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You never tried to escape. The thought had drifted through your mind once—only once—in the quiet, liminal days before your first son was born. Back then, you still clung to a fragile shred of autonomy, a flicker of hope that whispered you might one day claw your way out of this suffocating life. But the moment your firstborn arrived, with his tiny fingers curling around yours like a promise, everything shifted. The thought of leaving wasn’t just unimaginable; it became an unthinkable betrayal. By the time your second and third children were born, the weight of your choices—or more so the absence of them—settled like lead in your chest.
You supposed leaving simply wasn’t an option anymore.
How could it be, when their safety, their happiness, depended entirely on you? The thought of uprooting them from their lives, of exposing them to the horrors you’d tried so hard to shield them from, paralyzed you.
So, you stayed.
And yet, there were nights when you allowed yourself to wonder. Nights when the house was quiet, and Shidou’s presence wasn’t looming over you like a dark shadow. You’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, and imagine a world where things were different. A different life. One where your life wasn’t defined by fear. One where you married someone else. One where Rin and Sae were still alive. One where your kids got to meet their uncles on every holiday and were spoiled rotten.
Though your children looked nothing like you, not a single trace of your genes shining through, you still loved them with a ferocity that surprised even you. Their features, resembling their father, often caught you off guard—you saw the man who had ruined your life, of the horrors he’d inflicted on your twin and elder brother. The oldest had Shidou’s sharp pink eyes, a gaze that seemed to pierce right through you, as unsettling as it was familiar. The middle child wore his father’s crooked, arrogant smirk, the one that sends chills racing up your spine. And the youngest, with those eerie, slit-pupil eyes that burned with chaotic energy, was Shidou’s mirror image in every way. Sometimes, their laughter would echo down the halls, so eerily similar to his that it sent chills racing up your spine. You hated that they bore his likeness, hated the images their faces dredged up—Rin’s skeletal remains, Sae’s blood all over his hotel room, the life you’d lost to his obsession.
Even then, you couldn’t ever imagine leaving.
However, on a walk with Shidou one unassuming afternoon, the past cracked open and seeped into the present.
You hadn’t expected it. A voice that called out to you in the park, halting your casual stroll with Shidou, was one that instantly made your heart leap in your chest.
“Rin?”
The name slipped from the stranger’s lips, and for a second, everything froze. Your body stiffened, the sharp ache in your chest returning, a familiar crack as if the wound in your heart had just been reopened. You forced yourself to look up, the words on the tip of your tongue, even when the man standing before you was a complete stranger. He had dark hair and soft blue eyes, and for a split second, you swore you saw recognition in his gaze. The world seemed to tilt for a moment.
“Oh, sorry!” he quickly apologized, his voice almost rushed, as though embarrassed by the slip. He scratched the back of his neck nervously and a light flush settled on his face. “I thought you were someone else.” He paused, his expression softening as if something painful just hit him, muttering and just barely audible. “...Of course, you wouldn’t be him.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Before you could manage to respond, he glanced at you one more time, his eyes lingering for a beat too long.
“Wait. Are you by any chance…related to Itoshi Rin?”
Your pulse quickened at the mention of Rin’s name again. You shifted your eyes to Shidou, silently asking for guidance, but the brief glance you exchanged was all it took for Isagi to notice him, standing beside you.
“Oh, Shidou, huh?” Isagi greeted, breaking the tension. “I’ve heard you live around these parts. You’ve been doing pretty well with your career lately, huh? Good for you.”
Shidou’s presence was a jarring contrast to the moment. His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into that smug grin you knew so well. “Yeah, I’ve been keeping busy. What about you? Still chasing after your little dream?” His tone was light, but there was an edge beneath it.
Isagi didn’t flinch. He smiled faintly, giving a small shrug. “Just doing what I can.” His eyes, those piercing blue eyes, flicked back to you. He knew now. He’d seen you on television—during the news coverage after Sae’s funeral. That day, when you’d stood there, holding your ground, but with a quiet strength that had resonated through the screen. He knew you were Shidou’s wife, but there was something about your presence now that made him uneasy.
He remembered the night at Blue Lock, just before everyone had fallen asleep. He had been sitting there, trying to get some rest, when Bachira had stolen Rin’s phone. Rin had been furious, of course, demanding it back, but Bachira wouldn’t let go, instead teasing Rin about the picture on his lock screen.
“Who’s the pretty girl?” Bachira had asked, grinning like a fool and running around with the boy’s phone. “The one you’ve got there on your phone?”
Rin had refused to answer at first, clearly irritated, and the phone had been thrown at Isagi. He’d caught it mid-air, the moment stretching as he looked down at the screen. There she was—you—the girl with the teal eyes and the dark green hair, standing with Rin, smile soft and teasing. He squeaked as Rin jumped on him and the two of them went tumbling down. When he finally had his phone in his hands, Bachira persisted even more; Rin had grumbled, “It’s my idiot sister,” as if that were the most normal thing in the world. He was also surprised to learn that Rin was a twin. When Aryu mentioned something about your impeccable glam and if he could ask you out after the U-20 Vs Blue Lock match, Rin had thrown an English Grammar textbook to his face and threatened to cut all his hair off if he even so much as breathed the same air as you.
Back to present time, Isagi’s heart twisted when he noticed the resemblance. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to ask more, to offer his condolences, to tell you that your brother helped him get better and that he was a great guy.
Before he could say anything more, Shidou’s hand suddenly gripped yours with a firm hold. His fingers wrapped around yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. “Time to go pick up the kids,” he said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. You felt a surge of urgency in his movements—his grip tightening slightly, as if he were trying to steer you away from the situation before anything else could unfold. You didn’t resist, letting him guide you through the park, but your gaze lingered on Isagi for a moment longer. Your heart lurched, and you couldn’t stop the way your eyes shot back to Isagi, silently pleading for him to understand something—anything.
Shidou Ryuusei had always prided himself on his ability to stir the pot without getting his hands too dirty. That’s what he liked to tell people, anyway, even though it was utter bullshit.
The truth? He loved confrontation. He loved the pulse-pounding excitement of a fight, the sharp crack of knuckles meeting jaw, and the groans of someone realizing they were outmatched. It wasn’t just about the violence—it was about the build-up. The way tension simmered, how tempers flared, and how he could push someone past their limits with nothing more than a few well-placed words. But what Shidou loved most was when someone took it too far. That’s when he could step in, smiling wide and wild, and teach them what happened when they messed with him.
Of course, his priorities had shifted somewhat after his career skyrocketed, and you came into his life. Not to say he’d changed—he just got smarter about how he went about it. No more messy bar fights or back-alley scraps. He couldn’t risk damaging his image, not with three noisy little kids running around calling him “Otou-san” and the world watching his every move.
And to be honest? Covering up the murder of your two brothers had been a fucking drag.
Though, as he watched you today, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar itch beneath his skin. You had been too quiet since the run-in with Isagi Yoichi, and Shidou didn’t miss the way your shoulders tensed or the distant look in your eyes. His jaw ticked as he thought about it, fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his chair.
Isagi Yoichi.
Isagi nosy fucking Yoichi.
The name tasted sour in his mouth. The man was nothing special in his book—just another player who got lucky once or twice. But today had been different. Isagi had looked at you. He’d spoken to you. And that alone was enough to make Shidou’s blood boil.
He leaned back, letting his head tip against the chair as a slow grin spread across his face. He should have known better than to be a little carefree. It wasn’t your fault, of course—you didn’t know how enticing you were to vultures like Isagi. But Shidou knew. He knew.
The memory of your encounter played on a loop in his head, every detail scrutinized and cataloged. Isagi’s wide-eyed recognition, your nervous fidgeting, the way Isagi tried to say something to you, the hopeful little look in your hideous teal eyes. Shidou’s fingers twitched. It wasn’t the first time someone had stepped out of line, and it wouldn’t be the last. The thing was, there was something about Isagi that set his teeth on edge. He hasn’t seen Isagi in the neighborhood before, which means one of two things: either the pest jogged an impressive distance today, or he’s moved nearby. Shidou didn’t know yet, but he’d find out soon.
His grin widened as he glanced at you, curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the television.
Dark pink eyes trailed over you possessively, thoughts swirling. Maybe it was time to remind you—and anyone else who needed it—just who you belonged to.
“Yeah,” he murmured to himself, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Maybe it’s time we try for a fourth one again.”
Because nothing said “piss off” like a family that screamed mine.
You liked to think your mother was a good mother.
She loved all her children, though maybe not equally. She was the kind of woman who poured herself into her family, sometimes to her own detriment. You remembered how she had supported Sae’s dreams, convincing your father that it was the right decision to send him to Madrid as a teenager, even when it broke her heart to see him go. And for your twin—she fought just as hard for Rin, making sure he had access to the best soccer camps and opportunities to chase after his older brother’s shadow. And you? She had loved you too, hadn’t she? She bought you expensive art supplies when you wanted to be an artist, stayed patient when you abandoned art for swimming, then swimming for singing. Also, when you landed on managing the soccer team to be closer to Rin, she’d stepped in yet again, helping you set up the meeting with her old friend who coached soccer so you could learn every single thing. She always said she just wanted her children to be happy.
She was a good mother, you told yourself again. Even when Rin died and the cracks began to show.
Her grief became an anchor she couldn’t untie herself from. She drifted away, her focus narrowing to an almost obsessive need to remove Rin’s memory. She threw away pictures, videos, trophies and everything that reminded her of him. You were there, right in front of her, but it was like she couldn’t see you anymore.
Maybe that’s where it all started.
Now, standing in the dim glow of the hallway outside your children’s room, you wondered if you were a good mother too.
You had done everything to give your kids the love they deserved. You taught them, supported them, held them when they cried. You didn’t lose your temper, even on the days when it felt like you couldn’t breathe in this house. You’d tried to shield them from the darkness that loomed over your life, from him.
Yet, here you were, ready to leave them behind.
Did that make you a bad mother?
Your throat tightened as you quietly stepped into their room, the soft hum of their nightlight casting faint shadows. You told yourself they’d be okay even without you coddling them; Shidou was actually a good father—better than anyone might expect. He adored them, played with them, taught them soccer, listened to their stories and got them everything and anything they wanted. Whatever darkness lived in him, he kept it away from them.
You inhaled shakily. Three small beds lined the room, each one holding a piece of your heart. They looked so peaceful in their sleep.
They would be safe here. Like you mentioned before, no matter how monstrous Shidou had been to you, he would never hurt his own children. He loved them fiercely, in his own way, and you clung to that small mercy.
Still, your hands trembled as you brushed the hair from your youngest son’s forehead.
“I love you,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.
You repeated it to each of them, barely holding it together as you pecked their sleeping faces.
They didn’t look like you. Not one of them had inherited your features. You’d mourned that fact once, but now you were grateful. If they had Rin’s nose or Sae’s jawline, or even the same teal eyes, you weren’t sure you could have done this.
And that made it easier.
You straightened, lingering in the doorway one last time. The hallway was eerily quiet, your eyes darting toward the closed door of your bedroom. For a moment, your legs felt like lead, thoughts of Shidou seeping into your mind. The attic. The touch of his hands. The casual cruelty in his eyes. The words of delusion.
No.
You turned away, heading for the front door. You had to go.
When you stepped outside and the cool night air hit your face, your resolve hardened. You weren’t sure if you were a good mother, but you knew this much: if you stayed, you’d lose what little was left of yourself.
And your kids deserved better than that.
So you ran.
~~
You don’t remember the last time you ran.
Maybe it was when you were 16, back when your twin was still alive, dragging you out of bed at dawn to join him for his morning jogs. You used to hate it—every agonizing step, every sarcastic comment he threw over his shoulder when you started to slow down.
The pavement under your feet was slick from the late-night dew, and every breath felt like fire in your lungs. Your legs were weak, trembling, but you didn’t dare stop. Not yet. Not while you still had a chance to get away. The streets were empty, save for the faint hum of the city in the far distance. The wind cut through your clothes, chilling you to the bone, but it wasn’t enough to numb the panic thrumming in your chest.
You couldn’t stop hearing his voice in your head.
“You think you’re so clever, huh? Running away? What happens when I find you, sweetheart?”
“Tsk, tsk. How could you leave our kids like that? I’m disappointed in you.”
Shaking your head, you pushed harder, your sneakers slapping against the pavement. You couldn’t let him find you. You couldn’t go back.
When you finally slowed down, it wasn’t by choice. Your legs buckled, forcing you to stop as you collapsed against a nearby lamppost. The world spun, your vision narrowing as you gasped for air.
“Itoshi?”
The voice came from behind you, and you froze. For a split second, your heart stopped, dread gripping you with an iron fist. You turned slowly, your pulse hammering in your ears.
“Wait! I mean, Shidou-san. Damn it, I screwed up again.”
It wasn’t the one you hated.
It was Isagi Yoichi.
Were the odds in your favour for once?
His face was cast in the pale glow of the streetlight, his brow furrowed in concern, dressed in athleisure. “Are you...okay?” he asked, taking a cautious step forward. Your knees almost gave out again, but this time, it wasn’t from exhaustion. It was from the flood of emotions crashing over you—relief, fear, desperation. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out at first. He looked so worried for you; there’s such a kind look in his eyes. Quickly, you stumbled toward him like a lifeline and he caught you by the forearms, steadying you “Whoa, hey, I’ve got you. You’re...you’re shaking. What happened?”
His touch was firm yet gentle, and for a moment, the warmth of his hands felt like the first solid thing in an otherwise crumbling world.
“He’s crazy,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you clung to his sleeves. “He’s a psychopath, Isagi! Ryuusei’s fucking insane! He killed my brothers, he — he’s obsessed with me! I didn’t think he would — I should’ve never — I can’t—” You trembled violently, your breathing uneven as you tried to get the words out. “I left my kids. I ran away from Ryuusei. But I can’t go back, I can’t!”
Isagi’s eyes softened, and his grip on your arms steadied you further. There was something in his expression—a mixture of pity, worry, and something deeper. For a brief moment, he looked at you the way he used to look at Rin whenever he tried to push himself too far.
Rin.
You saw it in his eyes—the memory of your brother flickering to life. The resemblance between you and Rin, so painfully etched into your features, seemed to stir something in him. Your dark green hair, the cut of your jaw, your teal eyes, and those criminally long underlashes—it was as if Rin was standing there in front of him again, not you.
“She’s a pain,” Rin had said once after practice, swiping sweat from his brow, “she’s also a bit of a mess and yet...” He trailed off, his gaze distant, the memory of you holding him in your arms after Sae told him he wanted nothing to do with him flashed before his eyes.
He understood now. He meant he could always count on you.
It hit Isagi like a punch to the gut. This was the person Rin had leaned on, the one he had probably always counted on when the weight of his world became too much. And now, you were standing in front of him, unraveling, asking for that same trust and reassurance. This couldn’t be you. He saw no sign of the supposed chaos Rin had hinted about. Instead, he saw someone on the verge of shattering entirely. The features that tied you to Rin, so distinct and familiar, were now warped by something heartbreaking.
He was moving faster than his mind could comprehend and he slowly pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace that was hesitant but protective. Your breath hitched, your body stiffening at the unexpected warmth before your shoulders sagged, and you let yourself collapse into his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he intoned, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “You’ve been through so much...but you’re safe now, alright? You’re safe with me.”
His words felt like a balm on a wound you hadn’t realized was still bleeding. Your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, holding on tightly as if letting go would mean falling apart entirely. You felt so incredibly safe in his arms, as though the entire world could crumble around you, and it wouldn’t matter as long as he held you like this and told you that you’d be safe.
Unfortunately, your moment of relief was short-lived.
The sharp screech of tires shattered the night, and you clung to Isagi instinctively as the black car skidded to a halt near the park. The door flew open with a slam, and Shidou emerged, his movements casual, but his presence anything but.
He wasn’t too happy.
“Ten fuckin’ minutes and you’re already prepared to spread your legs for another man,” He sneered while taking a step forward, hands shoved into his pockets as if this were just another inconvenience in his day. “Just as long as he saves you from your doting husband, right?”
You were such a fucking bitch. He’s been nothing but kind to you. He’s protected you, stood by your side and loved you in a way he knew no one could love anybody as strong. Nonetheless, it didn’t deter him; it only made him want to try harder when he got his hands on you again. It only made him want to be more drastic in his methods of taming you. He’s sure he’ll coax you into giving him a passionate reward in bed for being so ungrateful.
When his eyes shot to your own, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest tightened as fear coiled around you like a snake. Isagi instinctively moved in front of you, shielding you with his body, arms still around you.
“Shidou,” He spoke out carefully, his tone firm but uneasy. “Just calm down. Let’s just talk about this, okay?”
Shidou’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Oh, I’m calm. Trust me. But you? Not so much.” He shifted his eyes to you and clicked his tongue. He was going to give you a bath the second the two of you were behind closed doors to get rid of the bastard’s scent on you. “Alright. You’ve had your fun, sweetheart. I promise I’ll let this mistake slide. Now, why don’t you be a good girl and come home with me? Don’t want the kids waking up tomorrow morning and wondering where their precious mommy went, do we?”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Isagi snapped, his voice more resolute this time.
Who was this outsider, really? Coming in between him and you. He was a backup player at best. He couldn’t even make the starting lineup in his crappy team. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Isagi,” Shidou drawled, his voice honeyed venom. “You know, this is a really bad look for you. A star like me finding his wife—my wife—huddled behind you and in your arms, trembling like that. You holding her like some knight in shining armor. It’s all very touching...until I take it to the press.”
Isagi stiffened, his wide eyes darting to you. Your fingers clutched his shirt desperately as you stayed pressed against him, shaking, but the shift in his gaze made your stomach drop.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Shidou took another step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a cat toying with a mouse. “Your filthy fingerprints are all over her. You’ve been holding her. That’s evidence, buddy. And if I say she was struggling, crying, begging you to stop—” He shrugged casually, as if the rest of the story wrote itself. “You know, Yoichi, it’s funny how easy it is to twist a story. I could take this whole little scene and turn it into something that ruins you just like that.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Who do you think they’ll believe? The guy who’s Japan’s best striker? Or the guy who’s not even a regular and is desperate for attention?”
Blue eyes began shaking as their confidence faltered. His face paled as the weight of his words sank in.
“And let’s not forget,” Shidou sneered, his voice dropping to an icy whisper, “once I ruin you, I’ll make sure your family pays the price too. The press? They’ll dig into every little detail of your life. Your parents? They’ll be hounded day and night. They’ll lose whatever peace they have left, all because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
Isagi’s breathing hitched, his shoulders trembling slightly. You could see the battle raging inside him—the desire to protect you clashing with the crushing weight of Shidou’s threats. When his hold on you started to loosen, anxiety rocked your core and all you could contemplate was running. You weren’t brave, you weren’t physically strong. You weren’t even an athlete. Shidou would catch you in two seconds flat.
“Also, news flash. Let’s talk about your little friends,” Shidou pressed, his voice soft and deadly. “You think Bachira or Chigiri would stand by you? They’d distance themselves faster than you could say ‘innocent.’ Because that’s how real life works. People don’t stick their necks out for a sinking ship. They let it drown.” He didn’t stop there. “See, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. You’re a decent enough player. You wanna make Japan proud, right? No matter how long it takes? So don’t throw it all away for a woman who’s already mine. Be smart. Step away, and this all stays between us. No harm, no foul.”
You started shaking your head, whimpering, hoping Isagi wouldn’t listen.
“Tick-tock, Yoichi,” Shidou mocked, tapping his wrist as if checking an invisible watch. “Your career, your family, your friends—all of it’s on the line. Make the right choice. Walk away.”
“Please, don’t let him do this. Don’t let him win.” you whispered desperately, your voice breaking. “H-Hey, Isagi—?” The grip on your shoulders slackened. His eyes darted between you and Shidou, wide and filled with guilt and fear. Slowly, he stepped back, his movements hesitant, as if each step away from you tore him apart.
“I...need you to calm down, ma’am,” he said shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. “Get some rest, okay? You should...you should go back to your husband.”
The air in your lungs dry out as though it had been punched out from your diaphragm.
“No,” you choked out, your hands trembling. “No, please, Isagi. You can’t. You can’t let him—”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to the ground.
You withheld a sob. Monsters didn’t communicate like normal people or the broken; their actions were rooted in selfishness, like a dance of power, a twisted game where the rules were always bent in their favor. They always thought about themselves. Isagi was no different.
Shidou stepped forward and grabbed your arm, his grip like iron. He pulled you toward him, his smirk never wavering as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.
“Let’s go home, baby. On the way back, you can think about how to make it up to me.” he said, his tone dripping with mock affection. Then, to Isagi, he added with a cold, venomous edge, “And remember, Yoichi, this was your one chance to play the hero. Don’t let me catch you anywhere near my wife again.”
The world blurred around Isagi as you moved away.
Even as he watches you leave the park and settle inside the car with Shidou, its as if he can hear your crying and the way that you scream his name, begging for him to stay with you, to not leave you alone, that you need help, you really need help, I’m so scared, I don’t want to go back, please don’t leave me, I’m scared, please don’t let him take me away again, don’t leave me! Isagi! Isagi!
The street-lamps cast long, flickering shadows, and in the faint glow, he could still see your trembling figure, imprinted in his mind like a scar. The way you looked at him—desperate, pleading, broken.
Isagi crouched to the ground, his knees hitting the pavement with a dull thud. His head dropped into his hands, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but it was useless.
Rin’s face appeared in his mind, so vivid it was as if he were standing right there.
The first time they’d met flashed before him, Rin’s cold glare sizing him up, the unspoken challenge sparking between them. The way they’d played together on the field, pushing each other to their limits, becoming rivals who understood each other better than anyone else. An ally. A rival. A friend.
Then another memory hit him—Rin alone in the Blue Lock facility, sitting on the bathroom’s sink counter, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was a little softer than Isagi had ever heard it, his usual sharpness dulled into something almost gentle, tamer. When Isagi had asked later, Rin had brushed him off, his usual attitude returning.
And then there was the night Rin vanished. No goodbyes. No explanations. Just silence.
Isagi’s shoulders trembled as the weight of everything crushed him. He remembered how Rin’s eyes used to flicker with frustration and determination, how they would sharpen with fire during a match. But now, all he could see was the emptiness in your gaze—the same dark green hair, long underlashes and teal eyes Rin once had, now dulled by fear and despair.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. His teeth ground together as a single, broken whisper slipped from his lips.
“I’m so sorry, Rin…”
But even as the apology left him, he knew it wasn’t enough. Rin was gone. And now, so were you.
He had failed you both.
No amount of apologies could undo what he’d done—or rather, what he hadn’t done. He hadn’t fought for you. He hadn’t stood his ground, despite every instinct screaming at him to protect you, to save you. Instead, he’d folded, caved to fear and the threats that Shidou wielded so effortlessly.
The next morning, the Isagi household was mourning the loss of their son.