Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Flipping through the pages of Blue Lock reports was not what Anri expected to find herself doing at 2 in the morning.

She looks down at the pages one last time before looking up at Ego. “They’re insane .” She tossed the papers on the table. “One of them threatened to blend his teammates’...genitals during practice because no one would pass to him.

Ego looked up at her through his glasses, slurping unbothered at his ramen. “Motivation.”

“Says here that people have reported Shidou Ryusei for ‘verbally molesting them.’”

For a split second Ego stopped slurping those stupid noodles and looked thoughtful – or as thoughtful as he could look, Anri didn't think his expression ever changed – before saying, “Shidou’s ego is different from others; he plays because he sees soccer as a form of ‘explosion’ and because he believes it to be a biological phenomenon that completes him.”

Okay. She didn’t want the analysis of the boy. But that was okay, she would just have to lead up to the solution to the actual problem. “What do we do about him then?” She asked slowly, gathering the papers and stacking them up.

“Nothing.”

Anri was going to rip her fucking hair out. Deep breaths, deep breaths; this was her boss. Her boss, who left dirty boxers in every possible crevice. Where did she go wrong in life.

Despite the anger thrumming in her skin, she scolded her features into a smile as she spoke. “And Isagi Yoichi? He’s a completely different person on the pitch. His parents have called us in tears asking us what we’ve done.”

Through a mouthful of those godforsaken, stupid, terrible, disgusting noodles Ego shrugged. “It's passion.”

“It's not passion, it's a lawsuit waiting to happen! We need therapy!” 

“I electrocute them if it gets out of hand,” Ego said, waving her off.

“You what ?!” Anri exclaimed, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. For 5 seconds her brain short circuited in what she imagined one of the apart electrocution victims must have. Was he…serious? Was the ramen laced with something? Nope. He looked completely unbothered and still chewing as if torturing teens was a totally normal coaching strategy. “Ego, what?! How have we not been taken down?!”

“Why don’t you become the therapist if you believe it to be so necessary? I’m under no obligation to care for their mental health, I’m here simply to produce the best striker in Japan.”

Before Anri could even argue he shooed her off.

And that was basically how Blue Lock got its therapist. Not because she had a licence or because it was remotely okay to put her in a room with a bunch of hormonal teenagers. But because Ego told her to do it and apparently ‘no’ wasn’t in her vocabulary.

Sitting in a room she didn't even know existed, legs crossed, and 5 mentally disturbed teens in front of her made Anri really rethink her career choices. Was winning the World Cup and making the best striker in Japan worth any of this. Was anything worth this? The pay certainly wasn’t. 

Regardless, it was her job and she was going to take it seriously. So after a week of preparation, 2 days of wikihow lessons and finally, waking up early to prepare herself a cup of coffee, she beamed brightly at the 5 boys sitting in front of her and cheerily said, “Hello! I’m Anri Teieri, I work here. You’ve probably never seen me, except for a bit during the U20 match maybe, but I’ve seen all of you a bunch, I’ve been watching you guys!” 

At their reactions, ranging from annoyed to mildly horrified, she realized she could’ve phrased that in literally any other way. She was already at a terrible start. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why you're here?” She plastered on a smile, waiting for a response. 

For a split second, there was nothing but silence. Then, one of them, with yellow layered hair nodded happily. “Yep!”  He beamed at her, rocking back and forth and offering her thumbs up.

God bless his soul.

“It was Ego’s idea–” no it was not, but they didn’t need to know that, “–that it would be beneficial to make sure you guys are mentally and physically strong. It's also, to be honest, primarily to help with some of your…anger issues. If you guys corporate I’m certain that-”

“Sorry, but what am I doing here?” The pretty red-head who had been silent and seated in the corner of the room, spoke up, raising a hand and looking around. “Bachira sees things, Isagi’s out there ruining lives, Reo’s got his homoerotic feelings for Nagi and Kaiser is…Kaiser. I’m not sure why I’m wasting my time here?”

The yellow haired boy – Bachira, if Anri remembered correctly – wrapped an arm around the red head’s shoulder. “Come on princess, we’re in this together!”

“No we’re not.” The redhead deadpanned, shrugging the boy off him.

Isagi – one of the few names Anri was confident she knew, along with Kaiser – looked at his friend, raising an eyebrow and giving him an exasperated look. “Chigiri, come on. It’ll be good for us.”

“Good for you, you mean, I’m not the one hurling slurs at people.” Chigiri – she made a note to remember his name – rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Yoichi, I agree with the beautiful red-head,” Kaiser interjected, smirking,  “your demeanour is that of an animal. I’m sure that's why your parents called asking what happened to their Yoiyoi-chan -”

“Shut the fuck up Kaiser-” 

“-Oh? Resorting to such foul language? How shameful, Yoiyoi-chan–”

Anri cleared her throat loudly, glaring at boys, “ Before we decide who should be here and who shouldn't and all that nonsense, why don’t we start with introductions? Your name, your hobby, something you like and a fun fact. Does that sound good?” Silence greeted her. It was like talking to literal zombies. Who would've guessed that this same bunch were among the same group of soccer players who slurred at each other on the field at the tiniest inconvenience. 

She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “How about you start?” She tilted her head at the purple haired one who had yet to speak.

He looked up at her, offering a charming smile. Maybe he wasn't so bad, Anri thought to herself; he seemed like a sweet boy. “My name’s Reo Mikage. My favourite thing to do is improve myself; not for much of a reason I just want too. Something I like…” he was silent for a second, humming softly, “I’d say Nagi probably.” Someone muttered something that sounded like ‘ we know ’ followed by ‘ is he gay?’ and then finally, in a genuine and curious voice, ‘ is that true love? ’ 

For Reo’s sake, Anri gave them a look. “Come on you gu-”

Reo, however, seemed unbothered by their responses simply continuing on. What the fuck. “A fun fact? Well, I started playing soccer only around a year ago with Nagi.”

It wasn’t anything crazy or out of the norm, much to Anri’s surprise. These kids were really different people when there were no soccer balls in sight. “That's good, nice to meet you Reo,” she nodded her head in thought, writing something down before looking up. “What about you, Isagi?” She crossed her legs and leaned forward to listen. This was going surprisingly well, all things considered. She’d expected Isagi and Kaiser to go at it with their fists but they were acting…well calm wasn’t the right word. Just one look at them and she could feel the tension, but they were certainly acting much more civil than she’d thought they would. The rest of the teens gathered she knew little about, only a few snippets from when she had heard them talk on the field.

This would be good for her to learn about the people at blue lock too. She mentally patted herself on the back. 

“I’m Isagi Yoichi,” Isagi said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I don’t really have any hobbies outside of soccer. I guess walking would-”

“Why don’t we skip the introductions, no?” Kaiser interrupts, leaning forward on the couch. “We know each other, and you know us more or less.”

A vein on Anri’s head throbbed. “Well yes,” she said strained, “but I don’t really know all of you all that-”

“I'm Bachira!”

“Chigiri.”

Kaiser smirked. “See?”

“Can I know why I’m here now?” Chigiri sighed, tilting his head. “I’m not half as insane as any of these people.”

Ah, Wikihow prepared her for this. She would crack through one of her victims today. She would make progress. She sat up straight, all previous exasperation fading. “We should talk about these denial issues you're having. Do you have problems accepting the truth?” Anri asked solemnly, clasping her hands together.

“What.”

“Denial can be a powerful coping mechanism,” she continued, nodding her head gravely. “Let’s unpack that.”

Chigiri blinked in her face, blankly saying, “Shidou literally called me a ‘cosmic orgasm on legs’ and I’m the one that's here with them.” 

“Do you want to talk about how that made you feel? Did it affect you positively?”

In the corner,  Bachira wheezed, clutching his stomach as he slid off the couch in a fit of laughter. “ Positively- ” he repeated before bursting back into giggles.

“What the fuck .” Chigiri said, brushing away a strand of hair as he stared at her.

Anri frowned at the response. This was harder than she thought it would be. She’d just assumed they’d be ready for her to mold and shape, that getting them to talk was easy. Clearly, however, this was nothing like she'd imagined. She sighed, closing her eyes and giving herself a second before speaking. “Where are the heartfelt responses, that’s not how I expected that to go.”

Kaiser snorted, “clearly.”

“Keep your mouth shut, you rat-tailed bastard.” Isagi snapped, rolling his eyes.

Kaiser narrowed his eyes, lips widening in a sneer. “Keep your legs shut, you harem seeking hure .”

Bachira hopped to his feet, hands stretched out between the two boys as he shook his head in disappointment. What a precious soul, Anri thought as she watched the scene unfold around her. Truly a sweetheart, he was. “Guys, fighting is a big no no!”

Kaiser raised a poised eyebrow, eyeing Bachira up and down. “Keep out of this you pathetic excuse for a striker.” He gave the boy a disparaging look, throwing his hair over his shoulder.

“I’m not a pathetic excuse for a striker!” Bachira pouted, putting a hand on his lip in thought. “I'm like ‘kaboom’ and I’ve gone past you in a blink, you know!” He said, hands moving animatedly as he said ‘kaboom’.

“You call that soccer? Wow, Japanese soccer is even worse than I remember-”

“–Oh shut up Kaiser; in case you forgot you lost to those Japanese teams–”

“Is the dog barking at me Yoiyoi-chan –”

“Yoiyoi-chan?! You let him call you Yoiyoi-chan? Can I call you Yoiyoi-chan!”

“No?!” Isagi protested, scandalized. “Bachira, you’re not calling me Yoiyoi-chan!”

“But-”

“Jenga!” Anri blurted out, interrupting the squabbling of the 3 boys – Reo was oddly quiet, staring at the window and Chigiri had his hands raised in prayer – as they all turned and stared at her.

“Jenga?” Chigiri repeated, confused, tilting his head.

She nodded her head, walking towards a cupboard in the corner of the room. She rummaged through it, before exclaiming in triumph when she found it deep inside. She reached in deeper, grunting as her fingers just barely skimmed it. So close–

“Bend it over, touch your toes, I’ll show you where the monster goes!” Bachira happily sing-songed.

What even –? 

She slammed her forehead against the wood, the sharp pain exploding behind her eyes, blooming against her skin. "Fuck–" she groaned, staggering back, her hand instinctively rising to her head. But as she did, she nudged something, and in that split second, her fingers brushed it. She barely had time to react before the sharp sound of shattering glass filled the air, fragments scattering around her.

Anri got up without a word, dusting her skirt. She looked up, smiling sweetly. “I’ll be back with a broom.” By which she meant ‘ if any of you move a fucking muscle I will burn you alive .’ and then, she stepped out of the room.

Thirty minutes later, glass effectively cleaned up, and a Jenga tower built on the table, Anri cleared her throat. “This is basically jenga but for communication. Everytime you pull a block you share a feeling. If the tower collapses then you have to say something much more…personal, I suppose.” At their collective looks of worry she hurriedly added. “Not insanely personal! Just…for example I finished ovulating yesterday!”

They stared at her with stunned discomfort and she stared right back. 

Now why did she say that? Her right eye twitched as she took a calming breath in. She was going to stuff tampons up their asses and get them to pull those out of each other instead of jenga blocks at this rate.

“Ooh!” Bachira said happily distracting her from her premature homicidal thoughts, smiling brightly at her “Congrats Ms. Anri! My mom finished ovulating yesterday too!”

“...Thank you, Bachira.”

“Ms. Anri have you ever communicated with a teenage boy before?” Reo asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

Her eye twitched again. “How about,” she said tersely, “We just give the game a chance, yes?”

“Why not just play regular jenga?” Chigiri eyed the tower in front of him with disdain. “Why would talking about our feelings–”

“Chigiri,” Anri interrupted, looking the redhead in the eyes. “Why don’t we just play. Doesn’t that sound good?”

As if sensing the doom that would be set upon them if they angered her again, they all nodded their heads with varying levels of sincerity.

“Okay, that's nice to hear,” she beamed at them. “Kaiser, why don't you start? We’ll go clockwise.”

The boy – or man really; he was only a few years younger then her. Most of them were only a few years younger than her really – smirked. “Easy.” He pulled a block out with precision. “I feel superior.”

Alright, rocky start, but it was a start and she would take whatever crumbs she could get. She gestured for Reo to go next, watching as the boy reached out to pull a block from the top. “I feel…betrayed.” He started slowly, voice heavy. Oh no. Code red. Wikihow had warned her about this. This was not a good sign. “Like all the things I’ve done for a certain someone are always taken for granted.”

“Reo, lets keep this general–” She started slowly before this could escalate. Even she has seen the absolute disaster Reo was when Nagi had left him.

“This is general,” Reo insisted, dragging a hand through purple locks. “I could be talking about anyone who abandoned me after I built their career from scratch for them only to come back and ask for my help as if nothing happened.”

“Nagi’s not even here,” Chigiri said exasperated. 

But clearly that wasn’t the right thing to say because moving a frame a minute, Reo turned his head to look at Chigiri, eyes twitching and a vein popping from out his head. There was literal war spelt in those purple eyes as they met magenta ones.

Anri smiled tensely, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. She was not near professional enough to handle couple therapy. “Okay now Reo– why don’t we talk about something–”

“I didn’t say it was Nagi, but you know that you’ve mentioned him, it is about that stupid son of a bitch who left me!” Reo says, ignoring Anri entirely as he stood up, pacing the room. “I feel like shit knowing he didn't even think twice. ‘I'm going to get better with Isagi’ and then Isagi was literal dogshit–”

“–What the fuck?? What–??

“–And he beat Isagi with me in one singular match! So why did he even leave me when I’m obviously the better option?! I gave him everything – hell I am his everything, Nagi is mine , mine, do you hear me?!–”

In pure, unadulterated horror, Anri blinked at Reo, who was still raging, turning around to see Chigiri who shrugged, unbothered, and pulled out a nail filer and began filing his nails.

“–He is my property basically, isn’t he? So why did he–”

“ Breathe , Reo, breathe,” Anri said, raising her hands up and down in rhythm with her own loud exaggerated breathing. “We’re here to learn how to manage that anger, not express it so…um, outwardly. Do you feel anything else other than….anger right now?”

“Oh, sorry,” he shrugged, plastering on a smile. “In that case, I feel great. Love the vibes. Therapy’s pretty sweet.”

“That's…nice to hear.” She said, trying to gather her thoughts. On her notes she wrote down Reo: possibly bipolar? Or just gay , before looking up still disoriented at the next person. “Chigiri, why don’t you go next?” She couldn't go wrong with Chigiri at least. She could probably make progress with him. As far as she knew, he didn't have any undiagnosed illnesses that would come back to bite her for pushing.

The redhead leaned forward, dropping his nail filer on the table and pulling out a block. “I feel fine.”

“Well that’s not quite detailed enough.” She just needed to push so that he could unravel. He might seem okay to others but she knew better. Actually, strike that, she didn't know better but she’d like to believe that her gut was right this time.

“I feel annoyed that I’m here and Shidou is not. He tried fingering a water bottle because it ‘reminded him of Sai Itoshi’ and still I’m the one sent here.”

“Okay, and how did that make you feel?” She asked gently.

“I just said how it makes me feel!”

“Good, good, progress,” Anri said, frantically scribbling in her notes, Lusting over Shidou Ryusai. Presumably jealous of Itoshi Sae.

“ What?! ”

“I’d finger a water bottle if it would remind me of Sae too!” Bachira hummed in agreement, face in his hand as if in thought.

Isagi face palmed. “Bachira stop talking.”

Kaiser waved Isagi. “No, keep going, let me hear about this Shidou that has Sae so bothered.”

Somewhere, outside and down the hall, a voice shouted in ecstasy, “Let me bite ass Ego! Let me score a goal and get that rush and bite someone's ass without giving me a red card!”

“Why is he not here again?” Chigiri asked again.

Anri sighed. “...Because I have therapy lessons with him too. By himself. One on one. Even Ego couldn't find a place to put him with the other groups.”

“ That's who Sae went for?” Kaiser raised an eyebrow in disgust.

Anri cleared her throat. “We’re getting off topic, Bachira, why don't you go?” She smiled sweetly at the boy.

“Okay!” He quips, balancing his feet on the couch and leaning forward to grab the piece at the very, very bottom. He gently pushed it out, eyebrows furrowed in focus, as the entire tower wobbled dangerously. “Almost…” He stuck his tongue out, giving the block one final push and pulling it out. “Aha! Yes! I win!”

Anri didn’t really understand the joy but as long as he’s happy she is too. “So how are you feeling, Bachira?”

“I feel like you guys don’t get me,” Bachira says with a frown.

“We don’t,” Chigiri mutters.

“That’s okay,” Bachira continues, ignoring him. “My monster gets me. He’s always with me.”

Anri blinks. “Your… monster?”

“Yeah! He tells me what to do. Like, ‘Hey, Bachira, dribble past them all and score.’ He’s awesome.”

“So you’re saying you have an imaginary friend,” Anri says slowly.

“Not imaginary. He’s real to me,” Bachira says, beaming.

“Okay, cool, great,” Anri says, her voice strained. “Let’s maybe explore that later. I’m done for today. You guys can get out.”

“I didn’t get to go,” Isagi frowned as the rest of them filed out, 

“Good riddance.”

“–So yeah, I think soccer’s more than just a game,” Shidou said, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes. “Its sperm becoming a goal. Bodies colliding. It’s foreplay .”

Anri just scribbled down in her notes. “Is that so?” She hummed noncommittally.

Shidou simply continued, uncaring of her short responses. 20 minutes of this had already conditioned her to Shidou. Nothing he could say would shock her. “Soccer in itself is an explosion, it's in my blood to make me feel alive.”

“Shidou this is nice and all but I asked how you handle constructive criticism not your weirdly intimate concept with scoring.”

“That was my answer.”

“Okay.” She said. She wasn’t going to have a verbal fight with Shidou, that might genuinely break her. Instead she looked up, taking a sip of her tea. “Shidou, why don’t we do a small activity. Close your eyes and picture a peaceful peace, somewhere that makes you feel at home.” 

Shidou closes his eyes. “I’m on the field. There’s a goalie. He’s screaming.”

“That’s not peaceful,” Anri says through gritted teeth. “Imagine a meadow or a forest.”

“Fine,” Shidou says, sighing. “I’m in a meadow. There’s a deer. I tackle it. Goal.”

“You can’t score goals in a meditation exercise!” Anri snaps.

“Then what’s the point?” Shidou opens his eyes, looking genuinely confused.

“For my sake, choose something else.”

“The penalty box,” he replied immediately.

“You're not taking this seriously,” Anri says.

“I am! The penalty box is my happy place! It’s where I kill people’s dreams!”

Anri screams into her hands.

“Yes, that! That’s what soccer feels like! You’re really understanding me Anri-chan, I think I’ll enjoy this whole therapy thing.” Shidou beamed at her, getting up, rolling his shoulders and walking out without another word.

Anri takes a deep, deep breath in. She can do this. She will do this. This is okay.

Chapter Text

The next morning, when Anri wakes up to the blaring sound of her alarm, she seriously considers the long term effects committing suicide. Why did she ever bring up therapy to Ego? Why did she even take this path in life? She could've become a florist, had happy customers asking her about what flowers to get their loved ones. At least flowers didn't see monsters and hold long life grudges against each other or scream about orgasming to Itoshi Sae’s bottom lashes.

She rolled over in bed, groaning and burying her face in the pillow, hoping the universe would answer. “What am I doing with my life?” 

The universe, of course, stayed silent. When had it ever responded.

She gave herself a few more seconds in the comfort of her bed before she got up. She had a long day ahead…a long, long, day ahead.

Freshly showered, and sipping a hot cup of coffee, Anri stared bewildered at the boy seated in front of her. “You…you know you’re 30 minutes early?”

Bachira simply beamed. “Yeah! I had a crazy dream!”

“What was this crazy dream about?” She asked, putting her cup down and reaching over for her notes. An hour with Shidou had shown her the importance of keeping track. She didn't think it was possible to simultaneously struggle from wanting silence and hating it but yet here she was. Why were all of these boys enigmas?

“Well it started off kind of normal. I was playing soccer but the field was weird, instead of grass it was all spaghetti. And the goalposts were huge forks and the net was like…macaroni and cheese? They were intertwined really well; it might've been ramen,” Bachira shrugged.

“Ooo-kay.” Anri nodded, and this was fine. This was just an average teen soccer player’s dreams. Bachira was a growing boy, of course he was going to dream of food. This was fine.

Bachira rocked back and forth on the couch as he spoke, completely unbothered. “And then I started dribbling and I was going past the people, like ‘wesh’ and ‘wesh’–” he made swirling movements with his hands that had Anri wondering if they were secretly gang signs. “–But the ball wasn’t a ball, it was a meatball. And then it kept trying to run away from me with its legs. Spicy little legs.”

Anri looked up, pausing in her notes, that were beginning to look more and more insane. Anyone who saw ‘ramen goalpost’ and ‘spicy meatball-soccer ball’ would think she was either 8 months pregnant and craving or documenting a schizophrenic patient on hallucinogens. “Spicy legs?” She repeated.

“Yeah,” he nodded, unfazed. “You know how spicy food feels alive? Well then it started running away from me so I chased it and suddenly there was Isagi and he looked normal so I passed to him when I finally caught up with the spicy meatball soccer ball. But then he didn't shoot, he got down on his knees and started stuffing pasta down his throat. He was crying about how he should’ve gone to Master Chef instead of passing the chance away to his friend who lost. And he was still just, like, stuffing the spaghetti down his throat. Anyways–”

No, not ‘ anyways ’ Anri was still trying to find a way to word her notes so that no one accused her of drug abuse. Why was Isagi having a pasta-fueled existential crisis on the field? “Okay Bachira why don’t–”

“–I tried to help Isagi out because he's my bro and I wasn’t going to let my best bro be depressed so I went over but then Kaiser rolled over to us, because he was on a giant parmesan wheel–”

Yes because of course Kaiser was on a giant parmesan wheel. 

“–And he started laughing at Isagi for crying and eating the raw pasta, he told Isagi ‘you’ll never be as good as me’ and started throwing grated parmesan like it was confetti. Only, he didn't use his hands, he had forks and he shoveled it out from this pouch on his pants. Oh yeah!” Bachira snapped his fingers, looking up as if he just remembered an important life altering fact that would change the course of both their lives instead of telling her about the grating – no. That was not a pun. She did not make a pun. Admitting that she willingly made a pun would mean she had accepted defeat and was sinking into their level – dream he'd had. 

She cleared her throat, “Bachira, this is nice and all but how about you finish the dream here?”

Bachira’s wide yellow eyes filled with tears and he looked at her heartbroken. “But I didn't even get to the best part!”

Anri’s heart clenched at the sad look on his face. At the end of the day, Bachira meant no foul and at the very least, she reasoned, there was no harm in letting him continue. Besides, she was a little bit invested. (She wasn't; she'd learned the best way to trick her brain into being okay with something was just gaslighting herself. It worked. Sometimes.) “Okay, you can finish your, uh, story. Dream. Pasta. Thing.”

“Okay so, Kaiser’s hair was all grated cheese! And he had sunglasses that were cheese too! He kept throwing the cheese and it got in Isagi’s hair and boy did Isagi not like that,” he shook his head solemnly, clasping his hands together. “He started slurring at Kaiser – I’m not gonna repeat the bad-naughty words he used – and then Rin appeared! Kaboom! He had to hop over though because he had a cheese grater for a skirt. He looked really cute! He even had a spaghetti bow! And he had this pink fork and then he said ‘the meatball is mine!’”

“I…see.” Anri lowered her coffee onto her lap. At least this story didn't have some insane climax. Imagining Rin as ‘cute’ and in a skirt was bad enough. “And…this is it?”

“No, no, silly Anri,” Bachira shook his head gravely, leaning forward, yellow eyes wide. “Then the monster appeared.”

She spoke too soon. The universe was spitting her down. “What?”

“Yes, yes. The meatball monster. It took Kaiser, and then Kaiser started swearing in German and crying like a baby only he was a baby now!” What? Why? But Bachira didn’t even bat an eye. “And then the monster took Rin too so it became a big tornado with Parmasean and forks and cheese graters! And then Isagi was crying because Kaiser was his boyfriend and he thought he was a pedophile!” He threw his hands up in the air dramatically.

Anri genuinely didn't even know what point to focus on. She just stared at Bachira, writing down her notes without looking at them, and trying to scold her features into nonchalance.

“And everyone was screaming and crying like ‘ARGHHH’–” At full volume, Bachira shrieked, startling Anri enough for her to shriek back too. Bachira, for some reason because that's just how his brain worked, shrieked back in her face. 

When he was done shrieking he nodded happily. “Yes! Just like that!” That was the second time someone had made a comparison between her screams of horror and regret, and what they were talking about.

Anri didn’t like it one bit.

“But while everyone was running away I stayed and stood my ground because I knew that meatball! It was my meatball tornado and with my dribbling I would defeat it! My destiny! And then just as I was about to kaboosh the tornado into the ramen-goal, Ego came down riding a slice of garlic bread! And then he told me ‘only one striker can tame the meatball!” He beamed happily at her, leaning back on the couch apparently proud that he’d explained all of it to her.

Anri just stared, long and hard. “That's…quite the dream you had,” she said, strained. “Do you think it means anything?”

“Yeah, I think my tummy’s telling me to have spaghetti for lunch today!”

“Yes,” Anri said, dazed. “Spaghetti sounds wonderful.”

“Did you have any cool dreams last night, Ms. Anri?” Bachira asks before lowering his voice and whispering, “or nightmares?”

Her whole life feels like a nightmare. But she’s not going to say that so instead she simply shakes her head. “I don’t really dream, I sort of just…sleep and wake up, you know?”

The yellow eyed boy gave her a pitying look. “Your life sounds really sad. Why do you even sleep then? You should stay awake forever!”

No, at this rate she was going to sleep forever. But she didin’t need to be a professionally licensed therapist to know that suicide jokes were probably a one way ticket to early retirement. 

“Ah, but staying awake forever would be exhausting, don’t you think?”

Bachira titles his head, “No, because then when I’m supposed to be sleeping we could build a spaghetti soccer field!” 

“...Uh, um, well I don’t think that's–”

“Say, Ms. Anri, do you think you get paid enough to make it with me?”

Before Anri could even start doing the math in her head – she truly loathes to admit that she started wondering at all (the answer is that she did in fact make enough to make a hypothetical pasta field) – the door swung open and both Reo and Chigiri walked in, the latter looking furious.

He also looked, for lack of any other appropriate words, like shit. Anri wouldn’t say that her own hair wasn’t nice and soft but when compared to Chigiri’s, it was basically the opposite of sweet and spice and everything nice. His red hair was long and well cared for, the locks cascading down his back like ribbons. The worst part was knowing that it was all natural; all the boys at blue lock used the same shampoo and conditioner. 

But today? His hair looked less like art and more like it had staged a coup and declared independence. Loose strands fell out at awkward angles, covering the right side of his face and his ponytail sat limp and dull at the back of his head. And for some strange reason, one strand stood high on his head, not bending or anything, simply standing.

“Hello, Chigiri. Reo,” she greeted, still staring at the antenna that poked high on his head. Was he cosplaying as someone? Shidou, maybe? Perhaps he really did have some sort of unresolved feelings for the boy. Was that why Chigiri kept mentioning him and how he should be here with them? She scribbled down furiously in her notes. Homosexual feelings for Shidou; Chigiri has strange tastes. Presumably jealous of Itoshi Sae and the water bottle apparently fingered in honour of said Itoshi Sae.

“Hey, Ms. Anri,” Reo smiled brightly at her, walking beside her and…was that a coffee in his hand? At her questioning look, he continued. “I noticed you were drinking a lot yesterday, and I realized it must be exhausting to have to deal with so many teens in one day especially without a licence and no prior experience.” Why did he know that? Better yet, how? ”I got my maid to get me the good stuff though, from Turkey. This should taste heavenly.” 

Chigiri slumped down on the couch, rolling his eyes. “Stuck-up.”

“I don't know Chigiri, I'm seeing something else that's stuck up right now,” Reo grinned, sparing a glance at his friend. Anri could see him bite the inside of his lip to refrain from laughing. 

Helping the boy out, she put down her own cup of coffee, which was basically empty by now, courtesy of having to listen to Bachira's dream at 8 in the morning, and took the cup out of Reo’s hand. 

She took a small sip and– “Oh wow," She gasped, looking up. "This is good!” It tasted both bitter and sweet, slightly caramel, and the warmness of the cup bled into her bones. She smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Reo. Really. You didn’t have to do this.”

He waved her off, taking a seat next to Chigiri. “It was nothing, you deserve it anyways.”

Well, there was no point in fighting him on it. He'd wave her off and insist it was nothing and wouldn't accept anything in return. She looked back at the red head who had yet to explain the state of his hair. “Ah, Chigiri, what, uh, happened to your–”

“Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow, staring at the red head. “You're telling me your hair tried getting better Wifi on its own?”

Chigiri’s eye twitched. “Yeah, and what of it?”

“It's got life! Your hair’s evolving! It's like the spaghetti soccer field!” Bachira gasped, poking at the strand. “It doesn’t even move!”

Chigiri swatted Bachira’s hand away before pausing, confused. “What? What spaghetti soccer field?”

Bachria enthusiastically ignored him. “Do you think it’s a trauma response? I read that kids revolt when they get hurt. Is your hair revolting Chigiri?”

“What. It’s hair it’s not gonna–”

“Ms. Anri is Chigiri’s hair a victim of child abuse?” Bachira turned around, whipping his face over.

Anri blinked. “...I don't think so.”

“I don't know,” Reo hummed in thought, shaking his head in disappointment. “I saw you yesterday, overdosing on hair oils…”

Chigiri glared at Reo. “Why don’t you overdose?”

Bachira gasped in faux horror, putting two fingers against the defiant strand as if silencing it. “Don’t say that in front of your child!”

Anri cleared her throat. “Don’t say that in front of anyone. We’re here to learn how to control our anger.”

Chigiri deapaned, crossing his arms. “Again, you're talking to the wrong person. I can control my anger.”

Well, to be fair, Chigiri wasn’t nearly half as bad as some of the other players. To some extent his annoyance at being here was warranted. 

“Well why don’t you see it as less ‘anger control’ and more ‘bonding’?” She said, bringing the coffee to her lips.

“Who am I supposed to bond with? Kaiser?” His lips pulled into a grimace. “No thanks.”

“Oh?” A familiar voice said, strolling into the room, and smirking at Chigiri. “The princess doesn’t want to get along with the king?”

Oh yeah. Anri forgot they did…whatever that was. Talk like they were main characters in some sports anime called Blue Lock. She couldn’t even take either of them seriously, with Kaiser’s smirk looking copyrighted and Chigiri’s hair still having some sort of vendetta against physics. “Why don’t you just sit down instead of starting something Kaiser?”

“I want to know how that started,” he pointed at Chigiri’s hair, the boy rolling his eyes and looking the other way.

“Chigiri abused children.” Bachira said solemnly.

For a split second, Kaiser seemed to tense, eyes narrowing and features twisting. But before Anri could put her finger on it and decipher any of it, he’d scolded his emotions and calmly sat down.

He didn’t say anything when he sat, looking as entitled as ever, but one hand stayed near his neck, itching at the skin there and the other pulled out his phone. 

She opened her mouth to ask about it, to question the boy on his strange reaction but stopped. Was she really qualified to actually talk about serious topics? She didn’t want to mess something up like that. Even she wasn’t stupid enough to do that. So instead she turned her head away and cleared her throat. “Lets leave Chigiri and his hair alone–” 

“You look like a teletubbie.” Bachira pointed out happily. “A pretty, cute and red teletubbie.”

Chigiri’s eye twitched. “I don’t want to be a teletubbie.” 

Reo hummed. “I don’t know, I think it might be your calling. Quit soccer, go on a kids cartoon show.”

“No thanks.”

“I could put in good word for you, you know, just like we put gorilla glue in your hair.” 

“No thanks– what.” Chigiri’s head snapped towards Reo, eyes wide in horror. “You put what in my hair?!”

“Well not all of your hair, obviously, just that part.”

Never in her life had she seen this much raw anger from Chigiri.

“You saw me wail for hours, comforted me, hugged me, promised me I looked good–”

“I mean, you do look good–” Reo interrupted.

“–All while knowing you were the one who glued my hair like it was arts and crafts?!”

Reo winced. “Well when you put it like that I sound like a monster.”

“You are a monster! This isn’t even funny! I’m going to swap your fancy leg wax with gorilla glue and see what you do!” Chigiri jabbed a finger in his friend's direction.

Anri looked up from her notes. “...leg wax? Reo, you wax your legs?”

“And other parts of himself,” Chigiri mumbled bitterly beneath his breath. Anri didn’t want to know what he meant.

The purple haired boy shrugged and looked at her as if it was obvious. “Of course I do.”

“Of course.” 

Chigiri finally snapped, standing up and painting a finger directly in Reo’s face. “Stop ignoring what you've done!” He threw his hands up in the air. “This is history repeating itself; don’t you remember the girl who got gorilla glue in her hair?!”

“She got it out didn't she?”

“She also got her hair out! She went bald! I can’t be bald! What am I without hair?!”

“Bold?” Bachira offered.

“Do not make that pun.” Chigiri hissed, turning on him.

It was a pretty good pun. Anri jotted it down. 

Reo got up, wrapping an arm over Chigiri’s shoulders. “Relax dude, it's not even that bad.”

“My hair has literally been gorilla glued so that it stands straight. What part does not sound bad.”

“Well it's only a few strands of hair…”

Bachira leaned forward. “If it makes you feel better, it makes you look impressive! I like it! It’s like a stick you know?

Chigiri stared, and repeated. “A stick.”

“I’m thinking it gives him character.” Reo hummed. “Like something went on in his life to make him do his hair like that.”

“We should name Chigiri’s baby.” Bachira said, still poking at it. 

“It's not my baby?!”

“Call it the twin towers. I'll bring the gorilla glue and stick another strand,” Reo and Bachira took one look at each other before falling into giggles and laughter.

Anri’s mouth physically dropped. What. When did she lose control over the entire situation, when did this conversation head in this direction. Were they even allowed to make that joke?!

“ Stop naming it!!” Chigiri snapped, his voice breaking.

Reo snorted. “The red messiah.”

“Messiah’s a jewish word, you can’t name it that.”

Anri raised an eye, opening her mouth and then closing it. What? What did he mean by that? “Why not? Bachira are you...what do you–”

Bachira’s eyebrows knotted as if the answer was right there, written in the air. “Because Kaiser’s German.”

Silence. Anri loves the silence, wishes this gang of hooligans would shut their mouths but right now– “You can't make that kind of joke?!” Anri’s voice cracked. Even Kaiser seemed taken aback.

“What.” Kaiser blinked. 

That might’ve been the first time Anri ever saw Kaiser at a loss for words.

"What?" Bachira said back. "I thought-"

“Okay. That’s enough of that.” She interupted, bringing a hand to rub at her temples. She wasn't going to give Bachira the chance to even try to explain his thought process. If only Isagi were here to yell at Bachira. Huh. She looked around. Acctualy...where was Isagi?

She knew Kaiser was way too calm compared to when Isagi was around. She didin't understand why they couldn't just get along. Was it because all of twitter shipped them? Or maybe it was the lewd fanart made of them. She should bring it up with them some day. She wrote it down in her notes.

She turned around to look at the blond. "Kaiser, where's Isagi?"

“Right here!” Isagi slammed over the door, panting heavily and leaning against the doorway. He closed the door behind him, walking towards her and bowing deeply. “I’m so sorry, I got held up by Kunigami, I was trying to get him to–”

“It’s fine, Isagi," she interuped, waving him off. "You don't have to bow, you didn't even miss anything. We were just about to start anyway. Just take a seat.”

Once they were all seated and listening, she took out the cursed jenga blocks.

“Again?” Chigiri grimaced at the blocks as if they’d personally offended him.

“Yes, again. Only this time, they have questions and the sort written on them. So you pull out a block, read it out loud, and you answer what's on it. Doesn't that sound better?”

They stared blankly at her. 

“It doesn't.” Chigiri deadpanned.

“Well too bad. We’re playing anyway.” She stacked the blocks up one by one, before leaning back. “Since you hate it so much, why don’t you get the first pick, Chigiri?”

Chigiri scowled, but she honestly couldn't take him seriously with the thing on his head, before picking out a block. In a monotone voice, he read. “When was the last time you jerked off–" He looked up, before looking back down. "What the fuck.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’m not answering that.”

What? That wasn’t supposed to be a question. She snatched the block, squinting as she read it. That…was scribbled out and rewritten. Who would've done that? And why? What would–

Shidou leaned over the pile of blocks, his grin wide and devilish, like a kid who’d found a marker and a wall without parents in sight. The world was his canvas, and these blocks? His masterpieces.

He plucked one from the middle, turning it over in his hands like it was some sacred artifact. “Too boring,” he muttered, before whipping out a pen from who-knows-where and scribbling furiously.

Every so often, he’d pause, hold the block up to admire his handiwork, then cackle like a maniac. “Perfect. Chef’s kiss.” He kissed the block for real, smearing some of the ink, and then tossed it back in the pile.

His eyes lit up as he spotted another block. This one was blank on both sides. A travesty. An insult to his creative vision. He snatched it, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he wrote something long and absolutely inappropriate. “I’m an artist,” he whispered to no one in particular.

Shidou sat back for a moment, surrounded by his handiwork, basking in the chaotic energy he’d unleashed. He had no idea who would be answering these questions, but the feeling of freedom, of being free and doing what he wanted, thrummed under his skin.

“Yeah,” he muttered, smirking to himself. “This is gonna be good.”

And then, as if on instinct, he picked up another block. No block was safe. This wasn’t just chaos. This was a legacy.

It was Shidou. Of course it would be Shidou.

She cleared her throat, straightening her papers as if they would shield her from the incoming doom. “Uh. Well. Masturbating is a great way to release tension. It shouldn’t be embarrassing to talk about.” She was doing great, pushing it under the rug as if she’d meant for this to be a sex-ed discussion. “In fact…you should all allocate time to jerk off.”

A stunned silence followed. She smiled nervously at them. 

“...Ms. Anri, please stop talking.” Isagi whispered, cheeks flushed all the way down to his neck.

Kaiser raised a languid eybrow. “Is Yoichi embarrassed to admit he doesn’t stroke his own dick? Did you think everyone stroking your ego was enough?” He drawled.

“What?! When did I say that?!” 

“Don’t worry Isagi, I can stroke it for you!” Bachira chirped with genuine sincerity, "That's what a good friend would do!”

“Bachira, my man, that’s…not how that works.” Reo sighed, patting Bachira’s back.

“You would be on Nagi’s dick in a second if he let you Reo,” Chigiri deadpanned, crossing his arms. 

“You have a dick on your head I don’t want to hear complaining from you.”

“And who put it on me?!” Chigiri barked, crossing his arms.

“Even lathered it up with gorilla glue like it was lube,” Reo said, sounding awfully proud of himself.

The red head grimaced, eyeing Reo up and down, “Ew. Never say that again–”

“Okay. Enough of that.” Anri interrupted. “There shouldn't be anything wrong with talking about this. Masturbation is a normal, healthy habit. It has benefits, you know?”

They turned around to look at her with expressions varying from horror and mild fascination. God she was going to strike down Shidou.

“Uh, you know, like.” She sputtered around, not meeting any of their eyes. “Some of you might be a result of your own parents playing aro-”

“Ms. Anri. Please stop.” Isagi had his hands on his face refusing to look at anyone.

“You mean my dad jerked me off into this world?” Bachira spoke up, eyes wide.

“Uh. No? I- I'm not-” She said, stuttering. “Maybe? I'm- you know what? Forget I said anything.” She waved her hands around like she could erase what she'd said. “Meditate or something, hug a tree, embrace nature. Don't touch yourselves.” 

“...that doesn't sound like a good idea–?”

“Chigiri, just…pull out another block. Unless you want to just answer the question?”

“Pull out– was that some terrible metaphor?” Reo raised an eyebrow

“Pulling out is actually really bad advice,” Kaiser said, drinking his water as if it was red wine. It...it might acctualy be red wine. 

“No. No it wasn't any type of metaphor– Chigiri just. Take a block.”

Chigiri pulled out another block. “How do you calm down after a stressful moment?”

At the normal question, Anri breathed a sigh of relief. Bachira, however, pouted. “That's so boring. I liked the masturbation question more.”

“Uh, no,” Chigiri said, twirling a strand of hair. “I guess I usually snap at the person or I just walk out and take a breather?”

Bachira hummed. "How do you breathe?”

“What?”

“Like, what are you breathing?”  

Chigiri looked thoroughly confused. “Oxygen??” 

“Booooring. You should breathe in, like, helium, you know?” 

“...what? I’m not going to inhale helium to calm down.”

“You should! Then you wouldn't sound so angry!”

“No, I’d sound like a chipmunk.” Chigiri deadpanned.

“Enough,” Anri said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Isagi…you can go.”

Isagi sat up, carefully pulling out a block from the middle of the wobbling tower and clearing his throat. “What is freedom?” He looked up. “What does this mean?”

“How many blocks did Shidou violate at this point?” Anri muttered under her breath, massaging her temples. She sighed. “Okay, Isagi, how do you find peace and freedom in your life after a tense situation?”

Isagi blinked. “Play soccer.”

“Other than playing soccer?”

“Watch soccer?”

“Something not soccer-related,” Anri said, her eye twitching.

Isagi hesitated, as if she’d just asked him to describe life without oxygen. “...Read about soccer?”

“Isagi,” Anri said, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Not soccer.”

He looked down, visibly shaken, as though the concept physically hurt him. “I don’t understand the question.”

She took a deep breath in. There wasn’t anything wrong with liking a sport to this extent, she reasoned. “What do you do in your free time, Isagi? How do you cool down after a match?”

He stared at her as if that was the most obvious thing.  With how many times she’d gotten that lock, she’d really started wondering if she was the odd one out. “Rewatch the match and analyze it?” 

“…cool. Reo, you’re next.”

Looking up from his phone, which he definitely shouldn’t have out but Anri would let it slide since the boy did bring her a coffee, Reo pulled out a block, clearing his throat and reading out loud. “Are you gay.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. I’m not.”

Silence. Even Anri did a double take, bewildered. “Uh, really? Are you….well I thought–”

“You’re pulling my leg right now,” Chigiri said, narrowing his eyes. “You– you can’t be for real with me.”

“I’m not? Why would I lie? I’ve never liked a guy before.” Reo shrugged.

“…Nagi? You…you don't–”

Reo tilted his head. “Nagi? Dude, he's my best friend. That’d be weird. We’re like soulmates.”

“It’s like he’s waving around a neon colored sign that says ‘I love Nagi,’” Isagi said.

Chigiri deadpanned. “You called him your treasure.”

“I did.” Reo said proudly. “He is. Everyone needs a treasure.”

“Sure, yeah, okay,” Chigiri said, “what about the piggy backs? Changing his clothes? Singing to him when he can’t sleep? Hiring someone to beat the video game for him because he couldn’t find it in him to move his fingers fast enough to win?”

“Yeah, he's a bit lazy. I’m being a good friend.”

“Reo…” Chigiri slumped backwards. “You’ve got a really strange way of not being gay.”

“Again, I’m not gay.”

“You have him saved as ‘Nagi; my art piece’ with 10 different hearts in rainbow order.”

“First, it's an inside joke, second, he’s my muse.”

“ Muse? ” Chigiri’s voice cracked. “You have his face photoshopped into the Mona Lisa painting as your lock screen.” 

Reo shook his head seriously. “Not photoshopped,” he corrected. “I got a painter to draw it.”

“What?!”

“Art inspires art,” Reo said sagely.

“Reo,” Anri started slowly, sighing. “Do you…know what being gay is?”

“Yeah, and I like girls.” He insisted. “I’ve dated a few too.”

Anri couldn’t even believe that first part. She scribbled down denial issues. Internalized homophobia maybe?

“Reo you named your yacht after him,” Chigiri said, staring him down.

“Friendship yacht,” Reo said with a straight face.

“…Friendship yacht?” Chigiri repeated slowly.

“You guys don't name your yachts after your best friends?”

“Do we look like we own yachts , you spoiled–”

“Okay wait,” Bachira interrupted, standing up and crouching in front of Reo, his eyes narrowed and face awfully close. “Do you want to kiss Nagi?” He asked seriously.

“Uh. I haven't thought about it?” Which was exactly what someone who had thought about it would say but Anri wasn’t going to say anything.

“Okay, okay, do you wanna hold hands with Nagi?”

“Dude, I–”

“Do you wanna tuck him in and whisper, ‘goodnight sweet prince’ and then sleep next to him with your right leg over his right leg?”

Reo hesitated. “That's…oddly specific.”

“That’s a yes!” Bachira said happily, jumping back.

“I don’t!” Reo shot back.

“I saw you, you literally pulled the covers over him and everything,” Chigiri deadpanned. “And when he wasn’t with you last night because he had stuff, you texted him ‘rest well my precious starlight’. What was that?”

“It's called affection!” Reo said defensively.

“Affection?” Chigiri raised an eyebrow. “You wrote him a lullaby.”

“It wasn’t a lullaby—it was a motivational speech in rhyming couplets!” Reo snapped.

“Oh, totally different,” Kaiser drawled, sipping his water like it was wine. “Clearly not gay.”

“It’s not! ” Reo insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m a supportive best friend!”

“Supportive best friend?” Chigiri repeated, rubbing his temples. “You tattooed his jersey number on your arm.”

“Temporary tattoo!”

“It was glittery,” Bachira added helpfully.

Reo opened his mouth, closed it, then gestured wildly. “It was the only one they had!”

"Yeah. Mhm. Sure."

“Guys, I’m not gay! ” Reo yelled, slamming his hands on the table.

Silence.

And then Isagi tilted his head, smiling innocently. “Reo, when’s the last time you thought about a girl?”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“No, no, really,” Isagi pressed. “Like, when’s the last time you saw a cute girl and thought, ‘Wow, I wanna hold her hand’? Or, you know, I wanna ask her out?”

Reo opened his mouth to respond—but froze. His eyes darted left, then right, then to the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention. “…Um.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Oh my god,” Chigiri whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “He’s processing. ”

“I’m not processing!” Reo shot back, visibly panicking, sweating.

Anri leaned forward. Wow. This was her life. Helping teens come to terms with their sexuality. She was getting paid to do this. She…whatever, she wasn’t gonna think too hard about it. “Reo, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Reo shouted, his voice an octave higher than usual, and tinged with something else.

“Oh no,” Bachira whispered, eyes wide with fake concern. “Did we just witness a sexuality crisis? ”

“No, you didn’t!” Reo said, gripping the edge of the table like it might steady him.

“It’s okay Reo,” Isagi said, smiling at the boy. “Nothing wrong with liking Nagi. He’s a good guy. You guys are great together!”

“Shut up Isagi!” Reo snapped, tangling his hands into his hair, voice sharp and defensive. “I’m not– I don’t like Nagi, okay?! Stop– stop fucking saying it!” He shot up, kicking the chair behind him, tugging harshly at purple strands.

The room went silent, the only sound the chair rattling as it rolled over, the humour draining from the room. Anri looked up, eyes wide. Shit . She messed up. She should've noticed, should've caught the way he seemed less into the joke as they continued to tease him.

“Reo– we, we were just–” Isagi started cautiously.

“Shut up!” Reo spun around, his body trembling with barely contained rage as his eyes bore into Isagi, the intensity of his glare laced with a mix of frustration and hurt.  “Just– shut up! You don’t get it. None of you fucking get it! You think it's funny? That it's some kind of joke? It's not!”

Anri stood up, raising her arms in a placating manner. “Reo, its– they didint mean to–” Fuck, fuck she was panicking. She didn't know what to do. “Reo, breathe okay–”

“Don’t tell me what to do, you’re a fucking fake! You don’t even know me! So just shut the fuck up !” He snarled, heaving in breaths, sinking his hands into his hair and tugging, tugging, tugging until he couldnt, and his hands fell and hung limply at his sides. His chest rattled with every breath and his eyes were narrowed in anger, at her. At her . “You’ve done jack shit youve made us play fucking games and talk about BS. You think any of us want to be here?! We want to fucking train! So just fuck off !”

Anri’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes widening as she took a step back, hurt swirling inside her, swirling and spinning until she felt dizzy and nauseous. She messed up, she really messed up. And it hurt, it hurt to be yelled at, and worse it was embarrassing to be so terrible at her job for the boy to have to point it out. She could feel her eyes sting, could feel her heart crumple. The coffee in her hand tasted ever so bitter.

Ever so cold.

She slumped down onto her seat, placing the frigid cup down and staring ashamed at her lap.

“Reo. what–?!” One of them spoke up, shocked, trying to stand up for her. She didn't know who; didn't care.

“Do you know how sickening it is, to have everything given to you? To never have to do anything and somehow be expected to do everything? It’s nauseating! And you– none of you get it! You don’t know me! I’m not in love with Nagi– I can’t be–” His voice cracked and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Everyone looks at me like I’m some spoiled kid who has it all, but nothing I have is real ! Nagi’s the only real one and he’s mine, he needs to be mine but I can't– do you think I don’t know how replaceable I am?! He’s so much better then me– he’ll leave me any day– Fuck, hea’s already left me before !”

Anri slowly raised her gaze, her eyes tracing the shaking of Reo’s hands, the way his knees wobbled as though they could give way at any moment. But when her eyes drifted up to meet his, she faltered. A shiver ran through her, and she pulled back, unwilling to face the raw pain that might be staring back at her. She couldn’t bear to see what was hidden behind his eyes.

“You think I’m enough? That I’m good enough for Nagi?” He let out a crazed laugh, the sound raw and torn, like it’d been ripped from inside him. The sound echoed in the silence, a weak thing that Reo let draw out as he tilted his head back and wheezed. “I’m not even good enough for myself ! Do you know how it feels to be terrified all the time? To know that if I…if I just mess up he’ll leave– he’s all I have that’s mine and I can't lose him! If I lose him I become nothing! Without him I am nothing !”

No one made a sound. Not even Kaiser. Not even Bachira. Anri could hear every thrum of her heart against her chest, could feel it slamming against her chest delicately. It was beating too fast and too slow. She took a shuddering breath in. She needed to say something. But what would she say? He didn’t want her to speak. 

Reo took a loud, shuddering breath in, "Everything I’ve worked for—everything—none of it matters if Nagi’s not there to see it. I don’t matter! And if he leaves again I’ll hate him. I’ll hate him so much I’ll forget I ever cared! I’ll burn it all to the ground—every fucking thing I gave him! I’ll fucking kill him!” 

Reo staggered back, his breaths ragged and uneven, before slamming his foot into the edge of the table. The sharp crack of wood echoed through the room as it jolted against the floor, papers scattering in its wake. Without a word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, the door shaking violently as he threw it shut behind him.

Anri's gaze dropped down, her breath hitching as shame twisted in her chest. She messed up, she messed up. God, she messed up. The murmurs blurred around her– Chigiri’s voice faintly mentioning checking on Reo, the souffle of footsteps as they filed out, the soft closing of the door.

She didn’t care, she just brought her legs to her face and let out a warbled wail. She never should’ve done this. She wasn't suited for this. Reo was right. She was a fake.

Chapter Text

Anri trudged down the hallway, Reo’s words still echoing in her head, and her chest still brimming with embarrassment. That was it. Two days of this stupid, stupid, stupid , thing was all she could take. She was just going to tell Ego to call it off, pride be damned. She really didn’t care. She’d do one last session with Shidou to finally throw her off and realise she wasn’t meant for this and quit. She could go back to helping Ego for good.

It wasn’t like she was really helping any of them. Anger management assistance . She scoffed, holding her papers closer to her chest. She wasn’t doing any of that. She was just lying to herself. Talking about it had made things worse.

And Shidou not showing up to his stupid lesson was even worse. Her day was already terrible, this was the final straw. One more thing and she’d probably start crying all over again.

She had barely turned the corner when she saw him, slumped down on a couch and balancing a soccer ball on his head like he didn't have a care in the world. His eyes were half-lidded, the usual smirk was on his lips as if he was just waiting for someone to take him out of the world he’d created for himself.

“Shidou,” She snapped, walking briskly up to him. “You’re supposed to be in my room.”

He let the ball roll off him, smirk growing as he took her in. “Oh? You came looking for me Ms. Therapy–chan. Cute. I don’t think I’m feeling therapy today.” His voice was whiny, half dragged. It made her skin prickle.

“I don’t care. Come on,” She said, her irritation rising. 

“Nah, I’m good, doc. Therapy’s for weaklings who need someone to hold their hand.” He grinned, his teeth flashing with that wild, untamed glint. “You can’t fix me. I’m already fixed. I’m free. And there's nothing freeing about sitting in a room with you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not alone here, Shidou. You can’t just skip out because you weren’t feeling it. So suck it up and–”

“Freedom,” he cut her off, practically sneering the word. “It’s always about freedom. You want to know how to really feel better? Don’t listen to anyone. Don’t let them tell you what’s wrong with you. Fuck the advice, fuck the rules, fuck the ‘help’ they give you.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. It was reckless. “You want to get better? Do it your way. Fuck up. Get messy. You can’t be free if you’re too busy trying to be ‘better.’” It sounded like he was talking to himself, but his words were loud and he turned to look her straight in the eye.

Anri’s mouth opened and closed. 

Shidou’s grin widened, his gaze never leaving hers, that dangerous glint in his eyes. "You think I care about some fancy therapy session? Nah. I’m free, doc. Free as hell. I’m not gonna be stuck in a room talking about my feelings like some dumbass who doesn’t know how to handle their own shit." He leaned in a little closer, a whisper of something wild in his voice. “I don't need to listen to anyone. I’ve been doing fine on my own. Free is the way to go.”

Anri stared at him, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. There was something almost magnetic about the way he carried himself, that reckless confidence. And yet, it made her skin crawl, because deep down, she knew he was just covering something up.

She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “And what happens when you’re alone, huh? When all that freedom means nothing and you have to face the wreckage you’ve made of things?”

Shidou paused, his expression flickering for a brief second—barely long enough for Anri to notice, but she did. Then, just as quickly, his grin returned, more confident than ever.

“Then you build it back up,” he said casually, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You pick up the pieces. What else is there to do? You can’t expect someone else to fix you, and you sure as hell can’t let them tear you down. You just gotta do it yourself. You’re the only one who knows what you need.” He threw her a knowing look. “So don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Anri was quiet, standing there in the midst of his chaotic, reckless words, feeling more exhausted than ever. Part of her wanted to argue, to call him out for the mess he was, but there was another part that couldn’t help but feel… just a little lighter. Like she could breathe again. Maybe Shidou was a wild card, but his words had weight. The way he carried himself wasn’t without its own kind of strength.

“See you later Anri–chan! Have fun! Be free!”

Be free. She stared at the ball he’d forgotten on the couch long after he was gone.

What a strange boy.

Anri slumped in her chair, staring at her web of notes. They stared right back, as if taunting her. They probably were, seeing how they were absolutely useless. Not a single one held anything of importance. Scowling, she pushed herself up, pacing the room. Two days out of the two week roster and she’d gotten nowhere. All she’d accomplished was riling up a teen and sending him spiralling. 

Why couldn’t any of them just listen to her? Sure, she’d indulged in their shenanigans but she didn't expect for all that work to be fruitless in the end. It’s not like she hadn’t done her research. Were these teens so abnormal that normal therapy exercises were immune to them?

Ego’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. “If you’re trying to wear a groove into the floor, Miss Teieri, I’d suggest picking a less pointless way to burn calories.”

She stopped, looking up towards the man and laughing nervously. She hadn’t even noticed when she’d started pacing the room. “Ah. Sorry. I’ll just…leave. I have a lot to work on and…stuff and all that. I’ll leave you to it then…”

Ego sighed, spinning around in his chair and eyeing her with something akin to disdain. “Out with it. Your pacings annoying and I don’t have the patience to decode what’s rattling around in that stupid, overworked brain of yours.”

Anri’s eye twitched. Really, who did he think he was? Why did he always speak to her – and everyone really – like they were flies buzzing around in a room. But, if she’s being honest, the guy was smart. And he could offer valuable advice even if that meant ignoring her pride and admitting that therapy was hard and she probably never should have brought it up with him that cursed day. She was in desperate need of advice, there was no point in lying to herself and he could give it to her if she simply asked.

Well, he usually offered good advice. His thought process wasn’t always…morally correct.

Weighing her options carefully – which really just boiled down to: a) get verbally bitch slapped by Reo again and b) just get help – she sighed and sat back down in her chair. “It's just the whole therapy thing. They're not…I dont think I’m doing it right. They're not opening up. It’s like talking to a brick wall at one point and at another like opening…” She paused, trying to come up with the right analogy. “Ah! Like opening porn hub!” 

Sometimes, she really wished she could just tape her mouth shut for good. Anri cleared her throat. “…You know…because of the way Shidou talks…and how–”

He cut her off, looking at her from above his glasses. “Well what exactly did you expect? They’re egotistical maniacs, not tortured poets.”

Anri flinched. He had a point. Didn't make it any less annoying. “Well, yes but I still thought they’d try to take it somewhat seriously. Or at least try to engage.”

His fingers drummed on his table as he crossed his legs. “Engagement requires incentive. You’re asking them to bare their flaws in a high-stakes environment where showing weakness is tantamount to death. Psychological death, perhaps, but still–death. Why would they cooperate?”

“Because they need help?”

“Wrong.”

Her eye twitched at his deadpan voice. “Okay…because I want to help them and they’re aware, or should be, that this whole therapy thing is worth trying?”

“Also wrong,” he sighed. “Really. It's simple. Help doesn’t come from coddling their insecurities, Anri–chan. You need to speak their language– competition."

“Competition?” She echoed, tilting her head. 

He stood up, hands buried deep in his pockets as he looked down at her, for the first time in a while, physically. He was always sitting in that chair, she’d forgotten how tall this guy was, all while eating nothing but ramen. She hated it as much as she hated it when he was staring her down figuratively, really.

“Frame the sessions like a game. Make them want to 'win' at therapy. Pit them against each other, pit them against themselves – whatever it takes to draw out their truths. Humans are predictable; they'll always strive harder when there's a scoreboard involved."

Anri frowned, resting her hand on her chin. “That seems…manipulative.” She argued.

Ego’s eyebrow rose. “Manipulation is just strategy wearing a sharper suit. You want results? Play the game.”

He straightened and turned to sit back down. “And if you’re still hesitant, remind yourself of this: no one survives Blue Lock by playing fair – not even you.”

“Okay but how do I do that? How do I…make therapy a ‘competition’?”

Ego spun back around in his chair, leaning forward slightly as his glasses caught the light. “That’s for you to figure out, Anri–chan. If you can’t even turn therapy into a battlefield, maybe you’re the one who needs a session.”

After all they’d put her through she probably would need a session by the time it was all done.

He smirked at her silence, his voice dripping with condescension. “Think of it as a challenge. You’re the coach, they’re the players. Motivate them, exploit their egos, and if all else fails, dangle something shiny in front of their faces. Rewards, punishments, status—it doesn’t matter. Just remember, they don’t want ‘help.’ They want victory. Sell them that illusion, and they’ll follow.” He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Now, unless you’re planning to pace my office again, I suggest you get creative.”

“So can I tell them they’ll be kicked out of Blue Lock if they don't cooperate?”

Ego shrugged. “Do what you’d like. Just don’t bore me with the details.”

Well, there was her answer.

She smiled sweetly at the four boys gathered in front of her. “Okay, you’ll be kicked out of Blue Lock if you don’t cooperate.”

“What.”

“What?”

“What!”

“WHAT?!”

Anri tilted her head at the responses. What animated reactions. “Was I not clear? Therapy or its–” She made a chopping motion at her neck.

“You’re serious,” Isagi whispered in genuine, unadulterated horror.

“Dead serious!” Anri chirped back happily, “Or should I say Blue Lock serious?”

“That’s not a thing!” Isagi sputtered, shooting up from his chair. “You can’t kick me out! I’m like…basically Blue Lock’s poster boy – I am literally the face of this program!”

Anri shrugged, looking at him unbothered. “And yet…somehow expendable”

Clearly, by the look of actual fear that crossed Isagi’s face, he didn’t like that answer. His hands sunk into his hair and he slumped down onto the ground. “Expendable?” His voice cracked as his face, and possibly world, crumpled down around him.

“Yep!”

“I’m serious! What would Blue Lock even be without me!?”

“Less violent,” Chigiri spoke up, arms crossed. He still had that antenna on his head, Anri noted. Was it…permanent? She hoped not.

“Better,” Kaiser added, leaning forward. “You should do it, Ms. Anri. I’m sure it’d save you a lot of trouble, no?”

Immediately, Isagi swirled his head around, glaring. “Shut up Kaiser, like they’d keep you here any longer. Last game you couldn’t even keep the ball for more than a few seconds. Doesn’t look like you'll be able to stay even if you talk about your sob story. You’d probably thank them for the free therapy.”

Kaiser’s eyes narrowed, smirk thinning into a snarl. “I make more money than you would ever know how to count, Yoichi I have no need for anything ‘free’.” He drawled. “And I don’t need therapy, I need better rivals. Why don’t you step up your game, shitty Yoichi?”

“See,” Anri interrupted, tapping her clipboard with her pen. “This is what I mean. Classic denial, classic sexual tension–”

“–Classic what ?” Isagi sounded scandalised. “What. The fuck?! No?!–”

“–Too bad. Sit back down, Isagi. Before you embarrass yourself.” Anri said, watching as the boy slumped back down in his spot.

“Ego–san wouldn’t let you do this.” He grumbled under his breath

“Actually,” She smiled brightly. “He said, ‘do whatever you want, just don’t bore me with the details’!”

“That’s not an endorsement!” 

“Oh but it is freedom!” She clapped her hands, looking around. One boy on the verge of sobbing like he’d just been personally betrayed, one grinning like he’d gotten away with murder (again), one so exhausted of the bs around him he looked like he might file for early retirement, and one smirking like the devil himself was taking notes. Perfect. “Now– whoever shares their real feelings gets a reward!”

“Oh!” Bachira perked up, leaning forward. “What’s the reward?”

“The satisfaction of being emotionally healthy!”

“...oh.” Bachira said, deflating.

“Now, whose starting?”

She was greeted with silence. Pure, deafening, silence. She could see their eyes move around, all four boys telepathically trying to tell the others to just go before they all got kicked out. 

Now all she did was wait and smile brightly with her clipboard in her hand.

‘Just do it, anyone!’

‘Not me! I already went!’

‘Shut up Bachira, last time was for Jenga, not our souls !’

‘Okay…then rock paper scissors? That could totally work!’

‘In our heads ?! Are you stupid?!’

‘Bachira’s idea is better than letting Kaiser start. He’ll just make Anri mad and make things worse.’

‘I heard that.’

‘Good, now think about it because Isagi’s going first.’

‘Why me?!’

‘Because you're the poster boy or whatever. Lead the team.’

‘This isn’t leadership! You're sending me to my doom! Look at Kaiser’s face, he's already planning how to use what I say against me!’

‘Am not.’

‘You’re smirking. That's your plotting face!’

‘It’s my face Yoichi. Sorry it intimidates you.’

‘I’m not intimidated!’

‘You know what, I’ll do it.’

Everyone blinked, turning around to look at Chigiri.

‘Wait…really?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’

‘Then why’d you say anything?!’

‘I was trying to sound brave I guess.’

The silence returned as Anri tapped her clipboard louder, still smiling. Ah. They were so cute. Watching them struggle and spar with each other was so cute. Everything about them was cute. “Anytime now boys,” She beamed. “Or you know, Blue Lock will just lose 4 players.”

“I’ll go!” Bachira raised a hand. “I just have to say how I’m feeling right?”

The other boys breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing onto the couches.

Anri hummed, looking up at the treasure of a boy. It wasn’t a surprise that he’d been the one to decide to go. Especially with Reo’s absence weighing heavy on her mind. She shooed the thought away as she spoke. “More or less. But more so how you're feeling in relation to something that's bothering you. Bonus points if it has to do with soccer.”

“Okay then!” 

For a solid 2 minutes, Bachira sat there, staring at the table, rocking back and forth, tongue jutted out and deep in thought. Anri truly didn't know what the boy was thinking of and the worst thing was, is that with Bachira it could be anything. But she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this time he truly was thinking of something important to say.

“Well,” Bachira started, looking up with his hand on his chin. “Sometimes…it feels like the soccer ball is judging me, you know?”

“No.”

“Not at all.”

“You're alone on this buddy.”

Anri frowned at the boys. “Enough.” She looked back at Bachira, giving him her attention. “Do you mean you feel like you have too many expectations to be a good player?” She asked softly, holding the boy’s gaze. She felt bad, really. Having to maintain appearances, play at a certain level and–

“Uh. No. That's boring,” Bachira deadpanned, looking at her as if she was stupid. “I mean the soccer ball. Like, you know when you kick it and then the way it spins? And then it feels like it's rolling its eyes at you?”

“No.”

“Not at all.”

“You're still alone on this buddy.”

She cleared her throat loudly giving them a look before turning back to Bachira. “Can you try…expanding? What exactly do you mean by ‘rolling its eyes’? Is this slang?” She tilted her head. “You know, like…gyatt? And, um, skibidi toilet rizz…?” She trailed off at their grimaces and at Kaiser who seemed to be wheezing in the corner where he sat as soon as she’d finished speaking. Chigiri seemed thoroughly disturbed, face pale and gagging slightly.

Was it a slur? Did she say something bad? She’d assumed ‘gyatt’ had meant something nice because one of the other boys had winked at her when he’d said it…

What was his name? Otoya? She’d have to speak to him about saying inappropriate words.

“No, no, nope,” Bachira responded all the same, shaking his head at her, seemingly unaware of Kaiser’s hysterical laughter. Anri had never seen the boy show this much emotion ever. Not even when he was flipping out at Isagi. It was eerie. “It's like a vibe! Like…a feeling from my monster!”

“Vibe?”

“Exactly! It’s like the balls saying, ‘wow, Bachira, a cross dribble?’ or, ‘Oh no, another rabona? How original’.” He lifted his hands in quotation marks, his tone a mimicked snark. “It's kind of hurtful, actually.” His lips formed something akin to a pout as he crossed his legs on the couch.

Anri stared down at her notes and confidently wrote down, schizophrenic.

“Why–” Isagi started, looking baffled at Bachira. “What does this even mean?”

Bachira shook his head seriously. “No, Isagi, you're not getting it! The ball and me have a connection…and lately it's like it doesn’t trust me. We were like this–” He crossed his fingers. “–And now we’re like this.” He uncrossed his fingers, and looked down at them with heartbreak, sniffling slightly.

“Wow,” Chigiri said dryly. “How do you function on a daily basis?”

“Probably better than your ponytail,” Isagi rolled his eyes.

Chigiri bristled, turning around to glare at Isagi. “It was Reo! And it looks fine!”

“It defies physics, is what it is…” Isagi muttered under his breath.

Anri wondered how Chigiri even planned to get rid of that antenna. How did he even sleep with that thing? Did he have to angle himself lower diagonally so that it wouldn’t impale the headboard? Did it cause aerodynamic drag? Was he slower now? Was it even possible to remove gorilla glue from hair…

“Guys focus!” Bachira interrupted, “This is about my ball feelings!”

“Ball feelings,” Kaiser repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Bachira nodded enthusiastically and then repeated it as if it clarified anything. “My ball feelings.”

Anri could confidently say this clarified nothing. 

“Ah, of course. Your deep, meaningful relationship with a spherical piece of leather. How romantic.” Kaiser drawled.

Bachira gasped, raising an offended finger at Kaiser. “You don't get it!”

“Of course I don’t ‘get it’ I’m not nearly–”

“Okay,” Anri interrupted. She wasn’t going to give them a chance to duke it out. “Thank you Bachira for…sharing your…” She paused. What exactly would she call this? “…Your perspective on…soccer balls. That was…a very honest feeling.”

“Wait! Do I get my reward?” He asked, looking at her expectantly.

“...yes. Sure. You’re emotionally healthy now.”

Wow. This was what it all came down to. Years of her life were spent fighting to be where she was. It all came down to handing out imaginary prizes for imaginary growth to a kid who sees things like ‘monsters’ and ‘balls that roll eyes’.

Maybe her dad was right. Maybe she should've just become a doctor.

Bachira let out a happy sound, slumping back down on the couch – when had he even gotten up? – and sticking his tongue out at Kaiser.

Kaiser, however, simply leaned back, smirking. “Low bar, hm?”

“Yeah! Like a limbo stick!”

“...Sorry?”

“A limbo stick!” Bachira repeated. “And if you’re really good, the bars’ low! So, having a low bar is a skill!”

“...Sorry.”

Anri watched as Bachira smiled, apparently accomplished, at Kaiser, who stared back, face twisted between confusion and ‘what the fuck is wrong with him’. Ironically, this was one of the more peaceful conversations she’d seen Kaiser have, at least in the time here in this therapy thing. She’d long known that Kaiser was an enigma. He could play sweet with those he wanted, could play the flirty and coy young adult his fans saw him as, and he could also be a monster to even those he was close to. He could be sweet or he could be uncaring. Which was the real one? She didn’t know.

Maybe he’d get close with Bachira? Maybe the two would form a strong friendship. Who knows. It’d be good for him to have someone other than Ness.

“Well, my dad used to say if your bars low you're good to go,” Isagi said, smiling at Bachira. “If they met up they’d probably be good friends, who knows.”

Bachira smiled back at Isagi cheerily, reaching over to the little basket on the table that had sweets in it and said, “Oh, my dads dead!”

Silence. The only sound was that of Bachira ruffling around as he looked for a candy that fit his taste. Anri knew, of course, that Bachira didn't really have a filter. He was similar to Shidou in that, both of them speaking their minds. Although, to be fair, Bachira was much more…well, childish wasn’t the right word. He was simply more energetic and kid-like, not afraid to say what he liked. Even the way he spoke was always happy, as if nothing could hurt him.

Isagi’s eyes were wide, an apology already on his lips as he stammered. “Oh. Shit. I- I didn’t know? I’m sorry, I–”

Bachira waved Isagi off. “Nah, it's fine. He’s not really dead. Dead to me though. Same thing basically– Ooh sweet! Reese's pieces!” 

“Uh. Oh.” Isagi blinked, still looking guilty, but now much more confused. “I’m. Uh. Still sorry. Really, man.”

Anri tilted her head. That…was not what she’d expected to hear. And he seemed uncaring? Obviously, trauma affected people differently depending on who they were, what the trauma was, etc. Did it just…not affect Bachira at all? She looked up at him expectantly. “Do you…why don’t you expand on that? If you feel comfortable of course.”

Bachira shrugged, unwrapping the chocolate and pooping it into his mouth with a pleased hum. “Oh, he sucked. I don’t acknowledge him. So, he's dead to the world! Simple!” he said through a mouthful of Reese's pieces. 

He hummed, carefree as ever, the sound soft and happy and simply Bachira. He seemed lost in thought, however, his usual exuberance dampened in the quiet lull after his casual, almost careless, remark. His fingers twisted and fidgeted with the wrapper of a Reese’s Pieces bag, twisting it over and over in a rhythm that felt offbeat compared to his usual energy. 

No one said anything, still, the tension thick. Bachira either refused to acknowledge it or didn't notice it. By his tense shoulders, she assumed it was the latter.

“Bachira,” Anri started softly, placing her clipboard down. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm!” He said, smiling up at her. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s all the past and what not. He sucked, what’s more to add!” He tilted his head as if to shake it off. He quickly glanced away, his gaze dropping for a fleeting moment before he turned to Chigiri, striking up a casual conversation as if everything was perfectly normal. There was a subtle tension in his movements, a faint unease in the way his voice rose just slightly too lighthearted, but it passed almost unnoticed.

Chigiri, on his part, seemed a little hesitant, eyebrows furrowed watching the boy act as if he’d said something normal.

And maybe to Bachira nothing had happened. He didn't sound angry, or hurt, he sounded like nothing. As if he was just stating a fact. A reality he lived in. And yet– it wasn’t the usual Bachira. The heaviness in his voice, just under the surface where few dared to see, hadn’t escaped her.

“Bachira,” She interrupted, shifting in her seat. “Do you want to talk about it? You can say no, you can always say no, but I think there's more to this.” Her voice was gentle and clear as she said, “If it makes you more comfortable, I can kick them all out? I’m here to listen and help, okay?”

Bachira’s fingers played with the hem of his shirt, biting his lip. His fingers dug into the fabric, not with frustration, but with an odd concentration, like he was grounding himself in something familiar, something that was his own

He didn't quite meet her gaze, or anyones, as he spoke, quietly and hesitantly. “…He scared my mama, and he would hurt her.”

The words hung heavy in the air and for a moment there was only silence. Anri wasn’t a therapist, and she wasn’t going to pretend she was. But she’d believed, and to some extent she still does, that a degree wasn’t necessary to try and help these teens. But now? She…she has no idea what to say. She’s never experienced this, doesn’t really know anyone who has, and has virtually no idea what to say. Does she comfort him? Offer him words of advice? Tell him that it would be okay? He was clearly not entirely stuck on it. Or maybe he was? Was she supposed to–

“Sounds like your shitty old man set the bar low for you, stupid fly.” Kaiser said dryly, resting his chin in his hand. “Tragic, really. But some of us are just born to rise above that kind of mediocracy.”

On Bachira’s behalf, Anri bristled, turning around to look at Kaiser. She knew he was an asshole but to straight up just–

Isagi glared at Kaiser, snapping. “That’s a messed up thing to say, Kaiser, and you fucking know it.”

“It was uncalled for,” Chigiri frowned, voice sharp. 

Kaiser turned to Chigiri, smirk intact and unbothered. “Oh? Was it?” His voice was dripping with mock innocence, “I didn't realise. I’m sorry, Bachira.” He shrugged, and then added, “You're welcome to get upset over it. Won’t change the fact.”

Once again, Anri bridled at Kaiser's words. Who did he think he was ? But Bachira didn't seem to care, didn't flinch or look mad, instead tilting his head and asking, “Why would I get upset?” His voice was genuine as he looked at Kaiser. And really, Anri didn't get this boy either. He should be angry, furious, that someone had undermined what he’d gone through. But Bachira didn't even care .

Shifting in her spot, Anri cleared her throat.  “Bachira, you’re allowed to get mad at others when they–”

“But he just told me that he gets that my dad was bad. And then he told me to get better regardless,” Bachira interrupts, smiling at Kaiser. “I mean, he had a mean way of saying it but Kaiser’s always mean about things. He’s also really weird. But that’s a-okay!”

Kaiser’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Bachira. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, and for the second time, Anri realized Kaiser was at a loss for words.

Unbothered, Bachira continued. “You’ve got a weird way with words sometimes. Maybe you have things you need to talk about too. You should try it, Kaiser-chan!”

“Kaiser-chan?!” Isagi gawks.

“Isn’t it cute!”

“Don’t call me that, you shitty bee.”

“Aw, that's also cute! A bee!”

“What? No that’s–”

“See, Isagi! You just have bad social skills, Kaiser’s not too bad!”

“You called him a weird freak two days ago when you played him!”

“Well yeah but that was on the field!”

“Okay and -”

What do you know, Anri thought to herself, she didn’t need to say anything and they fixed it themselves.

What a strange bunch.

She’d dismissed them all soon after, not wanting to make them talk after such an emotionally charged moment. It was…well refreshing wasn’t the right word. She didn't feel refreshed that Bachira had had to go through that. But it was reliving to see them grow. Albeit, it was simply just Bachira who had spoken, but on day three and about something so personal was huge. Way more than huge, and she certainly hadn’t expected it.

Or, well, technically it wasn't huge since it had nothing to do with soccer and helping them manage their feelings but she hoped it was a step in the right direction. 

Things with Shidou went about the same as usual, if slightly more calm. He’d shown up 10 minutes late, slumped down and cried to her about how he had just remembered Itoshi Sae had never given him his info (she’d calmed him down by telling him she was sure she could convince Itoshi Rin to get his number. She was aware it was a bad plan because she had no idea how Rin would respond, and she also had no idea if Rin even had his brother’s number. But, it had gotten Shidou to shut up so she would count it as a win.)

Shidou had then spent the remaining hour talking about everything except what she’d asked. And then he’d dipped 10 minutes early. Anri had been too happy about her earlier accomplishments, if they could even be called that, to care. 

And then there was Reo. He hadn’t shown up, hadn’t reappeared since yesterday. According to Chigiri, and the surveillance cameras, he’d done nothing more than train. Chigiri had told her Reo had refused to talk to him, brushing him off. And so, like the good therapist she was, she’d told Chigiri to leave him alone, give him time…

…Even though she herself was seconds away from going to the boy and apologizing for pushing him, Anri knew it was probably a bad idea. All her research told her so. But research wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, so now she was sitting in her room, staring at the number her mom had given her.

Her aunt’s number.

Now, Anri had nothing personally against her aunt.

Except she absolutely did.

But her aunt had been a therapist for 15 years, and if anyone could give her solid advice, it had to be her. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number before she could overthink it.

“Anri-chan!” Her aunt's voice rang out cheerily. “Finally calling me, hm? I was just talking to your mom about you yesterday! How are you sweetie?”

“I’m good,” she said, spinning around in her chair. “It’s been a while, right?”

“Yes, yes, you must be distracted by that man. Ego was it? Your mom told me you complain about him. Ah, enemies to lovers–”

Anri nearly dropped the phone. “What? Auntie- no . He’s awful–!”

“I think you mean successful,” Her aunt cut in. ”Think of the babies, oh they’d be so smart! Ugly, but smart!”

“That man can’t even boil his own water!” 

Her aunt tsked. “ Ay , Anri, you can fix that. You're a modern woman, no? Just teach him. He probably has hidden depths for you to discover.”

Anri’s eye twitched. “Hidden depths– No he does not –”

“Ahh, or maybe you want him to discover your depths hm,” Her aunt said teasingly. And if it weren’t for the  tone she probably wouldn’t have heard the sexual innuendo.

“ Auntie!” Anri snapped, scandalized. God. No, she did not want anyone in her depths, what. The fuck.

Her aunt, however, simply laughed. “Oh, fine, fine. But you're not growing any younger, you know. Maybe try one of the younger ones, hm? What was his name, I saw him on the show, long red hair, beautiful face, the legs–”

“Chigiri?! Auntie he’s seventeen! ” Her jaw dropped. 

She could hear her aunt click her tongue through the phone. “Oh and what, basically an adult, no?”

How the hell did her aunt become a therapist? “Auntie,” She started slowly, “I’m pretty sure Chigiri has just recently turned seventeen. I can’t, in my right mind, date him–”

“Oh and what! You're 22, if I were your age I’d pounce, he's gorgeous! Anri, have you seen that kid's waist and face? Oh forget Ego, your children would be models, you hear me!”

Anri took a deep breath in. This was fine. Her aunt was basically an unaware pedophile but that was also fine.

“Besides,” Her aunt continued, “Age gaps aren't that unusual. My friend married her yoga instructor, he’s some 30 years younger–”

“Please stop,” Anri cut in, practically begging. “I just needed advice not…not whatever it is you're helping me with.”

Her aunt sighed heavily, clearly making a show out of it and murmuring something about ‘ungrateful kids’ before speaking. “Oh alright, what is it you need? Your mom said you were doing some therapy thing, so I’ll guess it has to do with that?”

Anri rubbed at her temple. Finally, “There's this boy, he’s rich and strangely attached to his best friend. And well, the other boys with him were joking around, calling him gay and he flipped out. Like, seriously flipped out. I asked his friend, but he said he's been ignoring everyone and he hasn’t come to the session.”

There was a long pause on the other line, the faint sound of scuffling was the only thing Anri could hear. Then her aunt said, completely deadpan. “You know what this sounds like?” 

Anri braced herself. “...what?”

“A romance subplot.”

Anri screamed into her pillow. Why did she even bother? “That's it. I'm hanging up. Goodbye. And good riddance.” She said, voice flat.

“Wait, wait,” Her aunt said, laughter lacing her tone. “I’m just pulling your leg. Does the guy have any issues? BPD, Bipolar– anything of the sort?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure no?”

“Is this his first time lashing out at you? Has he ever made it seem like he finds the jokes about his relationship to his best friend hurtful, or inconsiderate?”

“No to both questions. I think.” 

“Huh,” Her aunt hummed. “Anri, can I be serious with you? You’re making sort of a big deal about this. Yes, he lashed out, but that’s no reason for it to be something insanely serious. From the way you talked you made it seem like it was the worst thing to happen, but Anri sweetie this is normal in therapy. Your patients are bound to yell and lash when put under pressure. This, however, seems less like pressure and more like…personal unresolved issues.”

Her aunt cleared her throat. “Point I'm trying to get across is, give the kid some time to decide what it is that's bothering him, and then talk. You needn’t worry so much about it.”

“Well, yeah,” Anri said, putting her phone against her ear as she got up, walking towards the window. “But…I don't know, he really freaked out, said some shit about Nagi, his friend by the way, being the only thing that made him real. Auntie, he said some stuff about killing the guy if he left him again I…I didn't even know what to say. Like, I’m aware that Reo would obviously never kill anyone, he’s not impulsive like that, but the way he was–”

“Anri,” Her aunt interrupted, “I’m not saying that it's not serious, but really there isn;t anything you can do. Sure, he said crazy shit but is he always saying crazy shit? We all have different breaking points that make us say things we typically wouldn’t. So, take my word for it and let him be. If Reo’s the rich Mikage kid, odds are he’s behaved enough to come by with an apology soon enough.”

For a second, Anri was quiet, staring out her window before she smiled. “Thanks auntie. That was…surprisingly helpful.”

“Of course it is!” Her aunt said cheerily, “Now, when this Chigiri boy turns eighteen-”

“Goodbye.”

Chapter Text

A week, or so, in the Manshine City stratum had taught Chigiri three important things.

The first – and most glaring – was that their coach was an absolute weirdo. It hadn’t taken a week for Chigiri to figure that out. In fact, it hadn’t even taken thirty minutes.

Chris Prince had sauntered up to him, Reo and Nagi, after 2 minutes of posing in front of the security cameras. Without so much of a greeting, he’d immediately started grabbing arms and shoulders, feeling Chigiri up through his shirt. 

“What the–?!” He’d gawked, too shocked to say much of anything else. He wasn’t against physical touch, what with spending a while with Bachira and growing up with his sister, but he’d never been outright groped. By some stranger. A stranger who would be his coach but still, a stranger . 

“This is strictly professional!” Chris had declared, completely unbothered, as he squeezed Chigiri’s thighs. Then, in the same casual tone, followed it up with. “I’m going to touch your ass now.”

Before Chigiri could even be shocked, or protest, a hand was fondling an ass cheek. He had been too stunned to speak, but apparently Chris had no such problems because he’d continued talking to himself, a look of concentration on his face. He’d occasionally mutter something, lean back, give Chigiri a smile and go right back to whatever it was he was doing.

Reo, standing behind Chigiri, had stepped back, expression twisted in disbelief. “Is this…legal?” He whispered, shocked.

Chigiri could not care less if it was legal, it wouldn’t make it feel any less awkward.

Chris, however, didn't even bat an eye. Neither did the rest of the Manchester team, actually, was this…normal for them? Did Chigiri pick the wrong team?

“Might be,” Nagi shrugged.

“...I'd hope not?”

The man didn’t miss a beat, he ignored their discomfort entirely, smirked, and concluded his ‘examination’ with a clap of his hands. “Nice quads, and real well developed hamstrings. You a speedster?”

“Uh,” Chigiri blinked, trying to catch up. He…how had he–? “…Yes.” He’d admitted, after staring at Chris in confusion.

That 5 minute interaction had told him all he needed to know. Every interaction afterward had just solidified what he already knew.

Chris was weird. He was cocky, and full of himself, but somehow, despite that, he was nice. Nice enough, at least. He was friendly to all of them, offered valuable advice on how to train, what exercises to do to improve fastest – anything to do with training the body and Chris’ clear knowledge of it shone. He was genuinely invested in their training even if he had…weird ways of offering advice.

His shirt was almost always off and he flexed at every camera he happened to see. And for some awful reason, every time he would bend over to showcase his muscles, which Chigiri begrudgingly did admit were nice muscles, he would yell: ‘when I flex, I feel my best!’. 

Chigiri did not get it. At all.

Chris also, for some bizarre reason, included weird sayings in every pep talk and speech he gave.  ‘Chameleonize your playstyle.’ ‘Outshine your limits.’ ‘Hustle, but sexy.’  His speeches were motivational – to some extent – but Chris didn't seem to care if his team was motivated, or fired up, despite his efforts. 

All in all, his coach was a full of himself-weirdo, with no concept of personal boundaries.

The second thing Chigiri had learned was that being on a team with Nagi and Reo separately was entirely different from being on the same team together.

Reo was ambitious, he was loud, he was confident (on paper, at least; Chigiri wasn’t stupid, he could see Reo’s frail sense of self, his inability to value himself. Chigiri didn't understand how a guy like Reo could be insecure). He was charismatic and on the field it translated to being able to take charge easily.

Nagi was lazy. That was…basically all there was to that stupid sloth. Lazy and yet a genius. Both on the field and in academics. It pissed Chigiri off to no end; how did someone with no care for his talents get all the luck? He’d kill to have the skills Nagi had and yet…the guy couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it. Unless, of course, it involved Isagi and beating him.

Why was everyone in this stupid program so obsessed with the guy? 

He kicked the ball in front of him, mumbling ‘stupid homosexuals .’ 

In short, Reo was overly charismatic and Nagi was chronically unmotivated, enough so he might as well be a sentient house plant. But together? They were a dysfunctional duo that Chigiri was not equipped to deal with.

It started off with the snacks. Reo never entered the training field without already having left behind some snacks in the changing room and dragging a cooler to bring along.

“Is that…Capri Sun?” Chigiri asked, eyes narrowed at the drink Reo was handing Nagi, as he wiped sweat off his brow.

“Yeah,” Reo nodded seriously, “He likes the pacific cooler flavor.”

Chigiri did not, at any given point, ask for Nagi’s favourite flavour. His eye twitched.

“Hydration’s important,” Nagi added as he sipped through the straw, looking up and giving Chigiri a look that conveyed nothing.

“…Right,” Chigiri said slowly, eyeing the drink. “But Blue Lock doesn’t even have Capri Sun. Ego said it was too much calories, didn’t he?”

“Oh I just partnered with Capri Sun and told Ego we could sponsor it for money. Now we’ve got it,” Reo said as if it was obvious, pulling out a drink for himself and giving Chigiri one as well. “Best thing that came out of the Blue Lock TV, really.”

Chigiri had taken his grape flavored Capri Sun and decided that he wouldn’t even comment on that. Fine, whatever, it was just Capri Sun and in the end more than just Nagi had gotten something out of it.

But of course it was never that simple. Because right after that strange conversation (that was all the credit Chigiri was willing to give it) and the three of them had walked out the field together to take showers after a grueling day of training, Nagi had all but collapsed on the trek out of nowhere. 

Alarmed, like anyone would be if their 6ft something friend just dropped , Chigiri was quick to crouch down, voice startled, as he shook the guy. “Nagi?!”

Nagi, however, simply rolled his head over to the side, groaning at the apparent strain the movement took on his body. “I’m tired,” he grumbled, looking up at Reo through messy bangs.

Chigiri blinked, bewildered. This son of a– “Tired? I thought you were dying!”

“I might be,” Nagi mumbled dramatically, his voice muffled as he rolled his head back to face the ground, flopping fully on the ground. “From overexertion.”

“You’re overreacting, get up or we’ll both leave you behind,” Chigiri deadpanned, rolling his eyes and getting up.

Reo, however, was absolutely not tuned into the same radio frequency. In fact, he was on some cosmic AM station broadcasting exclusively to people who thought, ‘Yeah, carrying a fully-grown-almost-adult is a perfectly reasonable solution to minor inconvenience.’ He was already crouched down beside Nagi, tapping the guy's shoulder. “Want me to carry you, man?”

Chigiri gave Reo a baffled look, freezing. “...dude, you don’t have to carry him. He's six feet. He can walk.”

“Love knows no weight limits,” Reo nodded his head seriously, not missing a beat. Before Chigiri could form a response to his declaration, Reo had already hoisted Nagi onto his back.

He’d seen Reo carry Nagi before, way earlier on during the first Blue Lock phase. But back then he’d assumed that Nagi had been…injured? He didin’t know what he’d thought but he hadn’t assumed the guy was just lazy .

Chigiri could only stare, jack-slawed. “What are you…doing? Put him down?” 

“I’m carrying him,” Reo shrugged, like it was natural.

“Why?”

“He’s tired.”

Chigiri’s eye twitches violently. “We’re all tired. Why does he get a chauffeur?”

Reo gave him a pitying look as he readjusted Nagi on his back. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never carried the burden of being a genius.”

“I’m sure it adds extra weight to his already heavy body; worry about yourself first,” Chigiri rolled his eyes.

He doesn’t really bother adding that once, he was a little kid with feet that flew across the field. That once, he was a genius in his own right.

“Feels nice,” Nagi mumbled, clearly content. “You’re just jealous. This is much more efficient, princess.”

“Jealous of what,” Chigiri raised an eyebrow. Nagi didn't even bother responding. 

Reo ignored them both entirely, already waxing poetic and walking. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice swelling with dramatic fervor, “it’s not about the journey, Chigiri. It’s about the people you carry along the way.”

Chigiri huffed, trailing behind the two, and mumbling under his breath.

He wasn’t so stupid, however, as not to see the small, happy smile as Nagi burrowed his head in Reo’s shoulder. 

The third thing he’d learned was that being fastest on the field was not enough to run away from internet fame.

It had only taken for him to play his first match against Isagi’s team for the chaos to start. Chigiri wasn’t exactly in the centre of the spotlight, not that he minded, but he would be lying if he said he didn't want some of it. But that was before Twitter and Tiktok had found him.

It had started innocently enough. A few fans had posted pictures of him in his first match as he sped down the field, legs glistening in sweat and capturing angles that – he had to admit – flattered him. ‘ My next obsession🤤’ one of them had been captioned. And like anyone else, Chigiri was honored. A little irked out, but he was also actually, somewhat, famous and that had made him too happy and cheery to mind.

Until, he awoke the next morning, and with it, to hundreds of edits and fanart and tweets. And a new hashtag: #Chigiri’sLegs. And the stupid thing was trending. Worldwide. 

He’d always wanted to be famous, to see edits of his plays and see people arguing who he could beat, who he couldn’t. But that was not at all what this was. He wasn’t trending in a ‘I like his soccer skills’ way, but rather in a ‘Chigiri could squeeze his thighs around me and choke me and I’d be thankful.’

First time he’d seen that caption was that early morning and he’d gagged. Then under his secret account (because his main one somehow got leaked and had gained more followers overnight then he thought possible), left a lengthy comment on how disgusting that was. He’d gotten more hate replies then he expected and didn't know if he should be honored people were fighting for him or repulsed.

He’d tried ignoring them, but every other scroll he was bombarded with edits.  “When Chigiri’s legs pass you at full speed, but you’re too busy falling in love with him instead of catching the ball.” What did that even mean?! And the stupid thing was paired with some catchy love song. 

He’d gotten a multitude of DMs asking about his skin routine, his hair care routine, whether he’d let them in his bed, his eyelash routine – routines he actually didn't even know existed. He didn’t respond because he didn't have a makeup routine or any of that, not that he’d have responded if he did. Blue Lock offered little in terms of physical appearance-care anyway. Some rando on Tiktok, however, had zoomed on his face and explained to the world that his looks were all natural.

The comments on that video, and his reactions, had went as followed:

• ‘he’s such a great player, and he's got good looks.’ Neutral.
• ‘tis pmo, he's a guy and somehow im supposed to believe he naturally looks like that’ This time, somewhat neutral. 
• ‘please let me carry his babies, my cells cry in unison’ Anything but neutral. He threw his phone and almost cried.

Next came the parody accounts . Some genius had started a Twitter account with the handle @ChigirisThighs, and it was posting quotes like: “If Chigiri’s legs could save the world, I’d gladly let them.” Another tweet read: “Chigiri’s thighs are illegal in 12 countries, and I’m not mad about it.”

Chigiri would take those over the thirst tweets anyday. But of course, Reo and Bachira had both taken it upon themselves to send him as many of those as they could. Those stupid fuckers. Everytime he heard Reo giggling at his phone from across the room he would half expect to get a notification from his phone.

The comments under those posts only seemed to be getting worse, however, and Chigiri was close to his limit. 

• ‘Just the tip pls’
• ‘its pulsing his name in morse code’
• ‘Chigiri?!?! *spreads folds* 🫱(())🫲

Close that fold before you get an infection, he thought bitterly, eye twitching as Reo cackled from where he sat on the edge of his bed. Chigiri ruthlessly kicked him off, scowling, but it had no effect. The guy had just continued laughing on the ground like a maniac.

But of course, of course, it could get worse. Because along with the edits came the ships. And he hated those 10x more than anything else because they were all diabolical.

The first to make its face known to him was him and Kaiser. 

In the beginning, he hadn’t even understood where the ship had come from. He couldn’t remember actually talking to the guy at all. Apparently, however, his claim to Kaiser about not forgetting his name had come across as romantic. That, followed by Kaiser calling him beautiful to Isagi had led to the development of a wonderful romance.

It also came with people calling him a homewrecker, and ruining Kaiser and Isagi’s sex-based relationship, so he was told.

‘Their babies would be beyond gorgeous.’ Someone had posted, and Chigiri’s first thought was they couldn’t possibly have babies together because they were both guys . He then thoroughly regretted reading further because he was then forced to find the multitude number of omegaverse fanfiction where he was repeatedly impregnated with Kaiser’s pups.

He stared in genuine, pure, unadulterated horror at the fanart of that. His…his…his stomach bulging out as if he was pregnant, and then Kaiser’s smirking face looking down at him with a hand on the bulge.

(He loathed to admit he'd shed real tears into Reo's shoulder at that.)

Why was he the supposed omega? 

The thing with Kaiser has still not blown over, but whether or not Kaiser even knew about it he didn't know. He’d assumed the guy would bring it up at therapy, or to him, at some point but he hadn’t even made any indication at all. Whatever. Most people had switched over to Kaiser and Isagi at this point. Kaisagi was more often on his page then not.

Some of the stuff he’d seen of the two was creepily accurate. How did the fans even get such a detailed read on their personalities off field…? 

But at this point all three of these facts were almost entirely useless. He’d gotten used to both Chris and the weird stuff that came with fame. And then there was Reo, who had been acting distant from both him and Nagi. Chigiri couldn’t fathom why. Sure, the guy blew up in their face but was that really a reason to go into hiding?

With a burst of energy, he let out a sharp yell, the sound carrying across the field as he sprinted toward the ball. His foot connected with it in a powerful, almost desperate kick, the motion sending him off-balance. The force of the strike toppled him to the ground, dirt scraping against his skin as he hit the turf. He barely felt the sting, his eyes locked on the ball as it curved through the air—only to veer wide by a meter. 

He didn't even bother getting mad. He just wanted his friend back. And his hair. The thing was still stuck.

Chigiri sighed as he turned on the water, the warm stream cascading over his skin, washing away the remnants of the day. He had pushed himself hard, training for hours after the others had long since called it a day. By the time he finally packed up, the field was cloaked in darkness, and his body bore the evidence of his effort—sweat clung to his skin, and grime streaked his arms and legs. He leaned forward under the spray, the soreness in his muscles tugging at every movement as he began to wash his forehead. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and his stomach rumbled in protest, demanding the meal he’d skipped in favor of extra drills.

He’d trained until his legs ached, pushed himself harder with every sprint until weariness had wrapped itself around him like a second skin.

The extra drills, in the end, were hardly worth it, if he was being honest. He’d been too exhausted to really focus on what he was doing, and in the end all he remembered was a multitude of missed scores. 

The locker room was enveloped in silence now, a rarity, save for the gentle hum of water as it ran over him, and the occasional sound echoing from outside of the room.

His reflection in the mirror caught his attention. Hair plastered on his forehead, eyes narrowed in exhaustion, and-

What was that behind him? He squinted, the figure waving behind him, but the mirror was too foggy for him to see much of anything. He brought a hand up to wipe the fog off the mirror–

“Hel-lo Chigiri!” Bachira’s voice rang out suddenly, far too close and startlingly loud against the serene rhythm of the water.

Chigiri froze mid-motion, the soap slipping from his hands as his brain scrambled to process why, of all places, Bachira was here. “Bachira?” He blinked, turning around to see the guy stride up to him, smiling brightly.

“Chigirin! I came to see how you were doing!” The guy chirped, not bothering to linger in the edges of the room to not risk getting water splashed on him.

Shouldn’t I be asking you that? The thought flickered through his mind as he glanced at the boy, his eyes tracing Bachira’s ever-present grin. Then again, Bachira was hardly the type to conceal his emotions, if he looked happy, then odds were he probably was. “You saw me this morning,” he replied, arching an eyebrow as he worked the loofah over his skin, lathering it with the sweetly scented soap.

“Well yeah,” Bachira frowned, the pull of his lips clearly exaggerated, slumping down onto the tiled floors, legs crossed and leaning back on his hands. On his behalf, Chigiri grimaced. The floors were wet, and Bachira hadn’t bothered stripping when he entered. He hadn’t even changed out of his match clothes. “But it’s been forever since we hung out like classic Team Z’ers!“ 

Chigiri snorted, “That’s definitely not a thing, Bachira.”

“Is too!” Bachira shot back, grinning.

“No, it’s really not,” sighing, Chigiri turned his attention to his hair, slowly massaging the strands in shampoo, his fingers diligently working through them. The scent of coconut wafting through the air near him as he tipped his head back, letting the water wash the suds out. His hands slowed as the last of the soap was washed off, and Chigiri regretfully shut off the warm flow of water. “Okay then,” he tilted his head, meeting Bachira’s eyes. “What would we do if we hung out as ‘classic Team Zer’s’?”

“Play a match, duh!”

“Dude, no. I’m exhausted. And I just finished showering,” Chigiri argued, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Plus, our skills are a terrible match on a 1v1. I’m fast, and you’re good at dribbling; the game would basically just be in the hands of whoever starts.”

Bachira pouted as he followed Chigiri like a puppy. “But that's what makes it way better! We’d have to pump our ego juice to the max if we wanted even a shot at beating the other!”

Chigiri gave Bachira a look over his shoulder. He didn't know the exact definition of what ‘pumping their ego juice to the max’ could mean but he had a…vague idea. Probably. He couldn't ever be too sure with Bachira. “Hard pass, thanks.”

Bachira trailed after him as he opened his locker, absentmindedly drying the ends of his hair. “Aw, come on, Chigirin! You can’t just dismiss ego juice. It’s essential! Like water, or air, or…” He paused dramatically, tilting his head. “Hair products!”

“It’s definitely not essential,” Chigiri rolled his eyes, glancing at the guy. Speaking of hair products he really needed to fix the defiant strand of hair on his head. And soon. As his gaze lingered on Bachira, a thought crossed his mind. “Hey Bachira?”

“Yep?”

“Have you ever gotten your hair stuck with glue before, as a kid?”

“Yep! A bunch! My mom would leave behind this really sticky glue for her sculptures and this one time I thought it was gel so I layered my hair up in it! Made all the spikes spiky!” Bachira grinned, demonstrating by fluffing his hair up. “My mom got mad as balls about it, but it was worth it!”

“And how’d your mom get rid of it from your hair?” Chigiri asked, lowering the towel from his damp locks. Finally , Finally an answer and a solution to the nightmare his life had become–

“Peanut butter!”

And that was how Chigiri found himself searching the Manshine City stratum for peanut butter at 8:40 at night.

The redhead was 90% certain that they didn't even have the stupid thing and that Bachira was leading him on a goose hunt. If he – a literal member of this team, who’d shed sweat and tears in this stratum – had never come across it, why was Bachira, someone who clearly was NOT a member (Chigiri had to emphasise that in bold mentally for at least his own sake) so confident that it was here?

Bachira, unaware of Chigiri glaring at his back, simply continued humming as he skipped down the halls in a fresh change of clothes.

Desperation forced the worst out of people, he supposed. Enough so that he was willing to flip this place upside down to just find the stupid condiment. A condiment he wasn’t even sure would help . Sure, he’d made Bachira swear that it was in fact peanut butter that his mom had used but Chigiri wasn’t sure how trustworthy Bachira’s memory could be.

But Google had said that peanut butter was in fact used to remove all types of glue from sticky surfaces so maybe there was some truth to those words. Hopefully. 

Chigiri looked up, watching as Bachira continued humming, taking a turn to the right. “Bachira, where are you even going?” He sighed, arms behind his back.

Bachira turned around, smiling confusedly as he stopped. “I’m following you?”

“...what?” Chigiri blinked. Why on earth would Bachira be following him if he was literally in front of him? Who followed people from in front!?

“Yeah,” Bachira shrugged, “Why would I know where your kitchen is?”

Chigiri’s eye twitched, and he bit the inside of his mouth as he gritted out. “Bachira. We don't. Have. A kitchen.”

“Yes you do!” Bachira insisted, even though, once again, he was NOT from this stratum.

“I think I’d know if there was a kitchen.”

“No way!” Bachira exclaimed, his eyes widening in dramatic shock as he clutched his chest. “Where do you cook all your snacks then?!” His voice rose with genuine disbelief, as if Chigiri's supposed lack of a secret kitchen was the most scandalous revelation of the century.

“Bachira, we don’t cook anything. It’s a stratum .” Chigiri pinched his nose.

“Otoya told me you guys had a kitchen!”

“Why would Otoya know? We don't have one.”

“Uh…we do,” A familiar, lazy voice drifted into the conversation, pulling Chigiri’s attention. When he turned around it was to the sight of Nagi, phone in hand, eyes not meeting anyones as his fingers clicked periodically on whatever video game he was playing. “The kitchen was…somewhere down the left wing hall. I dunno, Reo used to store Capri Sun’s there.”

“Nagi!” Bachira called out happily, jumping up to hug the 6ft player who was quick to dodge, letting Bachira land somewhere behind him with a crash onto the hard floors. “Ouchie! You rude jerk!” Bachira exaggeratingly pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Nagi. “I just wanted a hug!” He rubbed his behind as he got up.

Nagi simply shrugged, still not meeting anyones eyes. “You jumped at me,” he said. Fair enough, Chigiri decided. “Well, see ya.” Nagi raised a hand in farewell, not bothering to wait for a response as he turned around and started walking away.

“You didn't even stay for more than a minute…” Chigiri trailed off, watching the white haired genius take a turn. 

“What a jerk,” Bachira repeated his earlier words before standing up straight and grinning at Chigiri. “Well–”

“Say ‘I told you so’ and I’m leaving,” he said flatly, settling Bachira with a look.

“...Well, good news! We do have a kitchen!” Bachira said instead, as if that was what he was originally going to say. “Lead the way princess! Onward towards the land of peanut butter!” He gestured forward, saluting him like a soldier but smiling happily like a child. What a strange comparison actually.

Chigiri simply sighed as he started walking towards the left wing. He’d gotten this far, he might as well finish the job.

The Manshine City kitchen was a sprawling, stainless steel maze of appliances, cabinets, and pristine countertops that screamed, we don't actually cook here. Chigiri leaned against the countertop, scanning the see-through glass panels. Nope, he thought glumly, not here either. 

He turned his head over to Bachira, who for whatever reason was searching through a small drawer that would most definitely not fit peanut butter. 

Chigiri rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “As if there’d be any peanut butter here.”

From his place in the far end of the kitchen Bachira shook his head solemnly, “There is!” He insisted, yanking another tiny drawer open proudly before his lips twist into a frown. “Huh. None here.”

“Really?” Chigiri deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Sometimes he really wondered how Bachira was his age. Older, actually, by a solid two months. “Because I always keep my peanut butter with the fine china.”

Bachira didn't miss a beat, eyes widening in something akin to realisation and snapping his fingers, “That’s genius! Chigiri you smart egoistic!” He grinned, bolting over towards the huge modern larder in the corner before Chigiri could even comment on the stupidity of that.

Chigiri rested his head against his palm, leaning against the cupboard, watching as Bachira rummaged through the drawers, pulling out blenders and cups, and everything that was distinctly not peanut butter.

He sighed, the kind of sigh specifically reserved for Bachira, as he slipped his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with a swipe. Usually, he might’ve texted Reo, might’ve laughed over stupid things. But now…

He shooed the thought away, snapping and sending a picture of Bachira, half engulfed by the drawer, arm deep inside its crevices, to Isagi.

Minutes drifted by, the silence only broken by faint taps of Chigiris fingers as he texted Isagi and Bachira as he ruffled through the cupboard. Out of the corner of his vision, Chigiri could see Bachira slow down. 

“You know, Chigiri…” Bachira said slowly, tone suddenly philosophical and blatantly not Bachira-like, leaning back as he pulled out a whisk and looking down at it, turning it over in his hands as if it were an ancient relic. 

Chigiri lowered his phone, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Peanut butter,” Bachira began, his eyes meeting Chigiris, “hides in the most distinct of places. It doesn’t sit on a shelf like jelly, all predictable and boring. No, peanut butter is…elusive. It wants to be found by those worthy of it.”

“Dude, it's a condiment, not the entrance to Heaven,” Chigiri rolled his eyes, looking back down at his phone. He’d rather lose eyesight than brain cells by talking to that moron.

“You don't get it,” Bachira said, pointing the whisk and pointing it at him accusingly. “Peanut butter has character , it's more than just a condiment it’s the way into the heart, the soul, you know? It sits there waiting, choosing its moment…like a tiger…until…” 

Chigiri barely had time to react as the whisk was flung into his face, letting out a shriek while he dodged, the stupid thing aimed with startlingly accurate precision. He turned to look back at where it was literally lodged in the wall before he snapped his head back towards Bachira, eyes wide. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Bachira smiled cheekily at him, “I had to make sure you understood the analogy, Chigirin!”

“You know, you could’ve done that without trying to take my head off with a whisk?” Chigiri snapped, eyeing the thing. For someone so small and jumpy there was a strange amount of physical prowess in Bachira’s arms.

Undeterred, Bachira reached deeper into the drawer, retrieving a random potato masher. He held it up triumphantly. “See this? Peanut butter could be hiding in here. Right under our noses.”

Chigiri stared at the potato masher, and then back at Bachira’s face. “Wow. I can really see it.”

Bachira sighed wistfully, putting the masher down. “You know, sometimes I think peanut butter isn’t just food. It’s a metaphor.”

“For what?” Chigiri asked, already regretting indulging him.

“For life,” Bachira said seriously. “Sticky. Messy. But worth it. And if you can find it? You’ve won.”

“...can we just find the stupid peanut butter,” Chigiri sighed, pushing away from the cupboard, and opening the pantry. Maybe they’d missed it when they looked in there twenty minutes ago.

Bachira hummed in reply, getting up – without actually putting away all the stuff he’d taken out –  and scrambling onto the counter, his movements swift and determined as he leaned in for a better look. He gasped in triumph when he made it, “I found it! Woohoo! Fin–” He stopped himself, eyes narrowing and smile vanishing. “Oh. Nope, just more plates. Why does Manshine City have so many plates?! Do you guys eat off plates here?”

Chigiri looked over his shoulder, face somewhere between bewildered and dumbfounded. “...Most people do,” Chigiri said slowly.

“Lame.” Bachira hopped off the counter, landing with a loud thud. Chigiri wasn’t going to respond to that. “Maybe it’s in the fridge.”

“We’ve already checked the fridge twice.”

“Third time’s the charm!” Bachira said as he opened the fridge, scanning its content.

Rolling his eyes, Chigiri went back to looking inside the pantry. If they did have peanut butter, then odds were it was here and probably hidden behind everything else here. What Japanese foods even went well with peanut butter anyway? As far as he knew, none. He pushed a bottle of furikake out of the way, surveying the condiments behind it. Still, no luck.

Just as he was reaching for another jar to move, a familiar voice called out from the kitchen doorway. “What are you two doing?”

Chigiri froze mid-reach, already dreading the answer. He stepped back from the pantry and peeked his head out to see Chris standing there, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, looking every bit like a parent who’d walked in on chaos.

The scene in question? Bachira, standing by the fridge, holding a jar of pickles up to his nose and sniffing it like it was a fine wine.

“They kind of look like peanut butter if you squint,” Bachira explained innocently, wrinkling his nose as he looked up at Chris. 

Chigiri pinched his nose. “No. No they do not.”

“Yeah. Smells more like betrayal then peanut butter,” Bachira sighed, returning the jar back into the fridge and turning around, grinning brightly at Chris. “Nice to meet you!”

“Great to meet you too kid,” Chris said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “But what exactly are you doing here? Not really your stratum now is it. What exactly is the story here?”

Chigiri opened his mouth, scrambling for something, anything, that would make them sound less insane. Before he could utter a word, Bachira spread his arms wide, his voice solemn and overly theatrical. “We’re on a quest!” He said, “for the sacred artifact of culinary salvation: peanut butter!”

Chris blinked, his gaze shifting between Chigiri and Bachira. “Wh–”

Bachira, however, cut him off. “We heard legends of the miraculous peanut butter, throughout the halls–” 

“He told me I could use it to fix my hair,” Chigiri deadpanned, cutting through the nonsense.

“–And so we set out!” Bachira continued undeterred, ignoring Chigiri completely. This asshole . “Two brave souls, venturing into the unknown depths of Manshine’s kitchen. The stakes were high. The pantry gods were silent. And yet–”

“You trashed the kitchen looking for peanut butter,” Chris cut in, holding up a hand.

Bachira nodded proudly. “Exactly!”

“Ignore him,” Chigiri said, pushing Bachira away. He’d have half a mind to impale him with a whisk. “Can you just tell us if you’ve seen any? Or if there even is any?”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You mean this?” He asked, holding up the peanut butter in his hand.

“You…You’ve had that the entire time?” Chigiri asked slowly.

Chris shrugged, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. It’s called asking. Try to do that before you ruin my kitchen next time.”

Bachira clutched his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “Chris, how COULD you? We’ve been to the abyss and back! I saw my life flash before my eyes in that spice drawer!”

“Your life?” Chigiri muttered, rubbing his temples. “All I saw was paprika.”

Chris frowned. “What paprika?” He asked, “We don’t have any of it because Agi’s deathly allergic.”

The room went quiet, all eyes landing on Bachira, who froze, looking up at Chris. “Then what was that?”

Chigiri’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean ‘what was that’, you picked it up.” 

“Well yeah,” Bachira said, shrugging, “I did hold it up. And smelled it. And, you know…inhaled it.”

“You inhaled it?” Chigiri hissed. This idiot . Who just inhaled whatever they saw?!

“It was white ! And smelt like burnt plastic!” Bachira argued, hands up. “What was I supposed to do? Not sniff it?”

“Yes!” Chigiri and Chris said in unison. 

Until Chigiri paused, turning his head to look at Bachir, irritation faltering. Wait. What did this– There was no way…right? “…It…it– it was white ?” Chigiri asked slowly, eyes wide, and voice strung tight. “Bachira– Bachira paprika is red . What I saw was red.”

“…Huh?”

Chris’s mouth dropped, looking back at them instead of inspecting the kitchen, straightening up. “Did you say it was white ?”

“Yeah,” Bachira said, still smiling, “White, kind of powdery…really strong smelling. Like plastic and borax. Kinda gave me this strong…zing in the back of my nose.”

There was only one thing Chigiri could think of that checked off all those boxes.

“Oh. My god,” Chigiri whispered, staring at Bachira, taking him by the shoulders. “Dude, you moron ! Those were drugs!”

Bachira blinked at him, once and then twice before his eyes widened. “How was I supposed to know?!” Bachira said, voice an octave higher. “Why would there be drugs in a spice drawer in the Manshine city kitchen?!”

Ignoring both of them, Chris opened one of the drawers, the one partially hidden by the pantry in the corner, and pulled it open, groaning. He shut the drawer, looking around and sighing, rubbing the back of his neck as he confirmed. “It’s cocaine.”

Silence fell.

Chigiri just stared at Bachira. Bachira stared right back, his expression somewhere between sheepish and clueless. He didn’t… look high. Or act high. Then again, this was Bachira. Maybe high-Bachira was just normal Bachira.

“Why…” Chigiri began, voice faint. “Why does this kitchen even have drugs? Better yet, why is there an entire drawer full of cocaine?!”

Chris threw his hands up. “I don’t know!”

“Okay but,” Bachira started. “What if it's the good kind of cocaine? The one that…encourages good productivity?”

“ There is no good kind of cocaine !” Chigiri snapped, his hands firmly on Bachira’s shoulders. He turned his head around, looking at Chris. “Now what? Should we take him to the medical bay and explain what happened?”

Chris’ eyes widened. “Absolutely not! Do you want to take me to prison?!”

“Then what do we do?!”

“Bachira how much did you inhale,” Chris asked, looking Bachira in the eye.

“...Guys, I think I feel my thoughts moving faster,” Bachira grinned, smiling wobbly. “Is this what enlightenment feels like?”

“No, this is what a felony feels like. Answer the question,” Chigiri shook Bachira by the shoulders.

“Uh…I think, like, I kept sniffing it a few times. Because it burnt my nose. You know? Made me feel like a firecracker.”

Chigiri and Chris shared a look. They were screwed.

“Okay I’ll just…confiscate the drawer and you can stay with your friend,” Chris decided, eyeing Bachira warily.

“Or,” Bachira offered, smiling at the two of them happily. “We just don’t do anything. I’ll keep it with me and see if it makes me a better striker!”

“NO! You are not keeping the cocaine!” Chigiri yelled. Why would Bachira even think that was a good idea?!

“But it’s like…ego juice…in powder format! Like, look there! I can see two of my monsters! That must mean it doubled my potential!”

“No, that's definitely not what it means–”

Chris cleared his throat, drawer in hands – when had he even taken it? – and put the peanut butter on the counter. “Here's your peanut butter,” He slid it over, “I’ll take the cocaine. We never bring this up again…okay?” Without waiting for confirmation, Chris bolted out.

“I feel super alive, Chirigin. You should totally try it.”

“No.” Chigiri replied flatly. Well, at the very least the drug situation explained Bachira’s out of character theatrics earlier. He’d never seen the guy act like that. Hell, he didn't even know Bachira knew those words. Maybe the drug did encourage good productivity…

No, what on earth was he thinking? He wasn’t gonna start doing crack. No matter what supposed benefits there might be. Besides, odds were Bachira was the weird one out there who made drugs into a good thing.

Or maybe not seeing how the guy was doing a handstand against the wall with one hand, the other holding the open jar of peanut butter.

“Okay!” Bachira said, face tinted pink as he panted. “Time to dip your hair in peanut butter!” 

He’d sort of forgotten what that entailed. Just the thought of dipping his hair into that jar made him grimace. Bachira gestured for him to come closer with his head, holding the peanut butter forward and higher. 

“Why are we doing it like this?” Chigiri asked, looking distastefully at Bachira.

“Because it's funner!”

Chigiri opened his mouth to argue and closed it. No, no he was not going to argue with a high-Bachira. Instead, he grimaced, holding the rest of his hair behind his back as he slowly dipped his hair in.

The kitchen echoed with wet, squelchy noises as Chigiri awkwardly dipped the tips of his hair into the jar of peanut butter. His face was a portrait of misery, and Bachira, ever the encouraging coach, was leaning forward with an unnervingly wide grin.

“Yeah, just like that! Swirl it around a little. Really get in there!” Bachira said, holding the jar steady.

“Ugh…” Chigiri groaned, the sound of peanut butter sloshing filling the air. He hated. Every. Second of this. He was going to pummel Bachira if this didn't end up working. After the guy was no longer tripping balls, he guessed. “Egh–”

“You’re doing great Chigiri, just move your head like that–”

The door creaked open.

“Yo,” Nagi’s voice was monotone as he wandered in, phone in hand, not looking up before he froze. 

Chigiri froze alongside him. Well this was embarrassing. 

“Oh.” Nagi’s tone was flat, eyes trained on his phone but his fingers didn't move. “So this is what you guys needed the kitchen for.”

Huh? What was he– Oh. 

Oh .

Chigiri whipped his head up, eyes wide. “Nagi, wait– it’s not what it–”

“Don’t,” Nagi interrupted, raising a hand up without meeting either his or Bachira’s eyes. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Just…try locking up next time. It’s kind of  a public space.”

Chigiri’s jaw dropped. This was escalating way too fast. He had to stop this. “No wait– this is absolutely–”

“Yeah, you’re right, it's absolutely normal but dude don’t go at it in the kitchen,” Nagi shrugged.

“Nagi please–”

“Not judging,” The white haired – lazy, stupid abomination of a teen who wouldn't let Chigiri finish – cut in, “Whatever helps you unwind, you know?”

Bachira grinned. “So…that mean you wanna help?”

“No,” Nagi blinked, face still as calm as ever. 

“Okay wait, Nagi this is all a misunderstanding– its peanut butter–”

“Uh-huh,” Nagi said, his voice dripping with skepticism. He gestured vaguely in their direction, his eyes still firmly glued to his phone. “Real convincing. You know it’s really loud, right? Like, disturbingly loud. The whole squelching thing?”

Chigiri let out a strangled noise, and he was vaguely aware that he sounded like a dying animal. The humiliation was getting to him. “Nagi it’s my hair and I needed peanut butter–”

“Please don’t give me any more details.” Nagi interrupted, walking to the fridge and grabbing the carton of milk before heading back toward the door. “And Chigiri?”

“…Yes?”

“Not judging or anything, but if you’re gonna keep doing…this,” Nagi gestured vaguely in their direction again, “you might wanna work on your stamina. You sounded winded when I walked in.”

All Chigiri could do as Nagi walked out and took with him the last of his dignity was watch. Slowly, Chigiri turned his head towards Bachira, the guy bright red from having his blood go down to his face, eye twitching.

Never in his life had he been humiliated like this. And to top it off, Chigiri could feel the strand of hair on his head, standing as tall as ever, and no less glued than before. His hands curled into fists at his sides, he prided himself on appearances – not physical, but how people saw him. He was fast, he was snarky, he was moody, he wasn’t Bachira, wasn’t one to freely say whatever nor was he one to literaly freak off in a public space.

And yet, just as the anger simmered beneath his skin, Bachira smiled brightly at him, “That was funny!”

For a beat, Chigiri glared at him, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But then he caught sight of Bachira’s carefree expression, his unwavering ability to find joy even in the absolute chaos.

Chigiri sighed, a small, reluctant smile breaking through as he slumped down on the wall beside Bachira. “Yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head and letting out a soft laugh despite himself. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

It went quiet for a second before Bachira spoke up again. “Hey Chigiri?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m actually really allergic to peanut butter.” And promptly fainted.

Bachira’s soft breathing filled the quiet hum in the room, accompanied only by deep, rhythmic breaths that calmed Chigiri down alongside the beating of the heart monitor. His own heart had frozen when Bachira had all but collapsed beside him, even though he loathed to admit it. He’d shaken the boy, slapping him repeatedly in an attempt to see if Bachira was pulling his leg – he wasn’t, he only felt a little sorry at that – before he rushed to carry him, sprinting down the halls all the way down to the med bay.

Absently he twisted a loose strand of hair between his fingers. The air smelled faintly antiseptic, sharp and cold, and the sterile lighting made everything feel unreal, like he wasn’t really here. The nurse had said that the combination of drugs – she’d given him a dirty look at that even though he tried explaining it was an accident – and Bachira’s deathly allergy to peanut butter caused him to faint. Apparently, the smell of it was all it took for Bachira to faint.

Also, apparently, Bachira was allergic to drugs. A terrible combination. The nurse had yelled his ear off and hadn’t bothered listening to his side of the story. Which…fair, his side of the story consisted of a drawer filled to the brim with crack and dipping his hair in peanut butter.

He didn't look up when the door creaked open, though the sound of uneven footsteps made him glance over to see–

Reo. 

For a second, neither of them moved. The air between them felt heavy, charged, like it might snap at any moment. Reo’s face twisted, his expression caught somewhere between shock and confusion. His eyes darted around the room, at the stark white walls, the medical equipment, and finally back to Chigiri. He opened his mouth, eyes searching both of Chigiri’s own before he shut it, swallowing thickly.

He stepped back, his movements stiff, like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be there. His foot scuffed against the polished ground, and the faint sound seemed louder in the silence. Chigiri noticed the slight wince, the way he favoured one leg over the other. Was he hurt, he wondered to himself, eyes narrowing as he scanned Reo over. 

His shoulders were tense, his posture rigid, like he was bracing himself for something, but he was drenched in sweat and still in his training outfit. Twisted something then, but clearly, by the look of confusion and shock on Reo’s face, he hadn’t expected Chigiri to be here in the med bay. And by the way he seemed to be eyeing the door, he clearly would’ve slept the injury off if he did know just to continue ignoring him.

Chigiri swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his eyes flickered to the floor, then back up to meet Reo’s. It was awkward, uncomfortable, the kind of moment where everything should be said, but neither of them knew how to start. Instead, the silence stretched on, sharp and unrelenting, as they stood there, caught in the weight of it all.

He stood up from the chair,  its steel legs grating against the polished floor and echoing in the quiet of the room, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t going to bother to let the silence continue on. "What's the matter? Run out of places to avoid me?" The question almost catches in his throat, caught among the many others Chigiri wishes he could ask first. He’s mad, beyond that, hands curling into fists at his sides. He doesn’t care about whatever bs excuse Reo has for him, he just–

He doesn’t know what he wants from the boy. An explanation? An apology?

He just wants–

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” Reo says, arms crossed and cutting through his thoughts, but his eyes stay locked on the ground.

“Bullshit.” He steps closer, his voice sharp, “That's complete bullshit and you know it.”

Chigiri watches as Reo swallows, his throat bobbing, and he knows that Reo’s thinking of an out, a way to escape the situation before it escalates. “I…I was training, man. Didn’t get to see you because of it–”

“Oh so you’ve been conveniently training for 48 hours straight,” Chigiri interrupts, a hand moving to his waist, “Funny, because I’ve been training all day and I didn’t see you on the field.”

At that, Reo pauses, face twisting into one of guilt, as he bites the inside of his mouth. “I…was training in a different stratum.”

“So you were ignoring me.” Chigiri concludes, stepping forward until he’s in front of Reo. His voice is strung tight, and so is his posture, but it holds nothing on Reo’s, who stands much too stiff, gaze lingering on the exit to his left. Chigiri’s much too tired and annoyed to keep waiting for Reo to come to terms with whatever it is he needs to. He wants answers. “Why?” 

Magenta eyes meet red ones. Quietly searching for an excuse that will satisfy Chigiri, maybe, but he knows Reo won’t find one there. Reo breathes in deeply, stuffing his hands in his pockets and tilting his head back. “Because I was embarrassed. I freaked out, yelled – hell I can't even remember everything I said, but the shit I do remember was bad enough for me to just…I don’t know, I wanted to ignore it until it blew over.”

“Ignore it,” Chigiri repeats, staring at Reo, before he laughs, pushing his hair back, "‘Ignore it’ my ass! You're a real piece of work, Reo. You might have conveniently forgotten what you said, but I sure as hell haven't! And Anri won't forget either! Pull yourself together!"

Reo bristled, snarling at Chigiri and taking his hands out of his pocket to jab a finger in his chest. “You’re telling me to pull myself together? Wow, ain’t that wildly ironic, coming from the asshole who snaps and gets angry at everyone. Your moody, snappy little princess act isn’t endearing to anyone, Chigiri .”

“My what little act?” Chigiri slaps Reo’s hand away, glaring sharply at him, he’s not hurt by Reo’s words as much as he is pissed. And annoyed. And a small part of him hitches when he breathes because is that what people see him as? He digs a hand harshly into Reo’s shoulder, letting him take a stuttered step back. "And yours is any better? You think being loaded makes you better than everyone else, huh? Freaking out over a joke, real classy, Mr. Billionaire."

“I never think any of that and you know it!” Reo snaps back, and deep down, Chigiri does know it, but there's a difference between knowing and understanding. “And I wouldn’t have freaked out if you all hadn’t pestered me! What’s it to you anyways, how I feel about Nagi? Because it doesn’t matter! I’m not gonna risk him over a bunch of stupid rumors!”

Chigiri didn’t get Reo. Didn't understand how the guy thought he’d lose Nagi after all the things he did for him. Was he too blind to see how much Nagi cared for him? Was the time Nagi left him to get better still a permanent memory etched into him, a fear that haunted his every interaction with Nagi?

“Risk him?” He echoes, and he wants the words to sound frustrated, but instead they come out quieter than he expected, too caught up in the guilt swarming in his friends eyes. If he focuses, he can see Kunigami’s bright smile, crinkled edges, and voice echoing. “Reo, what are you even talking about?”

He looks down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I don't need to spell it out for you, some things are better left unsaid,” Reo says quietly.

"Do you even hear yourself right now? Nagi’s not going anywhere, and he doesn’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks. You’re the one who’s making this into a big deal, not him." Chigiri snaps. “It was a joke, and if a simple joke like that makes you freak out like this then you might be the problem.”

“I know! I already know that, I just…I’m not– I panicked. Being the son of a CEO–” Reo brushes a hand through his hair, cutting himself off, taking a deep breath in. “I’ve worked hard to get me and Nagi to where we are he’s…we’re close and I enjoy doing things for him but that’s because he’s my friend. I value him, more than others and I’m not– you all made it seem like I deserve to date him and I’m– I don’t deserve that, I’m not on his level and it’s only a matter of time before he leaves me again and can I even blame him? I should be getting better so–”

“You’re rambling,” Chigiri cuts in, his lips thinning into a line, holding Reo’s gaze before he sighs. “No one said you deserve to date Nagi, that’s not how it works. If you keep treating yourself like some sidekick waiting to be ditched, it’s no wonder you’re panicking. Nagi’s here because he wants to be. Stop acting like he’s doing you some favor just by sticking around.”

“I’m not–”

"Do you really think Nagi would do half the stuff he does for you for me? Or Isagi, for that matter?" Chigiri pauses, giving Reo a pointed look as the words sink in. "Exactly. He wouldn’t. So stop doubting yourself and making everything so damn dramatic. Get over it, apologize to Anri tomorrow, and move on. And don’t even bother apologizing to me, you’ve already talked my ear off."

Reo goes quiet, the sharp edge of his expression dulling as Chigiri’s words settle over him, heavy and unrelenting. His lips part, then close again, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, or maybe doesn’t have the courage to. His brows knit together, the frustration giving way to something more vulnerable, something raw.

He looks down at his hands, clenched into tight fists at his sides, then loosens them slowly, fingers twitching like they’re unsure of what to do with the absence of anger. His shoulders drop, tension bleeding out of his posture, leaving him standing there in a way that feels…smaller.

For a moment, he doesn’t meet Chigiri’s gaze, staring somewhere off to the side, like facing him head-on might make it all too real. When he finally does look up, there’s something quieter in his eyes, not quite defeated, but subdued, like he’s been stripped of all the bravado he’d wrapped himself in. His voice is nothing like the confident and charismatic leader he portrays himself as, but something else, something Chigiri can’t put his finger on. “You’re right.”

Chigiri’s lips curl into a smirk, eyes softening in mirth. “Glad you’re finally catching on.”

“Can I stop pretending to be asleep now?” Bachira's voice cut through suddenly, from his place on the patient's bed. His yellow eyes darted between Chigiri and Reo, playful yet perceptive, as if he could sense the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

“No. Stay put and keep pretending, you’re less of a headache that way,” Chigiri shot back, walking back and slumping down on the chair near Bachira.

“If I was a vampire would you guys let me take blood from you?” Bachira asked randomly.

The only reason Chigiri didn’t give him a look, or anything of the sort, was because the guy was high. And for whatever reason high–Bachira was anywhere from philosophical to…random.

“If you were a vampire I’d carry garlic wooden stakes with me everywhere,” Chigiri deadpanned.

“Is this the way you talk to the person you almost killed?”

Chigiri gave Bachira a look, raising an eyebrow as he twirled a strand of hair between deft fingers. “I wouldn’t have almost killed you if you mentioned being allergic beforehand.”

“Touche.”

“Why…exactly is Bachira here? Did something happen?”

“Long story.” Chigiri said, in lue of explaining the much too long and exhausting story. 

Bachira, however, smiled brightly. “It all started when…” 

The kitchen was quiet, dark except for the soft glow from the fridge, and Otoya liked it that way. He padded in, barefoot, barely making a sound, and headed straight for his drawer hidden in the corner of the Manshine City kitchen.

His crack drawer. 

Except tonight, the drawer was empty. Or, rather, it wasn’t just empty there was literally no drawer. At all.

Otoya stared at it for a long moment, blinking once, twice, like maybe he’d gone to the wrong one by mistake. He hadn’t.

“Huh,” he said to no one, standing there in the dim light.

Looking up, he glanced around the kitchen. No signs of forced entry. No mysterious trails of coke on the counter. But someone had been here. Someone had taken it.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. No use crying over spilled…well, whatever. If his crack drawer was gone, he’d make do. He turned to the pantry, grabbed the peanut butter, and unscrewed the lid.

He was halfway to grabbing a spoon when he stopped.

There, in the smooth surface of the peanut butter, was a shape. A very... specific shape.

Otoya frowned, holding the jar closer under the fridge light. It wasn’t subtle. It was... anatomical.

He stared at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before muttering, “Okay.”

He then prompt walked out, to ask Karasu to borrow his stash instead, never to know the secrets behind the stolen crack drawer.

Chapter Text

Gathered in front of Anri, on a bright Saturday morning, was her favorite group of emotionally stunted disasters, all of them sat there like overgrown toddlers forced to wake up for preschool, blinking blearily at her with the collective energy of men who had just been served divorce papers.

They were so cute. The best, even. With Reo apologising to her the day before these lessons couldn’t be going better.

“How are you all today,” She smiled, crossing her legs and clasping her hands. “Good I hope?”

Her response was absolute silence.

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?” She tried again, eyes flickering over each of them.

Once again, silence. She frowned, tilting her head.

That wasn’t unusual when it came to Kaiser, but even Bachira was quiet today. Reo was visibly the same but his leg was bouncing up and down, Chigiri looked like he wanted to walk into traffic—which, actually, was pretty normal, now that she thinks about it—and Isagi—sweet, reasonable Isagi—was staring at the floor in something like terror.

She placed down her clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Did all of you wake up on the wrong side of bed?”

Silence.

Bachira snorted.

Immediately, Reo kicked him.

Anri’s eyes narrowed.

“Alright,” she said, her voice hard but firm. “What happened?” 

Five pairs of eyes avoided her gaze.

Her fingers tapped against the clipboard. “I will find out.”

Even more silence before finally, Bachira slowly raised his head to look at her. “Anri–chan.” He said slowly, twisting his fingers in his lap.

“...yes?”

“Have you ever drank tea?” Bachira asked solemnly, standing up, striding to the window and clasping his hands behind his back as he gazed out at the bright blue sky.

He might’ve looked mysterious—wise, even—if the back of his shirt hadn’t ridden up to reveal a cartoonish doodle of a face with sparkles around it and the words Ego's Favorite Boy scrawled underneath in glitter pen

“Is that my face ?” Isagi squinted, and—huh, it really did look like Isagi. “Why did you draw that??”

Bachira pointedly did not respond, humming cryptically beneath his breath.

Anri exhaled through her nose. “Yes. I have drunk tea before.”

Bachira slowly turned around, his heavy gaze settling on her. “No but have you experienced tea?”

“And what would that entail?”

“Communal hallucination.”

“...”

Anri waited all of five seconds before realising there was no punch line and Bachira’s sweet yellow eyes held nothing but honesty in them. “Okay then,” She said, smiling weakly, “Why don’t you all start from the beginning.”

“It was Reo’s idea.” Chigiri said, pointing a lazy finger in Reo’s spot beside him. “He said you told him that we should try bonding outside of these lessons.”

That was, frankly, correct. She had offhandedly mentioned it to the boy when he’d appolgized, head bowed down and everything much to her chagrin, and he didn’t seem to mind the idea. She didn't expect he’d follow it right away. Hell she wasn’t even sure if that was a good idea; did it change anything? Would they be willing to talk more freely if they knew each other better?

“I thought we could brew tea and talk. And it was good tea. I had my butler, Ba-ya, send it over that evening. It was supposed to help us relax.” 

Anri didn’t like the sound of supposed to. “...did it?” She asked cautiously.

“We wouldn’t know,” Chigiri muttered, eye twitching as he glared at Bachira. “Because someone decided to switch it out for a tea they bought on Etsy.”

“It had good reviews!” Bachira exclaimed cherrily, in a voice that suggested it most definitely did not.

“What part of ‘I saw my ancestors after drinking it’ sounded like good reviews?!” Isagi snapped incredulously. 

Bachira opened his mouth.

“Don’t answer that.”

He closed his mouth.

Anri cleared her throat, drawing attention back to herself. “And how did that escalate exactly?”

[FLASHBACK, 2:03 A.M., BASTARD MUNCHINE KITCHEN]

“I just think,” Bachira said, standing on the counter for no apparent reason, “that we, as a British society, do not appreciate the healing power of midnight tea.”

“You’re not from England,” Chigiri muttered, head resting on the kitchen table. “Matter of fact, you’re not even in the Manshine team.”

Reo, pouring himself a second cup of tea already, shrugged. “Tea is classy. It calms you. He’s not wrong.”

“I think it’s a great tradition,” Isagi said carefully—ignoring Kaiser’s pointed ‘doubt you’ll ever get to see great things in your life Yoichi’—pouring honey into a mug while trying not to knock over the pile of mismatched cups. “Very warm. Very civilized. Very—Bachira, get down.”

Bachira pouted, lowering his arm from where he seemed to have been reaching for the spinning fan, like an idiot, as he threw his legs over the counter and hopped down. “You’re no fun.”

“You were high on cocaine a day ago; your definition of fun is way too careless,” Isagi sighed, but his lips pulled into a small smile when Bachira slung a hand over his shoulder, rambling off into his ear about one thing or the other.

Not that Kaiser was staring at Isagi, or anything. He just happened to be in the general vicinity of Kaiser’s eyes. Consistently. Like some kind of parasitic visual hazard. 

“Thank goodness Anri didn’t hear about that one,” Chigiri sighed. “It was all Bachira anyway.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Bachira gasped. “It was you! You I say! There’s proof, you even– why are you laughing! It's true!”

Isagi tilted his head back, laughter spilling from his lips like flowers from a bouquet. Careless and loud and unfiltered—Bachira’s own obnoxious giggles echoing right beside him.

Kaiser scowled. There was something infuriating about the way Isagi laughed. Shoulders shaking as his lips split into something big and genuine . Like he hadn’t spent the last week getting completely outplayed. Like he wasn’t Kaiser’s permanent second-place problem.

The sound dug into Kaiser’s skull like static. Made his jaw tighten. Made his fingers itch. Made something low and ugly twist in his gut, like fury, or hunger, or both.

God, he hated him.

“Uh, okay dude,” Chigiri sideyed him, sipping his tea. “No need to tell me that.”

Oh. He’d said that aloud, hadn’t he? 

“I didn’t say anything,” Kaiser drawled, leaning against the counter. “Is your pretty head hearing things? Imagining that I’d ever bother talking casually to–”

“No I definitely heard you confess some weird fetish shit to me,” Chigiri deadpanned, idly swirling the contents of his mug, voice heavy with distaste.

Kaiser paused, blinking once. “...What?”

Chigiri angled his head, pushing a strand of cherry red hair behind his ear as he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play sly with me, I heard you. You’re standing right next to me.”

“You think I said what ?” Kaiser pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on, stepping closer to Chigiri, eyes flickering over his face, “The fuck’s wrong with your ears?”

“What’s wrong with your fetishes?” Chigiri snapped back, “And don’t stand so close.”

Kaiser ignored him. “I said ‘I hate him’. In what world does that sound anything like weird fetish’?”

Chigiri shrugged, “You tell me.”

Kaiser, however, wasn’t given a chance to argue back when the sound of a crash, followed by an odd shrieking sound erupted from behind him, deeper in the kitchen.

Startled, and pissed, Kaiser turned his head and found Isagi bawling his eyes out like a baby on the ground, sucking at his fingers, all of them slick and dripping with spit, and cosplaying in a maid outfit, big blue eyes sparkling with need and something more primal.

“K-Kaiser-senpai, will you—”

“That is not what happened!” Isagi shrieked, standing up and pointing a finger at Kaiser, glaring harshly. “Bachira dropped the kettle! And I was yelling at him! Where did you even get that from?!”

Kaiser smiled sweetly, “What, does Yoichi get prissy when I embellish my words a little?”

“A little?!”

Anri cleared her throat loudly before the two could jump at each other's throats, “Enough. Kaiser, please don’t blatantly lie. And Isagi, calm down will you?”

Isagi huffed in Kaiser’s direction as he plopped back down, but his face split into an easy smile when he apologised to Anri.

“Okay then,” Anri sighed, “Can someone else finish the story? Without any… embellishments .”

[FLASHBACK, 2:12 A.M., BASTARD MUNCHINE KITCHEN]

“Well now what,” Bachira said, breaking the silence, eyes flickering away from the huge splatter of tea and shattered mugs. 

“Don’t say that like this isn’t entirely your fault,” Isagi mutters bitterly.

There’s a beat. A long, slow, painful beat as the five boys stare at the floor where the tea had met its tragic, untimely death.

“Is it me or does the tea smell really weird,” Chigiri says slowly, nose wrinkling in distaste, and before anyone gets a chance to refute that, Bachira lets out a snort. Which is Bachira for ‘I did whatever it is you guys are worried about. “Bachira tell me you did not switch the tea.”

“I did not switch the tea,” Bachira repeats solemnly, with a bright smile that says ‘I definitely switched the tea ’.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“What did you switch it with?” Isagi asks slowly, taking Bachira by the shoulders.

Bachira smiles, “You know, the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The etsy thing I bought in the back of the kitchen cupboard with the big skull on it.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“What?”

“Oh my god.” Chigiri suddenly paled, his eyes wide as saucers. “...Isagi,” he whispered, voice tight.

“What?” Isagi groaned from between his fingers.

“Why are there spiders crawling out of your ears?”

A tense beat.

Kaiser sipped his tea coolly. “That’s actually kind of fitting.”

“There are what? ” Isagi yelped, scrambling upright, hands flying to his head, swatting wildly—except there was nothing there but air. His nails the grazed the skin of his ears, eyes manic. “Get them off, get them off!”

Bachira hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Okay, yeah, I’m seeing them now. They’re… tap dancing?”

“What? They’re what ?!” Isagi wailed.

“It’s fine,” Bachira grinned, practically vibrating with glee. “They’re talented little guys.”

“Are you guys seriously tripping right now?” Reo snapped, though his hand twitched slightly—like he was brushing something invisible off his shoulder. His gaze darted toward the corner of the room, expression shifting to horror. “Why is Ego standing over there staring at us?”

They all whipped around.

There was, indeed, Ego—looming, arms crossed, stern glasses glinting beneath the dim kitchen lights.

Except Ego’s form flickered like static. His head floated slightly to the left of his body. And his eyes? Fully rotating like slot machines.

“Welp,” Bachira clapped his hands, grinning ear to ear, “We’re hallucinating.”

“Lock off,” The hallucination said, “Lock off.”

Kaiser leaned casually against the fridge, unaffected. “Speak for yourselves. I hallucinate Yoichi being competent every day.”

“ Shut up! ” Isagi shrieked, still swatting at his ears.

Reo, meanwhile, was having his own crisis. His pupils dilated as he pointed toward the cabinets, voice cracking. “Why is Ba-ya riding a giant koi fish across the counter?”

A heavy pause.

Everyone turned to look.

Sure enough, the elderly butler was surfing majestically on a koi fish made of glittering yen coins, waving solemnly as he passed.

“Oh, sick,” Bachira whispered, eyes sparkling. “Ten outta ten hallucinations.”

[BACK TO PRESENT DAY, THERAPY OFFICE]

Anri pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed like she was begging some higher power for strength.

“So,” she exhaled slowly, “You’re all telling me, because of mystery Etsy skull tea, you—hallucinated spiders, Ego’s dismembered head, your butler surfing on currency, and…?”

Kaiser smirked, fingers laced behind his head. “Yoichi in a maid outfit crying for me.”

“ That did not happen! ” Isagi snapped, voice practically combusting as he turned red enough to match Chigiri’s hair. “He made that up! ”

Reo coughed discreetly into his fist. “Uh. Technically, I did see that part. But I think I saw him riding a goat too, so, like, who’s to say what’s real?”

Anri's eye twitched. “You’re all banned from tea. Forever.”

Bachira gasped, hand flying to his chest, devastated. “Anri-chan… but… my Etsy order history…”

Chigiri groaned, flopping dramatically against the couch. “Good. Maybe now we’ll survive the week.”

“I’m more worried about the goat,” Reo added seriously, stroking his chin. “It looked really judgemental.”

Kaiser leaned forward, eyes sharp with teasing malice. “You sure that wasn’t just your reflection in the window, Reo?”

“Oh ha ha,” Reo deadpanned.

“There goes Kaiser at it again,” Bachira grins, patting Reo’s back happily, “He just called you the goat!”

“What.”

Bachira smiles much too brightly at someone like Kaiser, sending him two thumbs up, “You’re doing great!”

“...Thanks.”

“ ANYWAY, ” Anri clapped her hands sharply, cutting through the chaos, “Group rule: No mystery tea, no Etsy poison, and no hallucinating your butler surfing through your childhood trauma. Understood?”

“Understood,” they chorused weakly, though Bachira visibly crossed his fingers behind his back.

Anri sighed again, long-suffering.

It was going to be a long Saturday.