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Isagi didn’t talk much.
It was something Bachira noticed on their first day together, right after meeting him. As determined as he obviously was, he had expected him to be at least a bit outgoing, a bit chatty even, or just… more than he actually was. Isagi Yoichi was quiet, unsure and distant, he nodded at their teammates and added his ideas when needed, but he never dared to do much more than that. Not that he was isolated, at all, the team had grown to count on him and appreciate him, but… It was a feeling, Bachira’s, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, something that made him want to ask him questions and get to know every part of him, for unsure reasons.
Another thing that he noticed was that Isagi got even quieter at meal times: he would eat his full trail and at times leave some rice and the tofu in the miso soup in the most complete silence, taking slow bites of his food and chewing on it for an endless amount of time, only to swallow it with a sip of water and take another. Talking to him during those times was almost impossible, not because he dismissed whatever word they said to him, but because he looked so pissed when they did that Bachira simply did not want him to feel that because of him.
He also took way too much time eating. Bachira had to admit it, it had made him think, how he himself would stuff himself with food and be done after five minutes while Isagi had barely taken two bites of his rice in that same timespan. It made him think about himself and how… rude his way of eating was, and about him and why he even took that much time. He could understand twenty minutes, even half an hour, but a full seventy three minutes? That was… way too much, way too much, considering the bowl of rice and the miso soup and the box of natto, all Isagi had for any meal.
Though, the moments where Isagi just couldn’t be approached at all didn’t end at the last grain of rice, but about ten minutes after the meals, after he finished frantically scribbling on his personal notebook. Bachira had been sure he was doodling, but he half-knew that one didn’t doodle like that at all, in that methodical way, without stopping for even a second. It simply sat unnatural in his eyes, the way he would sit in a corner of their bedroom only to write and write and write. That was already more plausible, writing instead of drawing, still, it was…
It made him curious, the reason why he wrote, it made him almost ask him about it. He never did, only because he found out soon after having noticed it.
He had simply found his notebook laying on the ground in the monitors room. It was his, because its cover was perfectly well kept, and the pages looked wrinkled only at the start of it. Nobody used their notebook as much as him, and Bachira, who simply wanted to give it back to him, couldn’t help but look at the first page once he had gotten it from the ground.
It was blank. That was enough of a bummer that he turned that page.
All he found were numbers. Neatly written numbers and arrows connecting numbers. There was no indicator of just what those numbers meant, but Bachira did not think he had copied down his stats, considering that the first number, 330, could in no way be a reference to that.
He stared at the numbers, reading through them and getting more and more confused with every second, he brought the notebook closer to his face and tried to read the first paragraph without his vision blurring.
—330-100—
33-10
1- 330-150→495
2- 330-120→396
3- 330-90→297
4- 330-80→264
Was it a sequence? First, second, third and fourth? But why was only the second one underlined? He had no clue at all. He kept reading.
—212-100—
21,2-10
1- 212-150→318
(21,2-5→106,0
212
106
→318)
—84-1—
—255-100—
25,5-10
(~70→178,5)
(25,5
25,5
→51,0
25,5
→76,5
255.
76,5
→178,5)
⇉
396
318
84
178,5
→976,5
—24-100—
24-500→120
(→1096,5)
The paragraph after the double arrow looked like a sum. That was the only detail he could understand, even if by just reading the numbers he felt like it was either wrong or not a sum at all. After seeing that many numbers, he only felt too dazed to make it make sense.
976,5
3
→ 2929,5/(1)
— — —
120
→3049,5
240
→3169,5
360
—>3289,5
And. Uh. He was confused again. Weirded out, mostly, as he had not a single clue on what exactly it all meant or why it even… Why did Isagi write all that? He turned the page and found even more numbers, he skimmed through it and the more he looked, the smaller the numbers became, neater, carefully written.
976,5.0,5→488,25→488,3
976,5-318→658,5
976,5-318-84→574,5
→1721,3
He did not understand. He did not, but he was… worried, in a way. Worried because he could not understand and because after having read 2- 330-120→396 for the twelfth time, he had even less ideas on what exactly to think about it all.
Still, whatever he had been thinking was interrupted by the door of the room opening. Bachira startled, turning sharply to it and finding Isagi’s blue eyes straight straight at him.
It irked him, that gaze: devoid of any emotion and still so determined it made him feel bad, as if he had done something wrong, as if he had offended him or discovered the worst of secrets. Still, all Bachira did was give him a smile.
“Found this,” he said, holding out the notebook for him, “‘s your, right?”
Isagi hummed. He reached for it, gently taking it from his hands. “I’ve been looking for it.”
“Yeah, it seems pretty important to you,” he nodded, his smile didn’t falter, he knew he had been looking through it, there was no point in faking he hadn’t. “I'm sorry for... It’s just numbers.
Isagi nodded slightly, he gave him a small smile. “Yeah.”
“Watcha counting?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Nothing too important.”
Bachira hummed. There was a voice in the back of his mind that told him that there was so much, so much more than that. He had no idea how to touch that topic though, because Isagi seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, and he wouldn't have wanted him to panic at all. “Gotcha, I only doodle on mine…”
“You draw?” Isagi seemed surprised, his smile didn’t falter. “Can I see?”
“Ah—!” Bachira grinned, half embarrassed. “They’re not good at all…"
“It’s only fair,” Isagi grinned back, a teasing tone in his voice with eyes devoid of any light. “C’mon, I’m sure they are amazing.”
It made Bachira smile. It made him hyper aware of the change in topic, sure, but still, he tried to pay it no mind. Isagi wasn’t going to tell him about it anyway, and he wouldn’t… have wanted to push.
It was nothing anyway, right? It was all… okay, maybe he just liked maths a lot, right? That could be it… yeah!
Bachira showed him his dumb doodles and Isagi tried to draw a dog on a page of his notebook. It came out so ugly it made Bachira laugh maybe too loudly. Still, the offended smile Isagi gave him was in no way as strained as he had seemed before, so…
Maybe all was really okay.