Chapter Text
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The Blue Lock facility was never quiet.
Even before sunrise, the halls echoed with the sound of footballs striking walls, arguments over rankings, and players racing each other to the training grounds. Everyone fought for the same dream, and nobody wanted to be the weakest link.
Least of all Itoshi Rin.
To everyone around him, Rin looked the same as always. He trained harder than anyone, rarely smiled, barely spoke, and wore the same expressionless face that had earned him the reputation of being impossible to approach.
He was number one after all.
No one noticed that every morning he skipped breakfast.
No one noticed that lunch trays were left untouched.
Dinner was easier to avoid. He would simply tell everyone he wasn't hungry or that he'd eaten after practice.
At first, the excuses were believable.
After all, athletes had strange routines.
Sometimes they ate early.
Sometimes they forgot.
Sometimes they were simply too exhausted.
Rin counted on that.
Every ignored meal made him feel as though he had more control over himself, even if that control came at the cost of exhaustion, dizziness, and sleepless nights.
The mirror was never kind to him.
No matter how much weight he lost, it wasn't enough. Yet if he touched a single plate of food he'd excessively work out to lose what he had just ate. He didn’t want to be fat.
Yet no matter how well he played or how little he ate, he wasn't enough.
Every mistake on the field echoed in his head long after practice ended, growing louder every day until his own thoughts became impossible to escape.
He stopped looking people in the eyes.
He stopped laughing altogether.
He convinced himself nobody would care if he disappeared into the background.
The only person whose opinion had ever truly mattered was his older brother.
Sae.
But Sae barely looked at him anymore.
Whenever Rin looked tired, Sae assumed he was staying up too late.
Whenever Rin snapped at someone, Sae rolled his eyes and muttered that he was going through another phase.
Whenever Rin isolated himself, Sae simply walked away.
"You'll grow out of it," he said once without looking up from his phone.
"Stop acting like a child."
Those words replayed in Rin's mind far more often than Sae could ever imagine.
Maybe he was just being dramatic.
Maybe everyone else was right.
Maybe he deserved to deal with everything alone.
Weeks passed.
The bags beneath Rin's eyes darkened.
His uniform hung more loosely around his shoulders but not enough for it to be noticed by others.
During training matches, Isagi noticed Rin seemed slower recovering between drills.
"You okay?" he asked one afternoon while grabbing water.
"I'm fine."
"You've barely eaten today."
"I ate earlier."
The answer came so quickly that Isagi accepted it without another thought.
"Alright."
Bachira overheard the conversation and shrugged.
"He's weird like that," he laughed. "Probably inhaled something before we got here."
Rin simply walked away.
Neither of them realized it was another lie.
They weren't bad friends.
They just didn't know what they were looking for.
That night, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, Rin sat alone in the darkness of his room.
The silence felt heavier than usual.
His thoughts spiraled into the same relentless cycle of self-criticism, hopelessness, and exhaustion that had followed him for months. He wondered whether anyone would notice how much he was struggling if he ever admitted it—or whether they would simply dismiss it as another 'phase.'
He never spoke those thoughts aloud.
Instead, he buried them even deeper.
When Blue Lock announced a short vacation before the next stage of training, excitement spread through the facility.
Everyone began making plans.
Some wanted to visit family.
Others wanted to rest.
Bachira tried convincing everyone to hang out together.
Isagi suggested grabbing food before leaving.
Rin declined every invitation.
He told them he wanted to be alone.
No one questioned it.
It was exactly what Rin always said.
As everyone packed their bags, Isagi paused outside Rin's room.
Something felt wrong.
He couldn't explain why.
Maybe it was how tired Rin looked.
Maybe it was how empty his eyes had become.
Or maybe it was because he suddenly realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually seen Rin finish a meal.
For the first time, Isagi wasn't willing to accept another excuse.
"Bachira," he said quietly.
"...Do you think Rin's actually okay?"
Bachira's smile slowly faded.
"I... don't know."
Neither of them had the answer.
.
.
When Rin was behind closed doors in his unwelcoming home, he stared at the sleeves that covered his wrists for a long time. Eventually he tugged them up and grabbed his hidden razor. After all, it was just a few more cuts to his collection.
But when he was finally done, all he cared about was finally being able to die soon, he craved the peacefulness from death.
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(more coming soon🥹, next chapter involves more suicidal stuff etc)