Archive of Our Own ^beta

If Isagi Yoichi knew anything right now, it was that he couldn’t afford to dwell on any more thoughts. Don’t get him wrong, his brain was certainly in full use at Blue Lock, but it was already a lot to be thinking about football constantly. He really didn’t have time to get distracted right now, with the rate that he—and more importantly, everyone else—was set to improve.

So far, he was doing a pretty good job of keeping everything tidy inside his head. Well—as tidy as it could ever be, considering his track record of having a brain like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle. But in his short time at the facility, he found himself putting together the pieces he needed with relative ease.

Truly, he would love to claim that his success was spurred on by himself and himself alone , like a real egoist would, but Yoichi had to admit that the only reason he had gotten as far as he had was the rest of Team Z. When you live, eat, sleep, and train with ten other incredibly talented strikers, you’re bound to pick up some skills. Or, you will if you’re observant, and he was nothing if not attentive.

There was one person in particular that truly fueled Yoichi’s evolution, right from the moment he found himself as the Oni in the game of tag that very first day. The one person that saw fit to pass to him, the one person to show him his monster, and the one person who turned out to be his first friend in Blue Lock—Bachira Meguru. 

Bachira, who just sent Yoichi a pass he was determined to use to its full potential this time.

The pass was clean, as they always were from Bachira. Yoichi trapped it with little struggle, getting the ball in front of him and promptly booking it down the field. He was unmarked at the moment, and he was going to use that to his advantage.

Of course, Yoichi found himself quickly having to stall, with Raichi standing between him and the penalty area, pointy teeth bared in some semblance of a grin. Yoichi began to think through his options, just for a second—he could pass, and they would probably get a goal, or he could try to sprint past Raichi, which was more likely to go poorly than not.

But as Yoichi readied himself to pass to an open Kunigami, Raichi seemed to be just as prepared, expecting this action. And Yoichi found himself an opening.

Right as he moved towards Kunigami and Raichi’s momentum started building to block him, Yoichi moved his foot over the ball and pulled it right back into himself, running through the opening Raichi’s motion had left for him, the blonde unable to react quickly after his own action. He kept going down the field, past the line of Kuon and Igaguri—both too far away to catch him.

And there— Yoichi felt the solid impact of his cleat against the ball, sending it right into the corner of the unprotected goal with a deafening sound as it hit against the back of the net. He leaned back, gazing towards the ceiling, full of adrenaline and dopamine but too worn out to do anything but attempt to regain his breath.

“Isagi!” A voice called out behind him. Before he could fully turn to face his teammate, Bachira lept and caught him in a tackle, bringing the both of them falling to the ground. “Nice goal,” he giggled, ruffling Yoichi’s hair.

“Hah, thanks,” Yoichi wheezed from the floor beneath his assailant. “You really didn’t have to do that, though. It’s still just a scrimmage,” he said, groaning as he adjusted himself to be at least a bit more upright beside Bachira, bringing his head off the scratchy texture of the turf and folding his legs out from underneath the other boy. 

“Aw, come on,” Bachira replied, “you still won us the game! And you’re improving, I can really tell. I can see your monster more often.”

“Ah, nice! I felt like I was getting better, but I’m glad that wasn’t just in my head,” Yoichi responded with a laugh, which Bachira returned in kind.

“Oi, get over here you two,” Kunigami called back over on their side of the field. “Go grab some water, the next team’s waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Bachira said, popping back up to his feet. He extended a hand back down to Yoichi, who gladly used it to haul himself upright with a muttered thanks . The two walked back over to their last teammate and the water bottles sitting on a bench out of bounds as the next team—consisting of Gagamaru, Chigiri, and Naruhaya—rushed to take their place on the field.

Bachira reached the bench before Yoichi could and grabbed two bottles, handing one to him with a silent smile. Yoichi returned it as he took the water, his fingers lightly brushing against the other boy’s, the touch lingering for just a moment. Bachira let go and walked off towards Kunigami, both choosing to sit on the floor against the wall rather than the bench itself. Yoichi sat sideways on the end of the bench so he could face his teammates.

They all stayed silent for a while, simply sitting, recovering, and watching the match that had started just after them. Yoichi usually found himself studying one of the teams on the field—either the team he’d just faced, to look at their plays from an outside perspective, or the one that replaced him, to see how they challenged the losing team in different ways—but today, he found his gaze lingering on Bachira.

Specifically, Bachira’s hair. Because somehow, despite literally living with him for a while, Yoichi had never really recognized just how… nice Bachira’s hair was. Did it always look that fluffy? It had to be mathematically impossible for someone’s hair to look that nice immediately after a game. He found himself wanting to idly run his hands through the surely soft strands, to fix the bangs that were just slightly askew, to…

Yoichi put down his water bottle and stared at his hands. They still seemed to shiver from the touch moments ago. The pressure he’d felt had been so brief and yet longer than necessary. Was it weird that he wanted to reach back out for Bachira? He was always pretty giving when it came to physical affection, so maybe he’d be chill with it. But maybe he’d think it was weird?

Maybe Yoichi was the one who thought it was weird. Like, holding hands with a friend out of nowhere? That couldn’t be normal. But he wouldn’t have anything against people who did hold hands with their friends. Maybe he just thought of it less as a friend thing and more of a more-than-friends thing, and he just needed to work on that. But maybe Bachira felt the same way about that, and he’d think that Yoichi was being pushy or making an advance? Maybe Yoichi wouldn’t mind if he thought that.

Huh. That was new.

Okay, but not minding something was different than wanting it, right? What the fuck was up with his brain right now? Yoichi knew he didn’t like Bachira romantically. Probably. Whatever. He’d had a crush on like, three people in his life so far, and none of them he had been friends with. A crush was more like looking from afar and admiring someone for something, without any friendship or anything, as far as Yoichi was aware.

This was distinctly different. It felt like friendship did, but stronger and more anxiety inducing? Like, he wouldn’t think about just any friend like he did Bachira, but they were close—closer than Yoichi was to anyone else, really. So maybe it made sense that he felt nervous around his teammate, like he didn’t want to mess anything up. Because he really, really didn’t. But for sure, it was platonic.

“Earth to Isagi,” a voice poked at the edge of his thoughts. Picking his head up, Yoichi noticed Bachira, who had scooted a bit closer to the edge of the bench he had seated himself on and was currently waving a hand in front of him.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. You were just staring at your hands. Doin’ alright?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking.”

“‘Bout what?” Bachira asked, casually grabbing Yoichi’s still palm-up hands and squeezing lightly, cocking his head and looking at him expectantly.

“Uh…” Yoichi trailed off, trying desperately to rearrange his jigsaw brain after Bachira had just knocked the whole goddamn table over. He swallowed, and continued, “Just the scrimmage and the next game, I guess.”

“Right,” Bachira said with a laugh, “I almost forgot how pumped you get after you figure something out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoichi said, returning Bachira’s cheery tone with a nervous chuckle of his own. “I know we can’t really plan it, but I was thinking about ways we could use that pass.”

“Any ideas yet?”

“Not really, sorry.”

“Nah man, don’t apologize! Your brain’s on overdrive all the time. Give it a break for a bit.”

“Not sure I could stop thinking if I tried.”

“Still, give yourself some grace.” At that, Bachira let go of Yoichi with another gentle squeeze, and sprung to his feet. His face bore a smile—that gorgeous, gorgeous smile of his that he was certain could raise the dead if he tried hard enough. He certainly felt more alive after seeing it.

Yoichi decided to stretch for a bit before the next match. He was not going to unpack… any of that right now.

The locker rooms at Blue Lock weren't uncomfortable, per se. Yoichi had been playing football for long enough to be fine with changing in front of other guys. It wasn't an issue of space, either—there were only 11 of them after all, which was incredibly bare-bones for an entire team.

No, the issue came when his teammates started talking, beyond just the last game. And unfortunately for him, Team Z was in quite the conversational mood after practice today.

He hadn't even been very aware of the dialogue around him. Instead, Yoichi was still deep inside his mind, trying (and failing) not to read too much into his feelings and Bachira's. Everything around him was sort of fuzzy, energy pulled from focusing on the outside world to help with the one inside his brain. He barely registered even changing, simply going through the motions.

"How about you, Isagi?" A voice that Yoichi identified as Imamura asked from the other side of the room, breaking him out of his reverie—that seemed to be a trend today. He looked out to the rest of the locker room to see a few faces looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, um," Yoichi stuttered, attempting to conceal the fact that he completely missed the question he was just asked. "I'm not sure." He truly hoped that was an acceptable enough answer.

"It's not that hard, man," Raichi told him, making it clear that his answer was not, in fact, acceptable. "Where do you look first at a girl? And don't you dare say her face, that shit's boring."

Yoichi genuinely did not have an answer for this. He didn't really make a habit of looking at many people, and if he did, he'd be trying to make eye contact—though, often failing—and listen to them. He racked his brain for a possible acceptable answer, not wanting to be weird or make things uncomfortable, not knowing the full context. Well, what would he want someone looking at on him?

"Thighs, I guess," he settled on. They were powerful as hell, especially on athletic people, and could look pretty nice sometimes. Yeah, that should work.

The group looking at him seemed to consider this answer. Yoichi got a few nods before deciding to turn back around and continue changing. He picked up his water to take a quick drink, and—

"Interesting," Kuon said. "I had you pegged for an ass guy, but thighs can be pretty hot."

Yoichi whipped his head back around to the center of the room, and promptly choked on his water.

After a few moments of regaining his breath and attempting not to die, he asked with a scratchy throat, "That's what you meant?" He could feel his face burning up.

"Hah! I knew he wasn't listening! You owe me your side dish!" Igarashi yelled triumphantly, pointing at Naruhaya, who grumbled and furrowed his brow.

“Come on man, why are you embarrassed?” Imamura asked Yoichi as he once again turned his head away from the rest of the group, quickly occupying himself and picking up all his belongings to leave. “We’re all guys here! No shame in liking what you like!”

“No, it’s not—I just don’t think about anyone like that.”

Iemon piped up, “Wait, really? I mean—” 

“Could we drop this?” Chigiri interjected from the corner. “You’re all clearly making Isagi uncomfortable, and at this point I am too. Just leave it be, and stop being horny and weird.” The last comment turned most of the attention in the room away from Yoichi and onto Chigiri, which gave him the opportunity to take his things and escape. He felt a little bad for ditching Chigiri. 

Only a little.

Ever since that first full day at the Blue Lock facility, Yoichi had taken to doing his personal workouts alone, thank you very much. Of course, not because he didn’t enjoy his teammates’ company—he’d join them if he could, but simply put, they were just… better than he was, in most (all) physical aspects.

It was good encouragement for him, feeling the strong need to catch up. But when he was forced to keep the pace they set, he’d often find himself wiping out quickly and completely, which really did nothing but harm him. He never wanted to hold anyone else back because of his own inadequacy, so he chose to work on himself by himself. 

So here he was, only two days before the game with Team Y, working out alone in his usual smaller gym. There wasn’t much he could do at the moment, other than training and overthinking, and the rest of the team was either asleep or otherwise occupied. If Yoichi ever had a time needed to tire himself out, it was now, so he might as well do something productive while he did.

He stood with his back to the door to the room, which, despite its weight, made no noise when it shifted open or closed. As such, he had no warning when a voice called from behind him. .

"Do you always work out this late?" Bachira asked. "Doesn't seem healthy."

Yoichi jumped, turning to face his teammate. He squeaked as he responded, "Oh, Bachira! You're still awake? What are you doing here?" Between the unexpected intrusion and the exact person who was currently taking up a space before him—and in his mind—his nerves were on fire.

"Couldn't sleep. I think that nap I took earlier messed me up a little. But hey, at least I'm not alone, you know?"

"Heh, yeah. I get it. I’m just finishing up, so afterwards I can come hang out if you want."

“Oh, cool! Thanks dude!”

“Of course,” Yoichi said with a smile.

The two looked at each other in a sea of silence for a few moments, before Yoichi moved to grab his towel off where he had laid it on one of the pieces of equipment. Some evenings he might have kept going with a few extra sets, but with Bachira’s arrival, he definitely wasn’t doing any more.

Bachira moved out of the threshold and into the room proper, the door banging behind him as it closed. “Hey, need any help cooling down? I know some pretty good partner stretches,” he offered as Yoichi turned back around.

“Um… sure, why not.” A bit of anxiety rose from the idea of Bachira being in the same room as Yoichi as he finished his routine, let alone helping him stretch, but he brushed it off quickly as excess nerves from the unexpected visit. After all, logically, it wouldn’t do anything but help, right? 

“Cool! Let’s start with…oh, go ahead and sit down with your soles together.” Yoichi did as he was told, and sat down as Bachira circled behind him. Yoichi leaned forward a little bit instinctively, to give Bachira a bit more room to stand, but as he did, his teammate leaned with him. “Let me know if anything hurts,” Bachira said quietly near Yoichi’s ear, as he pressed down onto his knees, forcing a deep but not uncomfortable stretch.

Holy fuck did that feel nice. Yoichi wasn’t the most flexible person on his own, but with the added pressure, his muscles pulled taut in a way they hadn’t in quite a while. But there was something that kept poking at his brain—this was Bachira. The one leaning onto him, the one whose breathing he could hear oh so softly, the one who seemed to know just how far to push, was Bachira. Because of course it was. And something about that made Isagi’s face burn.

The silence between them was tangible for a while. Yoichi would be lying if he said it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t because he felt like he couldn’t exist around his partner. He more felt that he couldn’t just exist around Bachira. It felt strange just…being there, with nothing to talk about and not much to do.

“Alright,” Bachira started, breaking Yoichi out of his spiral, “lay on your back and cross one leg over the other.”

“‘Kay,” Yoichi responded, turning his head as well in an attempt to not stare at Bachira again. This time, his teammate pushed back on his leg while keeping it straight. Once again, he stopped at just the point where the stretch was intense but painless.

Silence returned, and with it, tension. Everything just seemed off and anxiety-inducing and weird, and Yoichi felt… he really wasn’t sure what he felt. It was like heat and butterflies, lingering wherever Bachira’s hands laid. It was a feeling all at once tense and relaxed, and it pulled Yoichi’s brain apart and left him a puddle on the floor. 

After Bachira properly stretched both legs across his body, he instructed Yoichi to straighten out and lift one leg into the air. He then proceeded to press it back, once again holding the knee straight and looking to him for any signs of pain or discomfort. What this meant for Yoichi, unfortunately, was that Bachira was looking directly at his face. He tried his best, he really did, to not look at the boy and make things any more awkward. But hey, in his defense, Bachira has a very nice face.

Their eyes caught each other for a moment, and Yoichi immediately looked everywhere else, eyes darting around looking for literally anything to look at but his teammate. Unfortunately, said teammate noticed this, because again. He was also looking at Yoichi.

Bachira released some of the pressure on Yoichi’s leg. “You alright down there?” he asked with a light and laughing tone.

“Mhm!” Yoichi squeaked out.

“You sure? You’re, uh. Looking kind of red in the face.”

Yoichi’s hand shot to his cheek, and lo and behold, he was burning. He squeezed his eyes shut, and said, “Oh, uh…that’s weird.” It was, to be completely honest. He usually didn’t get this warm after a workout, certainly not just stretching.

“Heh, you look like you have a crush or something.”

Yoichi’s eyes shot open. “No!” He denied, much too quickly for a person who was being normal about things. He cleared his throat, and continued much calmer, “No, I’m just warm.”

“You sure?” Bachira snickered, lowering Yoichi’s leg back down and bringing the other one up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure you’re sure?”

At this point, Yoichi was too tired, too embarrassed, and too… seen to be anywhere near graceful with the situation. And so, he snapped a bit.

“Yes, Bachira, I’m sure,” he spoke, pulling his leg away from his teammate’s grasp. “Can you go?” Yoichi’s tone was much more aggressive than intended, but he truly didn’t have the energy to regulate it at the moment.

“Woah,” Bachira said, raising his hands and backing away a bit. “Yeah. Just…you okay? You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here.”

And that’s the problem. 

“Yeah, will do,” Yoichi mumbled, standing up once again to grab his towel and water, back turned to Bachira. The only sign that the other boy had left was the sound of door against door frame.

Shit.

Without a doubt, Team Z’s game against Team Y—or, more specifically, their victory party after the fact—was the most team spirit any of them had ever felt. 

“Hell yeah, Team Z!” Raichi yelled, before reaching for the makeshift tables of food, rallying cries from the rest of the group. The whole team had decided to share their food amongst themselves, and Yoichi was infinitely grateful that he wouldn’t have to eat any natto tonight. Plus, both he and Gagamaru had agreed to use the points they’d earned from their goals in the game prior to get two whole steaks for the team, so they were all eating well. 

Well, they might be if they were able to share. It was still Blue Lock after all. Before Yoichi could even blink, most of the fresh meat was completely gone. Again, not surprising, but he still thought they’d leave at least a bit of it for the person who got one of the goals used to redeem them.

Yoichi didn’t mind all that much. Surprisingly he actually had some amount of energy tonight—typically unheard of from him. He found himself in conversation rather quickly, as he, Kunigami, and Gagamaru started to discuss the events of the game.

“You really stepped up when we needed you, Isagi,” Kunigami said through a mouth full of rice (Yoichi couldn’t blame him though, he was famished and imagined the other boy must be too). “I actually thought the pass had missed, since Gagamaru didn’t reach it.”

“Yeah dude, how did you know where the ball was going?” Gagamaru piped up, somehow able to pay attention to the conversation while holding Naruhaya in a headlock, since the latter had stolen his food, as he so often did.

“I didn’t really, to be honest. I just moved to the goal because I wanted to score. It was just luck that the ball ended up in front of me.”

“I saw you, Isagi!” A voice called from behind him. As Yoichi swallowed his food and turned, he saw who else but Bachira next to him, holding one of the aforementioned pieces of steak. “That’s why I passed it to you! I made the right choice!”

Bachira, with that stupid, taunting grin of his, held out his fork towards Yoichi’s face. “Here comes your reward,” he said, “say ahhh!” Yoichi had to admit, he panicked a little. It was a nice gesture, of course, but Bachira feeding him, in front of the entire team no less…he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to deal with that without melting into a pile of goo.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Yoichi said with a nervous laugh, dodging to the side of the fork, “I can eat on my own, Bachira.”

Bachira simply moved his fork back in front of Yoichi’s face. “Don’t say that, eat, eat!” Yoichi was able to escape the assault of sustenance a few more times before Bachira managed to shove the fork and steak into his mouth. He let out a yelp—or, at least, attempted to around all the food and metal. Actually, that iron taste might be a little bit of blood. Bachira might have stabbed him a bit too hard.

After escaping his terror of a teammate (and confirming that yes, indeed, the inside of his cheek was bleeding a bit), the conversation in the room moved swiftly onwards. Well, not quite onwards, but it circled right back to the topic of the match against Team Y. It had sort of become chaos, as many things devolved into in Team Z.

“Honestly, Okawa was kind of a let down. He was always the powerhouse in Team Y’s other games, but he really wasn’t all that good,” Igarashi griped.

“Well, he wasn’t anything to ignore either,” Iemon responded. “He was the one to score their goal in the last game.”

“No thanks to either of you, you shitty goalkeeper and useless defender,” said Raichi.

Kunigami intervened there, preventing any further fighting on this particular topic—thank god for that. “Niko’s abilities were definitely something else, though.” The rest of the room hummed their agreements.

“For sure, for sure,” Bachira said, “I mean, he was a pain right from the beginning. He was really the one who had my dribbling weapon on lock back there. Gotta say though, he was kinda cute.”

Yoichi almost, almost opened up his stupid mouth to agree. Bachira wasn’t wrong after all. But his brain caught the silence that overcame the room before he said anything. There were a few moments of pause, and the entire group seemed to be staring towards the boy in question. 

“What?” Bachira asked. “Can’t a guy be bisexual in peace over here?”

Naruhaya was the first one to break the silence of the rest of the team, responding with, “Nice.” He went in for a high five, which Bachira returned with slight bewilderment but general enthusiasm. “Honestly I’m just glad I didn’t have to come out first,” he said, clarifying the situation to the room. 

“Moving on, because some of us don’t care about the guys on the other teams,” Raichi interjected, “and some of us are still pissed that we didn’t get the ball even once last game. You all need to step it the fuck up.”

The conversation continued moving on, but Yoichi was stuck at the exchange that just took place. So. New information. Bachira was definitely, for sure, interested in dudes sometimes—so was Naruhaya, good for him, but that was irrelevant at the moment. Also, finding a dude cute was, for the most part, not a heterosexual thing to do, if only based on the stares that Bachira’s statement got him from around the room.

This was…good news and bad news. For good news, it maybe sort of confirmed a suspicion that Yoichi had about his feelings towards Bachira and their relationship to his feelings towards everyone else ever. For bad news, it kind of destroyed most of the preconceived notions that Yoichi currently had about himself. Just a little bit.

He truly didn’t have time for this shit.

That night, Yoichi found himself attempting to sleep and failing miserably. As always seemed to be the case, his brain just wouldn't stop thinking long enough for him to get anything resembling rest. In particular, his goal in the earlier game kept running through his mind. Despite the knowledge that he'd likely just ruined a team's chance at advancing any further, Yoichi didn't think he'd felt this pumped in a very long time.

After what felt like hours of simply sitting, waiting, and wishing for sleep to arrive, Yoichi found himself on his feet again, wandering into the monitoring room. It was as he had expected it—nearly a full wall of TVs, ready to replay any prior game in the fifth stratum. What he didn’t expect, however, was that they would already be replaying a game—in fact, his game, and his goal. 

Sitting in front of the monitors was another unexpected factor. Chigiri Hyouma, the pink-haired enigma of Team Z. He turned to look back at Yoichi, face haloed by the glowing screens behind him.

“Hey, Isagi,” he said, voice hushed.

“Chigiri,” Yoichi breathed out. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in here. What are you up to?”

“I was watching your goal,” Chigiri answered, turning his face back to the monitors. “I can understand why you’d want to come watch it again. This is the sort of thing that sticks with you.”

Yoichi rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah, I guess so.” He walked over, taking a seat on the floor near Chigiri, crossing his legs beneath him. For a few moments the two sat in silence, watching the playback in tandem.

“Hey, I wanted—”

“I think that—”

Both boys stopped, having begun at the same time as the other. Chigiri motioned towards Yoichi, with a, “You go first.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me out the other day in the locker room,” Yoichi said with an awkward laugh. “I really didn’t know how to get out of that conversation. I hope they didn’t lay into you too much after I left.”

Chigiri blinked at him for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh! Right, yeah. No worries, dude, it was as much for my own sake as it was for yours, they were driving me insane.”

“I get that,” Yoichi responded. “I really thought I was the weird one in there before you said something, so…thanks again, I suppose.”

“Well, I mean, you kind of were, but I am too. So.”

Huh?

“Huh?”

Chigiri blinked at him. “You didn’t know? Or didn’t figure that out by now?”

“...No? Figure what out, exactly?” Yoichi’s only wish at the moment was that what Chigiri was saying would start making sense to him, because everything the other boy was saying seemed to simply clatter uselessly around his mind, refusing to find its place in the puzzle.

“Forget I mentioned anything, then.”

“Come on dude, you can’t just say that and leave me hanging,” Yoichi complained.

“Nah, seriously. I thought you were ace, but hey, if I’m wrong, no worries.” Chigiri looked away.

“Wait, ace?”

“Asexual? Lack of sexual attraction?” Chigiri filled in. “The way you reacted to that whole situation reminded me of my own experience. I thought for the longest time that other people our age were just joking about ever being horny,” he said with a chuckle.

“I get what you mean there,” Yoichi laughed. “I mean, I didn’t think I was, but like…well. The concept is clicking a bit more in my head than I expected it to.”

Fuck. It made sense. That was the worst part, truly. The idea that his experience lined up with that label. Yoichi had, again, no qualms with people who were outside of the “ordinary,” queer or otherwise, but he never thought that he really fit that concept. He was just existing like everyone else, he was normal. And yet every day in Blue Lock, he was realizing that was less and less true.

“Look, I can’t decide on anything for you. And we’re not here to talk about me right now. I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, sure,” Yoichi said, storing all of the implications of the previous conversation away in his brain.

“Your goal.”

“Ah, right!” Yoichi said, turning his attention away from Chigiri and back to the many screens in front of both of them. “It was…amazing. Although, I don’t think I could do it again if I tried. I was just sort of moving on instinct.”

“About that, actually,” Chigiri said, once again pulling Yoichi’s focus to him. “I think that the reason you could make that goal is because you have fantastic spatial awareness.”

“And that is?” Yoichi asked, knowing logically he should know what Chigiri was talking about, but still coming up blank.

“It’s about what you can see and sense on the field. Most people only really focus on what’s in their small area of focus, which gets even smaller when you have the ball. But you seem to have a larger understanding of what’s happening on the field. It’s almost like you’re a god looking down from above.”

“Woah,” Yoichi breathed out.

“Yeah. If you’re able to use it at will, I think it’ll be an unrivaled weapon.” Chigiri said, gazing at the monitors.

The two sat in silence for a moment, watching the replay, before Yoichi remembered another question. “Hey, Chigiri,” he started, turning his head to face the redhead, “what’s your weapon? You never told us before.”

Chigiri’s eyes hardened. He didn’t look at Yoichi. “I don’t want to say. And again, we aren’t here to talk about me.”

“Maybe you aren’t, but I am. It’s important!” Yoichi pushed.

Chigiri paused, and the room was quiet again, this time the tension filling the air. Then, Chigiri curled his right leg into himself, clutching at his knee. “An ACL tear. It happened about a year ago now.”

Oh, fuck. That was a serious injury, and Yoichi knew it.

“I used to have a weapon,” Chigiri continued. “But that’s in the past. So are my nights of staying up after a goal. I get it, I really do, but If I tried to use my leg the way I did before, if I hurt myself again, my soccer career would be over, Isagi.”

Chigiri turned to look into Yoichi’s eyes, his gaze pointed. “I came to Blue Lock to find a reason to give up on soccer. I think, after seeing that goal, I can do that. So…thanks.” He stood, and began walking to the door.

Before he realized it, Yoichi found himself on his feet as well. “Don’t lie to yourself, Chigiri,” he said, words slipping out. “If I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that you’re like me, and I know that I don’t want this to end. Don’t use me as your excuse to be afraid, Chigiri.”

Chigiri turned one last time to look at Yoichi, and for the second time that night, the light behind him shaded his face. “You don’t know anything about me.” And Chigiri turned and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Fuck.

Yoichi was trying his very best to see the bright side of today’s game. He might have been failing miserably, but hey, at least he was trying. 

The locker room was tense in the wake of the draw with Team W and, more importantly, Kuon’s betrayal. Yoichi wanted so, so badly to feel excited for Chigiri’s goal, especially considering their conversation only a few days before, but between everything currently weighing on his mind and what just went down on the field, he wasn’t sure he had the capacity for anything else.

Yoichi tried his best to ground himself, breathing deeply to attempt to counteract every emotion currently rising in his body all at once. Despite the relative lack of noise in the locker room at the moment, everything just felt way too loud. The lights were blinding, the air was freezing, and everything smelled too strongly of sweat. Yoichi took a sip of water to wash down the bile rising in his throat.

“So are we not going to talk about what the fuck just happened?” Raichi spoke up from across the room. Yoichi slammed his water bottle down onto the bench in front of him. It was a bit louder than intended, but he truly couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“Can we not?” He asked, a growl sneaking its way into his voice. “Because the last thing I need right now is you idiots fighting with another idiot who isn’t even in here right now.”

“Woah, you good Isagi?” Bachira asked him, voice soft but firm.

Another deep breath, another second of pause. “Yes,” Yoichi said through gritted teeth, “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Kunigami’s voice asked, as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Yoichi immediately flinched, hitting the hand away. The touch felt like a cuff, a restraint, and he couldn’t handle it right now.

“Don’t. Touch me,” He said, whirling around to face Kunigami, whose eyes were wide with surprise. Yoichi felt his heart drop. Fuck.  

“Yeah, okay,” Kunigami responded, bringing his hands up in almost a surrender. Yoichi looked away, rushing to get his belongings together as he felt tears springing to the corners of his eyes, vision getting blurry. The last thing he needed right now was to cry in front of his entire team.

Once everything he needed was thrown into his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and rushed to the door. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, trying to hide the waver in his voice, before he walked out of the locker room.

The door closed itself behind him, and Yoichi didn’t stop walking, no matter how tired he was or how much his limbs were screaming at him that he needed a break . A walk turned into a jog, and a jog turned into a run, past the living quarters and the cafeteria and the training rooms, the hallways a blur of gray behind Yoichi’s watery eyes. All he knew was that he had to keep moving.

Until he couldn’t. Yoichi found himself in a dead end right before a stairwell, and quickly surveyed his options. He could stay in the hallway and wander (awful idea, considering most if not all of the games for the day had finished up), he could turn back and return to Team Z’s section and simply hope they hadn’t returned yet (a foolish hope, he knew), or…

Yoichi walked through the doorway to his side, dropping his bag on the floor and taking a seat on the stairs. As seemed to always be the case, his mind was racing. His thoughts surrounded him in a whirlwind, too fast to pin down and comprehend, simply scattering his mind and running down his face. There was just too much happening for him to handle.

Why did he have to be like this? If he hadn’t said anything, if he had just beared the noise or the contact or anything, he would still be fine and he wouldn’t be breaking down in a fucking stairwell and he would be fine and Team Z wouldn’t think he was weird and they probably thought he was awful and why did he have to care what they thought and why did he have to care what Bachira thought and why did he have to miss his eyes and his face and why did he want him to be there right now and why did he want to be alone forever and why did he have to be a freak and why was it so hard to breathe—

“Hey,” called a familiar voice.

Yoichi didn’t have to look, but he did. Bachira stood before him, hand on the doorframe. Yoichi opened his mouth, words turning into choked out sobs he didn’t realize he was holding in his throat. He lowered his face and clutched his knees to his chest, burying his head in a sad attempt to hide his obviously deteriorated state from the boy in front of him. 

Yoichi heard a soft padding, and a muted thump next to him, which—considering the presence he now felt only centimeters from his side—was almost certainly Bachira taking a seat next to him. Yoichi simply continued to sit there and cry, wishing that his tears would dry up just a bit.

“I’m not going to pry,” said Bachira, voice hushed, “but I wanted to know what’s up? I didn’t think the game would affect you this much. No judgment if it did, of course. It just seems out of character.”

Yoichi let out a bitter laugh, the sound almost more like a gargle through the fluid slowly building from his throat. “Out of character, huh…” He said, voice muffled by his legs. “God, I don’t even know what that is for me anymore. It’s a wonder you understand anything about me with how little I understand myself.”

“What do you mean?” Bachira asked him, in possibly the most earnest voice Yoichi had ever heard. He could almost imagine the other’s face, head cocked lightly to the side as he always did when he was confused, mouth downturned just slightly.

“I just…” Yoichi responded with a distinct shudder to his voice. “So much has changed. Or at least just brought to the surface. And I feel like I don’t recognize myself anymore, Bachira.”

“I mean…sure, it feels like you’ve been a little distant lately. But it’s still you.”

“Fuck, Bachira, that’s the problem! If this is me, then I suck!” Yoichi’s tears ran hotter, as did his blood.

“Hey, don’t—”

“ Don’t try to defend me here. I was awful to you a while ago in the training room. I’ve been avoiding you to an extent ever since and I know that you noticed. And for sure you just saw what I said to Raichi and fucking Kunigami, who didn’t deserve that. None of you deserve that.”

“Okay, sure, you’ve been a bit off lately. But you’ve been going through a lot, Isagi! And you’re being unnecessarily hard on yourself. Literally have you seen Kuon today?”

“Oh, I’ve been through a lot alright, Kuon included,” Yoichi said, wiping at his tears and finally turning his face to look at Bachira. “I almost got kicked out of the fucking program on day one, I had to deal with our entire team all the time, and now I have to deal with one of our goddamn teammates playing against us. And that gets a whole lot harder when you consider that my brain is in shambles, all the time.”

“But why, Isagi? I just want to help and I want to listen to whatever is happening in that mind of yours! Let me be there for you!”

“Okay, fuck it! Why not! Might as well ruin another relationship today!” Yoichi yelled, throwing his hands into the air. “I like you, Bachira. In the explicitly romantic sense.” It felt simultaneously terrifying and relieving to finally say it out loud. “And for someone who thought that he was straight or something for his entire life, you cannot blame me for having trouble with that shit. Nevermind the fact that apparently teenagers being horny wasn’t in fact media propaganda and I might just be asexual and different in another way. I can’t deal with this shit! I’m so fucking tired of learning things about myself and I just want to be…I don’t know!”

Bachira was silent.

Yoichi was tired.

“You…have romantic feelings for me?”

Yoichi laughed. It was a bitter thing, full of exhaustion and self-loathing. “I guess I did really tell you that. Yeah, Bachira.” God, he really shouldn’t have said anything.

The problem with telling Bachira about his feelings is that Yoichi was scared to death of them. He was scared of everything that came with being interested in Bachira that way. He was scared that Bachira might not feel the same way and that it would ruin their friendship, he was scared that Bachira would see him as being unworthy, he was—

“Thank god.”

Huh?

“Huh?”

Bachira looked into Yoichi’s eyes for a moment before he burst into laughter. It was the sweetest noise that he had ever heard.

“I said,” Bachira responded through his laughing fit, “thank god! You really are dense, huh, Isagi?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“I feel the same way. I’ve been trying to make that clear but I guess just affection can be taken a bunch of ways, huh?”

“I mean, I didn’t want to assume…” Yoichi said, scratching the back of his neck and turning away. He could feel his ears burning. He was so stupid, wasn’t he?

“Hey, hey, can you look at me?” Bachira asked him. Yoichi looked. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. We’re talking about you right now, okay? Because all of this doesn’t negate the fact that you were and possibly still are having a breakdown.”

“I think you sort of…surprised me out of that,” Yoichi said.

“Impressive.” Bachira said, a smile growing on his face. “My point still stands, though.”

Yoichi sat for a moment, looking down at his hands. “My brain is still scrambled. Very much so. And I still have things to figure out. And what Kuon did is still a dick move. But I think having it off my chest helps.”

“And you’re going to keep having to figure things out for a long while,” Bachira said, “but you don’t have to do it alone. For as long as I possibly can, I’m going to be here to help. And even when I’m not, there will be others. I care about you, Isagi, more than you could possibly know, and I’m not going to let you struggle alone with your mind.”

Yoichi smiled. For a moment, an image popped into his mind. Him and Bachira, sitting next to one another, putting together a jigsaw puzzle. For once in his life, Yoichi had a companion to help him solve the mystery that was his brain.

He wouldn’t have picked anyone else.

The Team Z shared room wasn’t really quiet at night, not with the incessant shifting and snoring of eleven sleeping bodies. Well… ten sleeping bodies, as Yoichi laid, eyes open, chasing sleep that he knew he would not catch. It was hard to find any sort of opportunity to doze off when the next morning was their final match with Team V, his last chance to keep going on the path to his dream.

“Hey, Isagi.” Make that nine sleeping bodies. “You awake?” Bachira asked from the futon to Yoichi’s side.

“Mmm,” Yoichi responded, turning over with a groan to face the boy beside him. Bachira’s honey eyes seemed to gleam, even in the darkness, and his hair splayed out beneath his face, bits of yellow poking out beneath dark, dark brown.

“Can’t sleep either?” Bachira whispered to him with a giggle.

Yoichi couldn’t help but smile at the sound, responding, “Nah, you know how I am.”

“Sure do.”

The two simply looked at each other for a bit, before Bachira sat up slightly and wordlessly pulled the covers off his futon, scooching over and patting the bedding.

“You sure?” Yoichi asked, sitting up himself. “Don’t wanna invade your space or anything.”

“Isagi Yoichi. Have you missed every single time that I literally tackled you after a goal?” Bachira asked him, one eyebrow raised. “I am actively asking you to invade my space more often, actually. I don’t bite.”

Yoichi raised his hands in surrender before crawling over to Bachira and laying down beside him. “I don’t want to assume,” he muttered.

“Isagi. Isagi please, you asked me to be your boyfriend like a week ago,” Bachira responded, pulling the covers over the both of them again. Yoichi smiled, looking back to his boyfriend and gently laying a hand on his face. The smile that Bachira gave him was radiant, and Yoichi was sure he was going to go blind just looking at it.

He didn’t think he would mind that too much.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Bachira whispered back.

“Are you scared?” Yoichi asked him.

“A little. I don’t wanna leave Blue Lock just yet. But I’m mostly excited.”

“I get you. I’m the same way right now.” Yoichi breathed deeply, in and out, taking in the air between them. “We’re gonna win,” he said, both a promise and a prayer.

“Yeah,” Bachira responded. Yoichi wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss him.

So he did. For once in his life, Yoichi did something without thinking, without analyzing, simply moving and doing. It was messy and tentative, a kiss between two people who had only the barest idea of what a kiss was supposed to be like, but it was theirs.

They parted, and Yoichi leaned his forehead against Bachira’s, closing his eyes and simply listening to the both of them breathe, until he broke the silence.

“They don’t stand a chance.”