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Hassle-man. Shithead. Slave.
Nagi wasn’t one to be irked by name-calling. People never knew what to make of him. And somehow they seemed incapable of keeping their opinions to themselves. Normally, he wouldn’t give a shit. He hadn’t given a shit in his seventeen odd years about what everyday humans thought of him. But Barou Shouei got on his goddamned nerves .
Asshole. Bastard. Louse.
There was no end to the insults. And for what? Because he wasn’t an insufferable clean freak? Because he tried to play soccer as a team sport, the way it should be played? Because he didn’t have to work his ass off for years to nail the winning shots he made?
Sure, he gave it back. The image of Maid Barou would forever live rent-free in every Blue Locker’s head. Nagi had made sure of that. But he was at least respectful when the situation demanded it. He at least called the guy by his name. He even called him King anytime he made a play that deserved that moniker. Never mind that he found it cringey as hell that someone would refer to themselves as “King”. So was it so impossible to be accorded some of that same respect in return?
“Can it, pest!”
Apparently it was.
Yup, Barou Shouei got on his nerves. But …that was not the reason Nagi was worried. No, it was how he found himself responding to it. Not with anger, because he hadn’t for a while. Nagi had to admit that the situation was worrying him because of how much he had started to enjoy it. The bickering, trading insults, butting heads, getting dragged and shoved and screamed at with or without reason. The dark glee that skittered in his guts every time he heard the self-proclaimed king bark at him about a sock left on the ground or a bed improperly made. These days he almost licked his lips in anticipation as he walked into the dorm room with his hair dripping wet after a shower, or dropped his sweaty towel on the floor just for Barou to find it. It was delicious, watching vein after vein pop out on the hot-headed striker’s forehead when Nagi met his bubbling fury with a barely audible sigh or a yawn.
Isagi’s attempts to get him to play nice had gone in one ear and out the other. And now that Isagi was gone, there was no one who would even try to stop Nagi from stepping on the gas in his lets-annoy-the-fuck-out-of-Barou game. Chigiri loved the drama and was almost always a willing partner in crime. Zantetsu wouldn’t try to spoil Nagi’s fun even if it bothered him, and Kiyora was like a raincloud in a corner too absorbed in his own vibes to give a fuck. Basically, Nagi had won a front-row ticket to a scowling, growling, swearing, threatening Barou that tickled him in the best way possible. For the first time in his life, he found himself asking for trouble, instead of trying to avoid it. Blue Lock had changed him in so many ways - it made him want to work hard, it made him want to test himself. Discovering new sides to his personality was exciting to say the least, but this particular thing with Barou was…well, he supposed it would qualify as a problem only if it got out of hand. Which it hadn’t…yet.
And then it did.
***
The tipping point arrived without warning. Specifically, during the second half of their do-or-die football match vs U-20 Japan right after Barou had been subbed in. It came in the form of one of his usual quips. Not that Nagi wasn’t expecting a completely unprovoked insult to be thrown his way but-
“Hey bitch, you scored one measly goal and then died. You’d better pass to me.”
That was unexpected.
It did something to Nagi, not because it was rude, and uncalled for, and spat out in front of at least three of their teammates, but because he found himself wanting to hear it again. Like he’d just been administered a shot of something wildly addictive. Call me bitch again. Come closer this time. He caught himself. Time and place, Seishiro. Time and place. He settled for just answering the question with a painfully flat “Nah. Don't wanna.” and drinking in the familiar irritation that flashed through Barou’s eyes.
When the match resumed, Nagi blinked to throw off that earlier thought and reset his mind on what was important.
***
The water was so warm and his limbs felt so sore that he sat under the shower and spaced out for way longer than he was usually allowed. They had won, so he was allowed. They also had a two week vacation starting the following day. His mind should be at rest. And yet, it thrashed around, thanks to two things, both of which annoyingly pointed back to the same person.
“You scored one measly goal and then died. You’d better pass to me.”
He had, in fact, scored just one goal. But so had the others. Could he have scored more? Reo seemed to think so. But Reo was always encouraging, even though they weren’t currently on the best terms. Barou on the other hand…would it kill him to congratulate Nagi one time? Nagi had been the first to score after all. He cursed under his breath. He could have scored again. He should have tried harder. It bothered him just a bit that Isagi had stolen the spotlight. But what bothered him more right now was that of all people, it was Barou’s words that were making him think about all of this instead of relaxing in the shower like he should be doing. Why? Barou was not his friend. He didn't think the guy could ever be anyone’s friend if you went by the accepted definition of friendship. You're one to talk , whispered a voice inside him. Nagi pushed his bangs out of his eyes. Was that why he wanted Barou to acknowledge him so bad? Because they were both social misfits on opposite poles? Thinking about this is a pain.
The other thing though, was even more confounding, now that there was time to entertain the feeling.
“Hey bitch.”
Nagi lifted his face up to the rushing water overhead, letting it hit his eyelids with force. Sigh. He should really go home. He missed his bed. And his cactus.
***
By the time he dried off and changed, there was no one left in the locker rooms. He found a number of messages on his phone. One each from Isagi and Chigiri apologising for not finding him to say goodbye, some from unknown numbers he didn’t care to open, and three incredibly curt ones from Reo asking if he needed a ride, then wishing him a good night and adding that Choki would be on his doorstep within the next hour.
Most players had probably hurried home as fast as they could or gone out to celebrate the win with their families. Nagi’s parents weren’t in town so he wasn’t exactly in a rush. [ur knee ok?], he typed out to Chigiri, as he threw his things into his kit. To the other two boys he replied with his trademark alien stickers. The silence of the locker room was calming. As he zipped up his kit, he considered whether to play a quick round of a rhythm game before walking out into the noise of the streets.
Just as he tapped on the app to open it up, his ears picked up the sound of faint humming from the other side of the lockers. Huh, someone’s still here? Maybe it’s the lady, what’s her name? Anri-san? Wait, that doesn’t sound like her. Nagi picked up his kit and out of sheer curiosity, walked towards the sound coming from beyond the corner. Behind the glass partition separating the outer locker area from the inner one attached to the bath was-
Barou.
Freshly showered, hair down, dressed in a dark sleeveless tee and cargos, Barou Shouei was humming to himself while cleaning the floor length mirror against the wall that had been splashed with water and whatever energy drinks people had shaken out in the heat of their celebrations. Armed with blue nitrile gloves, a microfiber cloth and a spray bottle, Barou scrubbed each square inch of glass with meticulous dedication. Nagi thought if this was a game, Barou would be cool to unlock as a playable character newly fitted out with the latest world-cleaning weaponry. 10 coins and he gets a special pink duster. 50 coins and you can put him in a maid outfit. Hmm, there’s another business idea. Nagi raised a hand to his mouth to stifle a chuckle.
In one corner of the mirror, someone had scribbled a face that looked awfully like Itoshi Sae with hearts all around it which Nagi mentally attributed to that screaming demon on their opposing team. Barou grimaced as he scrubbed over it gingerly.
“Disgusting.”
Nagi turned off his phone and tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie. A small smile crept up his lips as he snuck in through the gap in the glass doors and leaned quietly against a locker, mischief dancing in his grey-gold eyes. Although that bothersome feeling was back, of not knowing why he felt some sort of joyful because of a guy who only ever treated him like crap, his impulse to annoy the shit out of said guy right now was far stronger. The room smelled of whatever cleaning agent Barou was currently spraying onto the mirror and something flowery - probably a room freshener. Between the door and the locker, a heap of confetti lay gathered up along with other bits of trash. Barou, who still had his back to Nagi, went back to his humming as he scrubbed, and after a minute, began singing in earnest. Nagi allowed his eyes to widen as the only reaction. Coincidentally, he knew the song. It was a romantic number from a TV drama he had watched as a kid. Cute. And so, without a twinge of regret, just as Barou reached the peak of the lovelorn chorus, Nagi - no, the devil inside him - let out a soft cough.
Barou’s voice cut off like a wire had been snapped clean with pliers. The older boy turned around, now looking at Nagi like he was some sort of house spirit that had materialised out of the walls.
Anyone else would most likely have jumped and gotten flustered at being caught with their guard down like this, but this was Barou, who reacted to most everything with the same singular emotion: fury.
“What the fuck are you still doing here, jackass ? Did your folks forget you exist?"
Well, at least he didn’t throw the spray bottle at him. Nagi only shrugged. He had not missed the split second embarrassment in Barou’s eyes before he had covered it up with the insults.
“I took a long shower. Did I interrupt Maid Barou?”
“Get lost. Now. ”
Barou seethed as Nagi merely leaned more heavily against the locker.
“You really stayed back to clean ?”
“So what if I did? You guys are disgusting.”
“This isn’t our dorm. They probably have cleaners coming in every morning here, you know?”
“No one should have to clean up shit like this. They’ll think we’re a bunch of cavemen.”
He could tell Barou was trying hard to keep his voice even and not explode on him. He wondered why.
“And yet you’re doing it.”
“Helps me cool down.”
Nagi felt that delicious itch inside him again, to push and prod and poke until something broke. He raised his head to make eye contact.
“Is that why you always folded my clothes for me? Helped you cool down?”
A momentary hesitation.
“That was your idiot friend, not me.”
“Please. I’ve seen Zantetsu fold clothes. I know it was you.”
“Are you going to go away or do I have to kill you?”
“You'd have to clean all my blood off the floor. Blood is pretty hard to clean, you know? I played this forensics game once, where the crime scene was like-”
Nagi shifted and, if you asked him later he would swear he only accidentally stepped on his shoelace, and only to prevent falling on his face did he end up kicking the heap of confetti and paper at his feet. And he definitely did not plan for the next few seconds which seemed to unfold in slow motion as both he and Barou watched the previously spotless floor get horrifically splattered with trash, all the way up to Barou’s toes. But before Nagi could react, time sped up again.
In a flash Barou was at his throat. At his throat. And his voice could only be described as murderous when he growled and closed his fingers around Nagi’s neck with his gloved hand.
“You're going to get the fuck out of my sight, now , or I will actually suffocate you to death right here and dump you in the bath and no one's gonna doubt that your lazy, pathetic, good-for-nothing ass just fell asleep in there and drowned.”
He spat out each word like he would prefer to bash Nagi’s head in or knock all his teeth out instead of constructing a coherent sentence. Enraged crimson eyes bored into surprised grey ones, and Nagi thought this is what it must feel like when fire touches ice. He wondered if he should point out to Barou that he couldn't quite follow through with the order while being pinned to the locker door by his neck.
A few tense seconds later, he heard his own voice come out in a crackling whisper, too honest even by his own standards.
“I would, but this is kinda hot.”
As soon as the words left his lips, he prepared for his demise. There was no way Barou wouldn’t beat the crap out of him now. Why had he brought this upon himself again? Nagi shut his eyes and waited for the blow to land. He would decide how to react when it landed. For now, the slight pressure of fingers on his throat felt-
“...you have our blessing to start preparations for the next phase of Blue Lock, Ego-san…the boys left us speechless at today's…”
Who the hell?!
Voices. Entering the other room just beyond the glass door. Two he recognised instantly - Ego, and Anri. The others were probably old men who had some say in whether Blue Lock would continue or not, since they seemed to be discussing something about the “next phase”.
He opened his eyes to find Barou looking at the door instead of him, equally distracted by the conversation. Just as it grew louder, by some unearthly reflex, Nagi’s hand flew out and flicked off the light switch right by the last locker, enveloping them both in darkness.
“What the-”
“Shhh, Barou. They’ll hear us.”
“So?? Why did you-”
“They’ll throw us out if they see we’re still here. Don’t you wanna finish cleaning?”
This only seemed to make Barou angrier, though he did drop his voice down to a fierce whisper.
“Not after you messed it all up, shithead.” he hissed. “Why the fuck are you still here anyway?”
Nagi shrugged. “It’s nice and quiet here.”
“It was until you ruined everything bitch! ”
Nagi’s throat felt dry. He could barely see Barou, yet he felt like he was facing a fire breathing dragon. His hand was still wrapped around his throat. But Barou hadn’t punched him in the face…yet. So there was still room to play.
“Hmm, it is kinda hot.”
“What the fuck are you on ab-”
“When you call me a bitch.”
“What is wrong with you? Are you fucked in the head or something-”
“Stop judging. You never said that to me before today. So it was pretty hot.”
“That wasn’t the point, you idiot-”
Barou grabbed his sweatshirt threateningly with his other hand. Nagi’s fingers immediately encircled his forearm to hold him where he was. If this was happening on the football field, a referee would break them up right about now. If it was happening at his school’s recess, there might be a crowd watching them from afar, placing bets on who would win (Nagi himself would bet on Barou), but somehow, this didn’t quite…fit that. It was so dark, they were so close, their voices were…sharp and yet, somehow, soft? And they hadn’t hit each other yet. Nagi tightened his hold on Barou’s arm.
“Hey, how come you never call me by my name?”
“Forget it, asshole-”
“Nagi. Say it.”
“Why should I?”
“It’s my name. I call you by yours. Why won’t you say mine?”
“Because you’re a fucking washed up piece of scrub, that’s why. Now get off-”
“Shhhh. I’ve heard you say it around other people. You just don’t say it to me. Why’s that?”
“What’s your deal? Why are you so hung up on your stupid name?”
“It’s not stupid. Don’t you respect me?”
“Hah! Like hell I do! Why would I respect someone who just admitted they liked being called a little bitch?”
“Ah, that’s different. You can do that in private. But call me by my name in front of other people, okay?”
“What the fuck do you mean in private you asshole?”
“Like when we’re alone. Like right now.”
“What makes you think I want to fucking be here with you?”
“Well, the people outside already left. But we’re still here.”
He felt Barou’s grip loosen on his neck as he jerked his face to the door, realising that the voices were indeed gone. How long had they been gone?
His hand flew up to slide open the partition, but Nagi caught it and pinned it to his side, deceptively strong.
“Wait. We’re still talking.”
Barou could still barge out if he wanted to. And he looked like he would.
“They could come back if you make noise.”
It was an empty threat. In fact it was not a threat at all. And he knew that they both knew that. And yet, after several seconds of quiet consternation during which he only heard their breaths fall in and out, something changed in those red eyes.
“Make it fast. It’s fucking dusty in here.”
Nagi decided to throw all caution to the wind.
“You say you hate me. But it’s more like you can’t figure me out. That’s alright. I’m used to that. You hate my attitude, and it bothers you that I’m so good despite it. You don’t think I’m better than you, but you’re scared that I could be. But more than scared, you’re intrigued. I’m not like Isagi, he plans things out, he’s got a formula, so you can realistically think about how to beat him. With me there’s no formula. You either get lucky or you don’t. Did I get it right so far, Barou ?”
Barou scoffs. “You really think you’re all that?”
“I don’t. I was just reading your face. I think I’m good at that.”
“Like fuck you are. That purple head you came here with walks around like you killed his mom and you still call him your partner.”
“He doesn’t hate me. He’s just angry. But don’t change the subject. We’re talking about us.”
“There is no us to talk about, hairball. I'm the best, and you're just a dumb, deluded shitbag who thinks he can play football-”
Nagi felt his hackles rise. His right hand grabbed Barou’s collar without warning as he stared back into those fiery eyes.
“ Nagi. Say it. I’m not some random player who you’ll never see again. There’s no forgetting my name. And I know you don’t want to. You pick fights with me because you like it. It gives you an excuse to get all up in my face. You could complain to Ego or kick my ass for being messy and yet you just clean it all up for me after you’re done yelling. We’re the same, Barou. You want me to react. You want me to lose my shit. This is me losing my shit. So say it . Say my name .”
Barou didn’t flinch, but Nagi did notice how the hand over his throat relaxed ever so slightly, uncertainly; a second longer and he could have almost called it a- a caress? But he didn’t get to find out, because Barou’s eyes narrowed again as he refocused and gritted his teeth.
“Get. Your. Filthy. Hands. Off me… Nagi. ”
Nagi’s eyes widened in surprise. He let go of his hand and his collar. In an instant, Barou slid open the door and stormed out.
Nagi leaned back against the locker, allowing his breathing to return to normal. He would forever be a child of instinct, but truth be told, he really had not expected that outcome. Guess the King was full of surprises too.
***
“I swept up the trash and put the cleaning stuff back in the closet.”
Barou barely turned around from where he had been neatly packing his things into his bag in the outer room.
Receiving no response, Nagi walked even closer until he was right behind him.
“Anyway, that wasn’t so bad, right? We’ll try first names next time.”
Barou spun around and this time Nagi was dead sure he was going to be grabbed by his hoodie and slammed into the nearest locker. But Barou just balled his hands into fists instead and glared at him.
“No we will not . Shut your stupid mouth, I’m going to beat your ass-”
“Will you call me a bitch while doing it?”
Barou yanked his bag off the bench and backed away.
“You-you’re insane…focus on football you idiot.”
Nagi’s eyes shone with mischief once more.
“Ah? Worried I’ll get eliminated?”
“Anyone would be! With your half-hearted bullshit!”
“Aw. Barou worries about me.”
Nagi watched him whip around and stalk away towards the exit as fast as he could, muttering something like “This is so fucked… ”
He didn't deny it. Nagi felt the uncharacteristic warmth on his own face as he lazily walked out into the cool night air. He suddenly wished the break was shorter. Ah, what a hassle.
*****