Chapter Text
Isagi flapped the front of his shirt, sighing in relief at the cool air against his heated skin. It was a hot day and running around the field for an hour and a half didn’t help matters. He gave a cursory glance across the field to see the other team fall to their knees.
Isagi didn’t bother with celebration, and his team had learned long ago not to bother him with their bluster and noise. For them, this win was their ticket to the nationals. For Isagi, it was just another game.
Isagi averted his eyes and motioned to the coach that he was leaving. The coach looked disapproving but gave his acquiescence. After all, Isagi was going to leave with or without his permission.
Unfortunately, Isagi’s plans were cut short when the striker from the other team approached him swiftly.
Ryosuke Kira. He was a talented striker who, had Isagi not existed, would have garnered the title of Japan’s “National Treasure.” A tacky moniker. If Isagi had his way, he wouldn’t be called anything at all.
Kira wrapped his arm around Isagi’s shoulder’s before he could escape, holding him in a surprisingly tight grip. Isagi held himself still. There were cameras around and it would be too troublesome to deal with the backlash of physically harming someone in public.
“Yoichi, your last shot was amazing!” Kira’s voice was rather pleasant, but it just sounded grating to Isagi’s ears. “Damn, I really thought I could beat you this time!”
Isagi winced when he felt Kira’s sweat on the back of his neck. Gross. Why was he holding on to him for so long, anyway? Didn’t Isagi just publicly humiliate his team for the third year in a row?
Noticing that Isagi was held in place and unable to escape, the reporters quickly closed in on him like sharks at the scent of blood.
“Isagi, Japan’s National Treasure! Congratulations on your spectacular win! How does it feel to bring your team to the nationals 3 years in a row?!”
Isagi forced a smile and shook Kira’s arm off. It was a lot harder than it should have been, but he managed to get loose.
“No comment. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Isagi made a hasty retreat, speed walking past his celebrating teammates to the locker room. He took a quick shower. The cold water felt good on his skin, and he would have taken longer if he wasn’t in such a hurry. He didn’t want to be there when his teammates decided to finish their celebrations.
Isagi changed into his normal clothes, hefted his sports bag over his shoulders, and made a hasty retreat out of the arena. The noise was beginning to give him a migraine.
At least his parents would be happy at the news.
~
Isagi remembers the first time he kicked a soccer ball. He was 4, barely reaching his father’s knees, and he kicked the ball straight into the net. He remembers the thump of the ball, the sound of the net swishing, and the feeling of exhilaration.
A genius is what his father called him. It’s a title that he still holds years later, deep into his high school years.
Soccer was fun, at first. It was new and exciting for a 4-year-old, and for someone who still used training chopsticks to eat, he was actually good at it. Good at something.
Maybe too good.
The other kids fought viciously over who would have Isagi on their team. Playtime with the neighborhood kids turned to tug of wars that Isagi quickly grew weary of. It didn’t help that Isagi’s skill level was soaring way above their primary school level. The games quickly went from being fun to being a chore, and Isagi eventually just stopped playing them.
There is one game in particular that Isagi remembers well, though. It was probably the only one that gave him a real challenge.
Isagi was 12 at the time. He had been passing by, minding his own business, when a rude kid called him over. Apparently, they were having a practice match, but one of the guys didn’t show up.
The kid more or less demanded that Isagi fill the role since he ‘wouldn’t be doing much but standing there’ anyway.
Isagi was still young, still easily provoked, and being casually dismissed like that irked him. Since the kid was so confident, how about Isagi show him a little taste of reality?
Admittedly, that was easier said than done. The kid and his brother were good, much better than the trash Isagi was used to dealing with. It took him a while of minor adjustments to his play, but he eventually got into the flow of things.
The final score was 2-3. After scoring the first 2, Isagi didn’t let the brothers get another one on him. He shut them down completely. Every move was seen through, every pass was stolen, everything that the brothers tried – they were all devoured. And it was…
Boring.
Sure, they were a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t enough. Isagi didn’t need more than 30 minutes to break down their soccer and completely restrict their movements. It was, in a word, disappointing.
It also drove home the point that soccer just wasn’t fun. It probably never will be.
Isagi didn’t bother to stick around after that. He ran off immediately after the last goal, ignoring the kid calling after him, demanding his name. Like hell Isagi would give that to him.
It wasn’t until much later when Isagi found out that the kid who he played against had left for Madrid after being scouted. He didn’t bother learning more.
~
“I’m home,” Isagi called, toeing his shoes off. He walked through the entrance hall, the sound of the television growing louder.
His father lowered the volume and gave him a smile. “Good game?”
Isagi shrugged. He dropped his sports bag on the floor and slumped on the couch. “It was alright… We won.” Isagi closed his eyes when he felt a rough hand ruffle his hair softly.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Issei said with an excited grin.
From the kitchen, he heard his mother calling out. “I told him not to worry, but he’s always been an anxious old man.” She walked into the living room, a wide smile stretching her face. “I bought your favorite, Kintsuba, as a celebration.”
Isagi smiled genuinely for the first time that day. “Thanks mom.” He pouted when she kissed his forehead. “Ugh, mom! I’m not a kid anymore.”
Iyo pinched his cheek softly and laughed. “That may be true, but you’ll always be my baby.”
Isagi rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. “Please don’t ever say that in public.”
Iyo gave his cheek another pinch before leaving back to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Issei, who had been watching the interaction with amusement, seemed to remember something.
“Oh, that’s right, you received something from the mail today. I left it on your desk. You should read it later.”
Isagi frowned. A letter? Was it another offer for a sports scholarship?
Seeing his expression, his father gave him a knowing look. “I know you weren’t planning on it, but I really do think you should consider their offers. A sports scholarship is an amazing opportunity.”
Isagi shrugged again and got off the couch. “Maybe…” Isagi trudged to his room, rolling his eyes when his father told him to at least consider it.
Sure, he’ll consider it. That is, if they provide him with an actual challenge. He was tired of wasting his time with useless shits. The only reason why he even played soccer in high school was because it made his parents happy. He wasn’t really interested in pursuing a career with it.
True enough, when Isagi entered his room, there was a white envelope sitting on his desk. It was nondescript, and unlike the other letters offering him scholarships, there was no school stamp or name.
Curious, Isagi quickly opened it and read the letter.
“Player improvement project…?”
Isagi read the letter, intrigued. It was certainly interesting though a bit silly. He had half a mind to join the project just to see who was the person crazy enough to concoct such a nonsensical plan.
In the end, he tossed the letter back to his desk. He’ll leave that decision to the future Isagi.
~
This ended up being a day before the deadline. Isagi had honestly forgotten about the letter, and it wasn’t until his mother made an off-hand remark about the ‘sports scholarship’ offer that he remembered.
His decision to accept was mostly on a whim. He didn’t really have anything planned other than to play video games and watch movies.
Isagi also mostly kept to himself. In school, he made it clear that he preferred his solitude, and any attempt to befriend him was met with polite rejection. His teammates only cared about him winning the games for them, so they left him alone when he asked. Basically, he didn’t have friends to make plans with, either.
After bidding his parents farewell – and they were rather excited despite the fact that they would have no contact with their only son for what could be months – Isagi left.
He was almost at the doors to the Japan Football Union building when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. Isagi flinched, his elbow instinctively jabbing at the person behind him only to be stopped before it could make contact.
“Whoa! Hey, easy there! It’s just me!”
At the sound of the familiar voice, Isagi relaxed minutely. He turned his head and frowned when he saw a familiar face grinning stupidly at him.
“Yoichi! I knew you’d definitely be invited!” Kira said excitedly, holding Isagi closer.
Isagi’s frown deepened. “Hey, can you let me go?” Isagi tried to shrug the arm off, but this time, Kira held firm.
“Aw, come on now, aren’t we close enough to do this?”
“No,” Isagi grumbled. After a few minutes of struggling, he finally resigned himself to his fate. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.”
Kira just laughed as if Isagi’s attempts to escape were a joke. Isagi wanted to punch that perfect face but held himself back. The organization might not take his act of self-defense nicely and kick him out of the project before he even began.
They walked into the building together, Kira talking his ear off about one thing or another. Isagi stopped paying attention a long time ago. Isagi did note that there were a lot of people in the room, some of whom he recognized.
Kira finally settled down when a man appeared. He introduced himself as Jinpachi Ego and began a long speech about egoists and creating the best striker in the world. Isagi tuned him out, too. The man was obviously crazy and listening to him would rot his brain.
Isagi blinked when Kira finally let him go, stumbling a bit as he’d been unconsciously using the other boy as support.
“Um, excuse me, but I can’t agree with the conditions you just laid out.” Kira, ever the golden child. Even when disagreeing, he was polite. Isagi rolled his eyes and shuffled away, creating distance between them so people don’t mistake them as being friends.
Kira continued. “Each of us has a team that’s important to us. Some of us…” At this, Kira glanced at Isagi which forced him to cut his retreat short. Kira grinned and Isagi really wished he would stop treating him like they were more than acquaintances. “Well, some of us even have nationals. We don’t have time to waste on this nonsensical program.”
Seemingly enflamed by Kira’s words, some of the other kids in the room began to speak up as well.
Ego put a stop to that instantly. He scratched the back of his head and said, “I see. You’re all seriously ill.”
Isagi watched amused as Ego dressed down the whole room. Being the best high school team in Japan? Pathetic. Eleven guys working together? When has Isagi ever relied on anyone else to score a goal? What a joke.
“Soccer is about scoring more goals than your opponent. Whoever scores the most goals is the greatest. If you just want to have fun with your buddies, then get lost.”
Isagi snorted quietly. He turned away and stopped listening as Kira continued to argue. What was the point? That man, crazy as he was, was right. Bonds and friendship? Don’t make him laugh. He didn’t need corny ideals to win the game. In soccer, all you need is yourself.
Isagi flinched when he felt fingers wrapped around his wrist like an iron band. Kira wasn’t looking at him. He faced forward, a resolute clench to his jaw.
“Let’s go, Yoichi.”
Isagi had no choice but to follow. All the other kids also began to run towards the door, resolve burning in their eyes. It seemed that whatever Ego said was enough to get them all fired up.
Isagi followed quietly as he was basically dragged across the room. As he walked up the steps to the platform, he glanced up and flinched when his eyes met endless black. Those eyes seemed to assess him, glinting with an unreadable emotion. Isagi gulped and looked away.
The way Ego was gazing at him… it was like being devoured.