Chapter Text
The signal about the beginning of the second half of the match was given.
25 minutes into the first half the score was made even by team Z, but later in the first half the score didn't change. Both teams were against a draw, so everyone tried to make the score be in their favor, but every time one of the two teams got the ball, they quickly lost it due to the other team and this state of getting and losing the ball continued for the rest of the first half.
During the break in team Z’s locker room a small fight broke out. Some players were thinking of abandoning their previously planned tactic and playing different as the plan seems to not work well, but in the end it was shut down by Kuon who tried to convince the others to believe in their plan and let the left ones players try out their weapons.
Of course before it was resolved a lot of yelling and complaints were heard thrown around the room.
“We should raise our chances of winning” Chigiri started after being so quiet. “Instead of wasting time on some useless weapons which might not work at all, we should better focus on the ones that actually showed good results. If we actually want to win then we should let Isagi, Bachira and Kunigami play full time” the redhead concluded. Before, he rarely talked and shared his opinions, he seemed so distant with his teammate and the most recent sight of it was when he refused to share what his weapon is. But he also asked to stay in defense all time which made others think that Chigiri was completely not interested in either winning or losing so him showing signs of actually caring threw some of them off guard. There were also some who didn't care about it.
“WHOSE WEAPON YOU CALLED USELESS?!?!” Raichi angrily shouted. He was already pissed by the fact that all his turn he wasn't able to hold the ball for too long and didn't even get near the penalty area.
“Hey! My turn still hasn't gone up!! It's unfair to change tactics mid game!!!” Igarashi joined Raichi in not agreeing with Chigiri’s idea. Later Kuon calmed everyone down by saying that they won't change anything and will continue to play how they expected in the beginning.
“Let “Operation: Me next 9” proceed as planned! This is our only best chance to win!”
‘No, it's not…’
Everyone quieted down and a lot more thoughts were left unsaid as they all got up and headed to continue the game.
Imamura's turn proceeded and since their team had the ball at the beginning of the second half, after receiving a quick pass from Isagi, who seemed to look displeased in doing it, but Imamura might have been seeing things since in a second Isagi looked as he usually looks, a blank face.
With the ball under his feet he immediately headed to the other side of the field. He ran as fast as he could while his thoughts were filled with delusional thoughts of team Y being a girl who he needs to seduce to win her heart and that's exactly the reason why he didn't notice a player coming from his back and stealing the ball.
"What?!" a player from Team Y made a tackle and successfully knocked the ball out from under Imamura's feet. Soon the ball was picked up by his teammate and he also began a chain of passes.
Luckily or unfortunately, the brunette's turn ended and while he was kneeling and watching the opposing team get the ball to their half, Gagamaru's ten minutes began.
Niko was at the same time watching from the sidelines and planning on what to do next. Team Y wouldn't be satisfied with a draw, so they needed to find a moment when they could use Okawa again and change the score. It would have been ten times easier if team Z didn't have Isagi. The other teen totally reads through Niko’s plan and seems to be able to catch up with everything that happens on the field at the same speed as Niko. ‘Maybe he’s even faster…’
While Niko was looking around the field, he suddenly felt something next to him. Sharply jerking his head in that direction, turquoise eyes met ocean blue ones.
Niko let out a quiet curse under his breath because of the scare he felt. ‘How did he get here without me noticing?’
Niko moved his head back to the field and didn't spare another glance at a newcomer. The teen honestly expected for number 11 to start once again talking like he did all the time throughout the game, but surprisingly the other kept quiet.
It's at that moment when he decided to take a look at the person next to him, someone from team Z was able to get the ball back and were going in counter attack.
In a moment as Niko was thinking of where to run to stop them he noticed a blur in the corner of his eye. Isagi moved.
Raven without thinking started to run after him. It seemed like Isagi's teammate noticed him and believed in his ability to get the ball to Gagamaru safely even with someone on his tail so they gave a long pass without a spin to land it right in front of him.
It should have ended with Isagi running down the field a little more and then giving the ball in a perfect pass to Gagamaru which had a big chance to lead to the goal and finally making team Z in a lead.
Isagi’s breath came in steady, controlled breaths as he sprinted down the field. He received the ball even if the pass itself was ‘shitty’, as Isagi would call it and now the ball was his, cradled in the curve of his foot. He didn't need a second checking to know when he should give a pass to awaiting Gagamaru. So instead he filled his mind with something else.
But in a moment, something like a shadow crept into the edges of his vision, the previous presence, which followed him from the start of his run, behind him seemed to grow bigger and change in the intent it was having. Isagi didn't need to see the other face to understand what they were planning.
As if in slow motion Isagi didn't spare a glance to see who it was, he already knew who it was, who it can only be, and would say that it was kinda within his expectations. People corned and manipulated by fear tend to make desperate decisions and not care about the consequences.
Raven could sidestep, abruptly stop and then with his speed run around and just dodge the incoming assault which will keep the play going. That's what Isagi would have done. If the assaulter wasn't Niko.
“You have the same vision as me…” Isagi remembered his words and woah, now he has something to laugh at in his free time. How could he assume that they share the same vision? Isagi's is a lot superior to his and between the two he’s the one who can actually use it as a striker and Isagi played as midfielder before! So it's actually hilarious to see Niko with the way he plays, his skills and with what plan his mind came up with in Blue Lock, a project to create the best striker.
Seeing this brat sacrificing himself just so his team could win through Okawa’s goals made Isagi feel disappointment, but he still was thinking of carrying on with his idea now that the chances of success actually seemed to get bigger.
‘If you want it so much then get your yellow card’ Isagi thought as he didn't do anything to stop Niko and instead prepared and positioned his body to lessen the impact from the fall.
Just as it was obvious for the two of them what would happen next, Niko latched onto Isagi's shoulder and threw his leg before the other’s. But what he didn't count in his rash plan was that because of his under average physic he might lose the balance.
Isagi at the last moment noticed it and threw his hand over Niko’s chest to lessen the impact and just like that the two fell to the grass.
As it was almost predetermined the whistle sounded across the pitch making the play stop.
Niko got up on his hands and sat down. He was ready to hear his name being spoken through a loudspeaker and was actually trying to come up with words to say to the person next to him, to explain why he did that.
He might have been desperate, maybe even too desperate to his own liking, but he can't let Isagi get the ball. Whenever bluenette gets it, it always leads to a scored goal and right now team Y doesn't need for the score gap between their teams to grow bigger. They need, no, must win this game.
‘We still have 20 minutes left… We should give it our all in these last minutes and score one goal and end up as winners. Maybe a few more minutes we’ll spend trying to play like normal, but near the end after I signal we’ll proceed with our second part of the plan’ Niko thought as he was slowly standing up and cleaning his palms from fake grass.
“Isagi Yuichiro yellow card” The loudspeaker said instead.
And in that moment Niko’s hidden under black bangs eyes widened. He sharply turned to look at the still siting player as if hoping to see through him and understand what was happening. But he saw the same shock and confusion on number 11’s face.
Isagi's face quickly morphed into one of the composed ones which now after seeing his previous shock looked fake. Bluenette turned his head to the one of the cameras which VAR uses to watch over the game. He had a very complicated expression and Niko thought about how thousands of thoughts passed through the other's mind.
“Did you get on Ego’s bad side?” Decided to ask Niko after quietly observing the other from the side. At first after he just fell he was thinking of thanking Isagi for lessening his fall, but now the situation took a different turn so the boy thinks that thanks will not be appreciated by the other.
To his surprise he got the answer to his question rather very quickly, with how deep in the thoughts number 11 looked and adding to this what Niko did he assumed that from this moment he will be ignored or even yelled at.
“How can I know?” His tone was even as if he was not just now wrongly judged.
After a few more seconds of holding eye contact with the camera, number 11 got up and patted his legs as if removing the nonexistent dust.
Eyes under the bangs saw how Isagi looked to the side and raised his hand. Niko turned his head in the same direction and noticed number 8 of team Z who looked as if he was heading to them but was stopped by the raven's gesture.
Isagi threw a glance in Niko’s direction and seemed to think about something, but when Niko was about to question it the other teen turned around and went to his side of the field.
Niko stood near the center of the field, his sharp eyes scanning the chaotic movements of his team. The ball had once again fallen into the hands of Team Z, their aggression spiking as if fueled by the yellow card earlier issued to one of their players. The pressure from their relentless attacks bore down on Team Y like an approaching storm.
Deep down, the heart of Team Y knew who was behind it all. Isagi Yoichi. It had to be him. Niko had noticed the subtle gestures, the meaningful glances Isagi had exchanged with his teammates just before the restart. A predator laying his trap.
The air around Niko felt thick with tension, almost suffocating. His carefully constructed strategy of short passes and leveraging Okawa as the centerpiece now seemed a feeble, almost naive way to win over a genius. Every time they tried to push forward, Isagi would strike like a hawk, dismantling their play with a precision that left no room for error.
This was Isagi’s doing. Number 11. Without him, Team Z wouldn’t have equalized, and by Niko’s calculations, they would have already crumbled under the weight of Team Y’s relentless passing game.
“Do you understand why you can’t win, Niko?” a voice suddenly cut through the noise, calm yet piercing.
Niko flinched, whipping his head around. Isagi stood a mere few meters away, his gaze steady, his presence overwhelming. Those deep blue eyes, both calm and intense, seemed to pierce straight into Niko’s psyche, unraveling him from within.
“You keep leaning on Okawa, don’t you? Trying to use him as your crutch. But that won’t work. If you want to win—truly win—you’ll have to do it yourself.”
Isagi’s words carried a sharpness that made Niko instinctively take a step back.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Niko shot back, though his voice faltered. “You don’t understand me. You’re a genius, someone who can dismantle our defense and score goals at will. But people like me... we have to sacrifice or have to find another purpose just to survive in this world ruled by extraordinary people.”
Under his bangs, Niko caught the flicker of emotion crossing Isagi’s face. At first, it was confusion, or perhaps disdain. Then, almost too quietly to hear, Isagi murmured to himself, “Genius…?”
But in an instant, his expression shifted back to its cold, unrelenting focus.
“The only thing you need to sacrifice, Niko, is your pride, your anger, and those useless emotions holding you back,” Isagi declared, his voice rising. “Play for what you want. For what your ego demands. But tell me this: are you ready to make that sacrifice for victory? Or are you too afraid to be a striker? You came to this insane project for that very reason, didn’t you? And yet, you gave up so quickly.”
The words hit Niko like a punch to the gut, reverberating in his mind as the match continued. Every pass, every attack from Team Z showcased their growing dominance. Isagi wasn’t just playing soccer, he was orchestrating a symphony of destruction, moving across the field like a grandmaster controlling the board. He was everywhere, and yet somehow, he never forgot his promise to Niko. Not a promise, but more like a deal he made after their little talk.
The same deal echoed in his head.
“If you truly want to win, let’s make a deal. You know as well as I do that I’m carrying this team on my back. If you step up—if you abandon your plan and decide to score the goal yourself—I won’t stop you. But if you keep hiding behind Okawa… I’ll personally destroy your entire team.” In the last words Isagi’s face slightly shifted, but Niko was able to see his expression and it made shivers run down his whole body.
The weight of those words bore down on Niko’s shoulders. For the first time, doubt crept into his mind. Until now, everything had made sense—create a plan, use Okawa as the spearhead. But now…
Something had changed. The tide of the game had turned. Team Z was pressing harder, faster, as if they could taste victory. The players of Team Y were faltering, their movements growing sluggish. And Isagi? He was like a shadow, always lurking, always a step ahead. Time was running out.
Then, it happened.
A pass came to Niko, almost reflexively, and before he realized it, the ball was at his feet. For a split second, he froze. His eyes darted across the field. Okawa was sprinting toward the goal, unmarked and ready. The plan was obvious: pass to Okawa, let him finish it. It was the safe choice.
But something inside Niko rebelled.
Because only he could see it—the blue jersey with the number 11 closing in on Okawa, unnoticed by everyone else. He locked eyes with Isagi, and in that moment, something clicked.
Without thinking, Niko turned away and sprinted forward, the ball glued to his feet. His chest burned as he pushed himself harder, faster. Team Z scrambled to stop him, but his teammates threw themselves in their way, giving him precious seconds. Niko dodged past a defender, then another, his movements sharp and precise.
The penalty box loomed ahead. The goalkeeper tensed, readying himself, but clearly more expecting a pass from him to their number 9. Niko’s heart pounded in his ears as he took one final breath. He raised his leg, focused every ounce of his being on the ball, and struck.
The ball soared past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper, slamming into the back of the net with a resounding force. For a moment, the world went silent. Then, the final whistle blew.
Team Y - Team Z
2 - 1
Niko collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as his teammates erupted into cheers. But his gaze wasn’t on them. His mind raced as he searched the field for the one person who had set all of this in motion. And when he found him, all he could do was watch as Isagi Yuichiroi walked off the field, disappearing into the locker room without waiting for his team.
Niko wanted to call out to him, to say so much, to thank him. But deep down, he knew words weren’t enough.
Instead, he made a silent promise.
He would show Isagi his gratitude another way. By proving himself. By the end of the 1st selection he will show how he changed and that he was no coward anymore.
That evening team Z was silent with almost every player tonning a grave expression on their faces.
They lost.
In the second half they could almost feel the victory, but somehow in the end when number 7 got the ball it seemed as if team Z was stopped and could no longer keep up with their opponents. Everyone was confused how they were able to play so well in one moment, but later…
Because of the loss and the fear of what they should do now all of them decided to go to bed and only in the next moment, after they’ll come down, discuss what they should do now.
But before the lights out one of the team Z, Kuon was asking about Isagi’s whereabouts.
“Did anyone see where Isagi went after the match?” The teen asked all people present in the room, which made them turn their attention to him and later look all over the room.
“He’s still not here? I only remember seeing him leaving the field right after the final whistle sounded and later I didn’t see him anywhere.” Someone in the room said.
Before anyone could start dwelling in this strange situation more Kuon stopped it in the root.
“It's okay, I just wanted to ask him something, but it can wait for tomorrow.” But internally the brunette was not happy with the outcome of his asking. Contemplating, the teen in the end chose to leave the idea and also go to sleep.
After this everyone settled in their futons except Bachira who whined about waiting for Yuichiro to come back.
“Nooo. I’ll wait for Yuichiro!! I can't sleep without Yuichiro by my side!~” Bachira's cries reverted in the room which made it impossible for anyone to fall asleep.
“YOU LIVED ALL THESE YEARS WITHOUT HIM, SO YOU DEFINITELY STILL CAN!!” Raichi yelled at the sitting teen and only refrained from throwing his pillow at the pest because it’ll make him get up from his place and go get it back.
But it seemed some people focused on Bachira's other words.
“Since when you’ve been calling Isagi by his name?” Chigiri asked with a strange expression on his face, but it seemed that the question was to Bachira's liking, maybe because it was about Isagi, as he stopped his whining and turned around to face Chigiri.
“Since I became his partner of course.”
After a lot of persuading and still no Yuichiro in sight, team Z was able to lull the sad bee to sleep and as soon as they heard a soft snores all of them fell from exhaustion and almost immediately fell asleep themselves.
The air was thick with the tang of salt, and a gentle sea breeze danced playfully with the fine grains of sand scattered along the shore. Those same grains became the foundation of castles and other ephemeral creations molded by the hands of children.
The waves rolled lazily onto the beach, leaving behind intricate patterns of foam, strands of seaweed from the ocean’s depths, or delicate shells that begged to be collected and treasured as souvenirs.
It was a perfect summer day, one of those golden moments when everything seemed a little brighter, a little more alive.
Yoichi and his younger twin brother, Yuichiro, had begged their parents to spend the day at the beach. Their request, luckly, required little to no persuasion. Their parents were all too eager to oblige and spend the day by the sea.
At first, the brothers played in the sand, digging trenches and chasing waves, or skittering after the tiny crabs darting along the shore. That was until Yuichiro’s gaze caught on something in the distance.
“Oh!” Yuichiro exclaimed, his voice breaking the rhythm of their game. He lifted his head abruptly, abandoning the little crab they’d been observing. Yoichi turned, curious, his expression silently questioning.
Yuichiro, sensing his brother’s attention on him, met his gaze with an infectious sparkle in his eyes. “Yo-chan! Look, Yo-chan!” His small hand shot up, finger pointing eagerly toward something further down the beach.
Following the direction of his brother’s outstretched finger, Yoichi’s ocean-blue eyes landed on a row of canoes neatly lined up near a small shack. A man sat beside them, likely the owner, leaning lazily against the shade of an umbrella.
Before long, the two boys were standing before the man, their excitement barely contained. After a brief exchange, during which the man asked if their parents had allowed it, he rented them a small canoe.
The boat was modest yet sturdy, painted in a bright azure that matched the vastness of the sky above. It was just the right size for two ten-year-old boys, and the light paddles, though slightly awkward in their slender hands, made the two small boys even more excited about their little adventure.
Soon, the canoe glided over the pristine waters, cutting through the gentle waves. They had ventured far from the shore—far enough that the noise of other beachgoers faded into the background. To the boys, it felt like freedom. No parents in sight and their constant worries about them.
The further they paddled, the stronger the waves became, rising to meet them as if to block them from continuing. Eventually, the boys decided to stop, the rhythmic rocking of the canoe urging them to rest.
Setting the paddles aside, both leaned over the edge of the small boat, their eager gazes scanning the water’s crystalline depths. They searched intently for something magical—a flash of silver from a fish, a hidden treasure, or perhaps a smooth, glistening stone to take home as a prize.
The man’s father had been a devoted collector of boats, pouring nearly all his savings into growing his cherished collection. For him, nothing else mattered—not a comfortable home, not a secure future. Even as he lay on what would soon become his deathbed, he sold the family house, using the proceeds to acquire yet another boat from some distant seller.
And so, when the old man passed, he left his son what he considered a treasure trove: a fleet of boats. No money, no home, no guidance on what to do with those pieces of wood.
Faced with this peculiar inheritance, the son was forced to improvise. Selling the boats proved to be a nearly impossible task. He lacked the silver tongue needed to convince someone to part with their money for what, in his eyes, were little more than lifeless hunks of wood.
And so, he ended up here—on this sun-scorched beach, sitting beneath a makeshift umbrella with a handful of his father’s boats lined up nearby. His only plan was to eke out a meager living renting them to passing tourists, hoping they’d see some charm in the idea of floating on the waves for a few hours.
Of course, he had no license, no official permission to operate. That much was clear. He didn’t even have a single life vest to offer his customers. Money was so tight he could barely keep food on the table, let alone afford proper safety measures.
Every day, he lived with the gnawing anxiety that someone might report him to the authorities. One angry parent or an overly cautious tourist could bring it all crashing down. But desperation left him little to no choice.
Yoichi still couldn’t comprehend how it had happened.
He had been sitting in the small boat, transfixed by the shimmering surface of the water. The sunlight danced on the gentle waves, creating patterns so mesmerizing he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It felt as if time itself had stopped, the moment plucked straight from one of the fairy-tale books their parents bought them every month.
Beside him, his brother’s excited voice rang out. He was practically shouting, claiming he’d seen the flash of shimmering scales beneath the surface. “There’s really fish here!” he exclaimed, over and over with childlike wonder. Yoichi allowed himself a faint smile, retreating further into his thoughts, letting the world blur into the background.
And then, everything changed. In an instant, the tranquil world was upended. Yoichi felt something cold and wet—a force, invisible yet undeniable—yank him from his seat with startling violence. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, his body was airborne, enveloped by a damp, clinging fear.
His brother’s figure was nowhere in sight, swallowed by the chaos. But in its place came a sound—a scream, piercing and raw. It froze the very blood in Yoichi’s veins. It was his brother’s voice, yet it carried a terror so profound that it hardly seemed possible.
Yoichi’s instinct was to reach for him, to close the distance between them, but he couldn’t. Darkness crept in, wrapping around him like a smothering shroud.
And then there was nothing.
Many hands touched his body, but soon they withdrew, leaving him with the first solid sensation beneath him.
Moments later, the hands returned, but this time only one pair—pressing firmly against his chest. For a few agonizing seconds, the world remained dark, his senses adrift. And then, as if a veil had been lifted, something within him stirred. After several more compressions, he erupted into a fit of coughing, water spilling from his mouth in heavy, choking streams.
Blinking, Yoichi instinctively reached a hand to his eyes, hoping to clear his blurred vision. But before he could, he was enveloped in a pair of strong, trembling arms. The embrace was so sudden, so unexpected, that he froze, his small body limp in the stranger’s hold.
Soft sobs filled the air, close to his ear, and Yoichi’s awareness sharpened. Slowly, hesitantly, he tried to make out the figure holding him so tightly.
Struggling faintly, he shifted, his curiosity overpowering his exhaustion. And after a few moments of effort, he finally managed to see her face.
It was his mother.
Many people believe that if you’re twins, you must be inseparable. They assume you always walk side by side, think alike, and act in perfect harmony. Like reflections of each other.
Perhaps he and Yuichiro did seem like reflections—two halves of the same whole. But their eyes told a different story. His were the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean, while Yuichiro’s were its surface—clear, bright, and illuminated by the sun’s rays. And yet, they were united, connected by the same endless waters. That was why being together had always felt natural, effortless.
But now, he was alone. For the first time in as long as he could remember, no one stood beside him. There was no voice to fill the silence, no presence to cast its comforting shadow over his thoughts. The world around him felt as hollow as the emptiness inside him.
His eyes—those same bottomless depths of the ocean, said to be devoid of light or emotion—now stared blankly into nothingness. But the void wasn’t just external. It had sunk deep into his core, consuming him.
The "reflection" was gone. That bright, sunlit half that had always been there, like a warm ray dancing on water, no longer shone back. Without it, the ocean had turned cold and lifeless, its depths endlessly dark.
Those same depths now gazed downward at the sand beneath his feet. He stood alone, wrapped in a towel, abandoned to his thoughts as the adults left to join the search. The beach had grown eerily quiet, the joy of the day evaporating with the tragedy. Those who remained did so only to help.
But Yoichi stayed rooted in place, staring at his toes as they dug into the shifting sand, the waves gently washing over them.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. He had always been the calm one, the rational one—the one who could analyze any situation and find a solution. But now, his mind was blank. He felt paralyzed.
Then, cutting through the silence, he heard a distant cry—a voice calling out a familiar name. His head snapped up, and his gaze locked onto a figure in the distance.
There, in someone’s arms, he saw him. Yuic hiro.
Without thinking, Yoichi ran.
Isagi's eyes snapped open abruptly, his ears instantly picking up the sound of heavy breathing. It took him a few seconds to realize that the sound was coming from himself.
Moving his stiff neck, raven felt drops of sweat trickling down his neck and the back of his head. He grimaced, barely restraining himself from twisting his face in disgust. This discomfort alone prompted him to sit up from his futon.
Glancing around the room, he noticed that everyone else remained peacefully asleep, undisturbed by his sudden awakening.
Quietly rising to his feet, Isagi carefully stepped around the sleeping bodies surrounding him and made his way to the door. First, a shower, and then perhaps the viewing room. It wasn’t the first time he had seen this dream, and he already knew that once it visited him, sleep would no longer come for the rest of the night.