Work Text:
It’s true, Bachira was always looking for something fun to do. Usually that was playing soccer, yes, but he obviously had more than just one sole interest. There was a big wide world out there! When the weather forced him inside, he’d paint with his mom (broken vase = no more soccer in the house), and she always seemed to like that. There’s a shelf in his room running out of space for more sports manga. He loved a good movie night. Bachira was always looking for something fun to do.
That became harder once shut inside of blue lock. Of course, the actual matches were fun- the most fun he’s ever had in his entire life. But between those and the copious amounts of training, there was also a whole lot of waiting. Waiting for other matches to be done. Waiting for some sort of new results to come out. Waiting for instructions from all-powerful and enigmatic Ego. Waiting for literally anything to happen. It wasn’t very fun. At all.
So naturally, Bachira went looking.
Luckily, there were a lot of rooms in Blue Lock to look at. He remembers that first night after he went out training with Isagi, and it makes him laugh now, because no wonder poor Isagi was so confused looking at that map- half the rooms were labeled ‘room’.
But no instructions had come in for the day and none of the intervally placed tv screens had come to life to chide him for snooping, so Bachira explored in peace. Even if he found nothing interesting, he could probably wander around for hours, and that was better than doing nothing.
You never know, the place was enormous. There could be a gumball machine around any corner. A mechanical bull. Perhaps a secret bouncy castle lying around. It’d definitely fit in here somewhere.
He goes as far as to tap his chin curiously. “What oh what will I find today?” The boy muses.
A set of double doors immediately to his right slide open, inviting him in.
“Oh!” Bachira blinked in surprise. Maybe someone was watching after all! He gave them a little curtsy, just in case, “Why thank you!” and strolled on in.
Room features:
- Same dull gray walls and floor as everywhere else in Blue Lock
- Looked like a bit of a mix between corporate meeting room, principal’s office, and that one place he got diagnosed with ADHD while his mom spoke with the doctor and he played with toys on the floor
- About the same size as the main training room, save for a comical lack of furniture, which were
- A big desk
- Two chairs in front of the big desk
- And that’s about it
Forget absolutely all of that though, because most importantly:
- The entire back wall being a floor-to-ceiling window
AKA the first look at the real world he’s seen in a Hot Second. Bachira gasped at the view.
In an instant he had his face smooshed up against the glass. It was beautiful outside! The sky overhead was a spotless blue and the stretch of field behind the window a vibrant green. A nearby tree cast dappled shadows onto the ground. It was perfect summer weather. His favorite. Days like these he loved dribbling around and juggling wherever the wind would take him until he got tired. Then he'd collapse into the grass and bask in the sun until he found the energy to go back home. He took a deep breath in, pretending he could feel the fresh air behind the glass.
Maybe once they all got out of here, someone would stick around to play with him on days like these. They always gave him an extra boost of energy. It'd be nice to not have to tire himself out alone.
Like Isagi. Maybe Isagi would lay in the grass with him.
Bachira pulled away and wiped the fog of his breath off the glass before falling back into the office chair.
None of them really knew when Blue Lock was going to be over. Did he really even want it to end? The people here were fun to play with. There wasn’t a single member of Team Z who knew him from school as the weird soccer kid, either. Blue Lock was a fresh start, where he could actually be included in conversations and take part in Who Am I championships. He hasn’t been outcast, no one has called him cruel names, and they all liked soccer just as much as him. It’s like they were friends. Bachira doesn’t even remember the last time he had friends. Would Blue Lock forever really be so bad?
It won’t, obviously. The whole point was to weed out the best striker of them all. But if it did…? The word tumbled around in his head.
Foreverrrrrrr
He spun the chair around so it was facing the room and clasped his hands professionally over the desk. “Yes. I agree that Bachira’s rank should be changed to #1. Also, have that bouncy castle installed immediately.”
There was no response. He started rummaging through the desk drawers.
Paperclips, pushpins, envelopes, whatever. Lots and lots of folders, they were all empty. Stapler could potentially be used recreationally, but definitely not safely. Nothing, nothing, nothing, then-
Bingo! Finally, something fun to do!
~ ~ ~
The bedroom doors slide open, and in bursts Bachira.
“Guys, look!” The smile he wears is blinding and he’s holding something high above his head like a trophy, although it’s so small it’s unclear exactly what.
He practically skips into the room, pulling the object down to cradle in his hands like his most prized possession. When he gets to the center, everyone’s already crowded around him because point proven: there’s nothing else to do. They were all just sitting there! But not anymore, because Bachira had come to save the day with something to chase the boredom out.
“Um,” Kuon frowns at him, “These are sticky notes…”
The rest of the team mumbles unimpressed.
Bachira rolls his eyes. “You guys have no imagination.”
Before the group can dispel (or Rachi can commit any sort of physical violence on him), the dribbler breaks through the loose circle of teammates and is sprinting towards the west wall. Everybody stares, watching him go.
In one swift motion, Bachira gets close, leaps up, and smacks a sticky note on the wall. It’s a couple inches above where his arm would reach.
He whirls around, “Beat that!”
For a moment, nobody says anything, and Bachira starts to feel like a bit of an idiot for thinking he could fit in somewhere.
Then the entire team is demanding sticky notes of their own, and then Bachira doesn’t feel so stupid anymore. He hands them out like candy.
Of course, Bachira can’t really compete. Everyone Bachira-height and shorter have kind of been put on the backburner, but he’s still having fun. The Sticky Note championship has more dwindled into a contest between the taller half the team (minus Chigiri, who was at least somewhat amused but had no interest in taking part himself).
Gagamaru had the height advantage, obviously, and Kuon might as well have springs for legs, but Raichi was putting up a fight using the wall as a boost. Iemon and Kunigami were neck-and-neck as well. You could barely tell who’s note was who’s anymore. Little pink slips of paper littered the floor. Bachira’s cheeks almost hurt from smiling so wide.
Everyone was having fun because of him. He’s never felt better.
The competition dies down pretty much at the exact same time as 2pm hits, and the unnamed female voice reminds them that it’s time for afternoon training.
For a moment Bachira wonders if he should say something. He must have lost track of time, because he totally thought it was before lunch. But apparently he had come in during the rest period after it, meaning Bachira had missed lunch completely. Rationally, he knows he should eat first. He does. Especially because he can’t really recall eating breakfast either. His stomach was also sort of hurting during the Sticky Note contest.
But it wasn’t hurting anymore . So that must mean he’s good to go, right? He’d rather not eat by himself, anyway.
He follows everyone to the practice field.
~ ~ ~
Bachira gets a faceful of artificial dirt during individual training. Like, he really eats it. Igarashi howls with laughter, and Kunigami smacks him upside the head while Imamura helps him back to his feet.
Hm. Weird. He thinks, dusting off his jersey. He’s a great dribbler, he doesn’t usually trip over his own feet like that. Looks like his balance must’ve been a little off. Maybe he tied his shoes too loose or something.
There’s only 10 minutes left, so Bachira’s fine pushing through. A bit of dirt has never bothered him. It’s not real, anyway.
After that is the showers, which ranks noticeably low on Bachira’s scale of enjoyable Blue Lock activities. It’s necessary, he knows, but it takes too long. No matter how hard he tries to get through it and return to any shenanigans, his mind is always wandering off and letting the time slip through his shampoo covered fingers. And today it takes even longer because it’s been so hot that the sweat has knotted up his hair and he has to spend some extra time untangling it. A mild case of vertigo has him leaning up against the shower walls once or twice as well. Everyone else was long gone. It takes forever.
He’s never been good at judging time without a clock- so he really has no idea how long it’s been when he finally towels dry and slips into comfy clothes.
On the outside of the changing room, however, an argument seems to be brewing.
“You wanna take a shot, shrimp!?”
“Dude, I could beat you in my sleep!”
It sounds like Raichi and Igarashi.
Bachira sweeps around the corner and meets the two voices with a curious grin. “Whatcha guys talking about?”
Raichi (ding ding!), doesn’t even meet his gaze. Instead, he’s staring down Igarashi’s (ding ding!) soul with a fury and his finger shoved into the shorter boy’s chest. “This little twerp thinks he could beat me in a fight!”
Bachira quickly gives himself a mental pat on the back for being such a good guesser.
On the other side, Igarashi honestly looks a little petrified. His shoulders are squared up and his words are big, “T-that’s because I could!” but the act’s clear as glass and Bachira has to smother a giggle at the fight he’s picked. “I won’t, because I, uh… my family raised me right! Monks are not a violent people! And Ego probably wouldn’t like it, don’t you think?” Nervous sweat practically pours down his face.
The idea is instant. And honestly so genius he’s impressed himself. His hand flies up, and again with that big bright smile, Bachira supplies, “A pillow fight championship, then!”
And that’s what gets Raichi’s attention. For a moment he quirks a brow and briefly eyes the dribbler up and down, but then Bachira’s got shark teeth smirking at him with approval, “Not a bad idea, bangs,” and it seems the glove’s been thrown.
Igarashi gulps.
When Raichi turns back to him, his eyes promise death.
The whole way back to their room, all Bachira can think is how this is the best. This is the absolute best.
Friends. Friends! He could get used to this. Even if they were still technically rivals, and most of them may never actually consider him a real friend, the pieces were there. Providing an idea and having people like it. Others wanting to be in his company. Acknowledging him, talking to him, even just the basic ingredients felt like a five-course meal. His brain’s in a haze as the three of them walk in and Raichi immediately begins ranting about the logistics.
For a while there, he thought he might die. How did he ever live without this? So much time spent tired and empty, a countless number of days he came home from school with nothing of note to share when his mom asked how his day was, but finally, here was something.
He spots Isagi in the corner, and basically appears by his side in a puff of smoke. “Isagi, Isagi! Are you playing too?” The excitement has him bouncing on his feet and shaking his partner’s shoulder, “Tell me you’ll play!”
Something to fill that hole of his social life. Something other than soccer and mom that felt truly good.
The other boy simply rolls his eyes with a smile, “We’ll see.” But it sounds a lot like a yes.
When he turns around, Bachira’s delighted to see that all of the beds are already being pulled together into a makeshift boxing ring. The boy happily nods to himself and props a hand on his hip, satisfied with another successful game suggestion. He’s really on a roll today!
But then there’s a quiet little sound of concern to his left.
“Um, Bachira, you’re… kind of shaking. Are you alright?” Isagi asks beside him.
Bachira looks down, and- well, what do you know? It’s true! He was shaking. Not just his hands or anything, either, but kind of his entire body was trembling. Quite noticeably. Even his knees were wobbling precariously, which was an interesting development. This had never happened to him before. Bodies can be so silly, he thinks. He must be even more excited than he thought to be basically vibrating like this.
“Yeah, yeah! I’m alright!” He tries to assure his partner, but now even his words were quavering for some reason. “Clever Isagi, so observant even off the field!” And now that he was talking, Bachira came to realize that he actually didn’t feel that great. Instead it was starting to feel like he’d ridden a roller coaster one too many times.
Except there was absolutely no way Bachira was missing a pillow fight championship. Come hell or high water, he was participating. Even if both hands fell off right this second. He’d just use his teeth. What kind of idiot doesn’t play the game that was his idea?
But lady luck must’ve thrown a bone his way, because nobody could seem to agree on which pair would be starting. Knowing Team Z, the conclusion would take a while, so Bachira could afford a few minutes to pull himself together. They very well could still be arguing by the time he returns.
Yes, he’d just go splash some extra cold water on his face and he’d be literally right back. It’d take no time at all. Just something to cool down his skin so that it’d stop burning. It must be sweltering outside for it to be so hot in the facility, he’s surprised no one else has mentioned it.
While making his way towards the door, Bachira can’t help but wonder why his legs feel so much heavier than usual. Or why the room is starting to spin a little bit. He goes to tell his teammates that he’ll be right back, but can’t seem to open his mouth.
That’s weird, Bachira thinks, and then he’s falling over.
~ ~ ~
If it weren’t for Team Z’s resident bundle of energy Meguru Bachira laying crumpled on the floor, the room’s silence would be incredibly impressive. Even the middle of the night was at least interrupted by Igarashi’s snoring. This kind of quiet was like nobody was in the room at all.
Then it hits Isagi in full force. Bachira had collapsed. His partner had collapsed.
It seems to have hit the rest of them all at once, as the room goes from dead quiet to an absolute cacophony of distressed teenage boys: “What the heck!?” “Yo, Bachira, what are you doing!” “Are you okay, man?!” “That’s not good.”
There’s a bit of a blur afterwards. Everyone swarms, then backs off, and someone hit the fast forward button while Isagi stood there with his usually collected brain racing like the World Cup trophy could’ve depended on it. Why is Bachira on the floor? Is he okay? Will he be okay? What happened? Did I miss something? Someone tell me he’ll be okay. Please be okay. It feels like the blink of an eye when Chigiri is pulling Bachira’s feet onto his own shoulders and Kunigami is kneeling down next to them both.
It’s honestly humiliating- all he can do is stand there as Kunigami remarks something and bolts out the door and Chigiri starts yelling in his direction.
“Isagi! Come here!”
Finally the sound of his name boots him back up.
His friends need his help. Okay. Game face, he’s got this.
In just a brief moment he’s rushed towards the pair and dropped down beside them, ready for whatever he needs to do to make this better.
“Support his head.” Chigiri says, and Isagi can do that. He did that just this morning.
He’s probably a little rougher than he should be in his hurry, but he swiftly repositions Bachira’s head from lolled over on the floor to upright in his lap.
His eyes are still open, so at least he’s conscious. It inspires some confidence.
“Bachira, hey, I’m right here, are you okay?”
The boy in question is staring directly at the ceiling, and his eyes are unusually glassy and unfocused. The only notion he even heard the question was a completely monotone and unhelpful “Hmmmmm.” And it looked like it took every ounce of energy he had to do so.
You’re worrying me, Isagi wants to say, but doesn’t.
Chigiri cuts in, “Bachira, when’s the last time you ate?”
“Hmmm.”
If they had to go off the distant and incredibly pale look on the dribbler’s face, nothing intelligible was coming from Bachira anytime soon, both Chigiri and Isagi seemed to agree.
“Alright, you can just make a sound or not. Did you eat dinner?”
Bachira only blinked.
“Did you eat lunch?”
Nothing.
Isagi frowns, “He didn’t eat breakfast, either.” A lump has quickly started forming in his throat by now, and he can’t help but tighten his grip around the boy’s shoulders. Just like in a heated soccer game, the puzzle pieces are starting to click.
And now, a brief interlude, to recall the events of this particular morning:
“Bachira, it's time to wake up.”
“Nooooo, no up…”
This was a common occurrence. An everyday occurrence, to be exact. One would think with how he overslept yesterday, then fell back asleep halfway through his lunch, and then dozed off again during the team meeting, and how he does that every single day, he wouldn’t still be tired. Yet here is he is again, pulling the blanket up to his nose and pretending morning hasn’t rolled around yet.
The view is cute. It makes Isagi chuckle, because for someone with so much energy while awake, his partner is a total sleepyhead. They’re two vastly different sides of a very interesting coin named Meguru Bachira, which Isagi gets to watch flip about twenty times a day. He threads his fingers into Bachira’s bangs and pushes them up onto his head. For some reason, Isagi finds himself smiling. “I like how even the underside of your hair is yellow,” he notes aloud. The response he gets is sleepy and unintelligible.
“Okay, well I’m starving, so I’m gonna go get breakfast. If you’re still not up when I get back, I’ll drag you out of that bed, alright?”
A single golden eye opens up to peek at him. “Mmm. Two more minutes.”
~
It’s somewhere around ten minutes later, and credit where credit is due, Bachira does show up. Color Isagi impressed. Yes, he’s dragging his feet, and his hair is going everywhere, and his eyes are barely even open, but he did come! And subsequently plopped down next to him.
Color Isagi glad as well, for choosing the table closest to the hallway, because if he was seated any further he’s not sure Bachira would have reached him before passing back out. When Bachira leans his head on his shoulder, Isagi leans right back.
“You didn’t make it all the way. Did you need me to grab food for you?” It sounds a bit sarcastic coming from his mouth, but the words aren’t empty. For the guy that is borderline keeping his soccer career afloat with those killer passes of his, Isagi doesn’t mind walking another sixty seconds. He’s about to get up and do it regardless when Bachira mumbles beside him.
“Not hungry.”
“Hm?”
“I’m not hungry. Too tired.”
“You’ll feel more awake with some food in you. Here, I’ll get you something-” When Isagi attempts to get up a second time, he’s thwarted again as Bachira wraps both arms around him, refusing to give up his personal pillow.
Into his neck, Bachira mumbles, “It’s okay, I’m really not hungry. You don’t have to get me anything.”
He shouldn’t care. It’s not like he was Bachira’s mom or anything. If it were any other member blowing off breakfast Isagi probably wouldn’t say a word. But with Bachira he’s already poking the other boy’s nose and fussing, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. It’s not good to skip meals.”
“I’ll eat extra for lunch. Raichi’s always complaining about his food, I’ll ask for some of his.”
Isagi wonders if that’s true. Anyone could tell that Bachira was not awake yet. The energy, inflection, and general there-ness of his voice were obviously all still fast asleep, so Isagi’s not entirely convinced he’ll remember saying that.
Before he’s able to argue, Bachira’s already dozing back off.
So Isagi lets him be.
This concludes the interlude.
This is odd. The sensation was new.
It’s not like Isagi didn’t have sympathy. He’s always cared about his friends just as much as the next guy, signed their broken wrist casts, gave his condolences when their pets got sent to the farm upstairs and everything. Yet for some reason, with his teammate limp and only semi-responsive before him, all Isagi can think of is Bachira, Bachira, Bachira.
Please be okay. Please, please, be okay.
The worry is so fierce he thinks he might pass out next.
But not until he knows Bachira is alright, first.
Chigiri asks a few more questions, gives Isagi a few more instructions, and soon enough Raichi has come through and dropped a dozen different snacks at the trio’s feet. They clatter to the ground and some of them definitely break on impact. Stupid Raichi.
Even so, Isagi breathes a sigh of relief. The boy’s blood sugar simply fell too low. It’s an easy fix. If it were some sort of brain problem or internal injury he doesn’t know what he’d do, and then he’d really have a reason to freak, but Bachira just hasn’t eaten. That he can deal with. He’s already ripping open a granola bar.
“Don’t feed him anything yet, he might get sick.”
Right. Isagi drops it like it burned him. Chigiri’s right, of course. Holy smokes, is his mind racing. Meanwhile, even with the boy cradled into his chest, Isagi’s still being a whole new brand of useless.
He couldn’t help it. Soccer jail must be rotting his brain. Even if he did know anything even remotely helpful for a situation like this, it’d most definitely have been washed out by the panic he’s facing for Bachira, who he most definitely didn’t want to make sick on accident. So instead Isagi slowly shifted the two of them to a sitting position before reaching around to grab the bottle someone had supplied up to Bachira’s lips.
“Here, just take one sip, okay?”
Thankfully, the boy finally shows another sign of responsiveness when he grabs onto it, although his grip is weak. The sip he takes is the tiniest Isagi’s ever seen.
He brushes a sweat-slicked bang so it’s not poking into his best friend’s eye.
It takes forever. At least, it feels like it does. Isagi very vaguely remembers Kunigami herding everyone else out to avoid spectacle, so it’s relatively quiet while Bachira takes his time taking slightly bigger and bigger sips of juice until he gestures for the snack Isagi had set aside. The same process happens with the food, where he begins by practically picking out the individual oats out to nibble on, though this time he’s faster to muster up a small bite.
Once he’s about halfway done, he sets it back in his lap. “Sorry…”
Chigiri’s expression remains unchanged. “Keep eating. Try to finish it.”
Bachira sours, but obliges.
“How did you know what to do?” Isagi asks. Never had staying calm been such a herculean task for him. It’s like the moment Bachira fell, all his common sense threw itself out the window.
“Happens to my sister. That, and first-aid training. If you ever see someone pass out, make sure you lift their legs up. It restores more blood flow to the brain.”
Isagi immediately pockets that information for later. He’ll make extra sure not to forget it.
Eventually Bachira barely has a bite left of his granola bar. Instead of finishing it though, he casts it aside, pulls his feet of Chigiri’s shoulders, and buries his face into his hands. Isagi doesn’t even get the chance to ask what’s wrong when his partner’s shoulders sharply dip- and somehow the already terrible scenario has gotten even worse because now Bachira is crying, oh dear.
For the record, it’s not like Isagi was a professional at comforting crying people, but it is sort of funny how quickly Chigiri clams up. While easily the most collected of the team, the minute Bachira starts crying he tenses up and starts waving his hands like he’s backed into a corner. “Woah, hey, man, it’s really not a big deal.”
“No, no, it’s just…” Bachira wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.
For a moment, he leaves the rest of the sentence hanging, which in turn leaves Isagi wondering.
In the meantime, he can think of two possibilities. Does he feel like a burden for taking up their time like this? That, Isagi could understand. Some people were humiliated to be taken care of, himself included. Even his own parents couldn’t take care of him without Isagi wanting to turn inside out. Or possibly he hurt something on his way down to the ground. In passing, he remembers Bachira admitting to being a bit of a crybaby. If he hit his head a bit too hard and was shedding some tears because of it, Isagi would never hold it against him.
Those were the two most likely options, but he can’t say for sure. There’s not enough pieces to fill in the puzzle. He can’t solve everything.
Which he doesn’t. The answer is neither of those. In an eerily uncharacteristic move, Bachira sighs and shrinks into Isagi’s lap. With a quiet voice, he concedes, “I’ve never really had friends before.”
With just the one sentence, Isagi’s heart sinks. Sinks like the Titanic did. He’d be lying if he said he was 100% surprised, but the confirmation is a gut punch. To hear it firsthand stings.
It stings because Isagi knows Bachira is a wonderful person. He knows Bachira’s amazing like he knows the sky is blue. Of course, he hasn’t known Bachira very long, let alone as a child, but Bachira’s been a ray of light since the day he was born, Isagi knows. Some things you can just tell. It stings because a lonely 17 years pass and somehow no one saw it staring them in the face.
Even worse, is that Isagi has nothing to say. He can’t relate. Not in the slightest. He has no advice to give. All he does is nestle his nose into his hair and holds Bachira’s head like it’s the most precious thing in the world, because it’s the least he can do to make up for it.
“We were all gonna play together, and I was just really excited. I never get to do these kinds of things with other people. All I wanted was to be included, but I was stupid and fell over and now I ruined my chance.” Bachira sniffles, “I only wanted to be part of something.”
And Isagi chuckles into his hair.
It’s rude. He looks so, unforgivably rude, he knows, but then he’s laughing. His partner still has tear tracks down his face and Isagi is laughing loud and carefree at him because he can’t help it.
Oh, Bachira. In Isagi’s world where most things make sense, Meguru Bachira was not one of them. But unlike derivatives and atomic mass that left him frustrated, Bachira felt like the light at the end of a tunnel he didn’t know he was walking through. A breath of fresh air after your parents burn dinner to a crisp. Something wonderfully confusing he didn’t really mind carrying around the textbook for.
“Bachira!” Isagi gasps when he’s finally stopped laughing, “It’s only 8! We still have the entire night, we can have a pillow fight literally any day we want!”
On the opposite side, Chigiri also heaves a sigh of relief, “Is that really what you were worried about?” He brushes his hair over his shoulder.
Isagi tilts Bachira’s chin so they’re seeing eye-to-eye, and Bachira’s are wide open in surprise.
Lonely Bachira is a terrible thought. Isagi’s lucky to have met him now, because although he can’t change the past, he does have a hand in the future. He can make sure Bachira is never alone again.
“You can always take part with us, yeah?” Isagi smiles at him. “You’re just being silly. You don’t have to worry about being alone anymore.”
He watches as the words sink in, as the new reality settles in Bachira’s brain. When Bachira finally smiles back, Isagi silently swears you could replace the artificial lights with it and get a better effect.
There’s one last thing, though, as Isagi remembers what brought them here in the first place. He pokes his partner in the shoulder, “Hey, why didn’t you eat at all today?”
“I just…” Bachira eyes wander off as he taps the side of his head, briefly reviewing the day in his mind. “I just forgot, I guess. I kept getting distracted.” He doesn’t mention that eating is boring, or that one dose of Adderall ruined his appetite so bad he didn’t have a whole meal for four days straight. They don’t need to know.
“So distracted you forget to eat. I can’t even imagine.” Chigiri puts up a warning finger in front of him, “Let’s make sure this doesn’t happen again. No more skipping meals, alright?”
They’re both happy to see Bachira feeling more like himself, as he puts two fingers up in a salute and grins at his teammate. “Aye, aye, sir!”
And it’s true, it won’t happen again. Isagi will make sure of it. Even if he has to drag Bachira out of that bed by the highlights of his hair. For some reason, he’s smiling at the thought.