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Chapter Text

Practice with Agi always leaves him extra sleepy. Seishiro blames the newfound determination to increase his independence and creativity while playing, which is more taxing than any physical exercise he’s had to do. He’s grateful when practice comes to an end. Prince excitedly announces the plans for tomorrow’s practice and Nagi easily tunes him out, fantasizing about how comfortable his bed is. 

“Nagi? Hello—Earth to Nagi!” 

He blinks back into awareness, following the hand waving in front of his nose to its owner. Chigiri is staring back at him, amused. He still seems energetic despite all the running drills Prince had him do, eyes bright and face only slightly flushed. Seishiro could never love running enough to do it so often and repetitively. It makes sense during a game, but running just to run is pointless. 

“Let’s go,” Reo adds. “I am starving.” 

Seishiro would rather sleep than eat right now, but he nods along anyways. 

“Reo, carry me,” Seishiro whines, slumping his weight against his best friend. “I’m tired.” 

“So am I,” argues Reo, looking miffed. Seishiro mourns when Reo would offer because he was the one dragging Seishiro around to fulfill his soccer dream. 

He turns to ask Chigiri, but the other boy turns up his nose. “Nuh uh. You’re taller than I am, it’d kill my knee.” 

Seishiro doubts that but he lets it go and sets his eyes on Reo again, silently pleading. Reo stubbornly stares back at him before giving in with a sigh. He’s not truly upset though or else he wouldn’t be looking so fond. He waits for Seishiro to hop onto his back and secures his thighs so he doesn’t slide off. 

“Simp,” Chigiri teases. 

“Shut up, princess.” Reo half-heartedly kicks at him. It’s pointless, Chigiri dances out of the way easily and Seishiro grumbles in complaint as he’s jostled. “Sorry, Nagi.” 

As they head off the field, Seishiro finds himself sagging more and more against Reo, nose pressed into the crook of his neck. There’s a bone-deep weariness that weighs him down, wrapping itself around him like a thick blanket. If given the chance, he thinks he could fall asleep right here. 

He doesn’t quite nod off, but takes the opportunity to rest his eyes, soothed by the familiar comfort of Reo and Chigiri talking amongst each other. 

Seishiro mumbles a quick gratitude to Reo once they return to their shared room and slides off his back to return to solid ground. He wobbles a bit, muscles fatigued but manages to shower and change into a fresh set of clothes. He’s the first done, having skipped a soak in the baths in favor of a chance to nap. Neither Reo nor Chigiri will let him skip dinner so he flops onto the mattress, damp hair flicking droplets on the sheets, and gives into the pull of sleep. 

Dinner is a strange affair. He manages a couple bites, driven by the hunger that flares after his nap, but the gnawing edge wears off quickly and the exhaustion comes back tenfold. Seishiro eventually stops trying and props his chin against his hand, lazily pushing his food around with chopsticks. 

“Not hungry?” Chigiri asks, having somehow polished off his food in record time. Maybe his running speed translates to everything else. 

Seishiro shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “I’m more tired than anything.” His eyelids are heavy, determined to stay closed every time he blinks. 

“Agi is really running you to the ground.” Reo sounds distracted like he wants to say something different. Seishiro hums to show he’s listening. 

“It’s not physical work though.” 

“Mental work can be just as exhausting.” 

Nagi lets them debate amongst themselves. He blinks and time warps, words missed and expressions sliding past him until he isn’t quite sure how the topics have switched so drastically. 

It’s only when his head dips does Nagi startle back into awareness, shocked awake by the swooping feeling in his stomach. 

Both Chigiri and Reo laugh. 

“Maybe you should head to bed.” 

“Yeah,” says Chigiri, “you can leave your plate. We’ll clean up here.” 

Grateful, he listens without complaint. He lands face down on his bed, still on top of the covers. He tells himself he’ll change into sleepwear in a minute. 

Seishiro is asleep in seconds. 

Seishiro is no stranger to exhaustion. He’s always had less energy when compared to his peers. His past teachers would call him lazy for falling asleep in class and doing the bare minimum. And maybe he is, it doesn’t bother him too much since he scores well on exams. He absorbs the material, just doesn’t see the point in fighting to stay awake when it isn’t difficult for him. 

It took some bribery from Reo to spark his interest in soccer, and even so, Seishiro admits that he did the bare minimum. If it weren’t for Isagi and Reo as motivation, he doesn’t think he’d continue playing. Blue Lock is exhausting and he can’t squeak by with doing the least anymore. He’s naturally athletic, but Blue Lock demands for him to work to meet the physical demands. 

On his own, he isn’t sure he can muster the motivation to play. Soccer is fun, but he doesn’t have the boundless energy of the other egoists. 

Thankfully, Chris Prince lets them have Sunday off so Seishiro has plenty of time to recharge. He even gets to sleep in. Sorta. It ends when Chigiri decides to blow dry his hair. Why, Seishiro has no clue because he doesn’t make the effort to dry his own hair and that takes less time than Chigiri’s hair, which stretches towards his shoulder blades. 

“You’re awful,” Seishiro tells him. 

Chigiri doesn’t turn off the dryer and just looks at him blankly. “What?” 

He can’t hear him over the angry whir of the blowdryer. “You’re the worst,” Seishiro amends, louder. 

Finally, Chigiri shuts the thing off. “It’s noon. ” And promptly resumes his work. 

If a pillow smacks Chigiri in the head, it absolutely isn’t his doing. 

Chigiri squawks indignantly and chucks it back at his face with scary accuracy. Seishiro accepts defeat, using the pillow to muffle the noise. 

He must fall asleep again because the next thing he knows, he is opening his eyes once more. Chigiri throws himself onto Seishiro’s bed, a familiar habit now after their time together during second selection. He rolls over until he’s pressed against Chigiri’s side, leeching the warmth that always radiates from the other boy. 

“Isagi texted—he and some of the others are going to the arcade. Wanna go?” 

“They’re off too?” 

Chigiri nods, pulling up his phone to show the group chat. Seishiro is sure he also got those texts, but he purposefully put his phone on ‘do not disturb’ last night so he could sleep in. “Everyone is so we’re free to go out today.” 

“Is Reo going?” He can’t help but ask. He’s not codependent or anything, but it’s nice to be close with Reo again and he wants to keep it that way. 

“Pretty sure.” 

Seishiro decides that if Reo and Chigiri are going, it’s good enough for him. “Where is he anyway?” 

“I think he’s letting off steam on the pitch. His dad called earlier and you know how that usually goes.” 

He’s been privy to the long-winded rants Reo has about his parents. He loves them, but they are also a source of frustration. Seishiro is glad his own parents usually leave him be. He nods along to Chigiri and then rolls over with a yawn. 

“When are we leaving?” 

Maybe he can sneak in another nap. 

Chigiri shakes his arms. “No, don’t go back to sleep. We’re leaving in an hour if we can wrangle everyone together in time.” 

He sighs heavily. “I can get ready in thirty minutes.” 

“You’ve slept all morning,” complains Chigiri. 

“And?” 

“And now it’s time to get up.” 

Seishiro wonders if the obnoxious insistence is a younger sibling trait. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he tells him flatly.

Chigiri grins smugly like some self-satisfied cat after it knocks a glass despite being told no. He rolls off the bed, taking his body heat with him and leaving Seishiro to suffer. “I’m gonna see if Isagi and I can convince Kunigami to come along.” 

With a final yawn, Seishiro stands to get ready. It doesn’t take long to throw on pants and a hoodie. He debates going to grab something to eat, but decides against it. There will be opportunities for him to buy snacks while out in town. Plus, he’d rather spend the little spare time he has to play some games on his phone. 

Just as he beats a personal record, the door unlocks.

“What did he say?” Seishiro doesn’t look up, knowing Chigiri will talk without his full attention, especially when Kunigami is involved. 

“Just the usual crap.” 

Any progress made in his game ends immediately upon hearing Reo. Pocketing his phone, Seishiro sits up to address him properly. “Oh Reo, I thought you were Chigiri.” He’s not the best at reading people, more from the lack of effort than a true inability to do so, but even he picks up on Reo’s frustration. “Was it that bad?” 

Reo runs a hand through his hair and huffs a frustrated sigh from his nose. “It’s whatever. You know how he’s like, not sure why I keep expecting it to be different.” 

He stays quiet, unwillingly to toe the line. Reo can get defensive about his parents and that is a can of worms Seishiro doesn’t want to open. His own parents leave him to his own devices—at most sending him monthly checks to cover basic expenses and texting him every so often. He knows it’s not like that for Reo, but it’s not something Seishiro can say he understands. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He finally asks. 

Falling quiet, Reo stares at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, his face softens and he crosses the room to sit beside Seishiro, offering a ghost of a smile. “It’s okay, Nagi. I’m over it now, it was stupid anyways. Shall we meet up with the others?” 

If Seishiro were more people-savvy he would have probed a little more, but he isn’t. He lets Reo take charge once more and willingly drops the subject. 

Their group is so large that they inevitably end up splitting into smaller groups and practically take over the entire arcade. Nagi finds himself with Isagi, Chigiri, Bachira, Reo, and Karasu. He watches a chaotic match of air hockey between Karasu, the reigning champion, and Isagi, the determined challenger. 

“How’d it go with Kunigami?” Bachira asks. 

Chigiri rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “He didn’t even give me the time of day.” He doesn’t look too distraught about it, if anything Chigiri looks more determined. “He’s really sticking with the whole emo act lately, but I’ll wear him down.” 

“Atta boy!” 

Seishiro doesn’t share Bachira’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like a lot of work.” 

Chigiri shrugs. “Yeah, maybe, but I’d like to think we were becoming good friends. I’m not going to let him isolate himself just because of some dumb wild card thing that Ego put him through.”

There’s a loud clatter as Karasu scores once again on Isagi. 

“You little shit,” spits Isagi, sending the puck forward with enough force that it barely misses the goal and comes shooting back at him. 

Karasu cackles. “Jeez, you’ve got such a foul mouth when you get competitive.” 

They all agree, nodding vigorously in spite of Isagi’s protests. 

It’s a nice break after weeks of constant practice and games. Seishiro eventually goes back to a racing game he had tried before. He’s third in the rankings and on his final attempt, he’s gathered quite the crowd. 

He forcibly tunes out the excited chatter of the people behind him and focuses on the screen. His time spent playing video games serves him well during the final lap as he skillfully maneuvers the car. 

When he passes the finish line, he sags against the chair in relief. 

“Ayyy!” 

Someone shakes his shoulders violently from behind, nearly giving Seishiro whiplash. The noise increases and a quick glance at the leaderboards shows Seishiro has secured the top spot. 

He stands to give someone else a turn, basking in the glory of praise. 

Once the commotion settles and Seishiro has a chance to process, it hits him. He must’ve been sitting too long because his limbs feel oddly loose like they don’t have the strength to support his weight. He teeters a little and accidentally crashes into someone. 

“O-oh, Nagi—” Isagi stammers in surprise when he’s forced to support Seishiro’s weight. “That was a great race!” 

Seishiro finds himself unwilling (unable?) to straighten up, bogged down by a sudden exhaustion. He’s tired now, and if they didn’t travel together, he would’ve gone back to the Blue Lock facility to rest. 

Isagi takes it in stride, and guides them over to the bench. He talks quietly with Bachira while Seishiro uses him as a personal headrest. It’s not that Isagi is particularly comfortable, but he’s desperate and leaning against someone else avoids the strain on his own muscles. Bachira even leans over to run his fingers through Seishiro’s hair, playing with the fluffy strands absentmindedly. It feels nice so he lets it happen, relieved they aren’t forcing him to contribute to the conversation. He hopes that a moment’s rest will ease the pull of fatigue that is becoming more and more frequent.

”Nagi? Is something wrong?” 

He isn’t sure when Reo appeared, but now he’s here and looking overly alarmed. 

Seishiro jerks upright. “No, I was just tired,” he says and as if to prove his point, a yawn sneaks its way out. “And it’s noisy in here.” 

“Oh, that’s all?” Reo takes the seat on Seishiro’s other side. A pointed look at Isagi sends both him and Bachira scurrying away to entertain themselves elsewhere. 

Hesitantly, Seishiro tips his head to rest his temple against Reo’s shoulders. He almost expects to be pushed away, Reo has gotten a bit unpredictable lately, snappy with him one moment and doting on him the next. This time, Reo leans his own head against his, gentle breaths stirring Seishiro’s bangs. 

“I’m tired,” he complains, and feels it in his soul. 

“You’re always tired,” teases Reo, flicking his nose, “lazy genius.”

Seishiro supposes that is true, but wishes he had the words to describe the heavy exhaustion that always seems to weigh on him. He’s never not been like this. It’s just more inconvenient lately now that he has activities he does want to do. He sighs and accepts his fate. 

Chapter Text

Like the sneaky bastard he is, Isagi slides between Seishiro and the ball. Instantly, the wavering image of his goal shatters, his tiny glimpse of creativity falling like ash to the floor. 

Isagi barely spares him a glance as he takes control of the ball. “Your creativity is no more than play pretend to me, Nagi.” 

“Fuck you,” Seishiro mutters under his breath. 

It’s no use, Isagi is far ahead. With the help of Kurona, he manages to hurtle past Manshine’s defense. He’s different now—sharper, more dangerous. It puts Seishiro on edge. 

Isagi’s crazy teammate is the one to intercept his mad dash to the goal. Isagi shoots anyway, and it’s Kunigami that actually scores. Maybe it’s a Bastard München thing to purposefully screw with your own team. 

While Seishiro was fruitlessly trying to learn ‘creativity’, Isagi was evolving at a rapid rate with his own team. He’s further away now. The frustration from before bubbles up. He has no hope of surpassing Isagi like this. There’s not enough time in the world for Chris and Agi’s lessons to sink in. Seishiro has only managed two shoddy plays that weren’t creative enough and easily predicted by the other team. He’s tired, and his brain hurts from all the thinking he’s had to do so far. 

As if by habit, he gravitates towards Reo. He’s tucking the loose strands of hair that escaped during the match back into the confines of his hair tie, staring intently at the other team. Seishiro wonders if he’s frustrated too. 

“I want to beat Isagi,” Seishiro tells him. And it’s like a breath of fresh air to return to Reo. 

Startled, Reo eyes him warily. 

“He’s getting further and further away. There’s no way I can beat him how I am now. What should I do?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m doing everything Agi and Prince wanted me to do, but it’s not getting me anywhere. I’m not good at this creativity thing.” Not to mention, it’s hard and terribly boring. Seishiro desperately misses playing with Reo. Soccer was easier when he could follow along with Reo’s vision. “Soccer isn’t fun right now.” 

Reo scoffs. “As if I care.” He stares daggers into Seishiro, temper flaring. “You chose this path, Nagi. Don’t come crying to me because things haven’t gone your way.”

Seishiro doesn’t understand why he’s so upset. Doesn’t Reo want to beat Isagi too? It’s not fun to lose, and he knows Reo doesn’t want to lose either. He’s sure Reo had fun then. He’d always smile. When they played, whenever Nagi scored a goal, his eyes would shine with stars. 

“When I was playing with you, soccer was fun.” 

“I want nothing to do with this,” Reo snaps, turning away. “Whatever you do, it’s none of my business.”

He’s walking away. Like Isagi, he’s ahead of him. 

Something flares up at the idea. Seishiro doesn’t want to lose. He doesn’t want to lose to Isagi, and he doesn’t want Reo to leave him behind. He can’t stand being helpless to this frustration. It makes him want to do something about it, and that in itself is exhausting. What on earth is wrong with him?

“Please, Reo,” he calls out, and it must sound desperate because Reo falters. “Lend me your strength. I need your help to beat Isagi.” 

Reo makes a distressed sound, hands clenched into fists. “Wow. You truly have no idea how your actions affect other people. You can’t even imagine it, can you?” 

He says it in a way that Seishiro knows it’s supposed to be bad, but he genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about. “What?”

“I can’t believe you. You left me behind for Isagi! You chose Chigiri over me in the second selection. You’ve abandoned me over and over again.” 

Seishiro starts to protest. “It wasn’t—”

“No,” Reo cuts him off harshly. “You don’t get it. I was at rock bottom, Nagi, and it’s only because Shidou chose me over Kunigami that my dream didn’t die. I worked so hard to claw myself back up. You don’t get to come here and manipulate me with this ‘I need you’ shit. You don’t get to use me just because things aren’t working out for you anymore. I’m not your stepping stone to the top!” 

“That’s not true,” Seishiro rushes to say before Reo can interrupt. “Everything I did was for you, so we could win the world cup together. Did you forget you said that?”

The other boy is silent. 

Seishiro says, “I didn’t forget. We weren’t getting anywhere when it was just us back then. I thought with Isagi I could get stronger so that’s what I did. I picked England because I wanted Agi and Prince to teach me. Everything I did was so I could be better for your dream. And now, it’s you.” Reo’s face pinches in the middle like he’s swallowed a lemon. “We couldn’t beat Isagi before, but we’ve both gotten stronger. I think now we can beat Isagi—together.” 

“You’re so fucking selfish.”

“Just imagine it, Reo, I know you can.” Desperation sparks like a fire in the pit of his stomach, hungry flames licking at his lungs. “Our new soccer.” 

“You’re a pain,” says Reo, voice wavering. “You’re the biggest pain in the ass.” 

And it’s then Seishiro knows Reo feels the same way. The same hunger that’s in him is chomping at the bit and raring to go within Reo. If anyone would feel the same, it’d be Reo. “You’re the pain. Come on, we’re thinking the same thing, right? You want it too. You feel it—the thrill.” 

Reo sneers. “Is this your ego?” 

“No,” he declares, something vicious and consuming flaring up behind his ribs. “It’s my dream.”

The iron wall that surrounded Reo crumbles. He laughs, bright and warm as he throws his arm over Seishiro’s shoulders. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know? Fine, let’s play soccer.”

For once, everything is as it should be. 

Somehow, Reo ends up in the right spot, and takes possession of the ball as it bounces away from Isagi and Kaiser when they clash trying to steal it from Agi. Seishiro moves without thinking, answering to the silent call from Reo. It’s as if they’ve never parted. The ball makes its way to Seishiro in the perfect spot. In his mind’s eye, he sees Reo moving on the field, and automatically sends the ball to where he will be. 

With every pass, Reo feeds him bits of his dream. Do it this way. Seishiro listens because it’s from Reo, and Reo is much better at this creativity thing. He’s free from the burden of thinking—all that’s asked of him is to let his instincts heed Reo’s demands. It’s physically burdensome, but as they clear their way past the defenders, Seishiro feels alive.  

“Your imagination is worth the work,” he huffs as he flicks the ball over some Bastard München players to Reo. 

Reo grins, a wild look in his eyes that gives Seishiro another burst of energy. 

The tempo of their one-twos picks up as Reo kicks their attack up a few notches. Seishiro rises to meet him, heart thrumming and limbs unusually light as he moves around the field in sync with Reo. 

“Let’s do this, Nagi!” Reo shouts. 

A thrill runs through him—it’s like their egos are one, fusing under the same desire. Seishiro launches the ball to Reo. “Yeah, let’s do this!” 

He no longer feels tired, just the overwhelming urge to push and go beyond. His soul is ablaze, sparks skittering in his veins. They don’t have to say a word to each other. Nagi likes it better this way. This is a tiny sliver of the world that belongs to him and Reo only. He doesn’t have to worry about anything, just follows the trail that Reo blazes for him.

Reo takes control of the ball with a newfound confidence that takes Seishiro by surprise. Reo is amazing. He really has grown during their time apart. He’s not the only one though. Seishiro has done his own growing, and it’s a warm comfort that they’re able to fall into step with each other so easily. If anything, it’s better than before. 

A thrill races up his spine when the ball makes contact with his foot. He didn’t even look at Reo—he just knew that his friend would get the ball to him. 

Isagi slides toward him and Kaiser appears at his other side. They are a pair of hyenas, fangs bared and so desperate they’d tear each other apart just for a taste of the ball. Coming to a halt, Seishiro returns the ball to Reo with a back heel pass. 

Challenging both of them face-to-face wasn’t quite right, not now at least. He starts moving once he’s free of the ball, surging towards the goal. The ball will come to him, exactly how he needs it so he can beat them—beat Isagi. 

Faintly, he hears the sound of Reo kicking the ball. He readies himself, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He can feel it, the stars aligning, the universe righting itself. This is Reo making his dream come true and telling him to take on Isagi. 

Seishiro obeys. “Yes, boss.” 

He finds the ball, or the ball finds him. Seishiro kills its momentum on contact. Everything but him seems to slow down, frozen in time. He is unstoppable. He sees someone at the edges of his vision. It’s okay, he’s ready this time. “Here I come, egoist,” Seishiro warns. 

Isagi, the poor fool, falls for his first feint, and his presence flares like a wildfire in response. He is dangerous, but Seishiro is invincible. Isagi lunges again to block his shot. Seishiro isn’t scoring though—not yet. The thrill of victory bursts in his chest as Isagi fumbles. 

When Kaiser launches forward to take over for Isagi, Seishiro decides he wants nothing more than to destroy his swaggering confidence. Time to dethrone the emperor. 

He pulls another feint, his blood humming in his veins. Four. Seishiro is stronger than ever. He can do anything. 

Amidst the chaos, he locks eyes with Isagi. The other boy is both enraged and in disbelief. Seishiro has to hand it to him—without Isagi beating him that one time, he would never have gotten to this moment. And it’s because of Isagi that Seishiro is going to be the best player in the world. 

Now!

Every star in the universe aligns just for him. Seishiro takes his final shot, right between Isagi and Kaiser. The net hisses as the ball goes in. 

Seishiro exhales shakily. All is silent for a heartbeat. Then, everything lights up, the stadium erupting in noise. His throat scrapes as he roars his celebration, drowning out the enraged noise Isagi makes. 

Another voice joins in. Seishiro whirls around to meet Reo, hand raised. The high five stings his palm, leaving an itchy tingle. He feels inexplicably alive—like his entire existence was built for this moment. 

“You did it!” Reo cheers, all giant grins, shining eyes, and sweat-plastered bangs. He bounces on Seishiro’s shoulders and gives a wordless shout of victory. 

He takes a moment to soak in the rush of his pulse, the thrill of his win, and the untethered sensation in his limbs. He’s panting, and sweating—it’s kind of gross, actually. He doesn’t usually put in enough effort to sweat this much. 

“I won,” he says, quietly so he can hear it out loud. He quite likes the taste of victory and says again, stronger. “I won against Isagi.” 

It settles into his bones, warm and heady. Nothing else matters right now. He did what he set out to accomplish. All has been made right in his world. 

His eyelids are incredibly heavy. Seishiro wants nothing more than to be subbed out so he can take a break. Or for the game to be over so he can nap. He did his job already, now he deserves a reward—sleep. 

Distantly, he hears someone speaking. It’s garbled together, as if Seishiro has his head underwater. He squints at Isagi. “Huh?” 

“How did you reach that state?” The words finally filter through.

He shrugs. “I wanted to beat you, and Reo helped me in the end…” There wasn’t much else to it, no magical formula or special tactic. “I’m just happy that my dream came true.” 

“That’s it?” He can practically see the gears spinning in the boy’s head. God, it must be exhausting to think that hard. 

“Yeah,” says Seishiro, “I feel like the protagonist of the world.” 

He leaves Isagi to mull that over, grateful when Reo saunters by with snide remarks to both Agi and Isagi. It gives Seishiro the opportunity to catch his breath.

“This is just the first step! Next is the world cup, and then we will be the best players in the world,” Reo is saying. “Right, Nagi?”

He hasn’t thought that far, but Reo looks so excited. “Yeah… for sure.” 

Reo throws an arm over his neck, tugging Seishiro against him. He doesn’t know how the other boy still has so much energy with all the running around they did. He enjoys the closeness though, and takes advantage by leaning against Reo so he doesn’t have to fully stand on his own. 

He is absolutely exhausted. If he has to run anymore, his legs might just give out. Seishiro tries not to sigh, and hopes they can win while they have the momentum. Anything to get this game over with. His bed is calling his name. 

They lose. 

Seishiro can’t bring himself to be too upset, more content with his personal victory. Plus, he’s tired. He nearly falls asleep in the locker room, but forces himself to shower and change instead. 

He’s the first to enter their shared bedroom, relief welling up like a strong wave. Almost immediately, his legs become jello. Seishiro slumps to his knees, eyes fluttering shut. His bed is only a couple feet away—way too far. It’s okay, it can be comfortable here if he tries. 

“Nagi?” Chigiri calls out warily. 

I’m okay, he tries to say. Nothing comes out. He can’t move, everything is oozing like honey from a bottle. 

Behind him, footsteps shuffle and then Reo is behind him, his knees brushing against the curve of Seishiro’s spine. A gentle hand cups his forehead, pulling his chin away from his chest until he’s sagging his weight fully against Reo’s legs. 

“It’s okay,” Reo tells him soothingly. Seishiro doesn’t tell him that his voice is a bit too high, too shaky to be believable. “Just take a moment, it’s okay.” 

He watches through the haze as Chigiri crouches in front of him and dabs at his face with a cool washcloth. Reo runs his fingers through Seishiro’s shower-damp hair, a steady presence as he waits to regain feeling in his limbs.

It takes a couple minutes for him to feel human again. 

Chigiri and Reo help him up, sharing weird looks that they think Seishiro cannot see. He notices, but he just wants to go to bed. 

”Do you need anything?” Reo frets, setting a freshly-filled water bottle on his desk. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m just tired.” 

Chigiri raises one perfect brow. “Just tired?” 

Seishiro nods, his eyes threatening to close again. “Like really tired.” 

“Okay.” Reo chews on his lip, eyes round with concern. He’s staring at Seishiro like he thinks he’ll disappear. 

He can’t sleep with Reo looking like that. “Hey,” he tells him, forcing his voice to come out clear. “I’m fine. The match was just a lot of work.” 

Reo visibly relaxes, shoulders going back to their normal height. “Alright… get some rest, okay?” 

Seishiro hums in agreement. He drifts to the familiar rustle of his roommates settling for bed and the chorus of ‘goodnight!’s’ that follow. 

Chapter Text

Seishiro sleeps for twelve hours. When he opens his eyes, he swears no time has passed at all. The digital clock perched on the nightstand says otherwise, but how is Seishiro supposed to believe that? There are no windows in their shared bedroom. He wouldn’t put it past Ego to mess with their clocks. 

He yawns, jaw popping from the force of it. If this weren’t soccer squid games, Seishiro would go right back to sleep. He sits up, blankets pooling at his hips, and swallows back another yawn. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Reo teases. “Feeling any better? You were completely wiped yesterday.” 

Both Reo and Chigiri are dressed in their training uniforms, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Whatever magical energy water they drink is working wonders. 

Seishiro is content to watch them, not quite ready to abandon the warmth of his bed. “I’m still tired,” he complains. 

“Oversleeping can make you more tired,” Chigiri says distractedly, nimble fingers twisting strands of hair into a neat plait. He uses his camera app as a mirror, phone propped on the nightstand with the help of a water bottle. 

“That doesn’t make any sense. Who told you that?” 

Chigiri shrugs. “Dunno. I read it somewhere though.” 

He loses his chance to argue when Reo interrupts. 

“Start getting ready, Nagi. We’re supposed to be reviewing game footage in the viewing room.” 

Seishiro sighs heavily. “Why so early?” 

“It’s nine,” Chigiri chimes in unhelpfully, smiling cheekily when Seishiro glares. 

“This is so annoying,” he says, and adds before the other boy can open his mouth. “You’re so annoying.”

Chigiri shrugs. “That’s a funny way to say you love me.” 

“Ladies, ladies,” Reo soothes. “Now is not the time. Any grievances should be dealt with on the field.” 

“But we’re on the same team.” Seishiro reluctantly peels himself from the bed, shuddering when the cozy heat he had trapped under the covers leaves. 

“That didn’t mean shit to Isagi.” 

Chigiri laughs at that. “He’s literally insane—the whole lot of them, actually.” There’s a ravenous sort of gleam in his eyes as he talks, as if fired up at the mere mention of the other players. 

Dressing himself is a pain. His fingers, clumsy from sleep, fumble with his clothes. There’s an untethered sort of feeling in his hand, too much space between his joints. The game must’ve really tired him out. He considers it a win when he makes it to the viewing room on time. 

Prince pauses the playback footage way too many times and yammers incessantly about strategies and muscles and his sponsored sports drinks. What went wrong and what worked out. Seishiro secretly thinks Prince just likes using the laser pointer. He watches the flash of red dash across the screen and warp into a wonky circle when Prince emphasizes something. 

The lights are lowered to help illuminate the screen. From his position toward the back, the dimness brings an extra weight over his eyelids. Truly, they were praying for Seishiro’s downfall. Who can possibly stay awake for this? 

Head propped on his hand, Seishiro slumps more and more. He closes his eyes for a moment, just a second. He’s only blinking. Occasionally, he’ll crack an eye open to make sure nothing important was going on. When the volume in the room changes, he realizes he may have blinked for too long. He’s listening though, it’s fine. 

Someone kicks his foot. Seishiro jumps, glancing around in case he’s been called on. Thankfully, there is no impromptu spotlight, but Reo is staring at him disapprovingly out of the corner of his eye. 

“Pay attention,” Reo hisses under his breath. 

Seishiro rubs at his eyes, watery from a stifled yawn. “I am.” 

He shakes his head vigorously. It doesn’t clear the fog, but he’s no longer halfway to dreamland. He reaches for the unopened water bottle on the desk and tries to crack the seal. He wipes his palm on his uniform to help grip the cap. Switching hands, Seishiro tries again. It’s an odd feeling—knowing he normally can do this and yet, can’t seem to get his fingers to tighten properly. No matter how hard he squeezes, his muscles don’t cooperate. Sort of like when Seishiro doesn’t get enough sleep and can’t close his fist tightly right when he wakes up. 

After the third attempt, he gives up and pushes it toward Reo. The other boy gives him a funny look before effortlessly cracking the seal and handing it back. Seishiro hums his appreciation. He hopes the coolness of the water brings some life back to his limbs.

Prince is talking. Agi replies. Someone else chimes in, one of the English players. Seishiro can’t pair a name to the voice right now. 

The sudden brightness startles him awake. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. Everyone stands, shaking their limbs back into use and working out the kinks from sitting so long. 

“If training doesn’t wake you up,” Chigiri quips, “I don’t know what will.” 

Seishiro stares at him, dread rising. His mouth tastes of cotton and his face overly warm. Everything is heavy—his head, his limbs, his soul, all pleading for respite.

He drags himself through warm-ups. His teammates loosen up as time goes on, steps springier and energy lighter. The pace quickens, and Seishiro struggles to keep up. There are cinder blocks in place of his shoes.

“Nagi!” Agi snaps, bringing their latest link-up attempt to a screeching halt. “What was that?” 

Truthfully, Seishiro had no plan when he sent that last pass. He shrugs, warily making his way over. “Dunno. You could’ve done something with it though.” Agi has both the skills and creativity to make something of the play. 

He made no attempt, letting the play die once Seishiro sent it his way. “Zero out of ten. You weren’t even trying.” 

Seishiro blows a sharp huff of air through his nose. 

“Try it again.” 

They restart the play. Then do it again. And again. And again. Seishiro’s dwindling motivation reaches its limits. The ball is sent his way once more. He kills its momentum, and any wisps of ingenuity dissipate upon contact. 

Seishiro stands frozen with the soccer ball between his cleats. He can’t form any thoughts around the heavy cloak of exhaustion settling over him. His quad muscles wobble, and Seishiro sinks to his knees awkwardly, joints protesting the sudden move. He hangs his head, eyes squeezed shut as his pulse thrums against his temples. 

Footsteps rustle against the turf. 

“We’re done for today,” Agi says flatly. “You can’t learn like this.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t know if he means it. 

Crouching beside him, Agi makes a point to find Seishiro’s gaze. “One bad practice doesn’t make all the work you’ve put in worthless. Get some rest—no staying up late playing on your phone, and come back stronger tomorrow.” 

Seishiro nearly tells him that he hasn’t touched his phone since before the match yesterday. No one will believe him so he decides against it and nods. Patting his shoulder, Agi leaves to continue practice after exchanging words with Prince. They’re talking about him, Seishiro knows by the way they keep looking over. His chest tightens, squeezing the air from his lungs in a stinging rush. 

He gathers his legs under himself, akin to a newborn fawn just standing on its hooves, clumsy and swaying. 

Dinner isn’t for another hour and no one else has been released from practice. With nothing better to do, Seishiro pounces on the opportunity to sneak in a nap. Setting an alarm, he flops on top of the sheets and smashes his face into the pillow, welcoming the curtain of sleep that pulls over him. 

His alarm blares, loud and obnoxious and way too soon. Through bleary eyes, Seishiro taps his phone screen until it’s quiet in the room once more. 

Although the remnants of his nap lingers at the corners of his mind, Seishiro is more awake than he’s been all day. He chases away the last tendrils of fog with a yawn. 

On his way to the dining area, he spots Reo and Chigiri down the hall. He waits for them to catch up, falling into step on the path to food. 

“I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” complains Chigiri. “Having practice after a game is diabolical.” 

Seishiro bobs his head in emphatic agreement. 

Chigiri turns his nose up, scoffing. “Uh, no, you don’t get to complain. You got to ditch early.” 

“It wasn’t my choice,” argues Seishiro just for the sake of it. “But it was a great nap.” 

“I hate you.” It’s hard to take Chigiri seriously with the ghost of a grin on his face and the flyaways creating a red-tinged halo over his head. 

Seishiro snorts, swiping at his ponytail. Or what’s left of it since more than half has escaped from its hair tie prison. With an indignant squawk, Chigiri ducks away and hastily fixes his hair. 

Handing him a food tray, Reo reaches past Seishiro to snag a bowl of rice. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You made us worried last night.” 

“It wasn’t a big deal. That game was a lot of work.” 

Reo chews his food thoughtfully. “Well, yeah, most games are.” He waves his chopsticks toward Seishiro like the gesture can say more than his words. “But games don’t do that. You practically passed out.” 

“I didn’t faint.” He was conscious the entire time—boneless, but very much aware of his surroundings at the time. 

“Nah, you just swooned like a damsel in distress,” snickers Chigiri, miming the motion with a dramatic hand to his forehead. He looks more the part than Seishiro but he refrains from saying so to avoid putting Chigiri in one of his moods. 

Seishiro shrugs. “I don’t know how you two weren’t tired. You did more running around than I did.” 

“Everyone adjusts differently,” Reo says. “As quickly as you learn, soccer is still new to you and learning takes up a lot of brain power.” 

His recent lessons with Agi and Prince are at the forefront of his mind. “Way too much.” 

“It can be a good thing,” points out Chigiri. “You can’t grow unless you’re challenged. This is the best way to do it.” 

Reo nods vigorously, eyes shining. “That’s right! We’re going to crush PXG in the upcoming match.” 

“Hell yeah!” 

Their energy is infectious. Seishiro can’t help but be drawn in. “This next match is our win for sure.” 

Like a splinter buried beneath the skin, the underlying thrum of exhaustion hums a warning. He wonders whether he can even keep up with them, with all of Blue Lock. 

Chapter Text

He dreams of running on legs that threaten to give out, constantly pelted by soccer balls until the ground is no longer visible and he’s wading in a sea of black and white hexagons. No matter where he goes or how many he shoves aside, they continue to multiply and soon, the wall of balls is reaching up to his chin. 

Seishiro drowns in his soccer hell, and wakes when a dream-ball smacks him in the face. 

For a moment, he lays staring at the ceiling, a phantom tingling in his nose like it expects to hurt but can’t make the connection. The dream is already fading, the colors in his mind’s eyes bleeding away and the visual remnants becoming fragments he can’t piece together anymore. Seishiro doesn’t dream often, and if he does, he usually forgets by the time he wakes up—this one sticks around though. Maybe because it was so odd. Not scary or anything, just random. 

Seishiro rises quickly, considerably more alert than he’d normally be. The movement in his dreams has transferred to his waking body like he’s still ready to attempt to swim through an over abundance of soccer balls. 

He dresses quickly, pleased that it takes no prompting from Reo. He walks with his roommates to the dining area for breakfast with no complaints. Something is different. He can’t put his finger on it. 

“I was too amped up to sleep well,” complains Chigiri. “I kept thinking I would oversleep and miss the game.” 

Reo huffs a laugh. “The game’s at three, there’s no way you’d sleep that long.” 

“I know, that’s what makes it worse!” 

Swallowing down his bite, Seishiro chimes in. “Seems pretty realistic to me.” Maybe that would only be for him though. Chigiri likes his beauty sleep as much as the next person, but Seishiro has never seen him sleep past ten or nap midday. “It’s too noisy to sleep peacefully here though. Someone would wake you at some point.” 

Chigiri mulls it over for a moment before conceding. “True. If that ever happens, you two better wake me up.” 

“Let’s leave that to Reo,” Seishiro says. “‘Cause if you’re sleeping, I’m probably also in dreamland.” 

“Okay, fine. Reo, you better wake me up.” 

“This is an entirely hypothetical, and not at all realistic,” Reo starts to say, and falters when Chigiri stares at him expectantly. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Will you or will you not wake me up?” 

Reo sighs. “Yes, I’d wake you up.” 

Preening like a satisfied cat, Chigiri goes back to his food. “Good.” 

The respite of breakfast is over, and the Manshine City players are summoned together. Seishiro is forced into a seat beside Agi, in front of Chris Prince, with no hope of escape. He glances back at Reo and Chigiri, who are safely seated in the second row, and silently begs them to come to his rescue. 

Chigiri offers no help, motioning for Seishiro to turn back around. While Reo is more sympathetic to his torture, he stays firmly in his own chair despite the empty seat on Seishiro’s other side. 

“Nagi, pay attention,” Agi chides. 

With a resigned sigh, Seishiro faces the front. The pre-game speech from Chris is very similar to the one he gave before the match against Bastard München. At some point, the words go in one ear and out the other. Prince talks a lot with his hands, he realizes as he watches him gesticulate wildly to make his point. Prince is very handsy in general, Seishiro decides, recalling their first meeting with the Manshine City master. 

“Seishiro.” 

He’s effectively startled from his thoughts. Maybe he should’ve been paying more attention. He tries to look alert, sitting up straight. 

“You with me?” Prince asks, amused. 

Seishiro nods, even though he has no idea what was said. 

“Good. Agi will be fielding passes to you when he can. Do your best to think creatively and execute your plays. Show us what you’ve learned!” He smiles broadly with over whitened teeth and flashes a thumbs-up, playing up his charm for the cameras. 

“Right…” 

The energy in the room kicks up as the anticipation for the game builds. Unlike the match against Bastard München, Seishiro doesn’t feel anything. No spark, no fire, no simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

Actually, he’s ready for another nap. The paperweights are back on his eyelids, forcing them closed. Seishiro has to make a serious effort to stay awake. 

He manages, barely, and leaves the meeting feeling like a drained battery. Thankfully, there is still time before the team warms up for the game. He can sneak in a power nap before he has to drag himself onto the field. He tells his friends this, and they stare at him like he’s grown another head. 

“A nap?” Chigiri yelps, one minor inconvenience away from losing his marbles. “Did you not learn from this morning?”

“Relax, princess, it’s just a quick nap.” It’s nap now or fall asleep later on the field. Seishiro thinks the latter would be worse, especially if their matches are broadcasted. Not that he cares either way. He has already won in his own right, and his current bids from his previous goal have him sitting comfortably in the rankings. He doesn’t feel that same consuming desire from before. 

Grabbing his shoulders, Chigiri starts shaking him like a magic eight ball. Seishiro plays along, letting himself flop back and forth with the movement. “Naps are never quick. We lost our match to Bastard München. We have to win against PXG. You can’t sleep through it!”

“Chigiri,” Seishiro complains, head rattling. 

“Oops, sorry.” 

Seishiro brings a hand up to flick him on the forehead. Not too hard, but Chigiri is evidently strung out and protests loudly, clutching at the spot dramatically. 

Spurred by their commotion, Reo steps in, ushering Seishiro towards their shared room. “It’ll be fine, Chigiri. I’ll make sure to wake him up before warm ups.”

Thank God for Reo, his only saving grace. 

Seishiro is quick to take advantage. He can practically hear the bed crooning his name. He slumps onto the covers, lazily scrolling through his phone. 

He swears his eyes had just closed when he’s rudely shaken awake. Groggily, Seishiro sits up and blinks away the haze that comes with too little sleep. Despite not using the sheets, he is overly warm and muzzy, mouth tasting of cotton. 

All the Manshine players are hyped during warm-ups, chomping at the bit to get the game started. Seishiro wants to feel that same rush, but his mind wanders back to his bed and how much easier sleep would be. There’s a heaviness to his legs he can’t seem to shake off. 

“You ready, Nagi?” Reo asks, draping himself over Seishiro’s shoulder. “We’re gonna win this!” 

Seishiro hums in agreement. 

If he thought that the Bastard München match was tiring, playing against PXG is just exhausting. Every time he glances at the ball, they were crowding him. Seishiro has no choice but to abort the mission and pass. 

The entire team of PXG are monsters, he decides. When Shidou is on the pitch, the entire stadium is wild and unhinged. And when Rin is in, Seishiro feels like there is a noose around his neck as he watches him take and take with no remorse. Rin scores twice in his time on the field. Chigiri manages to steal a goal sometime in between, but they haven’t had much luck since. 

“You need to get in there, Nagi,” Prince tells him, “and go up against Rin. We’re counting on you!” 

Chigiri claps him on the back, the fire still in his eyes. “It’s not over yet, we got this.” 

He nods, and musters every last remnant of desire back into his being. He doesn’t feel any different, still empty and hollow in that spot behind his ribs where the flame used to sit. Seishiro drags himself back into position, locating Rin and trudging over before the ball is in play again. 

Rin gives him a dirty look, like Seishiro is scum at the bottom of his shoes. It annoys him enough to want to make Rin miserable so he pointedly crowds his bubble. Even if he doesn’t have any creativity left to score again, he can be a nuisance enough to prevent Rin from doing so. 

His moment comes when a wayward pass sends the ball their way. Seishiro isn’t sure if it was intentional or which team had possession, but it’s flying high. Seishiro surges forward in sync with Rin. The other boy may have more experience, but Seishiro has a couple inches on him and is confident in his trapping abilities to win an aerial battle. 

They collide in a vicious tangle of sweat and limbs. Something between them changes—it’s suffocating and promises of destruction. Seishiro falters, a fleeting moment of uncertainty in the face of Rin’s ego, and it’s enough to give Rin the edge. 

He’s hungrier than Seishiro. More desperate, more determined, more dangerous. Despite Seishiro practically on top of him in their mad scrabble for the ball, Rin gets there first, one leg stretched precariously to make contact. He traps it perfectly as if Seishiro weren’t there at all, like Nio wasn’t a hairbreadth away from interfering with the play. 

That’s the thing with Rin Itoshi. He is acutely aware of Seishiro breathing down his neck and the looming defenders that flock closer. He knows Seishiro’s greatest weapon is trapping. And he does it anyway. 

Something inside Seishiro crumbles at the disparity between them. This guy is a fucking monster. His core strength, balance, trapping, dribbling, and shooting skills are insane—there is nothing Rin Itoshi can’t do. 

Seishiro crashes into him right as Rin takes a shot. The contact saps him of his strength, his weapon dissolving in Rin’s presence. He watches as the ball curves around Nio, past the goalkeeper’s outstretched fingers, and into the net with a hiss. 

The buzzer sounds. The game is over—nothing could be done about that perfect goal. 

Somehow, Seishiro ends up on the floor and can’t quite seem to get his limbs to cooperate enough to pick himself up. He’s so sweaty that the tiny rubber bits in the turf stick to any exposed skin pressed against the ground. He waits for the buzz in his blood to settle and for the sluggish pound of his head to become more tolerable. 

When he lifts his head, Rin is standing a couple feet from him, washed out by the harsh stadium lights. Even from here, Seishiro can feel the overwhelming pressure Rin exudes. 

“You just keep getting stronger… it’s amazing.” Seishiro wonders what it feels like to have no limit on growth and an abundance of motivation. “What drives you to become even stronger?” 

He almost thinks Rin doesn’t hear him. Or is ignoring him. Both scenarios are likely. 

Finally, Rin scoffs. “Idiot, you already know. I want to surpass Sae and destroy Isagi.”

He already beat Isagi though, and Seishiro doesn’t care about whatever feud the brothers have going on. Is that really it? “And after you do that? What happens next?” 

“Hell if I care.” Rin sneers, his face twisting in an ugly sort of way that makes Seishiro feel small. “What kind of baby thinks about dying immediately after they are born? It doesn’t matter if there's heaven or hell. Once we’re born, there’s only one thing we’re programmed to do—survive.”

Seishiro doesn’t get it. He’s drifted through life bemoaning the pains of existing. Life is too exhausting to keep going just for the sake of it. There has to be something more, something to reach for, something that makes it worth it. 

“In my football fantasy,” says Rin, “I dictate everything. And all those who stand before me with a lukewarm attitude, I will send them straight to hell.” His eyes are eerily bright. If looks could kill, Seishiro would be six feet under. “Got that?”

Message received, loud and clear. It doesn’t matter though. Seishiro is already in hell. 

He climbs to his feet, muscles numb and joints loose. As he makes his way over to his friends, the updated player values flash on screen. 

Seishiro scans the list, starting at the top. His gaze drops further than he expected. It’s only the second game, and he’s been dropped to seventh place with a bid 45 million less than his original. 

”What?” Reo bristles, voice high in disbelief. “How is our value lower than before?”

With a sigh that feels like it’s pulled from his marrow, Seishiro wipes away the stickiness gathered on his face with the collar of his jersey. “It makes sense,” he says, “we were trash today.” He feels like trash too, sore and achy. His bones weigh more than they should. 

“We need more goals to increase our values or else we’ll keep dropping in the rankings.” Reo swings around to look at him with a fiery determination that does not fit with the shitty match they just played. “Switch gears, Nagi. We’re going wild in the next game.”

He’s so sure about it that Seishiro can’t help but go along. Even if there’s a tangled knot of dread forming in his gut at the idea of having to play again anytime soon. 

Seishiro trails the rest of the team as they head to the locker rooms to change and wash off the grime of their defeat. He wants to do the same. If only he could shake off whatever funk he’s in and come back stronger. Rin’s words haunt him. But instead of serving as motivation, Seishiro finds it only feeds that ugly thing festering behind his ribs. 

It swells past the cage he made for it, and like the crest of a wave comes barreling down. This time, he had an inkling it would happen again. He has enough foresight to snag Chigiri’s elbow just before he’s out of reach. His grip falters, but the contact is enough to alert the other boy. 

His legs give out. He’s nothing more than a marionette cut from his strings. 

“Oh shit,” hisses Chigiri as he scrambles to get a better grip. “Nagi, what the fuck.” 

“‘M fine,” Seishiro slurs, his tongue fat and useless in his mouth. His head swims, but not with vertigo, just exhaustion. He tries to fight it, willing his limbs to move and desperately clawing himself back in control. 

If anything, his desperation to fix it only makes it worse. Seishiro feels himself go boneless against his will. His body lists to the side, limbs crumpling awkwardly. 

He doesn’t pass out. He’s aware of the sudden increase of volume in the locker room and the growing crowd. Chigiri is the only reason Seishiro is still sitting upright, propping him against his legs and a hand on his forehead to keep it from lolling forward in a way that would hurt later. 

The floor must have hidden magnets and Seishiro must have the matching set beneath his skin. There’s an invisible force pulling him down. 

“Stay with us, Nagi,” Reo says, patting his cheek. 

If he could, Seishiro would’ve told him that he is very much conscious. His muscles wake up gradually until he’s no longer dependent on Chigiri to hold himself up. 

“What was that?” Agi demands, pushing through the other players. “Are you unwell?” Maybe it’s the translators that make it sound worse. 

He doesn’t like that he’s the only one sitting in this impromptu ring of players. Seishiro rises to his feet, carefully since he doesn’t know when his body will decide to force restart on him. Chigiri hovers at his shoulder, hands anxiously reaching but not touching. “No, I’m okay.” 

The chatter of the other English players warble in his earpiece. He doesn’t have the energy to discern what’s said. Agi watches him with a curious fascination like he wants nothing more than to pick Seishiro apart to see what makes him tick. 

“Has this happened before?” 

Reo slides between them, bristling like a threatened dog. “Back off. You may be called the Doctor, but you are far from a medical professional. He just needs rest—we all do, so mind your business.” 

Agi frowns. “I would think as his friend you’d be more concerned. You know as well as I that something like this isn’t normal.” 

“Of course I’m worried, but everyone crowding him like a pack of hyenas isn’t helping!” 

“You sho—”

“Enough,” Seishiro rasps,  “I’m right here. It’s not a big deal so can we drop it? This is such a hassle.” 

Both Reo and Agi falter, drawing in breaths to argue some more. They look at each other, tension sparking in their vicinity, and look back at Seishiro. 

Reo must’ve caught on to his exhaustion quickly and is the first to back down. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go then.” He turns, grabbing Seishiro’s arm as he passes, and marches out the door. 

The three of them trudge back to their shared room in silence. It’s only once they’ve crossed the threshold of the door does Reo round on him, eyes shiny with hurt. 

“Agi’s right, you know,” Reo spits the words like they are poison. “Something isn’t right about this. One time is a fluke, but twice is becoming a pattern.” 

Seishiro shrugs. “The matches are tiring.” 

“Yes, but you shouldn’t be passing out after every match.” 

“I’m not though.” 

“Then what do you call that?” 

“I don’t know,” Seishiro answers honestly. He’s not the most emotionally adept, but he can practically feel Reo’s frustration flaring the more he responds. He sits on his bed, elbows on his knees to prop up his head. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Reo throws his hands up, pacing back and forth in the room. It makes Seishiro tired just watching him. “Yes, it is. You have to be at your best, Nagi, or we’re going to keep falling in the ranks. The world needs to see how great you are, but they can’t if you’re not feeling well.” 

Shouldn’t his hat trick in the match against Bastard München be enough? Surely, they don’t want more from him. 

“We still have matches against Ubers and Barcha,” Chigiri says gently. “You still have time to fix your rank.”

”I already did what I set out to do though. I beat Isagi.”

”That’s not enough anymore,” Reo says, frowning. “We need to constantly be evolving.” 

Seishiro sighs. “That’s a lot of work.” 

“Please, Nagi,” Reo says, eyes wide and earnest. “We have to do this if we’re gonna make it to the world cup together. Just hang in there a little longer. I know you can do it.” 

He can’t form any words, nothing comes to mind. 

Reo tries again. “I’ll give you anything you want once we’re out of here. Just do your best. For me.” 

“Okay,” Seishiro says, the words hollow to his ears. He’s already trying his best. And maybe it’s not enough, but he doesn’t have much more to give.