Chapter Text
Prologue: What Lies Between Us
Rin. Even though they weren’t close at all, he’d told Isagi not to call him “Itoshi.” That was how “Itoshi Rin” had quickly become just “Rin.”
Every time he opened his mouth, it was “moron,” “trash,” or “I’ll kill you.”
Whenever their eyes met, he’d glare at Isagi like he meant it. To put it mildly, Rin’s first impression had been terrible.
Isagi was pretty sure his opinion of him had been hovering somewhere below zero.
It was the third day since they’d ended up on the same team in Blue Lock’s Second Selection.
At first, Rin brushed him off at every turn, but Isagi kept pestering him anyway, stubbornly tagging along to his solo training.
By the third day, whenever Rin started heading somewhere, he’d glance at Isagi from the corner of his eye and slow down—just a little.
“Oh, going for a run? Mind if I come?” Isagi would ask.
Rin would only snort in response.
He never actually said yes, but he stopped telling Isagi to get lost.
And during the end-of-day yoga session, he even started tossing out bits of advice.
“Stretch your back.”
“Your arm angle’s wrong.”
Actual, legitimate pointers.
Of course, Isagi had been touched.
It even gave him a sense of accomplishment—like he’d somehow managed to tame a wild beast that never warmed up to anyone.
He’d even basked in a strange sense of self-satisfaction.
Honestly, putting up with that level of cold treatment for so long was kind of impressive.
—Yeah. Those had been a time like that.
Later on, Isagi Yoichi would look back on those days with distant eyes.
After leaving Blue Lock, Rin joined a club in France, while Isagi signed with a team in Germany.
Even if they were destined rivals, Isagi had figured their paths wouldn’t cross all that often.
—or so he’d thought.
"Uh, Rin. Don’t you think it’s about time you went home?"
"Hah? Don’t order me around, you piece of trash.”
Shot down without hesitation, Isagi crushed the magazine in his hands with a loud crumple.
――――I can’t take this guy anymore.
Every long break, the guy would casually hop across the border and crash at Isagi’s modest two-bedroom apartment like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then he’d shamelessly start making demands.
“Cook.”
“Run the bath.”
“Do the laundry.”
What was he supposed to be, anyway—Isagi’s boss? His kid? His husband?
No—he didn’t even make a gesture toward paying for groceries, let alone rent. At that point, wasn’t he basically just a freeloader?
Naturally, Isagi protested.
“This isn’t your hotel, and I’m not your mom! Cook your own food and do your own laundry! If you won’t do it, get out!”
He’d even scolded Rin as “manfully” (?) as he could.
Rin probably didn’t want to get kicked out. With an irritated click of his tongue, he reluctantly started cooking for both of them.
The annoying part was that this freeloading bastard was ridiculously high-spec. If he actually bothered to try, he could do just about anything. Before long, he’d started handling the laundry and cleaning as well.
That said, every single time he showed up, he’d start by demanding the same three things.
“Bath.”
“Food.”
“Laundry.”
And he wouldn’t lift a finger until Isagi snapped at him to do it himself.
Lately, Isagi had started to wonder if the guy had some seriously messed-up kink for being yelled at. The thought honestly made him nervous. What if it escalated?
Even though it took more than two hours by plane to get from Rin’s base in France to Munich, he still managed to squeeze in visits to Isagi’s apartment whenever he found a gap in his busy schedule—even during the season.
He’d show up, stay one or two nights, and then head back like nothing had happened.
What did he actually do during those visits? Basically nothing.
He’d simply settle down right next to Isagi and spend the time watching TV, reading, or lazing around.
If Isagi said, “I’m just heading to the market for groceries,” Rin would follow him without a word, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
At that point, he was less a guest and more like a ghost haunting Isagi—or maybe a stalker. But Isagi had long since grown too tired to keep pointing it out, and eventually he just… accepted it.
And before he knew it, the small sofa Isagi had impulsively bought the day he moved into his Munich apartment had vanished. In its place sat a large, elegant turquoise-blue sofa.
Even the cheap single-person closet and cabinet he’d picked up at a recycle shop had been replaced with large, high-end versions.
Isagi had never been particularly attached to his furniture in the first place.
Still… this made absolutely no sense.
Thinking there must have been some kind of mistake, Isagi called the furniture company using the delivery slip the movers had left behind.
They answered matter-of-factly.
“The payment was made under the name Rin Itoshi. We were instructed to deliver and install everything in that room, and all transportation and installation fees have already been paid.”
A dull headache began to pound behind Isagi’s eyes.
At the time, both Rin and Isagi were in the middle of the season, busier than ever. Training at their respective clubs was brutal, and the tight match schedule steadily ground their stamina down. Most days, by the time Isagi got home, he was so exhausted that all he could think about was collapsing into bed.
In the middle of that kind of schedule, what on earth had Rin been thinking? Why would he go through the trouble of picking out furniture to his own taste and having it delivered to Isagi’s apartment instead of his own?
The questions just kept piling up. Even Isagi had to admit to himself that something about this was seriously strange.
So Isagi tried calling him.
Rin immediately picked a fight.
“The furniture in your place is too small and ugly as hell,” Rin shot back.
“What did you say?!”
Isagi snapped.
But while Isagi was busy getting offended, Rin neatly dodged the real question.
Finally, with a dismissive snort, he said,
“I already had the junk thrown out. Just deal with what’s there.”
—and hung up.
What the hell was wrong with that guy?!
Isagi fumed inwardly, but when he looked closer, he couldn’t ignore the quality. The furniture Rin had so brazenly brought in was upholstered in high-end jacquard fabric and made of solid mahogany, accented with matte antique-gold hardware. Even with his stubbornly middle-class sensibilities, Isagi could tell they were expensive.
After agonizing over it for a while, exhaustion eventually won out.
“Fine, whatever. It’s not like the furniture did anything wrong,” Isagi muttered to himself, ultimately deciding to let it go.
Of course, by giving in so easily and allowing him to bring in whatever he liked, Isagi had—unsurprisingly—only encouraged Rin’s bizarre behavior.
Rin began altering Isagi’s living space one thing after another, acting as if he owned the place. Apparently, Rin had plenty of complaints about Isagi’s dirt-cheap apartment—a place he had chosen for one simple reason: it was close to the Bastard München club facilities and easy to commute from.
Taking advantage of the times Isagi was away, Rin had apparently marched in, thrown money at the landlord, and taken matters into his own hands. He hired contractors to replace the drafty window frames, rip out the yellowed wallpaper the previous tenant had left behind, put up new high-end wallpaper, and eventually even install the latest underfloor heating system.
Every time Isagi returned from an away match, something in his apartment had been upgraded. Even Isagi couldn’t fail to notice.
But when he called Rin, Rin’s answers made it extremely difficult to feel grateful.
“The wallpaper? What, you liked that nicotine-stained trash better? What kind of freak are you?” Rin sneered.
Or: “Window repairs? That’s the landlord’s job. Not my problem.”
—a blatant lie.
(Isagi would later learn that Rin had practically slapped the landlord in the face with a stack of cash to force the rush job through.)
In the end, Isagi completely lost the chance to press him for the truth.
And so, easily swayed and painfully easy to handle, Isagi found himself gradually tamed to suit Rin’s convenience.
Before he knew it, he had become someone who accepted all of Rin’s eccentricities: the unannounced drop-ins, the indefinite stays during the off-season, and the way Rin tagged along wherever Isagi went.
And just like that, the days slipped by.
Three years.
Three whole years.
“Hey. What are you so irritated about?”
As if being ridiculously handsome wasn’t bad enough, even his voice carried an infuriating kind of sex appeal. Rin had his chin resting on top of Isagi’s head, his arms wrapped around him from behind as if Isagi were some oversized stuffed animal.
This kind of lovey-dovey posture—the sort normally reserved for actual couples—had not loosened for quite some time.
Isagi was finally starting to lose his mind.
No, no, no. Something about this was completely wrong.
What was with this lack of personal space?
Didn’t he hate Isagi?
He used to say he’d kill him.
Actually, he still said it practically every day.
And yet—what was with this clinginess?
No matter how many times Isagi scolded him, reprimanded him, or smacked his arms, Rin refused to move. Isagi briefly considered calling him a creep or a pervert, but if Rin actually enjoyed being insulted, that would be terrifying in a completely different way.
Not long ago, Isagi had thought of him as nothing more than some strange, rare creature he had struggled so much to tame. What on earth had happened to him?
At first, Isagi tried to be understanding. He figured Rin’s prickly, stubborn personality had probably backfired, leaving him isolated even in his new team. Maybe he had simply become dependent on Isagi—his only “friend,” apparently.
That assumption, however, had been far too optimistic.
Because Isagi never firmly refused Rin’s visits, in Rin’s mind “Isagi tolerates me” somehow became “Isagi gladly welcomes me.”
And so Rin’s bizarre behavior only continued to evolve.
First, the physical contact increased.
Whenever they passed each other in the cramped kitchen, Rin would always smoothly brush a hand across Isagi’s waist. The motion was so natural it almost looked accidental.
If Isagi tried to call him out—“That’s sexual harassment!”—Rin would just tilt his head and play dumb.
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
If Isagi pushed the issue any further, he already knew what Rin would say.
“Me? With you? Why?”
The implication was obvious: Why would a handsome, popular guy like me want someone like you?
Rather than take that hit to his pride, Isagi chose to pretend he hadn’t noticed.
When they ate across from each other, Rin would suddenly wipe the corner of Isagi’s mouth with a napkin, then casually brush his thumb along Isagi’s chin as if it were nothing.
And after a bath, the moment Isagi took out the hairdryer, Rin would appear as if on cue.
“You’re terrible at this. I’ll do it.”
He would snatch the dryer straight out of Isagi’s hand without room for argument. One arm would wrap around Isagi’s waist to hold him still while he dried his hair.
“Don’t move.”
Somehow, that whole sequence had become part of the routine.
On top of that, Rin had started digging through Isagi’s dresser for expensive-looking designer clothes—usually the things Michael Kaiser tossed Isagi’s way with a sneering remark:
“I’m just taking pity on you, Yoichi. You clearly can’t buy anything but tacky trash.”
And then Rin would attempt to cut them to pieces with a pair of scissors.
Being painfully frugal by nature, Isagi couldn’t possibly stand by and watch perfectly good clothes get destroyed, so he tried his best to hide them. Somehow, though, Rin found them every single time.
To make matters worse, every time Isagi tried to leave without him or go out with teammates or friends, Rin would immediately get upset.
”You’re really going to leave your guest behind?” he would complain.
And then came the increasingly bizarre demands.
“Call me every thirty minutes.”
“Don’t you dare be alone with another guy.”
At that point, Isagi was starting to get a serious headache.
Seriously—was this how someone treated a person they supposedly hated with a passion?
What the hell was going on?
Isagi wanted to scream. He wanted answers. He wanted someone—anyone—to explain what was happening.
At this point, he almost felt like hunting down Rin’s older brother—the very man Rin despised—and bombarding him with calls until he picked up just so Isagi could demand:
“Hey, what the hell is wrong with your little brother?!”
And to make matters worse, the magazine spread Isagi had just crumpled in his hand carried a massive headline:
“Popular Actress Seen Entering Hotel in Broad Daylight with Japan’s Rising Heroic Striker, Itoshi Rin!”
The photo had clearly been taken from far away, so the faces weren’t very clear. But that tall, perfectly proportioned frame—and the familiar silhouette of the sports bag Rin always carried—were unmistakable.
It didn’t look like a random lookalike.
Standing arm-in-arm with the actress, the two of them looked perfectly natural together.
And for some reason, looking at it made something unpleasant churn in Isagi’s stomach.
Damn it—why did even his back look like something out of a magazine spread?
Why the hell was Rin always the popular one?!
While Isagi was the one who always ended up getting rumored about with other guys!
The infuriating smirk of that certain glittering “Blue Rose Prince” from his team instantly came to mind.
Just about a week ago, the man had cornered him with a laugh.
“Yoichi, what’s with that hideous hoodie? I thought you were some kind of caterpillar. Here, I’m confiscating it♡”
And then he’d started trying to strip it right off him.
Isagi had been struggling and shouting “Stop it!” when—of course—some paparazzi snapped a photo at the exact moment they were grappling.
To make matters worse, the article had even given it a disgraceful headline:
“BM’s Star Striker Duo Seen Getting Flirty Again!”
Just remembering it made Isagi grind his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache.
Rin, who had been watching TV until then, suddenly went still.
His shoulders gave a small twitch as he lifted his chin from the top of Isagi’s head.
“—Rumored with other guys?”
His voice was low.
“What are you talking about? Explain.”
Grabbing the back of Isagi’s head, he forced their eyes to meet, the look in his eyes leaving no room for refusal.
Isagi couldn’t help but flinch, a small, pathetic “Eep!” escaping him as those eyes—a strange shade somewhere between blue and green—peered down at him from dangerously close range, clearly simmering with anger.
He tried desperately to figure out how to explain those embarrassing rumors, wondering where he should even begin.
But Rin clearly had no patience for his hesitation.
“Hurry up and say it.”
The well-shaped lips that spoke were only a few centimeters from Isagi’s nose, and the breath escaping them carried the faint scent of the mint toothpaste Isagi himself used.
For some reason, that small detail made his heart skip a beat.
Wait—how was he supposed to explain this?
Apparently, Rin had no idea that thanks to Kaiser—that walking harassment machine who never respected personal space—Isagi kept ending up in tabloid articles for questionable “scandals” several times a month.
“I-It’s really nothing! My teammates were just messing around, and someone turned it into a stupid rumor! They were making fun of the hoodie I brought from Japan, saying the color was tacky and trying to force me to take it off—and that’s when someone took the picture!”
”—I see.”
The cold tone made it feel like the temperature in the room dropped instantly.
Rin suddenly grabbed the wrist Isagi had raised to wipe his mouth.
realized his mistake immediately—but it was already too late.
Between the excessive physical contact and the strange possessiveness he’d started showing lately, this man—Rin Itoshi, a man blessed with good looks and ridiculous soccer talent—was dangerous.
As Rin’s lips slowly curved into a dangerous smile, Isagi instinctively twisted his body, trying to escape from the position he’d been pulled into.
Rin held him in place without effort.
With one hand gripping the back of his head and the other holding his waist, the already small distance between them shrank even further—
until their noses finally touched.
His straight, elegant nose and those beautiful teal-green eyes peering out from beneath his bangs were fixed solely on Isagi.
They were so close their breaths mingled, and a faint, spicy citrus scent brushed against Isagi’s nose.
The realization that even Rin used cologne made Isagi’s heart pound for some reason.
No, no, no—why was he getting nervous?
Just because Rin had that ridiculously high-definition face…
He was still Itoshi Rin. A guy!
“You seriously think that was just ‘teasing’? Are you an idiot?”
“Huh?”
“Do you honestly believe that damn Blue Rose bastard is just messing with you because you’re fun to pick on? Following you around, stripping your jacket off, casually handing you an eighteen-hundred-euro silk shirt—do you think he does that for no reason?”
Rin’s eyes narrowed.
“If you really believe that, then you’re a completely hopeless idiot.”
“Huh…?”
For a brief moment, Rin clenched his jaw, his molars grinding as if he were thinking of someone who wasn’t there.
Then he suddenly lifted his head and looked straight at Isagi.
His vivid peacock-green eyes, simmering with restless frustration, reflected Isagi’s dumbfounded expression.
Ever since their days in Blue Lock, Isagi had been on the receiving end of advances from countless men. Yet his almost legendary obliviousness meant he had never once interpreted any of it as anything more than “overly enthusiastic friendship.”
That trait had always been both his salvation—and his curse.
Even now, at twenty, after moving to Germany, Isagi’s expression hadn’t changed at all.
Pure and guileless as ever, he looked back at Rin in confusion, those deep blue eyes still painfully straightforward.
Three years had passed.
For Rin, the days when simply being beside him had been enough to bring him peace…
Those days were long gone.
“I don’t like that.”
Rin was always short on words.
It often felt like he only voiced a tiny fraction of what he was actually thinking. He would start to say something, let a few words slip out, then press his lips into a thin line and furrow his brow.
You should already know. Figure it out.
That silent demand was something Isagi had reluctantly gotten used to over the past three years.
Every time Rin did something strange and incomprehensible, Isagi would try to question him about it—but Rin always responded the same way, brushing him off with some dismissive remark, as if to say “You still don’t get it?” or “You don’t need to know.”
This time would probably be the same. What exactly did he mean by saying he hated it? Most likely he’d just leave another vague hint and refuse to explain anything—just like always.
That was the conclusion Isagi came to. He let out a quiet sigh and pressed a hand against Rin’s chest, trying to slip out of his arms. But just as Isagi turned his gaze away, Rin’s hand suddenly caught his cheek.
Had he put cologne on his wrists? With just that small movement, a faint citrus-musk scent brushed against Isagi’s nose, and in that startled moment, he missed his chance to pull away.
Rin’s hand touched Isagi’s cheek as if to cradle it, sliding gently along the soft line of his still-youthful face before his long fingers came to rest beneath his chin.
From beneath the shadow of his long, heavy bangs, those beautiful patina-green eyes caught the sunlight filtering through the window and shimmered faintly. His perfectly shaped lips tightened slightly, carrying the faintest hint of something almost sensual.
“Isagi.”
The way he said it made it sound as though his entire soul had been poured into that single word. It was only a name—yet the sound of it was thick with a maddening, desperate affection.
As if spellbound, Isagi froze in place and couldn’t stop Rin as he leaned closer. The next moment, their lips met.
Isagi had spent his life single-mindedly chasing the dream of becoming the world’s greatest striker, never once paying attention to the bittersweet distractions of romance. Innocent as he was when it came to things like that, he realized something in that instant:
The quiet days he had known until now were over. They would never return.
The moment those soft, warm lips touched his, he instinctively twisted, trying to pull away. But Rin’s arms—far stronger than his—held him fast. Overwhelmed by the sudden flood of Rin’s emotions, Isagi could do nothing. All he could do was freeze in his arms.
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[Synopsis: At the Crossroads of Obsession]
Yoichi Isagi, a dreamer striving to become the world’s greatest striker, has reached a point of no return.
For three years, his life, his dreams—perhaps even his heart—have been slowly entangled with Rin Itoshi.
The cage of love woven between them is as suffocating as it is sweet.
Now, standing at the edge with nowhere left to run…
Into whose arms will Yoichi Isagi fall?
—From this moment on, the story splits into four different paths. Each route leads to a different future.
- Nagi Seishiro:
A trap of escapism set by a genius in England. - Itoshi Sae:
When Rin slips from his grasp, an ironic yet inevitable fate awaits. - Itoshi Rin:
A journey back three years to uncover the truth. - Michael Kaiser:
A Cinderella story of revenge.
Who will love him the deepest?
And who might drive him to the edge of madness?
The future of Yoichi Isagi…
is yours to decide.
For those who are worried—yes, the entire plot is already planned, and a complete ending for each character is guaranteed. See you in the next chapter!
[Choose your path]