Work Text:
Kaiser stands within a neatly trimmed field during the early hours of the morning, with a football resting pliant beneath the soles of his cleats.
Others had begun to pile into the large expanse of faux grass and chalk measurements not too long ago, all with a likely mission in mind: to train; to refine; to develop.
It was only sensible to want to advance one’s prowess through some tedious means, no matter how lackluster it may have felt.
The same recurrent demonstrations, the same humdrum drills, the same monotonous efforts of practice.
It was only circumspect if any said player would want to improve; would want to progress.
However, in Michael Kaiser’s case — The notion simply didn’t apply. There was no reason for a prodigy to make pathetic attempts at what most would deem as ‘practise.’
Kaiser didn’t need practice. Not when even the mere idea of it had been absolutely repulsive to him.
And he certainly didn’t need it when a striker like himself had simply reigned supreme from the very moment his soles would make contact with the ball, with a serpent-like commandment, and controlling every play with an orderly divinity.
It had been all too easy for him, much like that of a true emperor.
So, if one were to ask the German why he had woken up, bright and early, to attend a pitch he had already claimed as inferior, his answer would have been simple.
To watch over a certain striker by the name, ‘Isagi Yoichi.’
When first meeting him, Kaiser is quick to note Yoichi’s arrant temper. How the younger did not even attempt to mask his clear distaste for the German, openly grimacing and sneering.
In return, Kaiser had been delighted by it. Delighted how the dark-haired boy was so partial to anger and throwing his tantrums around him.
If Kaiser had to describe it, it was almost like having a pet, never a dull moment around the other striker and his indefinitely tempestuous way of responding.
Thus, Kaiser assesses from a distance, and witnesses the very boy in a pure state of focus.
Yoichi was always like that, with a formidable-like focus and a sharp eye. Kaiser almost felt sorry that the player had yet to notice him from afar. Almost.
With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, Isagi heads way over the pitch with great intensity, ready to score.
That simply wouldn’t do, Kaiser thinks; darting past, effortlessly silent, and ripping the ball straight off of little Yoichi as if it was second nature. At least by now, it had been.
“Heads up.” Kaiser calls out tauntingly, as he watches Isagi, still clueless and wide-eyed; yet to realize what had just occurred.
He grins, watching the other striker peers his head, in one direction and another, before finally snapping up — only then noticing the blond’s presence.
And the reaction is almost instantaneous, as the shorter boy’s eyes darken and his eyebrows furrowing upon finally seeing the other striker.
“Would you stop that?” Isagi grimaces, now facing him whilst eyeing the ball—likely in the hopes to steal the ball from the taller male.
“Stop what?” Kaiser innocently taunts, and rolls the ball under his shoe, and watches as the other grits his teeth.
“Just give it back, asshole.” Isagi grits out, his patience quickly wearing thin.
“Are you so incapable?” Kaiser asks him lightly, even tilting his head to infuriate the other boy more. “I’m sure you can take it back yourself.”
Isagi scowls at the comment and bolts forward in a quick flash in which Kaiser flicks the ball in one elegant motion, which has Isagi nearly slipping over, before he just barely catches himself.
As diligent as the other had been, the dark-haired boy had yet obtained the correct poise Kaiser had mastered when actually playing.
“Steal it properly, Yoichi. I know you can.” Kaiser teases, his eyes gleaming at the visible tensing of the other’s fists. “Don’t be so quick to disappoint me, yes?”
The shorter boy snaps forward again, which Kaiser easily avoids — moves around the boy as if it were nothing.
Isagi’s attacks begin to appear less coordinated, his frustration growing as he hastily attempts to now practically chase after Kaiser.
And when Isagi takes one clumsy step forward — it was only natural for Kaiser to stick a foot out and watch the other boy trip over, tumbling to the floor.
How foolish, the blond thinks as Isagi lets out a loud yelp when he trips up and finds himself suddenly sinking into a large patch of wet grass.
“What a clutz you are, Yoichi.” Kaiser chides slyly, and practically hovers over the dark-haired boy with a look of mockery. “That simply won’t do.”
“Fuck off.” Isagi seethes, his hair in a frazzled mess as his body remains planted on the damp field.
He almost openly sneers at the vulgar comment, fixing a dark look on the other boy who sits unavailing, still sprawled out; still beneath him.
“Such crass words,” Kaiser scoffs, with an unnerving glisten in his eyes, continuing to ogle at the other boy. “Yet you kneel so nicely for me, don’t you?”
The comment is enough to have Isagi shuffling back, with a frantic look on his face, with his limbs scrambling about in utter shock.
“You’re a serious weirdo.” Isagi spits out, a little too unnerved for it to sound like a proper insult, and immediately stands up, stepping a hasty meter back out of revulsion.
Kaiser only chuckles and gives one small tap, sending the ball rolling back towards the other; watching the dark-haired boy turn away.
“Leaving so soon?” Kaiser asks, pouting his lip in a faux attempt at remorse which only infuriates the other striker more.
“Do you always feel the need to be such a freak?” Isagi spits out, peering his head back just to ask the discrediting question.
“You make it fun.” Kaiser simply responds, with the corner of his lips curling up ever so slightly. “Like a game of cat and mouse.”
“That would make me the former, then.” Isagi stubbornly remarks, scoffing at the other.
Kaiser almost laughs at the irony of it, but instead settles on a grin before replying.
“Only if it makes me the owner, sure.” Kaiser slyly offers instead, and watches the other snarl at the analogy; stomping off.
Perhaps that had been a little too much, is what crosses Kaiser’s mind for only a split second, though he brushes the thought off quick.
He just couldn’t feel bad when he’d been so amused by Yoichi’s antics, as said striker runs off — likely towards his other little friends.
…
STEP ONE:
There is a lively chatter that echoes aloud in the cafeteria, where Kaiser is idly seated.
Who he sits with is inconclusive, and rather irrelevant to him. Likely his fellow peers; and most definitely Ness, who squeezed himself in right beside him.
Whatever they converse about was insignificant as well, as Kaiser’s mind is elsewhere; lost in thought.
Despite Yoichi’s irritable nature, Kaiser notices yet another aspect of him — one he was less familiar with.
He notices it more so with the other Blue Lockers, as the blond observes the group from afar:
Observes how Yoichi was always so excitable when it came to praise.
And how the boy had absolutely detested being ignored. It explained how awfully persistent he was during each of their matches.
Like now, as Kaiser watches Isagi closely as the other Blue Lock players crowd around him.
“Kaiser. You listening?” A voice is suddenly snapping him out of his thoughts, and the blond looks up to see Erik staring at him.
Kaiser gives him a half-hearted nod, not bothered to answer him — and attempts to look a little less distracted, despite his mind being completely elsewhere.
“You’ve been more uninterested than usual.” Erik points out, staring at him almost accusedly.
“And you care, why?” Kaiser questions him back, just as pointedly, before promptly shutting the other up.
Besides the whisper from Grim, (‘I suspect it’s something to do with that number eleven… during practice and all…’ to which Erik nods, the two dimwits gossiping amongst themselves) the table remains silent again.
Though not without Grim’s comment going unaccounted, tracking Kaiser back and having him lost in thought yet again, as he recalls back to said practice.
During the session, there had been a particularly difficult drill that had been set. Something to do with accuracy, Kaiser hadn’t really seen nor paid much care, if he were to be honest.
What he did see were the absolutely dreadful attempts.
A half hour of missed chances, and misplaced timing; The German was practically three seconds away from digging someone’s head into the dirt.
Only after some time and a rather pressing headache on Kaiser’s behalf — Isagi had stepped up and finally succeeded in completing the drill. As expected from the wonder boy of Blue Lock.
Thus, the buzzing excitement near Isagi’s table and a certain blond’s failure to concentrate on whatever his other teammates were currently discussing.
Kaiser watches one blue-haired boy, Hiori, hold onto Yoichi’s hand and pump it up into the air — with another blond boy, Raichi, holding Yoichi’s other arm.
He watches as Yukkimiya wraps an arm around Yoichi’s shoulder, expressing his support. And how practically Kurona clings onto the blue-eyed boy’s shoulders from behind.
And how Kunigami, of all people, silently ruffles Yoichi's hair without a single word. How, in the midst of it all, Yoichi positively beams.
Kaiser’s eye twitches, and he can hear Ness’ grumbling towards his left, likely complaining about Yoichi.
“He really thinks he’s all that. As if Kaiser couldn’t pull off that move in just one attempt.” Ness haughtily brags, praising the blond for the fifth time that day.
“I don’t blame him. He’s basically the MC of Bastard at this point.” Erik snorts, stabbing at a loose piece of potato on his tray. “Coddled by his own teammates, and Coach Noa, himself. Figures.”
“We can only hope it doesn’t get to his head.” Grim dejectedly admits, sighing out at the mere thought.
The table peers to Isagi’s and, low-and-behold, the Blue Lockers had yet to let go of him — multiple cheers and praises being sent Yoichi’s way.
“Again, wouldn’t fault him,” Erik shrugs, “I mean just look at him. He’s practically glowing, while they all cling onto him… That ginger guy, especially.”
Suddenly, in that moment, there’s a scrape of a chair, ear-gratingly loud, that interrupts the discussion as all three players whip their heads up to see Kaiser now stood up.
“Glowing?” Kaiser mockingly repeats, tossing a nearby knife onto the table. “Don’t make me laugh.”
The trio watch him bewildered, as the blond walks away, now making his way towards Isagi’s table. And Ness has to hold himself back from following, choosing to keep a close eye instead, just in case.
Kaiser, with a stubborn motive in mind, slinks over unsuspectedly. By now, Isagi’s whole table had focused on eating, a few of them exchanging words every now and then.
If Yoichi was so keen on receiving praise, then the German would only have to offer his own support, as well — as he begins to make way towards the table.
He sees a spectacled boy nudge at another sharp-toothed boy, who looks up and immediately jolts up at the sight of him. The angry blond turns and furiously whispers to another one of Yoichi’s friends.
Kaiser only scoffs at the pitiful sight, with the entirety of the table now peering up at him distastefully.
When Kaiser finally reaches the table, he naturally sits himself right next to Yoichi without saying a word.
The dark-haired boy had yet to notice, still immersed in eating his lunch. But his other peers had, as multiple eyes now stare at Kaiser with great suspicion.
Now finally able to test his theory, Kaiser places the palm of his hand on top of Yoichi’s head,
And gives him a single pat on the head.
The multiple eyes on him that had once held suspicion morphed into one’s of horror, and befuddlement.
Because why had Michael Kaiser decided to sit himself down at the already proclaimed lowly table, and begun petting one of their members.
Kaiser dully examines the dark-haired boy’s expression. Yoichi had not paid the sudden contact any mind and continued to eat his meal.
It is completely silent, not a word had been said.
After a lengthy and rather existential minute, Yoichi finally moves — leaning his head closer into Kaiser’s palm, actively seeking out the taller’s hand.
The dark-haired boy, despite him quite clearly initiating further contact, remains unbothered.
He takes another bite of his food, all while Kaiser kneads his careful fingers into the striker’s dark strands of hair, and continues munching pleasantly.
It had apparently been the German’s last straw as he finally chuckled at the foolish sight.
“‘Good?” Kaiser remarks casually, watching the other boy's blissful face as he eats in peace.
And only then does Yoichi’s expression finally stir at the sudden voice; promptly snapping out of his whatever food trance he was in, as he peers over to his side and finally notices Kaiser currently touching him.
The reaction is instantaneous, as Isagi flings his body back, evading the blond’s touch.
“What are you doing!?” Isagi panics, and opts to hide behind Kunigami — shielding himself from Kaiser.
“Expressing support for my dear teammate.” Kaiser quips, far too relaxed, as he watches the other’s fleeting movements. “Why? You don’t like it?”
“No, you creep! — Go away!” Isagi hisses, and scurries away from the table disorientedly.
Kaiser only watches the other boy leave the cafeteria in a rather skittish-like manner; desperately attempting to escape. Like a kitten, the blond muses to himself.
Yes, Yoichi could be so docile at times, when he wasn’t flaunting that aggression of his.
Kaiser chuckles, before he scans around the room and flashes back towards the table. Yoichi’s friends share perplexed looks and eye him strangely.
In response, Kaiser offers zero words, and a single cold departure as he leaves the table, no other entertainment remaining in sight.
…
STEP TWO:
Whilst watching Yoichi certainly proved to be diverting at times — the boy, unfortunately, was not always so readily available at times.
And Kaiser attempting to find him outside of an open pitch would deem useless as well, since the other boy avoided him as if he were a plague.
Still, he couldn’t hide forever. Not when Kaiser had to test yet another theory of his.
Which begins with seeking out information from the blue-eyed striker’s very own friends, as the German cunningly strides through the hallways with a plan in mind.
…
“…Hey, isn’t that Kaiser walking straight towards us?” Hiori points out in an airy tone, not nearly concerned enough at the apparent ambush.
“What?” Yukimiya blurts out, and snaps his head over to witness the blond very much treading in their direction with an indecipherable look.
By now, the entirety of the Blue Lockers had began to look at eachother strangely — basically awaiting the German’s arrival.
“‘Fuck does he want?” Raichi grumbles, and narrows his eyes wearily. “He’s bad news. That stunt with Isagi was already weird enough.”
The audible reminder is kept registered in the entire table’s mind as the blond nears closer towards the group, before finally halting, right before them.
Kaiser heads his collected steps and practically towers over the group.
When peering down at them, the look in his eyes appeared detached; no clear expression readily indicating his intentions as he stares, impassive.
His eyes slowly search across the table, with no particular interest, before finally settling on Kunigami.
”Ah,” Kaiser finally speaks, lips curling up into a smile as he snaps his eyes towards the ginger. “You’ve known Yoichi the longest here, yes?”
The query itself was straightforward and incredibly bleak. Rather a strange thing to ask, since it wasn’t truly a fact of any use — and even stranger considering who it was coming from.
Kunigami does not respond, only keeps a stony look on his face as he dully stares back at the other.
“What about it?” Raichi pipes up now daringly, whilst still keeping a close eye on the other.
“I need to know,” Kaiser begins, not moving his eyes off of Kunigami as he takes a step forward. “What’s Yoichi’s favourite food?”
It had been a seemingly innocent enough question, yet, even then, it completely swallowed the room up due to the sheer bizzarity of it.
Because why did Bastard Munich's Michael Kaiser need to know someone else’s favourite food?
“I think that’s a hardly relevant question.” Kunigami answers him, coldly, with an unflinching look.
“A harmless one, too.” Kaiser says, and tilts his head in a way that would have been friendly — if not for the other’s unsettling smile. “So, tell me. I’ll even give you a reward for it, yes?”
“I said no.” Kunigami replies, the German’s answer only putting him off more. The other had already been creepy enough with his apparent infatuation with Isagi.
Kaiser’s smile almost shatters at the other’s sheer stubbornness, and the look in his eyes quickly darkens.
“Nothing you want? I’ll throw in a snack of your choice.” Kaiser only presses him further, looking him up and down. “Perhaps a weight lift or two, if it’s necessary.”
Kunigami almost scoffs at the smugness of the other’s futile attempt to persuade him. Acting like he could be bribed with such superficial things.
“I already said no.” Kunigami rejects him once more, meeting the German’s burning gaze with a coldness of his own, before continuing,
“Nothing you say is going to make me—”
“Isagi likes kintsuba.” A small voice suddenly states, rather simply, but it has multiple heads whipping back at the very sound of it.
A certain salmon-haired boy sits silently, with a half-lidded look peering up at Kaiser, waiting for an answer in exchange for the information he had just explicitly spilled.
An exchange that hadn’t even been offered to him in the first place.
“Kurona!?” Yukimiya sputters, utterly dumbfounded at how easily the smaller boy had given in.
“…And I like twisted bread. Any flavour is fine, fine.” Kurona humbly informs him, slowly nodding at the German with an acute excitement.
“Are you serious…?” Hiori looks at him strangely, not realizing how shameless the pink-haired boy could be.
“He said he’d throw in a snack of our choice…” Kurona defends, weakly, not even realizing what he’d just done.
“Kintsuba…” Kaiser softly says, immediately catching the entire group’s attention once again, as he recalls the foreign-sounding syllables.
Ah, Kaiser thinks. He’ll have to ask for a favour.
“Pleasure doing business.” He flatly announces, satisfied with the information as he walks away — no longer interested.
The consecutive silence that follows is deafening. And when no one decides to speak, Kunigami slowly turns around, now focusing on Kurona.
“Traitor.” Kunigami accuses him, heartlessly.
The pink-haired boy practically jumps, helplessly distressed by the ginger’s cruel accusation.
“I’m not a traitor,” Kurona hastily defends, his eyes widening at the ginger’s unconvinced look. “I’m on Isagi’s side, forreal — forreal!”
…
STEP THREE:
Noel Noa sedately sits in a quiet room, with a vastly-sized screen blaring out some randomly-selected, amateur football match.
The man does not watch the game — he lets it play as a pleasant background noise, as he stares aimlessly; thinking to himself.
Though his muddled thoughts are interrupted when the sound of the door slowly opens, prompting the coach into shifting his gaze to identify who had just entered.
“I need a favour.”
Noa blinks at the abrupt request, as he stares at a certain blue-streaked blond; calmly standing in front of him.
Despite the obvious plea, Kaiser doesn’t even look desperate.
He asks the question with his usual dry tone, as if Noa’s answer wouldn't even bother him — as if it’d be expected that his request would be taken into account.
“A favour.” Noa repeats, plainly. “And that would be?”
Kaiser narrows his eyes at the unmoved response before clarifying, “Kintsuba. And twisted bread.”
“You wish…” Noa slowly processes the words, not exactly understanding what Kaiser was trying to get at. “For the cafeteria’s menu to expand?”
Kaiser’s eye nearly twitches at the other’s sheer bluntness, “Just a single plate would suffice.”
”For what?” Noa shuts the statement down, only looking to interrogate the blond for a single reason behind such an unlogical request.
Seems a good excuse is required, Kaiser sourly thinks as he scoffs at the white-haired man’s debrief. But what would be a good reason…? Kaiser clenches his jaw when not a single sufficient excuse comes to mind.
And his mind only blanks more when meeting the other man’s hard gaze, with still no reason in mind.
Think! What exactly was Noel Noa fond of?
Oh, the realization dawns on him as Kaiser finally recognises the one and only answer to the question. It was so simple.
“For Isagi Yoichi.” Kaiser cooly voices out, meeting the white-haired man’s cold stare. “I wish to dismiss any hard feelings with my own teammate, of course.”
If he were anyone else, perhaps he would've inwardly cringed at the low-par excuse. But he doesn’t. Only stands his ground and watches Noa’s face closely.
A heavy silence stretches out between the two, with Noa’s face not even wavering — his expression still frustratingly unfeeling to Kaiser’s displeasure.
“Okay.” Noa states, agreeably. “If for the sake of the team, it can be managed.”
Kaiser pauses, jaw unclenching as the man finally agrees to the request — leaving the blond rather unnerved.
‘For the sake of the team,’ Kaiser almost audibly laughs at the half-assed excuse, and at the man’s poorly-hidden favoritism. Yeah, right.
…
STEP FOUR:
Isagi lets out a well-deserved exhale as he takes one last swig out of his bottle, wiping the sweat off his face before setting off the pitch.
He stretches his sore limbs, before collecting each and every scattered football — placing them back into their designated cart.
And only when he had finished, was he completely satisfied; giving himself a self-assured nod.
This calls for some lunch, I think!
Isagi bounces about excitedly, and enters the cafeteria. The room had been relatively empty, still quite early in the afternoon, with only a few of the tables being occupied.
Scanning the room, it is only then he makes eye contact with Michael Kaiser, of all people — the blond meeting his gaze back artfully, with a look that had been far too gladdened.
Isagi purses his lips at the other’s already irritating face, and peers elsewhere to avoid any further interaction.
Though when shifting his eyes, the dark-haired boy freezes in place, his attention being rapidly caught.
Kintsuba. Neatly placed on a plate that had been placed in front of Kaiser. His favourite.
The sight immediately has him stunned with the striker quickly realizing the dessert had in fact belonged to the German, for some absolute joke of a reason.
“What is that?” Isagi can’t help but foolishly blurt out, with wide eyes still fixated on the plate — not even looking at the other.
“Good morning to you, too, Yoichi.” Kaiser complacently greets, delighted by the other’s stun.
Isagi doesn’t even bother acknowledging the nickname, only skeptically snaps his eyes back up.
“Where’d you get that from…?” He asks, warily.
“You mean this strange treat?” Kaiser bobs his head to the side, feigning innocence and attempting to look oblivious to the other’s clear apprehension.
“It’s not strange,” Isagi furrows his eyebrows, displeased at the other’s sheer dismissiveness before continuing,
“It’s a Japanese confection.” Isagi informs him, critically, as if it were a crucial matter of fact — still glaring at the taller.
“You seem defensive,” Kaiser cooly observes, looking the other up and down. “Is this a favourite of yours?”
“No.” Isagi hastily quips, and immediately curses to himself at how readily he had responded.
“Ah, I see. How unfortunate.” Kaiser practically cooes, resting his face into the palm of his own hand, and stabbing a fork into the spongy dessert.
Kaiser closely watches, grinning at how Isagi’s eyes had now formed into practical slits; his blue eyes following every movement of the German’s fork.
He raises the utensil to his lips, and Yoichi’s glaring does not deter — tracking where the silver fork was moving at all times.
“So, you wouldn’t mind me throwing this away?” Kaiser bluntly questions, now swiftly tilting the utensil away from the other and out toward the floor.
Isagi’s eyes widen at the threat before his body is suddenly shooting forward, now far closer to the other than he was supposed to be. “No! That’s wasteful!”
“So, you do want it?” Kaiser is grinning now, softly asking him again, and waving the piece of dessert side-to-side almost beckoningly.
Isagi growls out, aggravated by the question before he reaches out, harshly replying, “Give me.”
Kaiser, detecting the movement, snatches the it away and clicks his tongue disapprovingly as if the other were a child. “Say please.”
“Die.” Isagi hisses, and curses the other at the utterly obnoxious demand.
“Have some fucking manners.” Kaiser sneers, now ripping the utensil away out of the other’s sight; opting to drop it onto the floor, and discard of the dessert.
The cold panic that takes over Isagi was completely unplanned, and in the next second — he pounces forward, and eats the piece of Kintsuba straight off the fork, still in Kaiser’s hand.
And the immediate feeling of pure regret, that washes over him right after, had been even colder.
Isagi reels his head back with a tightly-shut mouth, as he flushes a bright red when the German only looks at him, shocked.
The silence is almost deafening before Kaiser finally decides to speak, scoffing, “So impatient.”
The taller presses a cold finger onto Isagi’s bottom lip, catching the boy off guard, as he swipes at a streak of cream, licking it straight off of his thumb.
The gesture makes the dark-haired boy cringe, as he shoulders hunch inwards and scrunches his nose up.
“…Gross,” Isagi glumly insults, not even able to properly look at the blond. “…Don’t touch me.”
“Touch you?” Kaiser eloquently snorts, before leaning back without a care in the world. “Not that I mind, Yoichi, but you’re the one currently sitting in my lap.”
In a mere quarter of a second, Isagi flinches at the comment and immediately jumps straight back up, for the second time, away from the other. “Super gross!”
Kaiser grins, and watches the dark-haired boy dejectedly stomp off; not even mad at him — just simply humiliated by the observation.
…
STEP FIVE:
After the interaction, Kaiser isn’t too surprised that Yoichi begins to not only avoid him, but run away from him as well.
From the cafeteria, to even simply walking past each other in the hallways — Yoichi is not slick with his newly found pusillanimity.
So, to Kaiser’s delight, when the two are both found in the early morning; in the same very pitch practicing, it is almost impossible for Yoichi to run away now, without making it too obvious.
It was by pure coincidence, after all. (Excluding the part where Kaiser had eerily stalked the other boy on his way to the training grounds.)
“Good morning.” Kaiser easily greets, trying his best not to smirk too much at the other’s timid movements.
The shorter snaps his head up, shoulders tensing up as if he was expecting the other to suddenly shoot forward and murder him.
“…Right.” Yoichi forcefully acknowledges after a minute, before scurrying off to practice by himself.
Kaiser only chuckles, and decides to leave the other boy alone, for now — now wandering to his own space as well.
He can hear the little taps of Yoichi’s feet kicking the ball, right behind him as he simply continues to succeed in his own trials of shooting methods.
Every now and then, he’d find himself glancing up to see Yoichi. And everytime, the boy would be peering right down at his feet.
Always the same determined expression, with his teeth lightly biting down at his bottom lip and his large eyes narrowed; darting around to follow each movement of the ball.
Like some house pet racing around—in search of some toy. It was oddly expectant. And even more ridiculous to see.
Kaiser has to hold back a snort, before focusing on himself once more, restraining himself to not bother the other boy.
Though after a few minutes of silence, the sound of someone yelping rings out, followed by a loud ‘thud!’
Kaiser promptly turns around, and it had been Yoichi, of course. The other striker now sprawled out on the floor, with a strained leg and an even more strained expression.
The dark-haired boy presses his arms around the bend of his knee and holds onto it tightly, curling up into a ball as his head drops back onto the grass in pain.
Clumsy, Kaiser can only think, as he makes his way towards the other boy and stands over him with a thoughtful look.
“Go ‘way.” Isagi grits out, when he notices the taller, childishly moving his head to the side to avoid even looking at the other’s face.
“Did little Yoichi hurt himself?” Kaiser pouts, tilting his head to the side as he stares unashamedly; very much not leaving the other alone.
“I said go away.” Isagi growls, instantly snapping his head back up to glare at the blond.
“And leave you here? Is that what you want?” Kaiser dryly asks him, disregarding the foolish request. “How utterly humiliating. For your teammates to see you laying here and sulking on the floor, all injured. I can’t imagine what Coach Noa would have to say.”
Isagi rips his hands off of his knee and practically snarls at him, as he forces his bruised body to get up.
“Lay back down.” Kaiser orders, and watches the dark-haired boy narrow his eyes suspiciously.
Isagi does not lay back down, not knowing what to expect. But in a lightning-like flash — his entire body is suddenly being lifted up, his back no longer pressed onto hard dirt of the ground.
It takes him a second to register that it is Kaiser lifting him up, and securing him right into his arms.
“What the hell!?” Isagi alarmededly exclaims, instinctively trying to escape the taller’s hold on him. “Let go of me!”
“Would you stop that?” Kaiser tightens his grip, not in the mood for the other’s objections. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. This isn’t a matter of your fragile, petty pride.”
Isagi shuts his mouth at the cruel statement, and only shakily scoffs, turning his head; not even wanting to acknowledge the other anymore.
Kaiser readjusts his hold on the other boy, before moving forward and soon evading the pitch.
He doesn’t bother fetching the scattered balls. He never did anyway. Kaiser only continues to walk, with the other boy pliant in his arms.
When in the hallways, Isagi can’t help but glance around — paranoid of anyone possibly awake at this hour walking past and witnessing the humiliating position he was unfortunately now in.
Kaiser, of course, silently notices Yoichi’s anxious movements and his even more anxiety-inducing thoughts, and snickers aloud at the other’s obvious unease.
“Embarrassed?” He slyly points out.
The dark-haired boy continues to ignore him, so Kaiser only continues to walk in return, not bothered one bit by the current situation that they both were in.
It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable. At least for Yoichi.
Though after a few minutes, when the hallways had started to blend into eachother, Yoichi began shifting about, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around Kaiser’s broad shoulders, nervous at the possibility of being dropped.
Kaiser holds back a coo, finding the gesture endlessly amusing. And it wasn’t long before Yoichi’s whole body had curled into his chest, still paranoid.
“Comfortable, are we?” Kaiser teases, not at all concerned with the other’s embarrassment.
“Stop talking.” Yoichi mutters, not entertained in the slightest as he tightens his grip around Kaiser’s shoulders, in the hopes of possibly suffocating the blond into silence.
“Of course,” Kaiser airily says, and deliberately loosens his grip a little more, just for the fun of it.
…
SUCCESS!
[Cat has been obtained! Congratulations!]