly sits down at his own table, carrying his own tray of probably the most expensive meal known in all of Blue Lock; kaiseki-ryōri with fugu and wagyu beef. Everybody in the room silently makes a pact not to drag Rin’s dinner into their food war and instead take it as their own.
“Jinpachi Ego has said it himself. That lukewarm bastard…” he says, almost fondly, “no, Yoichi Isagi, belongs to me. He’s been chosen solely because he brings out my abilities to their utmost. My counterpart, my shadow, my strategist, my bait,”
And because Rin is truly the shittiest of them all and no one can genuinely stand up to him (except a certain raven-haired puzzle lover), he can’t help the sinister twist in his smile as he finishes off with,
“My ego.”
Not even his wagyu beef is safe in the aftermath.
—
Igaguri sighs, trying to get the water from his ears after a two-hour long session at the bath. Even after all that scrubbing, he’s still unable to completely remove that one patch of yakiniku sauce on his elbow after getting dragged into that fight earlier in the cafeteria.
He enters his assigned room, only to stop once more as a sense of déjà vu hits him.
It’s exactly like the scene earlier. Except everyone is silent. Still. Staring at him with Isagi in the middle, who is the only one to smile and greet him.
“Hey, Igaguri! Man, what a mess. It was a good thing I wasn’t there earlier! Heard Ego gave you all hell after. That sucks.”
“Isagi,” Igaguri mouths, surprised and confused. He doesn’t know what’s up with the painful twist in his gut telling him to run. “What, uh, brings you…”
“Lukewarm, share to us what you just said earlier,” Rin demands, arms crossed but tensed, veins popping along sharp ridges of well-rounded muscle. Everyone seems to share the exact same body language, all coiled up as if ready to pounce at an unsuspected prey.
Run, Igaguri’s gut screams, but Isagi only furrows his brow.
“Uh. Which one? Anri-chan is a D cup?” A-Amazing!
“No. The other one.”
“I saw your brother and Shindou commit tax fraud?” What?
“No. Think about it more.”
“Ego even has information on our dick sizes?” Isagi why do you even know all these things!
“After that, you dumbass,” Barou grits out, and Isagi’s mouth forms an o-shaped as he suddenly remembers.
“Oh! You mean the part where Igaguri used to sneak up on my futon.”
Igaguri feels his heart drop.
“Isagi… t-that never happened—”
“What are you talking about, dude? That totally happened. You’d have nightmares about your family suddenly appearing and dragging you out of Blue Lock and that you’d never get to play football again. Then you’d roll over to my futon and drool all over my face. I think you accidentally gave me a hickey once.”
“That was you?” Bachira hisses darkly, and Igaguri feels himself wet his pants.
But sweet, dumb, oblivious Isagi can only laugh, walking over to place a hand on Igaguri’s shoulder. A snarl echoes in the room at the gesture. Isagi doesn’t notice it.
“Don’t worry, Igaguri! You’ve come this far. I’m sure your parents are proud of you, I mean,” Isagi almost looks shy here, and Igaguri feels a piece of his soul shatter, “I know I am. Heh.”
It would have been reassuring to see the bright blue of Isagi’s eyes, if it weren’t for the thinly-veiled promises of destruction and torture from the rest of the team staring straight back at him over Isagi's shoulder.
Suffice to say, the cafeteria doesn’t even measure up to the outcome of the dormitories that night.