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Summary
¡Isagi’s Lesson: Time for a Soak!.
It started with a slip—a momentary lapse in a body pushed far beyond its breaking point.
Isagi had been training like a man possessed, his ego driving him until his muscles screamed. The "accident" on the pitch left him grimy, coated in a cocktail of sweat and turf beads. He didn't check the clock. He didn't care about the designated schedule. He just ran.
It was an emergency, or at least, his skin felt like it was crawling. If the staff caught him out of bounds? To hell with them. At this hour, the Blue Lock facility should have been echoing with the clatter of chopsticks and the mindless chatter of the cafeteria. Everyone was supposed to be eating. It should have been empty.
But luck is a fickle thing in this building.
Isagi wasn't the only one who felt the need to wash away the day’s filth. Rin had also decided it was the perfect moment to soothe his aching limbs under the spray.
Two egos, one humid room, and a silence that was about to be shattered. Neither of them knew the disaster that was about to unfold. -
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Summary
He would only do this with someone like Isagi, someone he-
Likes. Loathes. Tolerates with great difficulty. Whatever. Like it matters.
Rin is feeling . Has feelings at all. Feelings Isagi knows about. Mortifying. Disgusting. He’s more wound than boy in this way too, how these things burst to the surface and spill over, blood in the cut. Anger and shame and agony and want. It's like getting caught in a lie, except there is no lie, it's just how Rin feels and everyone knows about it. (It's just the two of them but it might as well be everyone.)
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Rin and the mortifying ordeal of having his feelings be requited.