Chapter Text
He doesn't remember Yoichi often.
It's been long enough that there isn't much to remember— the foster system was shitty, and it'd torn them so far apart that when Haruka reaches for the memories all he finds are torn edges.
A shade of blue, vivid, sharp, same as his right eye. Familiar dark hair. A laugh, bright-eyed, though the words are indistinct; the sting of a football hitting his foot; a tiny hand in his own.
Maybe Haruka would remember more if he wanted to remember anyone else from back then— their shitty dad, or the doctors who inspected Haruka like he was a germ attached to perfect Yoichi's side. But he doesn't.
They're dead, anyways, and Yoichi is gone, and there isn't a point to thinking about whatever semblance of a family Haruka used to have.
(He's imagined that clammy little hand so much he's almost forgotten it. Memory layered with everything Haruka wants it to be; wants, and can't have.)
There's no doubt that the circles he and Yoichi run in now are way apart. Even if the foster system had kept them together at first— well, Yoichi had a talent for football, had a polite smile and wide innocent eyes and hands unstained by blood, and Haruka had none of that, just freakish colouring and a talent for beating people up, and it was obvious enough which one of them was suitable for the good homes.
He thinks about it, sometimes, in Makochi. Whether Yoichi is still at the last family he'd been with. Whether Yoichi might have gotten adopted. But of course he did, right? Of course.
Stop doing that, Haruka hissed once. Stop getting yourself kicked out for me. You'll just end up in the same shitty homes, and that'll be fucking worse.
They'd been through enough together that Haruka knew that intimately. Knew exactly what it felt like not to be able to protect someone. To fight, and lose.
Yoichi hated it just as much. Not that he was ever any good at fighting.
But we'll be together, Yoichi replied, stubborn.
But, Haruka had snarled, you keep. Getting. Hurt.
In the end, it was the social worker's words that got him to stop.
Please, she'd said, pinched the bridge of her nose like it was her that had a throbbing headache and a concussion, and not Haruka. Not that she even looked at Haruka. You're such a bright child, don't ruin your future. It's not easy to get into sports with a record like this, Yoichi-kun, did you know that?
…Yoichi hated losing.
Haruka dug his nails into his fists, and tried not to think about how Yoichi deserved his bright future more than he deserved having to stay with Haruka. Tried not to think about how selfish it was of Haruka, to want him to stay.
Yoichi deserved better than the label of bad following Haruka around like a shadow. Why shouldn't he get what he deserved?
And there was something in what it meant to be there, to bandage Yoichi's cuts and scrapes and ice his bruises after whatever fight Yoichi had lost. But there was something more in knowing he'd be safe.
How many times had Haruka lost? How many more?
Go, Haruka snapped. I can't keep protecting you forever. Because what happened when Haruka wasn't strong enough? What happened when it wasn't the kids he was fighting with, when Yoichi pissed off the adults, the ones that only ever hit Haruka, because he was the one no-one would ever care about? What happened when it wasn't a fight, just a beatdown, and Haruka was bound to lose?
(Weak, sensitive Yoichi, the entire world pressing in on him. Yoichi, so overwhelmed by existence itself he used to scurry behind Haruka, until he finally found something he loved enough to be brave for.)
…you're my little brother, Yoichi protested, but his voice was so small. Haruka could see it in his eyes, the want, the fear of that want, the fear. I'm supposed to be protecting you.
And Haruka knew Yoichi could see it in his eyes— the brutal, aching knowledge.
(You can't.)
It was the first time Yoichi had ever looked so angry.
It was the last time Yoichi ever looked like anything, because then they were in different homes, with different people, different lives, and Haruka clenched his fists and didn't look back.
—
Isagi Yoichi hates losing.
He tries not to be obvious about it; he'd learned early on that it's not polite to be rude about a loss, that you embarrass yourself and everyone around you if you don't take it with grace. Yoichi is good at keeping face.
Yoichi is really, really bad at losing.
He doesn't get into fights, because he knows it won't really work out; knows he's not Haruka, with quick fists and a sharp tongue and something firebright pushing him forward. But he's smart, and he's dedicated.
How to throw a punch is the extent of Yoichi's fighting knowledge. But what he knows about football…
He throws himself into it.
It feels, sometimes, like the only thing he can do.
His new foster family is— kind. Good. Friendly. Yoichi doesn't talk to them about Haruka, not until they adopt him, and when he becomes an Isagi instead of a Sakura is when he learns that Iyo and Issei didn't even know Yoichi had a twin. That they weren't even told.
We can find him if you want to, Yocchan, his adoptive mother says, and her eyes are worried. Yoichi is ten years old. He says yes, but it's too late— the Japanese foster system is a mess ; Haruka is lost to it.
I'm sorry, Yoichi, his adoptive father says.
And they are kind, and they are gentle, and all Yoichi can think is there's no way Haruka is getting to have this.
Because the world hates his little brother for reasons that Yoichi has never understood, and Haruka meets it with the same amount of anger but never hatred, and all that has ever done is hurt him.
It feels like losing Haruka a second time. It feels like losing his birth parents had, because he'd loved them, and hated himself for it, when they treated Haruka so badly, and now—
Now it has to be Yoichi's fault, because if he'd mentioned Haruka sooner, then couldn't Haruka have been found? Couldn't they have been together?
And how shameful is it, to be happy even without his only remaining family?
He cries himself to sleep, that night. Wakes up feeling numb. Goes through the day on autopilot, takes another month to piece himself back together, and— who does it surprise, that football is the glue?
There are a lot of ways to drown. But at least, at least, Yoichi is good at this one.
Yoichi isn't selfish. He doesn't take too much food at dinner, he shares his pencils with his classmates, he plays on a team where the motto is one for all and all for one.
Yoichi is selfish. He forgets his birth parents, and he loves them, and he forgets Haruka, and he loves him, and he remembers his true parents, and he loves them, and that is the only part of it that feels real.
It's hard to forget Haruka. What's easy, though, is to forget how the memories make him feel.
From the outside, it looks like moving on.
—
And Haruka gets to Makochi. Gets to Furin. Gets to a place that cares, as insane and difficult to understand as it is, gets to a place where he actually feels safe.
It feels… good.
(It's something he hadn't been able to give Yoichi. Or had he?
—no, of course not. Don't be ridiculous, Haruka.)
Birthdays are the worst. Fucking April Fools Day, of course that's when they were born, like Haruka was the joke that came out of the womb— and without Yoichi, it's not even remotely funny.
Birthdays are the worst, because Haruka can't bring himself to be happy about them. Because every flash of blue reminds him of his brother. Because what the hell is there to celebrate, without anyone to celebrate with?
Still, he watches the football channel every time, because Yoichi always used to whine until they put on a Noel Noa game.
This way it feels like at least he's got something of Yoichi left with him. Something to hang onto.
Even if it's fucking embarrassing when Suo catches him at it, and decides to start needling him about being a Noel Noa fanboy, honestly, Sakura-kun, who knew that you had idols?
"Fucking ew," is Haruka's eloquent response. "I'm not into football!"
"The alerts for football notifications suggest otherwise~"
When the fuck did Suo get his phone? When the fuck did he unlock it??
"Oh, Sakura-san, I didn't realize you knew how to set alerts!" Nirei says brightly.
"You—" Haruka starts, fuming, but then Suo is smiling down at his phone with a devious glint in his eyes.
"He doesn't appear to have many, Nirei-kun. But we can help you with that! Healthy hobbies should be encouraged."
"What the fuck are you, my parents?"
Not that his parents had ever done anything of the sort, but it's the principle of the thing. Haruka doesn't need anyone's damn help in looking for his brother, and like hell he's going to mention that he has one. It'll just lead to more prying.
…
…but he really doesn't know how to set alerts, or even what an alert is. He was just poking around on the phone.
"Fine," he scowls, flushing when Suo and Nirei share delighted looks. "Whatever, I guess."
—
This is Yoichi’s secret dream, the one that’s too small and too deeply-buried and too old, old, old, to admit to anybody:
If he becomes a professional player, Haruka will see him on television.
It— feels like a pipe dream. Moreso even than actually making it; after all, that’s entirely within Yoichi’s control, and Yoichi has absolutely no intention of allowing himself to fail. But whether Haruka cares about football when Yoichi isn’t there to drag him into it— whether he’ll even remember, or if he’s pushed away the memories as steadfastly as Yoichi has, whether he’s moved on—
It’s such a slim chance.
Not a goal, not an aspiration, not something to strive for.
Just a dream.
—
A year and a half after Sakura Haruka first enters Furin High, the Blue Lock program is announced on national television.
And Haruka— doesn’t really get the hype. Why would anyone go that far just to play football? If they love it so much, it doesn’t make sense to risk everything for a couple matches.
But isn’t he the same? Wanting— needing to be the strongest, doesn’t he know that by heart?
And he thinks of Yoichi, who was batshit insane about football sometimes, when he’d try to score all the goals in little neighbourhood games with the kids that refused to play with Haruka. Yoichi, sensitive and smart and vicious when he wanted to be.
…so he keeps an ear out, even though it’s unlikely.
Just in case.