Chapter Text
1. Analyze the Situation
The first time Isagi saw Bachira and Kaiser talking was during the match between Barcha and Bastard München.
The relationship between Isagi and Kaiser was already... delightfully complicated, and during the match, they made sure to take every opportunity to insult each other and clash. But for Isagi? Not an issue. He already had a front-row seat to Kaiser’s obnoxious personality, and honestly, every snide remark and smug look just made him more determined to crush him.
Kaiser’s attitude? Perfect. Every time Kaiser opened his mouth, Isagi’s motivation to shut him up grew tenfold.
When Isagi saw them exchange a few words during the game, he didn’t think much of it. It was just some casual trash talk, probably. Standard stuff.
But then, after the game ended and everyone else was heading toward the locker rooms, Isagi noticed Kaiser walking straight up to Bachira. No rush, no urgency—like he had all the time in the world. What the fuck?
He wouldn’t have gotten any closer—after all, it wasn’t his problem if Bachira wanted to have a heart-to-heart with the literal embodiment of Satan.
Then he heard them laugh. Together. And honestly, what the fuck did that psycho blonde say to make Bachira crack up like that?
He sneaked up quietly—or at least he hoped he did—to listen in. Not because he cared, of course, just out of pure curiosity.
“I don’t think Lavinho would be too happy if I just up and left to come hang out with you guys,” Bachira laughed, glancing down at the ball under his foot, tapping it lightly.
Isagi couldn’t see Kaiser’s face, but he could feel the smugness radiating off him like a goddamn heatwave. It made his blood boil.
“Well, if you ever get bored over there” Kaiser’s voice came, low and teasing, like he was offering Bachira the deal of the century. “I’m sure he doesn’t need to know."
Bachira snorted and tilted his head. “Bored? Me? Not a chance. I’ve got enough excitement to last a lifetime where I am.”
Kaiser didn’t falter. If anything, his grin widened. “Excitement’s one thing. Quality’s another.” He leaned in slightly, like he was sharing a secret, and put his hand on Bachira’s shoulder. “You might find the grass really is greener in Bastard München.”
What the hell does this guy think he's doing?
If Bachira ever stepped into the German Stratum, he’d be hanging out with Isagi, his best friend, as always. There’s absolutely no need to add a third wheel to a duo that already works perfectly fine.
Bachira opened his mouth to respond and Isagi felt something twist in his stomach. Tight. Uncomfortable.
What the hell did I eat for lunch? Rotten natto?
But the answer doesn’t come, and Isagi finds himself strangely relieved.
“Kaiser, aren’t you coming?” The second most irritating voice Isagi has heard in the last few days interrupts Bachira and echoes through the silence of the now-empty field.
“What are you doing with Yoichi and the bee boy?” Ness asks, popping up from behind Isagi like a horror movie jump scare and strolling toward the others.
Shit , Isagi was so focused on Bachira and Kaiser that he somehow missed Ness opening the damn door and sneaking up behind him?? Great. Now even Bachira looks confused, glancing back and forth between the two “new” arrivals.
“Isagi, I didn’t know you were still here. Aren’t you going to shower?” Bachira’s voice echoes in Isagi’s head, but while his ears seem to work fine, his mouth has apparently decided to go on strike.
“Yoichi?” Kaiser chimes in, sparing Isagi no more than a glance and completely ignoring Ness’s question. “Meguru, you know Yoichi?”
Oh, he’s doing this on purpose. Isagi’s sure of it. And… wait, Meguru? Since when are they on first-name terms?
“Bachira and I have known each other since the start of Blue Lock.” Isagi finally manages to shake off the mental fog and steps toward what is now a very awkward trio. Maybe his tone is a bit sharper than necessary, but honestly? Kaiser’s feelings rank pretty low on his priority list right now. Or ever.
Especially as Kaiser—fake as ever—plasters on a look of surprise and casually rests another hand on Bachira’s shoulder. Isagi’s almost certain he sees Ness grimace, but he’s not about to dwell on it. Not his problem.
“Oh, really?” Kaiser doesn’t even bother looking at Isagi, his gaze firmly fixed on Bachira like he’s the only one worth talking to.
Not that Isagi even notices. No, his focus is currently laser-locked on the hands still sitting way too comfortably on Bachira’s shoulders.
“Isagi?” Bachira’s voice snaps him out of it, and for the second time, Isagi shakes off whatever weird trance he’s in. “You good?”
Big, bright eyes stare at him, laced with a hint of confusion. And Isagi?
Isagi suddenly forgets how words work.
Did I hit my head today or what?
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Isagi knows full well Bachira is waiting for more. “I just wanted to ask if I could come over tomorrow… to train.”
And for half a second—just half a second—Isagi thinks he sees disappointment flicker across Bachira’s face. But no. That’s probably just his overactive imagination messing with him.
“Yeah, sure! Like old times,” Bachira says, his usual bubbly tone intact, but there’s something off about his smile—just a little stiffer than it should be.
Okay. That’s enough overthinking for one day.
Tomorrow, he’ll talk to Bachira and sort this out.
Whatever this is.
2. Try to gather informations
The next day, Isagi heads to the Spain Stratum right after lunch.
He makes a quick stop in the bathroom—brushes his teeth, fixes his hair, sprays on some deodorant.
Don’t ask why.
Oh, and let’s not forget—he didn’t actually ask for permission to be here. He hadn’t had time. So now, on top of everything else, he has to sneak around like some kind of spy, praying no one spots him. Especially not Noel Noa.
Getting scolded by him would really be the cherry on top.
And just when Isagi starts thinking maybe he’ll pull this off, his plan nearly crashes and burns.
The second he steps into the hallway with the bedrooms, Lavinho appears out of nowhere. Isagi barely dodges him, ducking behind a corner like some kind of criminal. Fantastic.
But before he can even breathe a sigh of relief—
“Isagi?”
The voice comes from behind him, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
And Isagi has never been so relieved to see Otoya.
“Uh…” Isagi hesitates for half a second. “I’m here to see Bachira.”
Technically not a lie. He just leaves out the part about them training together. The last thing he needs is for Otoya—or anyone—to invite themselves along.
“You know where he is?” Isagi adds quickly, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.
Otoya doesn’t answer. He just starts walking like Isagi’s supposed to follow him.
Okay? Sure. Isagi trails behind.
“Did he even know you were coming?” He glances back, one eyebrow raised. “Because if he didn’t, there’s a pretty good chance he’s drooling into his pillow right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, he knew,” Isagi shoots back, a little too fast, a little too defensive. “We made plans yesterday.”
Confident. Solid. No hesitation.
At least, that’s what he thinks—right up until Otoya opens the door, and Isagi steps inside.
And immediately regrets everything.
Because there, sprawled out in the middle of the bed like he’s been shot, is Bachira.
His best friend. The guy who literally made plans with him yesterday.
Isagi feels a twinge of embarrassment at how much this stings. But what can he do about it?
Something tightens in his chest, and he can’t explain why the lump in his throat won’t go away. And what the hell is up with his fists? Why are they so clenched, like he’s about to break something?
A dry laugh escapes him, the fakest sound he’s ever made. He turns to Otoya, trying to cover it up. “Ah, well, doesn’t look like the best time to disturb him, huh?”
He tries to make it sound casual, but even to his own ears, it comes out hollow, pathetic. He’d swear Otoya’s about to point and laugh, but instead, Otoya just looks at him. Really looks at him. Like he’s actually pitying him.
“When he wakes up, I’ll tell him you stopped by,” Otoya says, a little too gently.
Isagi forces a tight smile, nodding, his stomach twisting. “Thanks.”
And that’s it. He turns, feet heavy as lead, and walks out.
One last glance at the hallway, and he can hear the echo of his own footsteps. He can’t tell if it’s him who’s walking away, or if the whole situation is just leaving him behind.
Isagi was halfway through forcing down a mouthful of disgusting natto when he suddenly felt a weight drop onto his back, nearly sending him face-first into his bowl.
“Isagiii! Sorry sorry sorry!”
Two arms locked around his shoulders, maybe a little too tight, because for a second, Isagi thought he was actually about to choke. He coughed, struggling to swallow, and managed to rasp out—
“Oh, shit—Bachira!”
He twisted in his seat, still half-wheezing, trying to see the culprit who was now practically hanging off him.
“What are you doing here?”
Bachira finally let go, sliding into the seat next to him like he hadn’t just committed attempted murder.
“Otoya told me you came, but I was sleeping. I’m really sorry.”
He said it like it actually mattered. Like waking up late was some tragic sin he needed to be forgiven for. And the worst part? He looked the part too—wide golden eyes, messy hair sticking up even more than usual, like he’d sprinted straight here without even fixing it. He even had that stupid, kicked-puppy expression that made it impossible to stay mad at him for more than five seconds. Cute.
What?
And Isagi has never been good at staying mad at Bachira anyway, and he’s definitely not going to start now.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” And seeing the smile reappear on his best friend’s face makes Isagi forget what they were even talking about.
And if Hiori hadn’t picked that exact moment to cough loudly from across the table, Isagi probably would’ve just sat there in awkward silence, staring at Bachira like an idiot.
Like all best friends do. Right?
“So, everything’s fine now,” Hiori said, snapping them both out of it. “You two could still train after dinner, you know.”
“That’s exactly what Kaiser said too!” Bachira jumped in, his voice light, “That the three of us would train together in the evening! That’s why I was napping this afternoon.”
And Isagi would’ve actually been happy to know that Bachira hadn’t forgotten their plans, that it was all just a misunderstanding. But his brain had only registered about a third of the sentence.
“Wait—hold on.” His voice came out sharper than he intended, and he saw it immediately in the way Bachira’s expression shifted.
“When exactly did you talk to him?” He could feel his eyes narrowing even as the words left his mouth. “And what did he say?”
Shit, why did he sound so much like a possessive asshole?
Bachira looks at him like he’s suddenly grown a second head, his voice dropping low and careful. Out of the corner of his eye, Isagi catches Hiori watching too, quiet and alert.
“We bumped into each other outside the locker room,” Bachira says slowly, like he's trying to avoid setting off a bomb, “He told me the plans had changed—that you and him were going to train after dinner today, and he asked if I wanted to join.”
And Isagi has no idea why this bothers him so much.
Maybe it’s the frustration that’s been building up since day one of training with Bastard München. That constant feeling of being one step behind, always trailing just a bit too far to catch up. The endless struggle to prove himself, to get that recognition from the person he looks up to that still feels so damn far away, like an unreachable goal.
Maybe it’s just Kaiser.
Maybe it’s the fact that Kaiser had managed to slip into the one relationship that actually meant something to him here, in this whole mess of Blue Lock.
And Isagi doesn’t want to downplay the friendships he’s built here. He cares about all of them, really.
But it’d be lying to pretend Bachira doesn’t have a special place in his heart. Bachira isn’t just a teammate—he’s the one who gets it, the one who doesn’t need any words to know exactly how Isagi feels. And it wouldn’t be fair to pretend that Bachira Meguru doesn’t hold a certain pedestal in his mind.
So, when Isagi laughs, a mix of anger and disbelief twisting in his chest, and simply says, "I can't believe this," as he stands up and walks away, he has no idea why he’s doing it.
He doesn’t even know why he’s walking away. It’s not like he’s actually going anywhere—he’s just trying to escape the suffocating mess of thoughts spiraling in his head, the frustration he can’t seem to shake.
And neither do Bachira and Hiori, left behind at the table, staring after him in stunned silence. Neither of them knows what to make of it, the tension hanging thick in the air, neither sure if they should follow or just leave him to whatever storm is brewing inside his head.
Note: During this step, make sure you're not emotionally unstable. Unless, of course, you enjoy throwing dramatic tantrums.
3. Talk to the poor soul who’s been on the receiving end of all these advances your best friend
It's the second time in two days that Isagi finds himself wandering the halls of the Spain Stratum, but this time, at least, he knows where he’s going.
Standing in front of Bachira’s door, Isagi hesitates to knock. The guilt gnawing at him since this morning is practically suffocating, and the anxiety swirling in his stomach is so intense that it feels like he's about to throw up.
And just to make everything even more fun, he can’t stop remembering what Hiori said at breakfast. "You need to go talk to Bachira. When you left yesterday, it looked like someone had died. Honestly, it was painful to watch... He doesn’t deserve to feel like that just because you’re so dramatic."
Like Isagi didn’t already know. Of course he knows. He knows he messed up, that Bachira has nothing to do with his stupid rivalry with Kaiser, and that his best friend would never do anything to hurt him.
So, what is it that bothers me so much?
His knuckles hover in front of the door for way too long before he finally knocks. It’s soft—hesitant—and for a second, he thinks Bachira might not have heard it. But then there’s movement, quick and light, and Bachira’s voice calls out.
“Who is it?”
Isagi clears his throat. “It’s me.”
There’s a pause. Not long enough to be awkward, but enough to make Isagi’s stomach twist.
“Come in.”
When Isagi steps inside, the first thing he notices is Bachira sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back against the bed. He’s still in his pajamas—wrinkled, loose, and clearly slept in. His hair is sticking out in every direction, a tangled mess as if he didn’t even bother to brush it. And there’s a dried smear of milk on the corner of his mouth. At least he’s eaten, Isagi thinks.
He takes two steps into the room and immediately feels it—the weight of those sharp, golden eyes locking onto him, watchful and unblinking.
And God, Isagi hates this feeling. Hates being the reason Bachira’s shoulders are tense and his smile is nowhere to be seen.
He wants Bachira to always be happy around him.
It sounds sweet, maybe even thoughtful, but Isagi knows better. He knows it’s selfish—pathetically so.
Bachira’s smile is one of the few things that has always soothed him, even in the darkest, loneliest moments. It’s as if fate itself had decided to give him a personal sun, a light that, by some divine miracle, chose him to shine upon. When Bachira smiles, it’s not just the curve of his lips—it’s a warmth that floods Isagi’s chest, a light that cuts through the coldest of days.
And Isagi knows, deep down, he has to remind himself to be grateful for this every single day.
“How do you feel?” Bachira breaks the silence, his eyes still locked on Isagi.
Isagi sinks down onto the floor beside him, leaning his back against the bed. He exhales, a mix of frustration and relief in the sigh, and then speaks, though his words feel a little too heavy.
“Better, thanks.”
He knows he can’t just get away with that. And he knows Bachira knows it too.
So, without any warning, the word vomit starts.
“Shit, I really don’t know what happened yesterday, I think I had some kind of mental breakdown or something, and I don’t know why, and I don’t know why it happened with you of all people, and I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you sad, and even Hiori said I was being an asshole—well, not exactly like that, but you get the idea—and he’s right, I totally lost it with you for no reason, it’s that idiot Kaiser’s fault, and I’m sorry… Why are you laughing?!”
And Isagi has no idea what to say as he watches Bachira laugh like he just heard the funniest thing in the world. Sure, he’s relieved to see the smile back on his best friend’s face. Beautiful.
What?
But still, he kind of wishes Bachira would share his thoughts with the class, instead of stopping his laugh, staring at Isagi with that stupid grin, and then bursting out laughing all over again.
“Shit, did you write those apologies down beforehand? Did someone help you out, or did you come up with that masterpiece all on your own?” Bachira manages to get himself under control enough to mock him, and then notices Isagi’s scandalized expression. Naturally, he starts laughing again.
“What do you want? It was a perfect apology. And you know I talk way too much when I’m all worked up,” Isagi says, his voice coming out faster than he’d like. He can feel the heat creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks red.
Bachira raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he says, dragging out the words like Isagi’s the most dramatic person alive. "And relax, I officially accept your heartfelt, oh-so-eloquent apology." He beams at him, all sunshine and smugness, like Isagi just handed him the world on a silver platter.
Isagi exhales sharply, almost laughing at himself. "God, I swear, I never want to have this kind of conversation with you again," he mutters, letting his head drop back against the mattress and squeezing his eyes shut.
"Well, we wouldn’t have to if you didn’t act like a maniac," Bachira teases, laughing as he jabs an elbow into Isagi’s side. The corner of Isagi’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t bite back.
Then Bachira’s voice softens, just a bit. "But seriously, what the hell was all that about yesterday?"
Isagi freezes for a second, then forces himself to exhale and think.
"I honestly don’t know. I didn’t think it would piss me off that much to have Kaiser shoving his way into—into our space like that." Isagi pauses to figure out how to phrase his next words. He can feel Bachira’s gaze, steady and searching, even if he’s not looking at him. "It’s just... it’s already hard enough barely getting any time with you lately, and then suddenly it feels like I have to share even that." He exhales, running a hand down his face. "And, shit, it’s not like I don’t want you to have other friends or anything. You didn’t do anything wrong."
Isagi finally looks over at him, his voice quieter now. "This is all on me, okay? It’s my problem, and I need to sort it out myself."
And as Isagi listens to himself talk, he can’t help but think he’s saying the most ridiculous thing that’s ever been spoken out loud. A part of him is embarrassed—mortified, even—that he’s spilling this stupid half-jealous rant to the person it’s actually about. But he knows lying isn’t an option. Not with Bachira. It never will be.
He braces himself, ready for Bachira to burst out laughing, to call him an idiot, or at the very least, to look at him with that secondhand embarrassment Isagi’s already feeling for himself.
And yet—nothing.
Instead, as Isagi carefully scans Bachira’s face, analyzing every tiny shift, every twitch of his eyebrow, all he sees is... understanding. Actual, honest-to-god understanding.
And before he can fully process it, Bachira’s arms are around him, pulling him in until Isagi’s face is pressed against the curve of his neck.
"Thanks for telling me," Bachira murmurs, and Isagi has approximately one second to register the tickle of his breath against his temple before his brain completely short-circuits. "And you’re insane if you think I don’t miss spending more time with you too."
When Bachira finally pulls back, their faces are close—too close. Just a few inches apart.
Isagi forgets how to breathe.
Bachira’s eyes are wide, bright, and there’s something about the way his lashes curl slightly at the ends that makes Isagi’s heart race. The freckles scattered across his nose, his lips—soft, pink, and so very, painfully there —they’re the only things Isagi can seem to focus on.
Neither of them seems to know what’s happening. Or maybe they do, but neither can move. That is, until the shrill, obnoxious sound of a phone ringing cuts through the air
The spell shatters instantly. Bachira snaps back into reality first, practically jumping to grab his phone off the bed.
Isagi? He’s still frozen, blinking at the spot where Bachira was just sitting. It takes him a moment to regain his senses before he slowly drags himself up, trying to ignore how his heartbeat is still racing.
"Aw, already?" Bachira says into the phone, and nope, Isagi is definitely not eavesdropping to see if it’s a certain blond calling. Definitely not.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Thanks, Rin-chan. Bye-bye.”
Bachira hangs up with a sigh.
“Otoya went to the France Stratum to see Karasu,” Bachira starts, already sounding exasperated as he grabs his access card from the desk. “They had a fight, and Otoya stormed off like a drama queen. Forgot his card in the process.” Bachira pauses to shove his feet into his shoes before adding with a pointed look, “Oh, and his phone too, apparently.”
Isagi snorts, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall "God, I don’t even know what’s worse—when they’re practically dry-humping in public like no one’s watching or when they fight and turn their personal soap opera into our problem."
Bachira lets out a low whistle, flicking his access card into the air and catching it with ease, like this whole situation is just another episode of reality TV. "Eh, at this point? I’ve built up an immunity to their drama. It’s like background noise now." He pauses, slipping his shoes on with all the urgency of someone who clearly isn’t about to fix a crisis. "Can’t say the same for Rin, though.”
Isagi pushes off the wall and trails after him into the hallway, hands stuffed in his pockets and mouth pressed in a thin line.
Bachira slows his pace just enough to glance back, his grin sharp enough to cut through steel. "You know," he says, dragging out the words like he's preparing to drop the best punchline ever, "If I had to pick someone you should be jealous of, it’s definitely Rin."
Isagi freezes mid-step. "What?"
Bachira doesn’t even stop walking. He just shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, think about it. I talk to him way more than I talk to Kaiser. Statistically speaking, he’s your real competition."
Isagi’s face turns red almost instantly, the heat crawling up his neck and burning the tips of his ears. “I’m not jealous of anyone!” he snaps, but the way his voice cracks at the end doesn’t exactly help his case.
Before Bachira can get another word in, Isagi reaches out and shoves him—not hard, but enough to make him stumble a step to the side.
Bachira catches himself easily, throwing his arms out like he’s balancing on a tightrope, and then—because of course he does—he bursts out laughing.
It’s loud and carefree, echoing down the hallway, and it makes Isagi’s embarrassment flare even hotter.
“You keep saying that, Isagi, but, man, you’re really bad at hiding it!” Bachira teases, dodging another half-hearted shove with a laugh that only grows louder.
4. Talk to someone in your same situation
When Isagi wakes up, he feels surprisingly light—like a weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying has finally lifted. He stretches, lets out a soft sigh, and can’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips.
By the time he’s walking down the hallway with Hiori and Kurona, chatting about nothing in particular, the smile has turned into easy laughter.
Breakfast in the cafeteria is no different. The rice is fluffier than usual, or maybe he’s just imagining it. Either way, even the food is playing along with his perfect morning.
Everything feels good. Better than good. He spent most of yesterday with his best friend, finally getting everything off his chest, and it’s like the knot in his stomach has unraveled overnight.
Or so he thought.
When Kaiser and Ness walk in, he doesn’t even notice, too busy talking with Kurona about the latest drama between Otoya and Karasu.
Hiori, on the other hand, does notice. And he also notices that Kaiser is walking toward them, with Ness following close behind, wearing a strained smile.
And this definitely can’t end well.
"Yoichi, dear, how do you feel about tomorrow’s match?" Kaiser starts, his tone dripping with mock sweetness, the smile on his face giving away exactly what he’s aiming for.
Hiori sees Isagi freeze, like someone flipped a switch. His expression changes in an instant: from relaxed to tense, his eyes narrowing slightly, his jaw tightening. Crap.
"I’m doing great," Isagi spits out through clenched teeth, the words sharp as a knife. "And you? Do you even know who we’re playing against, or are you too busy walking Ness around to care?"
Kaiser chuckles, as if he didn’t even hear the bite in Isagi’s words. "Oh, I know exactly who we’re playing against. The rich guy in purple and his white-haired puppy are pretty famous." He lets out another laugh, clearly enjoying himself. But then his grin widens even more, and Hiori braces himself.
"But hey, don’t worry about it," Kaiser adds with a sly glance, then leans in a little, knowing he's about to land the real punch. "Meguru’s been raving about that fast guy so much, I swear I’ve practically met him by now. Jesus, it’s adorable when he talks all excited like that, isn’t it?"
And honestly, Hiori had been expecting worse at the mention of Bachira. He’d even seen Kurona move every utensil away from Isagi as a precaution, like he was preparing for an outburst. But to their surprise, Isagi... is oddly calm.
In fact, he smiles. A small, tight-lipped smile, but it’s there.
He turns, meets Kaiser’s eyes, and then, with a low, almost unsettling tone, he says, “Damn, you seriously talk like that about another guy in front of your little puppy? You don’t see how jealous he is?” Isagi smirks “Go ahead, tell him you’re doing all this just to fuck with me. Come on, I’m sure he’d love to hear that.”
Ness opens his mouth to say something, but Isagi doesn’t give him the chance.
"Actually, no, scratch that. It'd be a lot more worrying if you really thought Bachira wanted to hang out with you, or that you have any chance with him. I mean, seriously? He’s just letting you chase after him out of pity. It's honestly cute how much you believe otherwise.”
Isagi’s grin widens as he watches Kaiser’s expression flicker—there’s the briefest moment of doubt, and that’s all Isagi needs. It’s like he can taste the discomfort in the air, savoring it. Kaiser, usually so smug, suddenly looks just a little too uncertain, and Isagi’s feeding off it.
“And honestly,” Isagi adds, voice dripping with venom, “if you really think you’ve got a shot, then maybe you should start worrying about your delusions instead of your ego.”
Kaiser doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches between them for a moment. Finally, with an exaggerated laugh—less convincing this time, more like he's trying to regain some semblance of control—Kaiser turns to walk away, Ness trailing behind him, silent as a shadow.
Isagi feels oddly good about himself.
And damn, he didn’t think he had that kind of venom in him. At least, not off the field.
As he turns back to the table, he catches Hiori’s gaze. There’s a flash of disapproval in the other boy’s eyes, and for a brief moment, Isagi feels a flicker of guilt. Maybe he went too far. Maybe that was a little more than necessary. The last thing he needs is to lose control—especially over something as stupid as Kaiser.
But then again... it’s Kaiser. And sometimes, that’s enough of a reason.
Isagi had just finished his run on the treadmill, his legs feeling the burn from the intense session. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Kurona had already left for the showers, and Isagi was about to follow suit but, apparently, today the whole world wanted to talk to him.
"Hey, got a minute?"
Isagi flinched, his heart skipping a beat. He quickly turned around, already annoyed by the interruption. When he saw who it was, his body tensed involuntarily.
“What do you want, Ness?" Isagi asked, his voice sharp, though he tried to keep his tone in check. He didn’t want to go through another round like this morning. He’d already pushed it too far earlier. And honestly, he was just too damn exhausted to argue right now.
“Shit, sorry to bother you,” Ness raised an eyebrow but didn’t look fazed, still standing there with that annoying grin plastered on his face, “Have you ever thought about seeing a shrink for all that pent-up anger? Like, a good one.”
Isagi rolled his eyes, already done with this. "What do you want? I don’t have time for this" he muttered, trying to shake the frustration gnawing at him.
There was a brief pause, and for a moment, Ness didn’t say anything. Isagi could see him fidgeting slightly, his gaze darting around.
"You... what do you know about the thing between Kaiser and the bee guy?" Ness finally asked, his tone more hesitant than usual. His fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of his shorts
Isagi blinked, caught off guard by the question. "W-what?" he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind scrambled for a response. "Why don’t you ask your friend? He’s the one who’s been acting all obsessed with Bachira for no reason," he shot back, his voice sharper than he meant it to be.
And damn it, why did this topic always get under his skin so easily? He hated how his emotions spiked every time Bachira’s name came up. Why couldn’t he just stay calm and brush it off? Wasn’t he supposed to be over this?
This time, Ness doesn't even try to hide his annoyance. He rolls his eyes dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure, because Kaiser’s the type to actually tell me what’s going on in his head." he mutters.
Isagi sighs, his shoulders sagging. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to keep his voice steady. "Look, I know as much as you do about it. All I know is they talked after the match, and now apparently, they’re texting." He pauses, feeling a tight knot in his stomach as he adds, "But that's it. Bachira hasn’t said anything to me."
Ness snorts, shaking his head, a bitter smile flickering on his lips. "If only it were just texts. Did you know Kaiser actually called him last night? Luckily, one of his friends—Otaya, I think—forgot his access card, so Bachira had to cut it short."
Oh wow, new information. Terrible information .
Isagi’s eyes widen, his stomach twisting in disbelief. He looks at Ness, who's sitting there with his shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact. The frustration on his face is palpable, and for a split second, Isagi feels a flicker of empathy for him.
He starts to open his mouth, about to offer some kind of reassurance or even just a neutral comment to keep the peace, but then Ness lets out a heavy sigh and sits down on the bench. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, his voice dripping with frustration.
"And honestly, what the hell does he see in that guy?" Ness mutters, his tone bitter. "The dude who jumps on people and hears voices? Just because he’s, what, kinda good at dribbling?"
And just like that, Isagi's fleeting sympathy vanishes.
And if Isagi spends the next hour discussing Kaiser and Bachira with Ness, defending his best friend's honor and complaining about the whole damn circus. Well, that’s really his problem.
Honestly, it’s kind of cathartic. Isagi’s starting to feel like maybe he’s found someone who truly gets the emotional chaos he’s been caught in, and for a moment, he’s actually a little relieved. It’s a nice break, if nothing else.
Until Ness drops the bomb.
“I mean, it doesn’t seem so wrong to be jealous of the person I love, right? You get it, don’t you?”
Stop. Wait.
“Hold up—wait. You’re in love with Kaiser?” Isagi blurts out, wide-eyed and blinking in disbelief.
Ness looks equally stunned, his eyes narrowing. “Um, yeah? You’re not in love with Bachira?”
And stop again.
Isagi feels like he's about to have a stroke. A thousand thoughts are racing in his head, but nothing coherent comes out of his mouth except a few disconnected syllables.
And the thing is... he's never thought about it. The idea of being in love with Bachira was so far beyond him. Isagi’s never been in love, and he’s definitely not an expert in that field.
Sure, his relationship with Bachira is… unique. It’s not your average friendship. But is that even enough to call it love? Isagi’s spent his life surrounded by people, but none of those relationships feel quite like this one. It’s different, but how different? Does that mean love? No clue.
“Isagi? You good?” Ness's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he blinks a couple of times before focusing on him. Ness is staring at him, clearly waiting for something, a little smirk playing on his face.
"Wait, wait," Isagi finally spits out, his words tumbling out so quickly he almost trips over them. "So when you were talking about jealousy... you didn’t mean like, jealous as a friend, right?"
And as soon as the words escape, he realizes just how dumb they sound. Ness doesn’t even try to hide the look on his face, staring at Isagi like he’s an idiot.
Isagi feels the embarrassment creeping up his neck.
"What the hell? What do you mean, jealousy as a friend?" Ness laughs, his tone half incredulous, half amused. "Is that a Japanese thing or something?"
Isagi blinks, stunned. His brain is still trying to process the whole conversation, but it's like someone hit pause on his thoughts.
"Hey, come on, is this really such a big revelation?" Ness's voice pulls him out of his internal chaos, this time with a shift to something a bit more serious. "Even if you've never thought about it, trust me, you've left enough clues. I'm pretty sure everyone’s noticed except you, and maybe Bachira”.
Ness rises from the bench, stepping toward the door. “So, take a minute. Clear your head. Talk to your little friend, whatever you’ve got going on with him, so this whole mess with Kaiser can finally end."
His tone is playful, but as he steps out, there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something almost... genuine, maybe?
And just like that, Isagi is left standing alone. The room suddenly feels quieter, emptier. His mind is spinning, but all he can do now is stare at the door as it closes behind Ness.
Shit. What just happened?
5.Realize that you might be in love with your best friend.
And from this point on... well, good luck, because I can't help you anymore.
It hadn’t been long since Ness left when Kurona came looking for him, thinking he was missing.
Isagi took a shower, got dressed and had dinner. Very normal, very routine.
Except, if you asked him afterward why he’d used body wash instead of shampoo, or even what he’d eaten for dinner, Isagi would probably just blink at you like you’d asked him to solve quantum physics. His head was somewhere else entirely.
And Hiori has always been a patient person—really, ask around. He’s perfectly fine with a quiet dinner, with only a bit of conversation between him and Kurona.
Sure, it’s very unusual for Isagi to stay silent for so long, especially when Kurona starts rambling about sea creatures. Usually Isagi is always ready to share fun facts about lobsters.
But Hiori isn’t dense. He’s already pieced together that something’s been gnawing at Isagi’s brain lately, and it’s obviously the kind of thing he’s going to have to work through on his own.
So yes, Hiori’s surprised—but not that surprised—when Isagi finally breaks two hours of radio silence by asking, “What does it mean to be in love?”
And, at this, Kurona can’t help. He just shifts in his bed, turns to face the wall, and throws out a half-muffled, “Night night,” like that’s enough to excuse him from the conversation entirely. And just like that, Hiori is left to step into the role of therapist-slash-love advisor.
Not that Hiori minds helping Isagi—he’s spent enough time around him to know how his brain works, how to untangle the mess when he gets stuck in his own head. But giving romantic advice? Yeah, that’s a different story. It’s not exactly his area of expertise. You only have to look at how his own painfully slow-burn crush on Karasu has been developing—or, well, not developing—to see that. But whatever. This isn’t about him.
And yet, somehow, Hiori doesn’t regret staying up until 2 AM with Isagi—talking in circles about feelings, trying to define love like it’s some kind of math equation, and, inevitably, ending up on the topic of Bachira.
Because of course, for Isagi, it always comes back to Bachira.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for Hiori to feel like maybe, for tonight at least, he’d managed to give Isagi a bit of the clarity he was so desperately searching for.
Isagi might be overusing that phrase a little too much lately, but today, when he wakes up, he genuinely feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted off his chest. If his room had windows, he’s sure there’d be birds outside, happily singing their little hearts out in perfect harmony with the absurdly cheerful mood he’s somehow in.
The reality? His heart-to-heart with Hiori didn’t exactly result in any earth-shattering epiphanies. He’s not suddenly on some higher plane of understanding, no major breakthrough about his feelings. The idea of being in love with Bachira still feels like a strange, confusing knot in his brain, something that doesn’t quite fit—but at least now, Isagi has a tiny thread to pull on, a direction to start unraveling the mess.
And of course, the most logical next step, because why not ?
Isagi’s going to sneak into the Spain Stratum again, for the third time, without permission, and try to have a “meaningful conversation” with Bachira. Because if there’s one thing he’s learned from his complete lack of sense, it’s that breaking into restricted areas is always the perfect solution to his emotional confusion.
He heads out before breakfast—not that he’d be able to force anything down even if he tried. His stomach feels like it’s been twisted into some kind of sailor’s knot, and whether it’s from nerves or excitement, he honestly couldn’t tell you. Probably both, teaming up to make sure he suffers properly.
The hallways are mostly empty, just a few voices drifting from the cafeteria. Halfway there, he spots Otoya sauntering toward breakfast like he doesn’t have a single worry in the world. Must be nice. Isagi stops him—tries to act casual, fails miserably—and asks if Bachira’s still in his room.
But Isagi doesn’t stop there. He sizes up Otoya quickly, checking for anything—forgotten keys, misplaced gear, or some other excuse that might send him back down the hallway and straight into Isagi’s plans. It’s ridiculous, maybe a little paranoid, but the last thing he needs is Otoya showing up at the wrong moment and turning this whole thing into an audience event.
When Isagi finally reaches the door—the one he knows a little too well by now—he freezes. His breath catches, and his pulse kicks up so hard he can feel it in his throat. It’s the same rush he gets right before stepping onto the field, right before the whistle blows and the game begins. That jittery, electric mix of fear and hunger, like everything could come crashing down at any second—or go exactly the way he wants.
And maybe that’s why it feels so heavy. Because this is a game, in a way. A gamble where he’s risking something bigger than points or wins. He doesn’t know what’s going to change after this, but he knows something will. His friendship with Bachira won’t— can’t —stay the same.
But Isagi’s never been the type to back down, even when the stakes are high. Especially then.
Because Isagi is, fundamentally, a selfish person. If there’s even the slightest chance he can have Bachira all to himself after today, he’s ready to put everything on the line. Just like always.
Bachira's sprawled out on the bed, shirtless, phone held above his face.
Isagi feels his cheeks heat up and thinks, Okay, I’m not sure if this is a "best friend" reaction.
Bachira doesn’t even bother sitting up right away. “Hey, Isagi. What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He finally props himself up on his elbows, flashing that easy grin of his. And just like that, Isagi already knows he’s screwed.
“Nothing. Just passing by.” Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
Bachira tilts his head, both amused and confused, like Isagi just told him he came here to borrow sugar.
“Really? Regretting Bastard Munchen already? Thinking about switching teams?” He snickers, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. “Mmm, not sure if Lavinho would approve, but I can put in a good word.”
Isagi meets his eyes and can’t help but smile back. Inevitable .
“Or maybe you’re just so tired of Otoya’s drama that you’re here to dump it on me?” he says, distracted. And no, Isagi’s not saying what he was looking at.
“Me, sick of him? Nah. I don’t even need a TV. He’s like a soap opera in real life.” Bachira grins. And then, because Bachira seems to have made it his life’s mission to completely short-circuit Isagi’s brain, he adds, “Are you gonna stand by the door the whole time? Relax, I don’t bite.”
And actually, why the hell hasn't he moved since he walked in? Isagi mentally curses himself. Why am I so fucking embarassing?
A laugh escapes from Isagi, an awkward sound, and he can feel the flush creeping up his neck, his cheeks burning. He sits down quickly, trying to mask his discomfort. "False," he says "I clearly remember you biting Igarashi because he kicked you in his sleep."
Bachira doesn't miss a beat. He shrugs casually, his grin still wide. "Well, that was self-defense." He leans in a bit closer to Isagi, his left knee brushing against his side, the contact subtle but electric.
Isagi feels his pulse race, his brain buzzing. It’s all happening too fast.
But then Bachira leans in a bit more, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “But if you’re jealous, I can bite you too.”
And Isagi is sure all these short circuits aren’t doing his brain any good.
Especially now, when half of his blood has completely abandoned his brain to head south.
Isagi swallows, takes a big breath, before turning to face Bachira. Their faces just inches apart, like two days ago.
“Seriously?” Isagi says, his voice weak like he's about to die. Bachira doesn’t respond, not that there’s a suitable answer, and Isagi adds, “And wha- what if I wanted it?”
For a moment, there's nothing but silence. Bachira stays perfectly still, his eyes wide with surprise. Isagi watches, almost frozen, his gaze locked on Bachira’s face, studying every flicker of emotion, every tiny shift in expression. What’s he thinking?
And, knowing his friend, he expected a loud reaction. Either positive, like Bachira would jump on him and yell in his ears how happy he was—hey, a guy can dream. Or negative, like laughing, taking a breath, and saying, “Look, I like Kaiser. But you’ll always be my best friend,” and then Isagi would die inside.
He definitely didn’t expect Bachira to stay silent for so long, even if it was probably only a few seconds.
And for sure, he didn’t expect the first words to come out of Bachira’s mouth to be, “Do you mean what I think you mean?” his voice thin and uncertain. And Isagi feels like he’s about to melt.
Isagi’s breath catches. His stomach flips. His pulse races even faster. He stares at Bachira, his mind reeling, his heart practically stopping. He hadn’t expected this, had he? No, he had thought it, but hearing Bachira say it out loud changes everything.
Isagi’s lips tremble, a smile starting to pull at the corners of his mouth, hesitant at first, but then it widens. A genuine smile. He can't help it. It feels right, seeing that same smile on Bachira’s face, the one he's been waiting for.
He reaches out, almost instinctively, his hand brushing against Bachira’s cheek, his thumb gently tracing the curve of his jaw. Bachira relaxes into the touch like a cat being petted, his eyes closing briefly as a soft sigh escapes him.
Isagi feels like his entire body is on fire. His heart races, his hands shake, but he doesn’t pull away. No, he wants more of this.
He looks at Bachira, their faces inches apart now, so close that he can feel the heat of Bachira’s breath, feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. He can almost taste the tension in the air, thick and palpable.
"I think so," Isagi breathes out, his voice barely audible, a whisper against Bachira’s skin. Despite being only millimeters apart, their lips feel worlds away.
And when Bachira finally closes that gap, Isagi crashes into him like a man dying of thirst.
It’s not pretty. Isagi has no idea what he’s doing—his only other kiss was with a girl last year, and he accidentally bit her. But right now? None of that matters. Because this? This is the best kiss in the history of kisses. Objectively .
When his hand slides from Bachira’s cheek to the back of his neck, he feels the goosebumps under his fingers, and when their tongues meet—messy, desperate, and uncoordinated—he thinks, Yeah. No chance I’m walking away from this alive.