Work Text:
Mikage Reo believes that two things can be true, even if they seem contradictory.
He believes that he, the son of a multi-billion yen corporation, is capable of understanding his place above others while also recognizing that it doesn’t define him.
He believes that his parents can love him and be (somewhat) supportive of his choices while also forcing him into the box of a company heir.
He believes that someone like Zantetsu can be moronic and stubborn with little to no likable qualities while also being a menace on the field with the ability to understand his role and adapt to it seamlessly.
Reo wholeheartedly believes that he understands that things aren’t black and white, but they’re not a variety of different shades of grey either. Things can be contrasting while also complimentary. Because of that belief, it really shouldn’t come as a shock to him that this philosophy applies to someone like Nagi.
Nagi Seishiro is an enigma; he’s something that Reo has never seen before, and it’s not just because he possesses an athletic genius unexplainable to most. Nagi somehow views his entire existence as a massive pain– boring, tedious, and unworthwhile– and yet, sometimes there’s a fire that lights in his eyes. A fire that makes him more monster than genius, a shift in him that leaves Reo feeling lesser .
Reo thinks he knows what it is, thinks that it’s the “ego” that Ego Jinpachi harps them about, but he can’t be sure. All he knows is that it’s a skeleton on the ground, decayed and full of bite marks, with streams of sunlight blurring the lines between liquid gold and a warmth those bones haven’t felt in years. It’s a dark mist that hovers centimeters above the ground that’s so thick you can’t even see the leaves or the rocks that the skeleton lays on. It’s a handful of tiny purple flowers that were always destined to bloom, finally touching the sunlight from where they barely peek above the mist, through the ribcage like lost jewels trapped behind bars.
He keeps seeing glimpses of it– glimpses of a Nagi that he has yet to discover– as it comes out more and more. With every nudge that Reo gives him, every spark to push him forward, Nagi continues to unfurl his wings. It’s beautiful and more fulfilling than anything his family’s name could give to him.
So, Reo already knows that Nagi has multiple sides to him that can be true, even if they seem contradictory.
And yet, sometimes he needs a reminder of just how human an enigma like Nagi Seishiro can be.
It starts the day after Team V’s win against Team W and their brother aces.
It had been spent normally; training for their newly announced upcoming match against Team X.
Nothing was particularly out of order. Zantetsu ran laps around everyone while offering the same strategic input that Reo might expect from a blind child. Nagi dragged his feet and let his arms hang uselessly at his sides while he all but bitched about how much he was being put through. The rest of Team V continued to look starry eyed at Reo as they followed his every order and drank up his encouragement like sparkling cider.
Towards the end, Nagi seemed a bit more irritable than usual, mostly ignoring Reo’s attempts at conversation, but Reo attributed that to the fact that he made Nagi run around more than usual.
( “Why can’t I just stand on the side of the field and let you and Zantetsu deal with it?” Nagi whines, head tilted up and eyes closed. He huffs out a few quick breaths, looking like he’s seconds from falling over.
“Because Barou is a serious threat, Nagi.” Reo answers earnestly, handing over a water bottle and using the sleeve of his Bluelock uniform to swipe the sweat from above Nagi’s eyes. “He’s fast and powerful, and if we let our guards down, he’ll steamroll us.”
“What a pain,” Nagi sighs around the bottle opening. “And it’s only going to get worse from here.” )
Then came dinnertime.
Reo likes to think that he’s got a handle on Bluelock and how to survive, for the first selection anyway. There hadn’t been any arguments or disagreements since the very beginning and his idea of turning dinner into an economic system that had those with less wealth trading, or bargaining, with those with more wealth had been a complete success.
No one believed themselves to be treated better just because of their higher rank and it made the lower ranks feel more included. It’s a perfect system.
The only problem is the fact that, out of the eleven members of team V, there are two members who have yet to participate in this new system, and both of them happen to be apart of Team V’s ace trio.
Zantetsu doesn’t surprise him. Even after he and Reo settled their differences, he still views Reo’s attempts at team bonding to be elitist manipulation– something that Reo is shocked he even understands. Zantetsu, of course, doesn’t word it like that. He only seems to word it like it’s Reo pulling tricks and making fun of him.
He doesn’t actually know, truthfully, if that’s what the guy is intending. Reo takes most of what Zantetsu says with a grain of salt because it’s impossible to tell what he actually means to say.
But Nagi is much simpler to understand in that regard.
Ever since that first game of tag, Nagi’s rank had skyrocketed to 221, making him the highest ranked player on their team and that number never seemed to change, even after their games against Team Y and W.
At rank 221, Bluelock offers him tonkatsu and that’s the same thing that he’s eaten every single day since he got here.
And that’s not super unusual either. In the time that he’s known Nagi, the boy only ever eats the same handful of things. They’re usually snacks, or at the very least things that he doesn’t have to cook or put much effort into eating, and he’s very picky about the things he’ll eat with Reo, even if it’s being provided. From texture to taste to things that Reo doesn’t really understand, Nagi always seems to have a reason for why he can’t eat something.
Reo sometimes thinks it’s odd just how peculiar Nagi is with his eating habits. He’d say he has the diet of a child but Reo thinks it’s even worse than a child.
(Reo finds a lot of things odd about Nagi, though, and he mostly just assumes it’s because Nagi is Nagi . He’s a boy genius and all geniuses are screwy in the head. Being here proves that to him every day.)
Surprisingly, Bluelock’s tonkatsu is a food that Nagi actually likes.
He seems perfectly happy with the crispy slices of pork cutlet, especially with the sides of steamed rice and miso soup that he’s given, and Reo, knowing just how difficult he can be about food, is just as content to leave him out of the Meal Trading Market.
On this particular night, Nagi simply grabs his tray with slumped shoulders and goes to his regular seat next to Zantetsu. It’s the same seat he’s sat in since their first night here and Reo has given up on getting him to move. He did the same thing at school during lunch.
“Alright!” Reo says loudly from where he’s standing on the main table. “Today I once again have a hamburger steak for you all.”
Team V stands around him, all of them holding their trays and lining up to start the bids. Reo showcases his meal and begins thinking through different offers he could potentially make to his team that he hasn’t made yet. He tries to make everyone as happy as he can while also being realistic about the worth of each deal.
"You all know the drill by now,” he says, deadly serious. “Begin!”
The cafeteria erupts with the shouts of eight teenage boys, all forcing their deals at him. Reo understands them all just fine but, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nagi rest his forehead on the table and cover his ears.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Reo lifts one hand up and down to calm them. “We have all night. There doesn’t need to be so much fighting. Let’s start again with… you!” He points at one of them. “What is your offer?”
“Oh shit,” the boy sputters, looking down at his food. “Uhhh, I’ll give you half of a meat bun for… a third of your hamburger.”
Reo taps his chin as he thinks. “And you have four meat buns? No way. I’ll give you a fourth of it for an entire meatbun. Twenty five percent of my meal for twenty five percent of yours.”
His teammate hesitates while the others urge him to take the offer. “But it wouldn’t be twenty five percent of my meal since my meat buns come with sides–”
“Dude, don’t you want a better deal?” Reo asks, quirking his eyebrow up.
The boy’s jaw drops as realization sets in. “Oh shit , okay, deal! Deal!”
“Deal!” Reo repeats as Team V cheers. “Trade complete!”
Like he said earlier, this is all pretty standard for Team V. He’s repeated these words a few dozen times at this point, acting as a mediator for the food exchange.
By the end, Reo doesn’t have any of his hamburger steak left, but he does have a meat bun, half a bowl of kinpira gobo, three shumai dumplings, and a fourth of a bowl of tempura soba. Which, if you ask Reo, isn’t a bad haul.
“Hey, Nagi,” Reo greets with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. He sits down on the other side of Nagi. “I’m surprised you haven’t gone to the baths yet.”
Reo’s smile drops when Nagi doesn’t reply. He turns his body to face him. “Nagi? You okay?”
It’s then that he realizes that Nagi is gently rocking back and forth, a subtle movement that’s stifled by the way he’s pinned between the table and the back of his chair. He’s not sitting properly on the chair either, instead having his knees pulled up and his feet flat against the seat so he’s squatting on it instead. He’s curled in on himself with his forehead to his knees and his hands curled over his ears.
Nagi’s plate of tonkatsu has been pushed away from him and left mostly untouched, save for one cutlet that has a singular bite taken out of it. It doesn’t even seem like he’s touched his rice or his soup, which is the most strange.
“Nagi?” Reo lowers his voice and lays his head against the table so he can try to catch Nagi’s eye. “What’s wrong?”
Nagi doesn’t say anything.
From this angle, Reo can see that his eyes are shut tight and his hands are actually positioned so they’re a little bit higher than his ears. They’re still covering them, but they’re formed into a loose half first, hovering a few centimeters away so he can shake them in a rapid back and forth, so-so gesture.
Reo does get a response, though, but from a voice much deeper and formal sounding. “He’s been like that since we sat down.”
“Hah?” Reo lifts his head and looks at Zantetsu, who’s eating his soba.
Zantetsu makes eye contact with him over his bowl. “Nagi. He’s been like this since we sat down. It’s like he’s catastrophic.”
“Cata–” Reo repeats. “You mean catatonic ?”
“Is that not what I just said?” Zantetsu says, sounding confused.
Reo sighs and lays his head back down. “Nagi, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
No response.
Panic wells up inside him, making his heart beat a little too fast and his chest tighten. He tries to quell it almost immediately. This isn’t the first time he’s seen Nagi like this, nor does he think it’ll be the last.
Reo knew this was coming and is honestly a bit impressed that Nagi lasted this long.
Nagi has a lot of little quirks to him, such as his pickiness with food. Some are less blaring than others, of course, but there’s one that’s a bit more apparent than all the rest.
Nagi, for lack of a better word, shuts down. It’s not the same in the way that he requests Reo carry him places when he’s too tired, or the way he ignores him when Reo’s being too in his space. When Nagi shuts down, he shuts down . He doesn’t like to talk and it’s not just him choosing not to talk. It seems more like he can’t talk, like something’s gripping at his throat and pushing the words back down.
Things like social burnout, loud noises, sudden changes in his schedule, or even just waking up feeling bad can all lead him to these shut downs. There doesn’t seem to be a specific reason for any of it or, if there is, Reo hasn’t figured it out.
Reo did try to ask him about it once and Nagi shrugged him off. He’s always been difficult to read, truth be told, but Reo got the impression that not even Nagi was sure what caused them or even what they were in the first place. Which is fine. It’s just a Nagi thing that he has to be aware of.
The point is that he was somewhat expecting this. Eventually.
Taking Nagi out of his typical schedule and environment and forcing him into a situation that none of them knew any information about was bound to tip him over at some point. It was the one and only reservation Reo had about joining Bluelock with him.
So, there’s no reason to panic. Worry, yes. Panic, no.
Reo knows how to take care of Nagi, even if they weren’t allowed to keep any of their stuff, which includes all the shit Reo normally uses to calm him down– headphones to muffle sound, Nagi’s weighted plushies and blankets, and the many expensive sweaters and hoodies that Nagi stole from him, not because of their price, but because they were soft and comforting.
“Hmm, well, actually,” Zantetsu suddenly starts, barely intelligible with his mouth full of soba. “It wasn’t until he started eating. I guess he didn’t like the food or something.”
“Is that it, Nagi?” Reo asks softly, glancing at the tonkatsu. “I thought you liked pork cutlets.”
“There is no acclimatizing for tastes,” Zantetsu says, matter-of-factly. “To each their own.”
Reo opens and closes his mouth a couple times as he mulls over what to say. “That’s still– that’s still not right, stupid Zantetsu, but it’s… close enough that I think it works here.”
There’s a loud clattering noise as Zantetsu slams his plate of yakisoba on the table and whips around to look at Reo with wide eyes. “You mean it?! I got that one right?!”
Nagi whimpers quietly and pushes his hands against his head. Reo’s mouth straightens out as he glares at Zantetsu.
He’s aware the guy has next to no social skills and Reo has long since decided to try and up his patience for him, but stupid Zantetsu really does test him.
“Yeah, sure,” Reo deadpans. “But you might wanna look up the exact meaning of acclimatizing and, while you’re at it, look up the definition of reticence and internalize it.”
Zantetsu doesn’t seem to catch his passive aggression, which he expects, and just turns to eat his soba with a big grin on his face.
“Nagi?” Reo tries again. “Please, let me help you.”
Reo wouldn’t call himself prideful, per say, but there’s a lot of social pressure that comes from being the heir of the Mikage Corporation. There’s constant eyes on him all the time, and while he does like the attention, it does force him to adopt a less vulnerable persona.
That being said, when he’s with Nagi, there’s not much he won’t do in order to make the boy happy, or at the very least, content enough not to give up and leave. He’s not above begging if he has to.
Finally, Nagi lifts his head and blearily looks between his food and Reo’s concern-filled eyes. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and a bit hoarse as he forces the words out.
“Wasn’t good,” he says.
“What wasn’t?” Reo keeps his voice as neutral as he can.
“Tonkatsu,” Nagi answers. “Too chewy.”
Ah, yeah, that makes sense. Nagi hasn’t shut down because of food before but this isn’t very surprising.
When Nagi first tried Bluelock’s tonkatsu, it was because he hadn’t really had much choice in the matter. Ego is pretty firm in his ways and refused to accommodate Nagi’s pickiness, saying that Nagi wasn’t special enough to appease. Ego said that he could afford to be more demanding when he showed his worth a bit more.
No one else noticed the shift in Nagi’s posture or the minute frown that tugged on his lips, but Reo did. He always does.
Reo was ready to use seventeen years worth of business negotiation and being debate team captain to try and convince Ego otherwise but Nagi, with a sense of defeated masked as indifference, didn’t think the fight was worth the energy for either of them and accepted the fact that he would starve to death.
It took maybe twenty minutes of Nagi complaining about being hungry for Reo to force feed him the meal he was given.
And to his surprise, Nagi was humming happily as he ate despite not really liking pork. It’s a meat that’s difficult to cook right for him because of the texture. This one was perfectly tender and the sauce offered with it seemed to cover up any issues Nagi may have had, if there were any at all.
Nagi had been fine with it for the entirety of the time that they’ve been there.
Guess that streak is broken.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Reo reaches a hand up and gingerly laces his fingers in Nagi’s hair. Sometimes when Nagi gets like this, he’s very touch adverse and recoils painfully from any form of contact. In those situations, it’s harder to comfort him. Mostly, though, Reo’s found that Nagi likes to cling to him in some way and that helps ground him when he’s feeling like this. It kind of worries him, how starved for touch his best friend seems to be.
Nagi continues rocking and shaking his hands against the sides of his head. Reo thinks he might be imagining it, but Nagi does push back against his touch.
“Maybe you could just eat your soup? Or your rice?” Reo suggests. “Maybe tomorrow’s will be better.”
Nagi shakes his head. “Can’t.”
“Okay,” Reo says, immediately accepting that answer. If Nagi says he can’t right now, then he can’t. “I’d really prefer it if you ate, though. You did a lot of stuff during training. You need the energy.”
Nagi hums, clearly displeased, but doesn’t say anything more.
“Okay,” Reo repeats, mostly to himself, and stands up. Even if Nagi doesn’t end up eating, he’d rather try something than do nothing at all.
He scans over everyone’s meals, looking to see if anyone has anything Nagi might eat. Reo climbs up on the table next to theirs and clears his throat.
“Uh, real quick, Team V,” he says, gaining the immediate attention of everyone. “Does anyone have any crab sticks left? I know the Meal Trading Market is already over but I’ll trade you whatever you want for them, including, like, six cuts of tonkatsu. Nagi can’t eat it.”
There’s a couple murmurs before a hand raises. “I traded for four of them.”
Another. “I have a couple left too.”
Another. “I only have one left but you can have it for some pork cutlet.”
“Come on up and let’s make a deal,” Reo gives them a dazzling smile.
All three members, as expected, just wanted some of Nagi’s tonkatsu. They were even willing to take the one that he had already bitten out of in exchange for their crab sticks. There’s only so often that you can eat the same handful of things before going crazy– unless you’re Nagi, of course.
“Pleasure doing business,” Reo says, exchanging the food and making sure that the crab sticks are on a separate plate to Nagi’s tonkatsu tray. As he trades, Reo feels Nagi and Zantetsu’s eyes on him.
“Here,” Reo voice quiets down as he offers the sticks to Nagi. He slides back into his seat. “I know it’s not actual crab but… you can try it and see if you like it? You don’t even have to eat them right now and you can always just eat in the morning, but they’re there if you want them.”
Nagi slowly blinks at him for a few seconds before reaching a hand out and picking up the crab stick gingerly. His hand trembles, a bit wobbly as he brings the stick to his mouth, and his other hand continues with the frantic so-so gesture.
Reo’s not sure why Nagi moves like that– the rocking, the shaking of his hands, and sometimes he flaps his arms or hits his palm against the side of his head– and he’s never really seen anyone else move like that either, barring bouncing legs or fidgeting with pens. It’s not really something that Nagi consistently does but does it a lot when he’s overwhelmed, when he’s bored, and sometimes when he’s doing good in a game, both virtual and not.
Whatever it is, it seems to help him so Reo never comments on it.
Nagi takes a bite of his stick and chews on it slowly.
Reo watches him with an intense focus, his face inching closer as he watches Nagi’s reaction carefully. Crab sticks are usually made up of imitation crab, which Reo has heard is more rubbery than real crab, and if that’s true, it might send Nagi spiraling even more.
If the texture is fine, though, crab sticks taste enough like crab that it might win Nagi over, at least for the night. Convincing him not to reject all the food Bluelock offers tomorrow just because tonight was bad is a job for future Reo.
Nagi swallows, eyes turning to Reo, and takes another bite.
Reo lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Ah, good,” Zantetsu says, taking a sip of his water. His bowl is empty. “I’m glad that you’re feeling better, Nagi. I’m going to go take a bath and brush my teeth, but I’m willing to wait for you to finish so we can go together if that’d be more dressable for you.”
“Suitable.” Reo halfheartedly corrects, more of a default response than anything. Zantetsu is stupid, but he’s not an idiot. Even he’s noticed that Nagi likes his routines and is willing to adhere to them.
It’s nice knowing that other people can care.
Though, Reo’s the one who cares the most, obviously. There’s nothing Zantetsu can do that would compare to how much Reo happily does for Nagi’s comfort.
Reo grins to himself as he tears apart his wooden chopsticks and starts shoveling food into his mouth. It’s not hot anymore, now sitting mostly warm, but Reo can’t complain. He didn’t realize just how much of an appetite he worked up until he bit into that first dumpling.
“I’d like that, thanks.” Nagi mumbles around his crab stick.
“Very well, I shall wait right here.” Zantetsu nods and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He crosses his arms and sits still, staring at the cafeteria wall with the resolve of a soldier.
Reo and Nagi watch him in silence for about a minute, with only the chatter of Team V behind them and the sounds of Reo’s chopsticks against his plates to fill it.
Reo leans forward and whispers, “Do you think he’s just not gonna move?”
Nagi shrugs. “He’s committed to the bit, I guess.”
Reo looks Nagi over, still leaning forward. He’s still rocking but it’s less urgent and both of his hands are holding a crab stick instead of just the one. He looks a little pale now that he’s sitting up and Reo can get a better look at him, and his eyes are a bit watery. He looks relatively okay, though, as he snacks on his food.
No crying, no screaming, no trying to pull out his hair.
As far as Reo’s concerned, this is the ideal outcome.
But still, just to make sure.
“Are you feeling better?” Reo asks quietly.
Nagi glances back at him and takes another bite as he thinks. “I think so. Thanks for… y’know.”
Reo runs his hand through Nagi’s hair and bumps shoulders with him. “Yeah, of course. I’m glad you’re okay. I think we should ask Ego if we can cash in some goals for your headphones and stuff. Maybe even a weighted blanket or something.”
Zantetsu scoffs, getting both boys’ attention. “Why would he need a weighted blanket when he has you clinging to him like a koala?”
“Huh,” Reo ponders thoughtfully, his hand resting on top of Nagi’s head. “Nagi is more like a koala, though.”
“No, I’m not,” Nagi says. “That’s only true when we’re awake and you carry me around.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess so.”
“Reo could just sleep on top of you,” Zantetsu argues. “You guys already hog the deluxe bed.”
Reo lets out an affronted noise. “How is it hogging if I bought it with my own goals? Buy your own, stupid Zantetsu. It’s not like you don’t have the points for it.”
Zantetsu tilts his head up. “I’ll have you know that I don’t understand the point system.”
Reo rolls his eyes as he takes a bite of his meat bun.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nagi cuts in. “Reo mostly sleeps on his back or his side. It’d be uneven pressure.”
“Hmm,” Reo hums around his chopstick. “Maybe you could sleep on top of me. It’s still pressure, right? Just kinda different.”
“A weighted blanket would be much more useful for that.” Zantetsu says,
“But you said we don’t need the weighted blanket!” Reo exclaims, pointing his chopstick at Zantetsu over Nagi’s head.
“I’m just offering my point of view,” Zantetsu shoots back. “If you’re not interested then I can take my advice elsewhere.”
Reo loudly sighs.
Nagi lifts his hand to get their attention. “I’d like to take a bath now.”
He’s only eaten a couple of the crab sticks but it’s more than Reo expected so he just grins and gives Nagi a thumbs up. “Okay! I’ll try to finish up here so I can dry your hair afterwards, alright?”
Nagi nods and stands up alongside Zantetsu.
Zantetsu picks up his tray of dishes and heads towards the exit in long strides.
“Reo,” Nagi says quietly, hand on the back of Reo’s chair.
“Hm?” Reo slurps up his noodles.
Nagi hesitates. Reo waits for him.
“Thanks.” He says simply. It’s just one word, a word that he’s said before, but Reo knows better. He knows it’s more than just a word.
“Yeah,” Reo smiles. “Anytime.”