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Nagi sighs as he leans his head farther back underneath the rushing shower head. He rinses the tender bruise on his scalp gingerly. Hot water cascades around his body, still aching from exertion. It trails down broad shoulders, trickling across a chiseled abdomen and well-built thighs, before finally swirling down the metal drain.
Nagi can barely believe that mere minutes ago, Blue Lock won in spectacular fashion against Japan’s U-20 team. But more than that, it is how they won that will be forever burned in Nagi’s memory. Isagi Yoichi had made the impossible possible by scoring the most impressive, jaw-dropping, game-winner goal off a busted final play. For Nagi, it was a crystal clear reminder of exactly why he chose to chase after the seemingly unassuming shorty in the first place.
From the very first moment Nagi entered Blue Lock, something unnamable about the other had caught his eye. He had watched with bewilderment as Isagi was the first to run, no sprint, through the doors for admittance to the Blue Lock program following Ego’s controversial presentation. After Reo had convinced him with much persuasion to also enter Blue Lock, Nagi soon faced Isagi again. To this day, Nagi can still taste that bitter frustration Isagi personally bestowed upon him without remorse, giving the genius his first defeat.
Yet in spite of that feeling, Nagi admires Isagi. He has believed Isagi could help him grow. He believes it all the more after having the chance to play alongside him. Nagi has seen firsthand how Isagi fearlessly leads teammates, his drive to win, his passion for soccer, his frightening mind for tactics and his heart for his friends. Through it all, Isagi has never failed to arouse Nagi’s curiosity.
‘Isagi surprised me again, today,’ Nagi thinks, ‘and this time the whole world was watching.’
Faintly, Nagi hears the patter of the shower water hitting the tile floor. He realizes he has been standing there in the shower for God knows how long, not even moving to wash. Unlike usual, it’s not his habitual laziness that stalls his movement, but instead a lingering heady daze. Nagi unconsciously swipes his tongue across parched lips, the only dry member on his otherwise soaked body.
Nagi closes his eyes as warm water rains upon him, and behind his eyelids a recently ingrained memory plays anew...
His adrenaline still pumping, the air is filled with amazed anticipation as the ball races past the goalkeeper and into the back of the net. The referee blows the whistle signaling the game's end, as the crowd erupts into an excited, raucous frenzy. He sees the scorer of the winning goal racing downfield past his teammates with a grand roar, arms splayed, chest out, in complete glory.
In no time, No. 11 streaks toward him, almost flying, until the game's hero is right in front of him hollering their—and his—victory, then leaps without hesitation into his now wide open arms. With mixed elation and shock, his arms ensnare the slender waist in an instant. He holds the ace in his firm grasp as toned thighs encircle his hips.
The roars and excitement come from all around, but in this moment, he can only feel. He feels disbelief to have won, feels disbelief to have seen such a miraculous goal, and feels surprise that this man who has been his goal was drawn to him seemingly by instinct, clinging to only him on the field. Most shockingly of all, he feels a curious pride to have the passionate striker celebrate in his embrace, supported by his strength. It feels natural for him to be there, like it is second nature.
Many others rush to surround them, with Bachira leading the charge, all screaming and celebrating, but he hardly notices it because Isagi is holding onto just him. His fingers grip deeply into the jersey-covered back as thighs clutch him tighter in response, and he inhales deeply. An oddly clean musk floods his nostrils, engulfs his senses, completely intoxicating him—and then, he feels something else—.
The dull sound of nearby chatter from some approaching Blue Lock players unwillingly snaps Nagi out of his vivid recollection.
"Hey, Nagi," sounds the voice of one, "you’re the last in the showers, jerk! Hurry up in there! We’re gonna go eat!" Nagi thinks it must be Raichi based on the misplaced aggression, but he’s not concerned enough to make sure.
He doesn’t bother to say anything in reply, and they exit as quickly as they came. The shower water continues to beat against his back. Nagi wants to mope.
‘All this thinking in the shower, for what? I’m turning into a prune and my head hurts.’
Nagi is not normally one to expend much time and energy thinking about anything aside from how to achieve a new high score in his video games, but Isagi has somehow managed to impact him deeply to the point he has even invaded his mind. Nagi wonders if it's to be expected that he is so interested in a fellow rival. He had witnessed Barou’s vengeful obsession toward Isagi earlier in the game, but he finds himself hesitant to define his own relationship with Isagi in the same way.
‘No, maybe not exactly a rival…,’
Nagi suspects that if he asked Isagi directly, he would call Nagi his friend. Nagi feels he wouldn’t mind that at all, he might even be happy, though his face probably wouldn’t show it. The thought that the most driven person he knows could view the lazy genius so favorably made his heart beat just a touch faster.
By this point, the shower water starts to run lukewarm. Beads of water drip from tousled, wet hair. Nagi groans at his soreness, especially on his head. In the victory scramble earlier the rest of their teammates had dog piled onto him and Isagi, and he had collapsed to the ground, bumping his head in the process. Regardless, he finds the bruise to have been well worth the moment. As he settles on that realization, Nagi finally moves and grabs the soap to scrub himself.
Nagi knows he chose Isagi. He has never shied away from that fact, even if it got him into trouble sometimes.
His decision to play with Isagi during the second selection is something he has cherished as a personal choice. His desire to surpass Isagi has been a goal that has helped him claw his way up in the soccer hell known as Blue Lock. Isagi has always been captivating, so Nagi gravitates toward him, unwilling to resist. He knows he has felt very grateful and connected to Isagi from the beginning. But a small part of Nagi couldn’t help but wonder whether Isagi felt similarly at all.
Nagi knows he chose Isagi. He hasn’t regretted it for a single moment. After today, Nagi knows something else. He doesn’t have to wonder anymore. A different kind of curiosity arises as he recalls Isagi weighing next to nothing in his arms, smiling down on him after the most climactic goal of his life, thrilled and trusting, as if he could stay there forever. Nagi rinses some remaining suds off, the shower water practically running ice cold as thick bands of heat coil in his gut.
In that most exhilarating and celebratory moment of their careers, so easily, naturally, and by complete reflex—Nagi knows—Isagi chose him.