Chapter Text
GOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLL !
The Game’s Hero is Isagi!
As Isagi’s shot smashes into the back of the net, the world erupts as they witness the hero who conquered the chaps and established himself as the game’s king!
Bastard München vs Ubers: 3-2.
———-————— ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ —————————
There was something about Michael Kaiser that made Isagi's blood simmer just beneath the surface. It wasn’t just arrogance - though, that was a part of it. It wasn’t even the way Kaiser always managed to score when it counted most, stealing the spotlight with a smirk like it belonged to him and him alone.
No, what really got under Isagi’s skin was how effortless he made it all look.
Blue Lock was supposed to be hell: a crucible to forge strikers who could rewrite Japanese football - but ever since Bastard München and ever since he ruined Isagi’s first ranking by deflecting his shot like a self-declared king, it had started to feel more like a rigged game. The man in question? Michael Kaiser was the smug bastard who always rolled the dice and came up with sixes.
He was a parasite, infecting everything: the rhythm of their team; the flow of the match… Even the space inside Isagi’s head.
Yet, despite it all, every time Isagi set foot on the pitch, part of him wanted to chase him. Not to follow, nor to admire - but rather, to tear him down. To beat him so completely that Kaiser would be forced to acknowledge it - whether that be with a fake smile or a backhanded compliment, or silence.
‘Let’s see who scores the most goals’.
Isagi had finally won. The match against the Ubers, his bet with Kaiser…
At this moment, he had surpassed him. He had scored two goals out of the three this match!
Standing on the pitch as the final whistle rang out and the stadium lights bathed everything in sharp clarity, Isagi felt it - that rare, electric rush.
Victory.
This was different. This was personal. He had won this time - he had outplayed Michael Kaiser: through sheer vision, calculation, and execution. For once, the spotlight didn’t curve toward Kaiser like gravity pulling a star - it was shining on him.
And God, it felt good.
It wasn’t just about proving a point. It wasn’t even about one-upping Kaiser - though, that was a beautiful bonus. It was about the way the game bent around him finally… The way his choices shaped the field, the outcome, and the rhythm. He had dictated the match, not followed it. He had seen the future unfolding with every pass and carved his path through it like a blade using Metavision.
He fucking won.
Sweat dripped down his face as he heard the Blue Lock intercom call for the players’ attention. As it seemed, all the matches had come to an end - and the auction rankings were about to be displayed.
Isagi’s body shook as he gazed at the broadcast. It felt as if it were taunting him when each value came onto the screen at an excruciating slow pace…
10…9…8…7…
Isagi stared, breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. With every name that flickered across the board, his heart beat louder. He had done everything - clawed for each goal, fought through the match, pushed past limits he hadn’t known existed...
6…5…4…
3rd place: Barou Shouei - ¥130,000,000 (Offer: Ubers).
Isagi’s fingers twitched.
And then…
2nd place: Yoichi Isagi - ¥150,000,000 (Offer: Bastard München).
The number hit him like a thunderclap.
He blinked.
His name was glowing, shining on that massive screen for the entire world to see. Second place. The room was buzzing, players whispering, some cheering, others staring in disbelief - but all of it faded when the screen shifted again…
1st place: Rin Itoshi - ¥180,000,000 (Offer: Paris X Gen).
A sharp pang dug into Isagi’s chest. It was frustration, laced with a reluctant flicker of admiration. Rin had truly been absolutely relentless, from what Isagi had overheard from his opponents: cold and calculated, and now the top rank was his.
Isagi’s jaw clenched. He wanted that spot - and not just for the money. He wanted the acknowledgment: wanted to stand alone at the top and to know no one was above him.
But then came another name - not part of Blue Lock’s list, but posted just beneath, in a separate bracket:
Michael Kaiser - ¥320,000,000 (Offer: La Real).
His mouth widening, Isagi’s stomach turned.
A delighted squeal came from Alexis Ness as the man ran up to Kaiser with the biggest grin on his face.
‘Damn…’ he couldn’t help but think, the utter shock he felt visibly forming on his face. ‘Seriously?’
The strongest club in the world… Was prepared to steal Kaiser away from Bastard München…?
To the world, I’m only half as much as Kaiser! Even less, even…
He couldn’t even surpass Rin. To them, he’s only seco-
Attention!
His eyes snapped to the intercom once again.
The rankings were already displayed. The offers were in - wasn’t that supposed to be it?
Around him, players shifted uneasily, the buzz of celebration quieting into a collective pause. Even Rin (who Isagi watched through the broadcast), still stone-faced from his first-place announcement, tilted his head slightly, listening.
The screen didn’t change, but the voice kept going.
“This concludes the official Blue Lock player auction rankings. However - an additional announcement must be made.”
Isagi’s pulse quickened. His muscles were still tense from the adrenaline of watching his name rise to second place, but now a different kind of pressure settled over him: the kind that came from the unknown.
Additional announcement?
The voice on the intercom continued, precise and mechanical.
“Additionally,” the voice said, “A special notice has been issued by Bastard München. Players Yoichi Isagi and Michael Kaiser, please report directly to the Higher-ups. Immediately.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and out of place.
Isagi didn’t move.
His body remained frozen in place, his thoughts suddenly a blur of unfinished questions. What the hell did that mean? Report to the higher-ups? Why him - and why Kaiser? There hadn’t been any mention of this in the auction structure.
All around him, heads began to turn - first toward him, then toward Kaiser. He felt the skeptical glances from his peers: he caught Hiori in the corner of his eye covering his mouth, as if to suppress something hilarious he had on his mind (in which Isagi decided he was going to ask about later). On the other hand, and similar to other reactions he’d been getting, Kurona just gave him one of those curious looks, and Isagi could only purse his lips in response.
The tension in the room thickened, shifting from celebration to speculation. Whispers started, like static at the edges of his awareness, but Isagi couldn’t focus on any of it. His gaze had already moved instinctively and sharply to the side.
To the one person who might be just as confused as he was.
Michael Kaiser.
The arrogant genius prodigy himself, standing off to the right near the other pros, arms loosely folded, posture relaxed as ever - but even from here, Isagi could see it: the same flicker of confusion behind his eyes.
Just for a moment, the polished mask slipped, and his brows drew together. Barely, but it was enough. Enough to prove that this wasn’t expected - not by him, either.
And then their eyes met… A slow, deliberate turn - as if they both felt it at once.
Kaiser’s expression was unreadable at first. It was neither mocking nor indifferent, just... Blank. His blue eyes, sharp as glass, looking straight into Isagi’s like he was trying to figure something out, as if he was trying to read him just from the man’s body language alone.
There was no smirk, no pretentious tilt of the head… Only the unspoken question: What is this?
In that one glance, Isagi felt the same thing tearing at his insides. The moment passed stifled, neither of them moving, like two predators waiting for the other to make the first twitch.
Then, unhurriedly, Kaiser shifted.
A single glance toward the exit, then back to Isagi. With a small shrug, he turned, walking off toward the corridor leading out of the pitch. He didn’t say a word, not a look back - just a silent message, clear as day…
Well? Are you coming or not?
Isagi stood for a second longer, still processing the moment, heart pounding under the weight of something he couldn’t name yet.
Then he moved.
It’s not like he understood. He didn’t even have any sense of clarity or direction - yet standing frozen in place, under the weight of too many eyes and too few answers, felt like suffocating in slow motion.
He didn’t even have to turn around to know Ness’s glare was on his back: he didn’t know what Kaiser had said to him before the announcement was made, but seemingly, he was blaming Isagi for whatever foul mood he had obtained himself in.
One word crossed Isagi’s mind: Pathetic.
The corridor beyond the pitch was colder than he remembered - both in temperature, and in tone. Noise made by the other players faded almost instantly, swallowed by the sterile stillness of institutional lighting and whitewashed walls that stretched endlessly forward. The air smelled faintly of sweat, rubber soles, and disinfectant - clinical and clean, but suffocating in a different way.
Ahead of him, Kaiser walked with a sharpness that didn’t match his usual swagger. His gait was stiff, deliberate, like every step was being measured - for grace, no, but for restraint. The tension in his shoulders was visible even through his jersey, coiled like a spring wound too tight. Gone was the usual saunter, the casual superiority that practically oozed from him during press events or post-goal celebrations. This didn’t seem like confidence, and more so, Isagi realised it was agitation - the kind that simmered beneath the surface, waiting to snap.
Isagi trailed a few paces behind, silent, eyes locked on the back of Kaiser’s head as questions churned in his mind like a tide he couldn’t push back. The intercom announcement still echoed in his ears, sharp and surreal. A special notice from Bastard München - not just for one player, but for two: himself, and Kaiser. For what? There was no explanation nor details, just a command disguised as a request.
It didn’t make sense.
Isagi wanted to ask, wanted to say something - even if just to break the silence that was quickly becoming unbearable. Nevertheless, the way Kaiser carried himself... The way his fists briefly clenched at his sides when he thought no one was watching, made it painfully clear: he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
There was a weight to his reticence that felt intentional. Not passive - but pointed. Purposeful.
Kaiser didn’t walk like someone who was simply annoyed. He walked like someone who had been blindsided. And worse - like someone who hated being blindsided.
They reached the end of the hallway: a single steel-framed door, bland and unmarked, the kind of door that screamed importance precisely because it looked so unassuming. It was the kind of door that usually only opened for decisions that couldn’t be taken back.
The German didn’t hesitate; he shoved it open with one hand, movements clipped and automated, as if this entire situation was beneath his notice - or maybe too much for him to process without boiling over.
He hadn’t said a single word since the announcement. Not one… For someone like Kaiser, Isagi felt like this was a bit out of character.
Watching Kaiser walk in, he lingered for just a second at the threshold, watching the way the light from the hallway spilled into the shadowed space beyond. It was quiet there. Too quiet.
He took a breath, then followed.
Even as he stepped through the doorway, even as the silence wrapped around them like fog, Isagi couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted - not just in the ranking, or the offers, or the balance of their rivalry, but in Kaiser.
In the distance between them, in the tension that now stretched so tightly, it felt like the smallest word might snap it in half. The acknowledgment of Isagi’s win, the sudden call from the higher-ups…
If Kaiser wanted to walk ahead and pretend like this whole thing wasn’t stressing him out, that was fine.
Isagi would follow - he always did better when people underestimated him; and right now, he didn’t care if they were walking into an opportunity, a test, or a trap.
He’s sure he’ll destroy anything that came in his way to the top.
———-————— ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ —————————
Noel Noa stood on the other side of the room, back turned to them as he stared towards the large amount of monitors in front of him. In the chair next to him sat Ego, his eyes wide and focused on the same monitors. Anri was also there - her gaze shifting away in what Isagi recognised as embarrassment, and whilst he may have wanted to question the reasoning - but he didn’t have to.
What didn’t shock him was seeing all these three in the same room - though, he admits when he heard ‘higher-ups’ he half expected business men in suits. Rather, it was what they were projecting on their monitors: an array of tweets, his name and Kaiser’s in almost every single one.
Isagi blinked, once. Then again.
This wasn’t what he expected… He had walked in prepared for data - stats, maybe heatmaps, tactical breakdowns, or numbers that would make or break contracts. Hell, he was even expecting the higher-ups to tell him and Kaiser to stop faffing about on the field and play nice. Instead, what he got was a wall of chaos: fast-scrolling social media posts projected across a row of oversized monitors.
Tweets.
Dozens of them, if not hundreds, updating in real time with dizzying speed. Each one louder than the last - bold text, fan-edited clips, filters, memes, polls, and gifs. Along with everywhere, like a glitch he couldn’t scrub out of his vision: his name… And Kaiser’s…?
Trending.
#IsagiYoichi …#MichaelKaiser… #Kaisa-
Wait. Is he reading that right?
Kai…Sagi?
Like.
Kaiser Isagi. Kaisagi?
A tweet hovered just long enough to register:
‘Isagi was amazing in this match, like he was trying to kick Kaiser off his throne and take the crown and the cape. And he DID.’
His eyes darted to another…
‘The tension between these two isn’t rivalry anymore, it’s foreplay with cleats on. #kaisagi’
Isagi’s felt nauseous.
Then came a slowed-down replay of their moment before kickoff - the stare-down, the sharp inhale, the silence before the storm. Someone had added soft lighting and overly romantic music beneath it. A fan caption followed:
‘look at the longing. the hate. the unresolved tension. rivals to lovers speedrun.’
He could feel his pulse in his throat. His jaw hung open slightly in disbelief - not even panic. Just the frozen mental state of someone watching a car crash captured in a languish dance of time, and realising too late that he himself was in the front seat.
Turning his head, it’s like he was needing to see if he was the only one spiraling.
Kaiser was staring at the screens too, but the look on his face had shifted. His brow had tightened, jaw rigid, and his mouth pressed into a sharp line that seemed carved rather than natural. The usual contented detachment - the nonchalant bravado that made him unbearable - was nowhere to be found.
Instead, Kaiser looked… Disturbed.
Not in a loud, dramatic way - but in the cold, simmering way of someone who hated being reduced. The type who didn’t appreciate being turned into content for public amusement.
Under that, Isagi caught something subtler: embarrassment? Vulnerability? Maybe something unsteady? It was a faint flicker of discomfort, like he wasn’t used to being exposed in this way - scrutinised not for skill, but for subtext.
It made Isagi’s own skin crawl.
Another tweet slid up:
‘Isagi and Kaiser acting like divorced parents trying to outdo each other at the school football game. Just kiss already and end our suffering!’
He nearly coughed out loud.
His eyes darted toward Ego, hoping for an answer, a reason, or anything that would justify this madness - but Ego was leaning forward with unnatural tranquility, watching the chaos unfold like it was a documentary he’d personally directed.
Noa remained unmoved, his arms crossed, while Anri… Well, she had turned her head fully to the side, doing a poor job of hiding the fact that her cheeks were tinged pink.
The silence broke.
“This,” Ego finally said, his tone clipped and clinical, “Is power. Brand potential. Viral reach. You two - like it or not - are bigger than football now. You’re a story, and the public has already started writing it.”
Isagi wanted to refute it - wanted to deny all of it. The implications, or practically the idea that he and Kaiser could be seen as anything more than competitive fire and strategic friction: but the words wouldn’t come - because, on some level… This was happening.
And what unnerved him most?
Kaiser still hadn’t said a single word.
Not to Isagi. Not to Ego. Not to anyone.
He just stood there, arms folded across his chest, not as a gesture of dominance, but of withdrawal. His eyes, usually cold and condescending, were fixed on the screens with a narrowed edge, unreadable and quiet.
That silence, Isagi realised, wasn’t indifference. It was tension - wound tight and waiting to snap.
Now, somehow, they weren’t just rivals on the pitch anymore - they were a headline. A ship. A spectacle.
Not once… during the time Isagi and Kaiser had spent in that room being exposed to the public’s opinions, had asked them if they were okay with that.
“What the fuck is all this?” Kaiser spoke up, the first words Isagi’s heard him speak since the match’s ending. At his words, Isagi couldn’t help but focus his stare on him.
Noel Noa didn’t turn around. His arms were folded behind his back now, a posture of silent authority as the monitors flickered with yet another barrage of posts. Ego didn’t flinch either - he simply glanced to the side, barely reacting to the sharpness in Kaiser’s voice, as if he’d been expecting the outburst all along.
Isagi, meanwhile, was still stuck somewhere between mortification and bafflement, eyes scanning each monitor: tweet after tweet as they rolled upward like an endless tide of noise. Mentions of his name tangled with Kaiser’s in every imaginable tone and variation: admiration, obsession, humour, thirst. Some users posted their stats like proof of compatibility; others cropped screenshots of post-match glances and mid-game fouls like they were decoding body language in a romance drama.
It was overwhelming.
Kaiser had taken a step forward - only one, but his presence seemed to fill the space more than before. The strain in his jaw hadn’t eased; his voice, though low, was laced with disdain. "Is this a fucking joke?"
"On the contrary," Ego replied, finally spinning towards them as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing like he was settling in for a lecture. "It’s marketing. It’s trajectory. It’s influence.”
Kaiser turned toward him fully now, the edge of his shoulder raising as he stepped forward towards them, eyes narrowed to slits. "You think this is football? Hashtag chemistry and shippers?"
Isagi remained rooted to the spot. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the reality of being part of a public spectacle, or the fact he shared that attention with Kaiser. Genuinely, the same player who strutted through Blue Lock with a smirk for a crown now looked like he wanted to smash one of the screens with his boot.
"It’s not about what you think," Ego replied with a shrug. "It’s about what the world sees."
Another tweet cycled through: a slow-mo clip of Isagi shouting during a play, face contorted in adrenaline-fueled passion, with Kaiser in the background watching him with that unreadable look. Someone had written: ‘He looks at him like he just realised he found his equal. Or his enemy. Or both.’
Isagi felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. He felt a complex knot of things: disbelief, discomfort, and likely some strange thread of shame he didn’t know where to tie.
"We're not actors," Isagi finally said, voice quiet but audible. He had now taken a step forward too, his body now positioned in front of Kaiser’s own. “This isn’t some romantic comedy.”
Ego looked at him, something unreadable flickering behind his glasses. "No, you’re athletes - but you're also symbols. And undeniably, right now? Your rivalry is selling. Selling attention, engagement, conversation… All of which sells jerseys, tickets, and contracts."
Kaiser made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and turned away from the screens, pacing a few feet like he needed to burn off the emotion.
"This is insane," he muttered, then louder. "You called us here to show us memes and thirsty fan edits?"
Ego stood now, methodically stepping forward until the glow of the monitors cast harsh shadows across his face. "I called you here to remind you both that performance doesn’t end when the whistle blows. Football, at the level you have now both achieved, is theatre. Whether you like it or not, the world sees something between you two. That?" He pointed to the wall of tweets. "Is leverage. You both need to learn how to use it.”
A tense silence fell again.
Isagi didn’t meet Kaiser’s eyes. He could feel the rage rolling off him like static, the quiet fury of someone who’d lost control of the narrative. If he were honest, Isagi felt some of it too. Buried underneath all of that, however… Beneath the anxiety and the embarrassment - was a flicker of something else.
Curiosity.
Was this going to help him rise to the top?
“How are we meant to use it?” Isagi inquired, his voice booming with determination. He didn’t notice how Kaiser’s eyes darted towards him in bewilderment, as if he had registered something that Isagi hadn’t.
Anri answered.
She stepped forward slightly - reluctantly, almost - as if she didn’t quite want to be the one to break it to him, but knew she had to. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, one hand anxiously tugging at the sleeve of her blazer. When she spoke, her voice was soft, careful, as though navigating a landmine.
“You already are.”
Isagi blinked, mind blanking at the sentiment as his brows furrowed. “Huh?”
Anri hesitated for half a second, glancing toward Ego, who simply gave a small, dismissive wave, quietly granting her permission to explain further. She turned her attention back to Isagi, offering a sheepish smile, eyes darting between him and Kaiser.
“Isagi… the way you play, the way you react to each other… It’s not just entertaining, it’s magnetic. People are drawn to it - they can’t stop watching. It’s not something you need to force. It’s already happening.”
Isagi still looked confused. “But… It's just football. I’m- we’re just playing football.”
Kaiser let out a deep, scoffing breath behind him.
Anri pressed on, her tone gentle but laced with certainty. “To you, maybe. But to the people watching out there?” She motioned toward the glowing monitors. “It’s more. It’s theatre, like Ego said. It’s a story. You and Kaiser - you’ve become characters. Antagonists. Foils. Maybe more. People are projecting their own narratives onto what they see between you.”
Isagi opened his mouth, then closed it again. The flush on his cheeks was creeping up now, slow and warm. “I don’t get it,” he said eventually, frowning. “It’s not like I’m doing anything weird. We’re just… competing.”
Anri let out a quiet laugh - awkward, almost apologetic. “You don’t need to do anything weird. That’s kind of the point.”
Quietly, Kaiser muttered something inaudible behind him, and Isagi didn’t dare turn around to catch it. The weight of Kaiser’s stare was pressing against the back of his neck like heat. He was sure it wasn’t friendly.
Anri looked at him with a kind of soft pity - fond, maybe, but tinged in a cringe-worthy feeling. “The way you two are on the field, how intensely you read each other, and how you respond, anticipate, challenge each other - it’s... Intimate. Or at least, that’s how people interpret it.”
Face flushing deeper, Isagi almost choked. “Intimate?!”
“I mean—!” Anri flailed her hands in front of her. “Not like that.. Okay, well, kind of like that - but it’s not what we think that matters. Again, it’s what the world sees.”
Behind him, Kaiser made another sharp sound - part huff, part curse. Isagi could imagine the expression on his face without even turning: intense eyes, with the barest twitch of a nerve just under his temple. It was the same look he wore when a play didn’t go his way on the field.
Isagi turned slightly, catching a flash of it. Yeah…That was the look.
He faced forward again, fingers raking through his hair in disbelief. “So what? You’re saying people truly think we’re... Like that? Because we ‘look at each other too hard’ during matches?”
Maybe that was the wrong question to ask, as Anri looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding direct eye contact. “There’s, uh… A lot of slow-motion videos. And music edits. And polls.”
“Polls?” Isagi echoed.
“Yeah,” she said, barely above a whisper now. “About who would confess first. Or… who’s secretly in love with who.”
Isagi stared at her.
Cutting in, Kaiser’s voice was low and acidic. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” his tone dripped in sarcasm. “How unprofessional.”
Wincing, Anri lifted her hands in defense. “I didn’t make the tweets! I’m just reporting what’s out there!”
Ego coughed, loudly, clearly growing impatient. Even Noa seemed to find some amusement, as his lips had started to perk up at Anri’s flustered appearance. “Enough fluff. This isn’t about feelings. This is about control. Narrative control.”
Isagi’s brain felt like it was short-circuiting. He glanced once more toward the sea of posts. A new one hovered, featuring a clip of him and Kaiser bumping shoulders mid-match, slowed down dramatically with text that read: ‘They breathe the same air and still pretend they hate each other. Delulu is the only solulu.’
His mouth fell open slightly. He wasn’t sure what ‘delulu’ meant, but he was pretty certain it wasn’t good.
“What... What the hell is solulu?” he asked, mostly to himself.
Anri sighed. “Don’t ask.”
Kaiser’s groan echoed through the room.
But even with the humiliation tightening around Isagi’s lungs, something else had started to twist inside him - something sharp. Ambition: that insatiable edge that always surged when he smelled opportunity beneath the bafflement.
He turned his gaze back toward the wall of chaos, letting it flood his senses again. His name, Kaiser’s name, all over the globe.
Maybe this wasn’t what he expected. But maybe… Maybe it could be used.
That was the thought clawing its way through Isagi’s disbelief, wrapping around the cold steel of his ambition. Ego expected it of him - expected him to adapt, to turn this madness into momentum. Furthermore, a part of him, the part wired to survive and evolve, considered it.
But that didn’t mean he liked it.
Noa broke from his stillness like a statue coming to life, his presence towering in the room. “What we’re trying to say is that this… type of attention could be beneficial to you both,” he said, reaching across the console to click through the feed. The screen shifted to cold analytics: viewership spikes, demographic breakdowns, trend graphs...
Moreover, at the top, bold and obnoxious like a slap to the face: #Kaisagi.
Isagi felt his jaw tighten even more, if that was even possible. Sure, he wanted to be number one - desperately, even. But this? Being number one because of a ship tag slapped together by strangers who romanticised every charged moment he’d shared with Kaiser? That wasn’t the kind of battlefield he trained for.
“As you can see,” Noa continued, calm and unbothered, “‘Kaisagi’ is currently the most talked-about Blue Lock narrative. Representing as the higher-ups, we’ve made the decision to lean into it.”
Fixating at the monitor, Isagi’s shoulders tensing in incredulity. His thoughts were a mess - shame flickering under anger, and confusion twisted up with defiance. He could feel it pressing against his ribs, building, rising. All the expectations, the cameras, and the fans twisting his sweat and driving into something cute, something palatable for timelines and fan cams.
He hadn’t bled for this.
“What we’re trying to say is,” Anri took a deep breath before she said the next thing. “Not leaning into this narrative, we have predicted, may affect your careers more than if you didn’t.”
Huh?
Kaiser shifted next to him, and without looking, Isagi could sense the fumes boiling inside him too.
The German exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped forward, voice sharp like a blade drawn across glass. “So what, you’re telling us to sell it? To pander? You want me to smile for the cameras and hold hands with him in the tunnel like it’s a fucking romcom?”
Ego didn’t even blink. “I want you to understand that perception is power. And right now, the public sees something that sells.”
“That’s not real,” Isagi snapped before he could stop himself. His voice rang through the room, stronger than even he expected. “It’s not what this is. It’s not who I am.”
Turning to him, Ego remained cool and unshaken. “Reality is less important than influence.”
“No,” Isagi said, firmer this time. “What’s real is the work I put in. The blood on the field. My evolution. Not… This fantasy.”
Kaiser let out a bitter laugh, though it lacked any humour. “I didn’t come here to be anyone’s storybook prince. If you think I’m going to play into that crap because it boosts your charts… Forget it.”
There was silence - stretched tight, uneasy with resistance.
Anri shifted slightly, looking between them, lips parted as if she wanted to say something but held it back. Noa remained still, unreadable. Ego watched them both, hands steepled under his chin, eyes glittering behind his glasses.
“It’s not about just the charts, you idiot. It’s about both of you two’s futures,” Ego said quietly, “A dedicated fandom is what will make you distinct from everyone else - it’s what will have you remain at the top no matter what.”
The top…?
“How will this help us remain at the to—,”
”You’ve heard of…” Anri tore her gaze away before speaking. “You read manga, don’t you, Isagi? You’ve heard of the terms… ‘Fujoshis’ and ‘Fudanshis’, right?”
Oh.
Grimacing, Isagi just nodded his head, noticing how Kaiser just narrowed his eyes in question. Rotating his head slightly, he gave Kaiser a brief explanation.
Unsurprisingly, the German man’s response to this was a disapproving expression, and it was followed by Isagi shrugging his shoulders at the reaction.
Heart thundering in his chest, and swivelling back to look at his superiors, Isagi wanted to scream that they were wrong - that fanservice wasn’t what he fought for: but deep down, beneath the anger and disbelief, was a terrifying question.
Would rejecting this really hold him back?
Was defiance going to make him stronger - or keep him stuck?
And worse still: why did part of him, some small part, wonder if using it meant getting closer to surpassing Kaiser? In a sick sort of way, this… Partnersh- okay, he might as well just say it… Relationship of theirs could be beneficial in learning more about Kaiser’s play. He couldn’t even explain the thought process behind it, but something told him that if he didn’t agree to this…
Breath hitching, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the monitors again. The lights from the screen reflected in his eyes like fire. He didn’t turn to Kaiser - but he didn’t need to. He could feel his presence at his side, bristling with the same pride, the same fury.
He wasn’t alone in this battle - but that didn’t make it easier.
“I'm not your product,” Isagi muttered, almost to himself - but loud enough for them all to hear. “Besides, if I do use this... It’ll be on my terms.”
Kaiser gave a quiet, almost scornful scoff in ridicule. “You’re actually considering this, Yoichi?” Letting his shoulders sag, the distasteful playfulness Isagi had gotten used to poured back into his delivery. “If you had wanted to date me, you could’ve just said.”
The Japanese player could only glare in Kaiser’s direction in reply, in which the other man just flashed him an entertained smile.
Instantaneously, Kaiser didn’t hold the grin for long. His smirk faltered - just slightly - and the unease that had been bristling between them sparked again, but this time it was harder to place. He rolled his shoulders back, gaze narrowing. Studying Isagi’s face, he hummed in acknowledgment. “You’re actually serious,” he said, voice steady. “You’d really play into this. Use it. For what - clout?”
Isagi’s fists curled again, this time not in humiliation, but in challenge. “I’d use whatever I need to win.”
The words came out sharper than he expected - an edge honed by hours on the field, by the weight of eyes always watching, by every moment someone underestimated what he’d do to rise above. His heart pounded like war drums in his chest, and the air in the room suddenly felt thick and flammable.
Kaiser didn’t move, but something about his stance changed. Less relaxed and smug. He was assessing Isagi now - not as a joke, nor as a pawn, but as a threat. “Even if it meant fake dating the one you want to destroy?”
Cringing, Isagi could only sigh. “Yes.”
Noa, still composed, crossed his arms again and said, “Then you understand. If it’s power you want, narrative is just another tool. Public image is just another stat you can weaponise.”
“You can hate it,” Ego added, “But if you let it control you, then you lose. Control it, and you win.”
Pivoting towards Ego, Kaiser rolled his eyes in dismay. “What you’re asking us to do isn’t control. It’s submission.”
Ego only smiled, wolfish and cold. “Submission is bending to it without purpose. Control is bending it to your purpose. There’s a difference.”
Exhaling through his nose, Isagi dragged a hand down his face. His skin still felt warm - burning from the exposure, from the absurdity of all this… But also? The sheer scale of it.
This wasn’t just about trends: this was about how the world was going to remember him - how history would record his name. He didn’t want it to be just a punchline on someone’s fan thread. Looking up again, his eyes flicking toward Kaiser, who, despite all his disdain, still hadn’t walked out - still hadn’t stormed off.
That meant something.
It meant he was willing: to taint his name in history too. Alongside Isagi.
“You really think I’d let them define what we are?” Isagi asked, his pitch fluctuating. Resistant. “If they’re going to write a story about us, then we write it first.”
That made Kaiser laugh - dry, humourless, but not without a sliver of intrigue. “You talk big for someone who looks like he’s about to faint over a meme about us kissing.”
Squinting his eyes at the obvious hypocrisy, Isagi smirked as stepped forward once, holding Kaiser’s gaze. “Then push me harder. On the field. If this is what they want to see - then we’ll give it to them,” Isagi reached out his hand. “We’ll form the devil’s contract.”
That silenced the room, and Kaiser’s eyes widened as Isagi remained persistent. “We’ll become that unstoppable striker duo the internet wants us to be,” his eye contact intensified. “The Neo Egoist League’s Best Couple.”
For a moment, there was only the quiet whir of the monitors and the static tension that pulsed between them like a heartbeat. No more shame, no more dodging - just raw, sharpened rivalry. The kind that burned too brightly to be ignored.
“Yoichi…” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. Kaiser tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening. “You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” He heaved a sigh, but his expression of resolve lingered as he took Isagi’s hand to seal the agreement. “If you make this real, try not to fall in love with me.”
The former didn’t flinch. “Oh trust me, never in a million years is that going to happen.”
Noa nodded once, satisfied. At the declaration, Ego smiled like a man who had just moved his queen across the chess board.
Somewhere in the back of the room, Anri was burying her face in her hands.
Whether they wanted it or not, the story had already begun.
And now, they were going to write it - with blood, with grit, and with the kind of chemistry no script could replicate.
But… somewhere deep down, something burned in Isagi’s chest - an unexplainable spark had flickered. A type of feeling Isagi couldn’t really put his finger on, but it felt like…
What was this… What is this—.
No, Isagi. Focus.
He was going to devour Kaiser, and this shitty relationship of theirs. If his fans loved Kaiser and him together, then he’s going to give them exactly what they want for now. All Kaiser and he have to do is carry on what they usually do… But, make it purposefully more… Gay? At some points?
Okay. Uhm.
In the end, this is just football, after all. Business, right? He shouldn’t be thinking about it too hard. It’s not like real feelings will come into play, anyway.