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“Hey, Isagi.”
“Hmm?”
“Why don’t you date me?”
“Yeah, why not…” Isagi shrugs, barely paying attention as he tips a juice box to his lips. The straw makes that hollow, desperate gurgle that means he’s drained the thing dry. He frowns at it, giving it a little shake — and that’s when the words finally hit him. His head jerks up. “Wait — Reo, what the fuck?”
Reo stands there looking completely unbothered, hands tucked into his pockets like he’s just suggested they grab lunch, not start dating.
“I’m serious,” Reo says with a grin that’s just a little too confident. “You’ve got everything I’m looking for in a partner. You’re smart, driven, and honestly, you’re kinda cute when you’re not acting like a lunatic on the field.”
Isagi stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “I’m a guy, Reo.”
“Yeah, well.” Reo shrugs, his smile widening. “We can’t have it all.”
Isagi snorts. “Did Nagi reject you or something? You wanna do some drills or what?”
Reo groans like Isagi’s just suggested they run a marathon barefoot. He flings his head back in exaggerated despair. “Why is football always the only thing on your mind?”
“You literally just asked me out like you were scheduling practice,” Isagi fires back, tossing his empty juice box into the nearest bin with the precision of a striker aiming for the top corner. He wipes his hands on his shorts like that seals the matter. “Anyway, you’re the one who’s always glued to Nagi’s side — figured he’s your one true love or whatever.”
“Oh please,” Reo scoffs, folding his arms. “Nagi’s idea of a romantic date is me sitting next to him in silence while he plays video games. If I want conversation, I’ve gotta look elsewhere.”
“Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Isagi says, stretching his arms over his head.
“Yeah,” Reo grins, “but you’re my kind of potato.”
Isagi rakes a hand through his hair, already looking exhausted.
“Look, man, I’m telling you — I’m not dating material,” he says, voice firm. He starts ticking points off on his fingers like he’s listing reasons why this entire conversation is a waste of time. “I forget to text back, I eat the same three meals every day, and half the time, I’m too tired to talk to anyone because I’ve been thinking about football for, like, eight straight hours.” He points directly at Reo. “Does that sound like boyfriend material to you?”
“Yeah,” Reo says, grinning like that was supposed to impress him. “Sounds perfect.”
“Perfect?” Isagi barks a laugh. “You’ve officially lost it.”
“Come on,” Reo presses, stepping in a little closer. “Why don’t we just give it a try?”
Isagi frowns, leaning back as Reo’s presence starts to feel uncomfortably… intentional.
“What does that even mean?” Isagi says. “You wanna, what, go on a practice date?”
“Sure,” Reo says with a shrug. “We’ll hang out — more than usual — and just… test the chemistry.”
“Test the chemi—” Isagi pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not some science experiment, Reo.”
“Okay, okay,” Reo says, lifting his hands in mock surrender — except now he’s stepping even closer. “Fine. Maybe I should just—”
Before Isagi can blink, Reo’s hand lands squarely on his shoulder, fingers giving it a firm squeeze.
“What… what are you doing?” Isagi asks, frozen in place.
“Feeling out our compatibility,” Reo says, voice way too casual as his hand slides down Isagi’s arm like he’s inspecting fabric quality. “You know, seeing if there’s… a spark.”
“There’s gonna be a bruise if you keep doing that,” Isagi warns, stepping back — only for Reo to follow, this time reaching for his other shoulder like he’s checking for knots.
“Oh yeah, this is promising,” Reo mutters, giving Isagi’s bicep an approving squeeze. “Good build, solid muscle — I think we’re really onto something here—”
“Reo, get off me!” Isagi yelps, squirming as Reo’s hands start to trail dangerously toward his ribs.
“What’s going on?”
Both of them freeze. Nagi’s voice cuts through the air, as dry and disinterested as ever. He’s standing a few feet away, staring at them like he’s walked in on someone trying to assemble furniture with their teeth.
“Nothing!” Isagi blurts, wrenching himself free and scrambling a safe distance away.
“Reo’s trying to date me,” Isagi adds, pointing accusingly like Reo’s been caught committing a crime.
“…Yeah,” Nagi says after a long pause, blinking slowly. “That sounds exhausting.”
“Exactly!” Isagi shouts, waving a hand toward Nagi like he’s just won the argument.
Reo crosses his arms and huffs. “You guys have no sense of romance.”
“I have a sense of survival,” Isagi mutters.
“Cool,” Nagi says, already turning back the way he came. “Wake me up when you figure it out.”
Kagoshima
The scent of fried pork and warm broth lingers in the air, curling up from the steaming bowls on the table. Isagi barely notices. He’s too busy jabbing his chopsticks at nothing in particular, caught up in his latest rant.
“I’m telling you, it was insane,” Isagi says, voice rising as he leans forward. “One second, we’re just standing there, and the next thing I know — bam!” He slaps his hand on the table for emphasis, making the chopsticks rattle. “Reo’s suddenly grabbing my arm like he’s testing produce!”
Across the table, Chigiri calmly lifts a piece of pork to his mouth, taking his sweet time chewing before speaking.
“Mm.” He swallows. “Yeah, I thought you were dating those two already.”
Isagi freezes mid-motion, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “…What?”
“I mean…” Chigiri shrugs, setting his chopsticks down neatly. “You’re always with them. Kinda figured you guys had something going on.”
“You thought I was dating them?” Isagi’s voice jumps an octave, like Chigiri just accused him of committing arson. “Why would you even think that?”
“Because they’re always around you,” Chigiri says simply. He sips his tea like this isn’t world-shattering news.
“That’s just… coincidence,” Isagi says, waving a hand vaguely. “They’re clingy with everyone.”
“Not really,” Chigiri says, tilting his head. “I’ve seen them in, what, three tournaments now? And guess what? Every time you’re in the same room as them, one of those two just… appears.”
“That’s— no— that can’t be right,” Isagi says, but his voice wavers. Memories are surfacing now — moments he’d dismissed at the time.
Like when he was talking to Hiori after a match, chatting about defensive patterns — and suddenly Reo was there, inserting himself into the conversation like a third wheel on a bicycle that nobody invited. Or when some guy from another team had asked Isagi about his form, and Nagi had mysteriously materialized behind him, looming like a 6-foot fog bank.
“Oh my god,” Isagi mutters, slumping back in his seat. “They’re following me.”
“‘Following’ sounds kinda dramatic,” Chigiri says with a lazy smile. “I’d call it… hovering.” He taps his chopsticks against the rim of his bowl. “Like a couple of weirdly possessive guard dogs.”
“Yeah,” Isagi mutters darkly, running a hand down his face. “Guard dogs that don’t know what boundaries are. Reo’s out here palming my arm like he’s shopping for cuts of meat, and Nagi just stares at people like he’s buffering in real-time.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Chigiri says, and with zero sympathy, turns back to his katsudon.
“You’re not even surprised by this,” Isagi accuses.
“I’ve seen worse,” Chigiri says between mouthfuls. “At least no one’s tried to write your name in permanent marker on their cleats.”
“…That happened to you?”
“Don’t ask.”
Isagi shakes his head, chuckling as he finally digs into his katsudon. “Nah, you’re way off,” he says between bites. “There’s no way they’re following me. You’re acting like they’ve got some kind of tracking device on me.”
Chigiri smirks. “I mean… if anyone’s rich enough to pull that off, it’s Reo.”
“Oh, come on,” Isagi laughs, pointing his chopsticks at him. “You’re being dramatic. They’re not stalking me — they’re just… around. And besides,” he gestures vaguely to their surroundings, “I’m all the way out here in your prefecture. There’s no way they’d just… show up.”
“Wanna bet?” Chigiri grins. “I’ll give it ten minutes.”
“What?” Isagi scoffs. “No way.”
“Ten minutes,” Chigiri repeats, lazily spinning his chopsticks in his fingers. “I guarantee one of those two shows up before we’re done eating.”
“Oh please,” Isagi snorts. “What, you think Nagi’s just gonna roll in here half-asleep, or Reo’s gonna bust down the door like I owe him money?”
“I’m just saying…” Chigiri picks up his tea cup, raising it like he’s making a toast. “You’ve got a curse, man. They always find you.”
“You’re delusional,” Isagi says, grinning. “Seriously, you’ve been hanging out with Bachira too much.”
“You’ll see.” Chigiri takes a sip of his tea like this is all inevitable. “I’m telling you, it’s fate. Like gravity — only instead of apples, you’re attracting idiots.”
“Yeah, right,” Isagi says, shaking his head. “I’ll finish this bowl, and when neither of them shows up, you owe me dessert.”
“Fine,” Chigiri smirks. “But when one of them does show up…” He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’m gonna enjoy saying ‘I told you so.’”
The two of them settle back into their meals, the clink of chopsticks against bowls filling the air. Isagi’s still grinning to himself, quietly savoring his inevitable victory.
“Seriously,” he says after a few bites, “there’s no way. They’re not that bad.”
“Sure,” Chigiri replies with a shrug, as if he already knows how this ends. “Whatever you say.”
They fall into easy conversation after that — a bit of banter about their latest matches, some jokes at Kunigami’s expense, and the occasional complaint about brutal training schedules. Isagi’s relaxed now, laughing as he recounts the time Igarashi tripped over his own shoelaces mid-sprint and somehow blamed the wind.
“Dude, I swear he almost convinced me it was some freak gust,” Isagi chuckles, shaking his head. “Like the universe itself just wanted him to fall on his face.”
Chigiri laughs, setting his chopsticks down. “Igarashi’s basically an anime protagonist — if anime protagonists sucked at football.”
Isagi snorts. “Exactly!”
Then, just as Isagi’s lifting another bite of katsudon to his mouth, a shadow falls over the table.
“Oh, no way…” Chigiri drawls, voice heavy with smug satisfaction.
Isagi freezes, chopsticks still hovering mid-air. Slowly — slowly — he turns his head.
Standing there, half-lidded eyes drooping with boredom and hair a mess like he’d just rolled out of bed, is Nagi.
“…Yo,” Nagi mumbles, blinking at them like he’s not sure why he’s here either.
“Oh, come on!” Isagi explodes, dropping his chopsticks with a clatter. “What are you even doing here?”
“Reo wanted me to pick something up,” Nagi says with a slow shrug. He pauses, glancing lazily between Isagi and Chigiri’s table. “But then I saw you, so I figured… might as well say hi.”
Chigiri’s grin is blinding. He leans in on his elbow, resting his chin in his palm. “What was that you were saying earlier?” he hums. “‘They’re not that bad’? ‘No way they’ll find me out here’? What was that again?”
“Oh, shut up,” Isagi groans, dragging a hand down his face. “This doesn’t even count!”
“It absolutely counts,” Chigiri says smugly. “And since I’m feeling generous, I’ll take dessert and your pride as my prize.”
“Whatever,” Isagi grumbles. He looks back at Nagi, who’s still just standing there, blinking like he’s buffering.
“…Are you gonna sit down or what?” Isagi asks.
Nagi stares at him for a moment longer — then shrugs, grabs a chair, and flops down beside him with the grace of a deflating air mattress.
“Cool,” Nagi mutters, already reaching for Isagi’s untouched miso soup. “I was kinda hungry.”
Isagi slaps Nagi’s hand away before his fingers can curl around the soup bowl.
“Hey!” Isagi barks. “Get your own!”
Nagi blinks at him, slow and unimpressed, like Isagi’s being unreasonable for defending his own food.
“Didn’t feel like ordering,” Nagi mutters, already slouching deeper in his seat like gravity’s pulling him down. “Too much effort.”
“That’s not my problem!” Isagi fires back, pulling his bowl closer like he’s protecting a family heirloom.
Chigiri, still thoroughly entertained, leans back in his chair and stretches. “Man, this is better than I expected,” he says, grinning. “I figured you’d just show up, but I didn’t think you’d immediately try to steal his dinner too.”
“I wasn’t stealing,” Nagi says flatly. “I was sharing.”
“You didn’t even ask!” Isagi points out.
Nagi shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d say yes.”
“Yeah, because you’re a thief.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Nagi mutters, eyes half-lidded. He’s so relaxed it’s like he’s physically melting into his chair. “You’re always eating, anyway. You’ll survive.”
“You guys are honestly adorable,” Chigiri comments, sipping his tea.
Isagi points at him without looking away from Nagi. “Don’t you start.”
Chigiri raises his hands in surrender, still smirking. “I’m just saying… if Reo shows up next, I’m ordering cake.”
“Oh, please,” Isagi scoffs. “What are the odds of that happening?”
“…Yo.”
Isagi’s head snaps around so fast his neck practically cracks. Standing in the doorway, casually adjusting his jacket like he owns the place, is Reo.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Isagi mutters, dropping his head to the table with a thud.
“Didn’t think you guys would be here,” Reo says, strolling over like this is completely normal. He claps Nagi on the shoulder before turning to Isagi with a smile that’s way too pleased. “Good thing I caught you, though. I wanted to follow up on our conversation last time.”
“No,” Isagi says immediately, face still pressed to the table.
“You didn’t even let me finish,” Reo says, clearly fighting back a laugh.
“Because whatever it is, it’s still no.”
“Don’t be so cold,” Reo teases, sliding into the seat on Isagi’s other side, effectively boxing him in. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Yeah?” Isagi says, lifting his head. “Well, I wanted to eat my katsudon in peace, but I guess none of us get what we want today.”
“Not true,” Chigiri says, smugly flagging down a waiter. “I’m getting cake.”
Ride Home
Nagi’s head is tipped back against the seat, mouth slightly open as he snores softly — completely dead to the world. Beside him, Reo sits comfortably, one arm draped casually along the door. His driver steers smoothly, barely making a sound.
For a while, it’s peaceful — or at least, as peaceful as it can get when you’re stuck in a car with Reo Mikage.
“You’re quiet,” Reo says suddenly, twisting slightly in his seat to glance back at Isagi.
Isagi snorts under his breath. “Don’t bother.”
“What?” Reo smirks. “Can’t I check in on you?”
“Yeah, right,” Isagi mutters. He shakes his head, a faint laugh slipping out. “I know where this is going.”
“Well…” Reo leans his head back against the seat, still grinning. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“You know,” Reo says, like it’s obvious. “Testing the waters.”
Isagi pauses — then laughs outright this time, shaking his head harder. “Oh my god. You’re still on that?”
Reo chuckles along with him, like the whole thing’s just a casual joke. “What? It’s not that crazy.”
“It’s insane,” Isagi fires back. “Like, certifiably insane.” He gestures vaguely between the two of them. “You’re talking like this would actually work.”
Reo shrugs, still grinning. “I mean, it could.”
“Right,” Isagi snorts. “And Nagi’s gonna wake up tomorrow and decide to train voluntarily.”
“Hey,” Reo says, flashing a grin. “Stranger things have happened.”
Isagi just shakes his head again, amused despite himself. “You’re not serious.”
“Maybe not,” Reo admits, still smiling. “But maybe I’m a little serious.”
“Oh, please,” Isagi mutters, rolling his eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Reo waves him off like it’s no big deal, twisting back to face the front. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Isagi huffs out a laugh and leans back in his seat, gaze shifting to the dark city skyline outside. Reo’s messing with him — he’s sure of it.
And yet, there’s something about the way Reo’s still grinning to himself that leaves Isagi just a little uneasy.
“Shut up.”