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Chapter Text

Isagi wouldn't call himself prideful. An egoist? Sure. But pride implied his validation relied on what other people thought of him—it didn’t.

Subject: White Day Campaign

In anticipation of BLTV’s White Day celebrations, we are thrilled to announce an exciting collaboration with Chocoladefabriken Lindt & Sprüngli (Lindt) as part of a major campaign to bolster viewership for BLTV and raise additional funding for the program.

This campaign will feature a series of advertisements stretching between Valentines day (February 14) and White Day (March 14). 

In this month, Lindt aims to showcase the unique dynamics and personalities of Blue Lock and NEL players. If you are receiving this communication, you have been selected as a participant in this exciting initiative.

He also wasn’t very argumentative, save for football. So, really, there wasn’t a reason he should be considering taking Ego Jinpachi’s life over an ad campaign of all things. 

However, as per the request of Lindt’s publicity team, a special pairing has been curated in response to current media trends and fan engagement:

• Isagi Yoichi & Michael Kaiser

This pairing is designed to maximize the campaign’s impact and resonate with our audience. As part of the campaign, this pairing will partake in special shootings to highlight their budding chemistry, bringing in fans to capitalise on profit margins. 

Further details regarding your participation, including pairing and filming schedules, will be provided shortly. 

Please note the contractual manner of this campaign prevents any adjustments from being made unless in the case of extreme extenuating circumstances. 

Ego Jinpachi.

“You can’t be serious.” Isagi held the letter in his hand, and if it weren’t made out of paper he was sure it’d shatter into a million pieces from how hard he was gripping it. 

“Oh my god,” Hiori—who’d also been selected and had been reading over his letter in silence until he evidently got to the pairing part—got out in wheezes. “They’re turning ya into fanservice!”

Isagi could barely even focus on what he’d just said as his eyes glazed over the words special pairing, Isagi Yoichi & Michael Kaiser, as if re-reading them would somehow nullify the very-real ink on the very-real paper in his very-real hands. 

“Lindt, huh?” Yukimiya, seemingly unfazed, plopped down onto his bed next to Hiori’s. “They’re pretty hard to bag, I remember they rejected me for a gig a while back. I’d feel pretty honoured if I were you.”

“ Honoured?” Isagi felt like screaming. Or crying. He wasn’t sure yet. “What part of being turned into some scrappy otome character for Big Chocolate should I feel honoured about?”

Yukimiya shrugged. “The part where you’re getting paid, probably.” He took off his glasses, gently placing them in their protective casing on his bedside table before pulling the covers over himself. “And the exposure. Lindt’s a global brand, Isagi. This could open a lot of doors for you.”

Isagi groaned, flopping backwards onto his pillow. “Screw the damn doors, this is about my dignity!” He rubbed the soles of his palms into his eyes, “I signed up to play football, not to be part of some... some chocolate commercial romance plot.”

“Who said it was romantic? Romantic?” Kurona, who hadn’t received anything and had just finished reading over Hiori’s letter, chirped. “Maybe they just want you guys as a pair. Everyone knows you guys make a killer duo. Killer duo.”

“I guess…”

“I don’t know, Kurona,” Hiori leaned over his bed, “They obviously selected them based on how popular Kaisagi ’s been recently. If I were Lindt I’d want to drive that in like crazy.” He covered his mouth as he giggled, feigning shame. “Ya should’ve seen this one edit I saw of them on the pitch the other day-”

Isagi pelted his pillow across their dorm at him. Hiori ducked before it hit him, the pillow smacking harmlessly into the wall behind him. 

“Think of it as a challenge,” Yukimiya said, ever the voice of reason. “You’re always talking about overcoming obstacles, right? Well, here’s another one. And who knows? It might end up being fun.”

Isagi crumpled up his letter and shot for the bin by the door. He missed, the paper ball bouncing off the rim and rolling pathetically onto the floor.

Fun.

Right.

★

Isagi shook his crumpled letter in his hand—wrinkles and creases running down the page—like it was a piece of damning evidence. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

Despite Ego’s little hail-mary at the end of his letter, Isagi was not about to go down without a fight. If he had to sell heart-shaped chocolates it sure as hell wasn’t about to be with Kaiser . 

“This is a joke.”

Ego (well, his hologram that is) pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he peered down at him, almost as if he were some sort of stubborn stain he was trying to get out of his rug. “I don’t joke.”

“And I don’t have ‘budding chemistry,’” he jabbed his finger at the barely legible sentence, “with Kaiser!” 

Ego’s hologram flickered slightly, and through his usual air of callousness Isagi could hear a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice. “The data says otherwise. Your on-field interactions have been trending for weeks. The fans love it. Lindt loves it. And frankly, I don’t care if you love it or not. You’re doing it.”

“What if I refuse?” Isagi crossed his arms, trying to look defiant. It was hard to feel intimidating when he was standing in front of a glowing hologram, but he gave it his best shot.

Ego studied him for a second, and, for the most fleeting of moments, Isagi almost thought he’d come out victorious. 

“You’re off the team.”

“What?!” Isagi spluttered, incredulous. “Can you even do that?”

“Sure.” He knelt down, away from the hologram before coming back into view with a thick manila envelope in hand. “After all, you did sign up for this—something you’d know had you actually read your paperwork instead of skimming through it like an illiterate baboon.”

“When did I sign up to sell chocolates with Michael Kaiser?”

His hologram flickered. “Clause 4, page 8, section 2. While under contract, all individual media participation rights, including but not limited to appearances, endorsements, and promotional activities, are co-signed to Blue Lock and any affiliated sponsors. Participants are required to comply with all media-related obligations as determined by Blue Lock management. Failure to adhere to these obligations may result in penalties, including but not limited to fines, suspension, or termination of contract-”

“Okay, okay I get it.”

“Good. Then I expect to see you in practice at-”

Isagi cut in again, “Wait, wait. I’ll sell the damn chocolates, fine.” He slouched his shoulders in defeat. “But is there any way it can be with someone other than Kaiser?”

“Not unless you want the collaboration to fall through, no.”

“Aww, Yoichi.” Isagi felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. “You wound me.”

He didn’t even have to turn around to know the name which belonged to the voice. Grating, obtuse, and somehow always popping up when Isagi was at his worst—past a certain point Isagi had to wonder if he kept tabs on his location. 

Kaiser strolled into the room, hands in his pockets and that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. “Or is it because you’re scared you’ll fall in love with me?”

Isagi turned to glare at him. “I just don’t want to have to spend a month pretending to like you.”

Kaiser placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Ouch. Vicious, Yoichi.”

“Right.” Ego loudly, almost violently, placed the manila folder back down. “If you two are quite finished, I have work to do that does not involve babysitting your little lover's quarrel.” 

“Lover's quarrel? This is not a lover's quarrel-”

“Practice starts at 8:00 a.m. sharp. I expect to see you both there. Dismissed.”

The projection faded to black and suddenly Ego was gone, leaving Isagi yelling into a void. 

“Cheer up, Yoichi.” Kaiser ruffled (read: aggressively jostled) Isagi’s hair, causing him to jerk to the side away from him. “It could be worse.”

“Yeah?” Isagi could feel his eyes begin to hurt from how much he’d been straining them, staring daggers into Kaiser. “How, exactly?”

The pompous asshole just winked at him. 

★

Isagi killed the ball, its momentum dissolving into his body, before immediately sending it back to Kurona, phasing past Kunigami before he has the chance to steal it away. Hiori was on his left, and he could begin to see fragments of a goal forming as streaks of light blue moved with liquid grace towards the goal post. 

Kurona orbited around him, following but not quite understanding. He dribbled past Raichi, the latter yelling out in frustration as he did, before sending a swift pass back to Isagi and falling back. His side braid swung gently as he brought his bib up to his face, wiping the sweat from it. 

Isagi can see it. He can see his goal, feel the ball lock against the inside of his foot, the sound of the ball against the back of the net. He twists his body in response, positioning himself to pass to Hiori. Steadfast blue on his left, trusting and loyal and always there to assist-

But his left wasn’t light blue anymore. Eclipsing it in its stead was a dark, dark blue and blonde. And his goal wasn’t something he could feel anymore; now all he felt was the fake grass against his cheek as he tripped over Kaiser’s extended leg. 

A loud whistle blew through the speakers. “Foul. Goal kick for the bibs.” 

Kaiser shook his head in annoyance. “You wouldn’t have tripped if you didn’t have the core strength of an inebriated cat.” 

“ You wouldn’t have to foul me if you could steal the ball properly .” 

Kaiser scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he turned away. “Oh, please. That was barely a tap. If you went down that easily in a real match, you’d be stretchered off before halftime.”

“You-”

“Alright, that's enough.” Noel Noa got up from his spot spectating on the benches. Even from this distance Isagi could make out the way his eyeliner crinkled in annoyance at the younger’s antics. “Take five. Isagi, Kaiser, we need to talk.”

“Look at what you did, asshole.”

Kaiser smirked, utterly unfazed. “Relax, Noa Jr. You’re acting like he’s about to ground us.”

Isagi’s eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”

Hiori had jogged up to his side now, gaze flicking between the two of them before settling on Isagi. He held out his hand. “You alright?”

Isagi took his stretched arm, pulling himself up. “Fine.”

“He’s scared of getting yelled at by his idol , obviously.” 

Isagi exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders back as he took a step away from Kaiser and towards Hiori. His ankle throbbed faintly from where he'd gone down, the weight of the fall still lingering in his muscles. 

“You sure you’re good?” Hiori knelt down, gently cradling Isagi's ankle in his palms and rotating it carefully to check for damage. 

Isagi shifted his stance, rolling his foot in slow circles before waiving Hiori away. “No yeah, it’s nothing. What actually hurts is having Kaiser as a teammate.”

Kaiser had strolled away towards Noa by now, and couldn’t hear Isagi’s biting remarks (though, he almost wished he could). 

Hiori got back up, patting him on the shoulder. “Well, you better get used to it. Especially now that you have chocolates to sell.” 

He shot him a mock scowl. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Anytime,” Hiori replied with an amused smile before walking towards where Kurona and Yukimiya were resting. 

After rolling his ankle a couple more times to test its stability, Isagi took a deep breath and jogged to catch up to Kaiser, steeling himself for whatever scolding Noa had in store for them.

Noa crossed his arms, watching them approach with thinly veiled exasperation. “You two done?”

“Clearly not. You pulled us out halfway through the game.” Kaiser rolled his eyes and Isagi couldn’t help but wonder how someone could be this insufferable. He could almost understand Kaiser’s attitude towards him, but this was Noel Noa for crying out loud. If Kaiser couldn’t respect him then there was no shot he’d ever respect anyone. 

The arrogance radiating from the German striker was suffocating, like a physical weight pressing against his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to maintain composure while his thoughts raced.

Isagi crossed his arms behind his back, clearing his throat in an attempt to void Kaiser’s incivility. “You wanted to speak with us?”

Noa shared a look between the pair before his eyes fixed on Isagi. “Not me.” He picked out two envelopes Isagi hadn’t noticed were beside him until now. “Lindt, actually. It’s your timetable.”

Had Isagi not known the forthcoming letter was the chocolate equivalent of a death sentence, he’d almost be excited to open it. The envelope had a delightful little Lindor shaped stamp sealing it, which Isagi did his best to avoid while tearing open. 

He may hate the campaign, but a cute stamp was a cute stamp. 

“Since you guys are the main feature for the campaign, Lindt sent your guys’ schedule out ahead of everyone else’s.” Noa turned to face Kaiser now, “Looks like you guys have a shoot lined up today.”

Today? That was fast. 

“I thought the campaign was for White Day?”

“Yeah, doofus.” Kaiser didn’t bother opening his letter, instead shoving it into his shorts’ pocket. “No competent company starts an advertisement campaign the day of the event.”

“I know that, idiot. I’m asking,” Isagi’s voice dropped in pitch, “because it isn’t even Valentine’s yet.”

“At least act like you’ve been here before, Yoichi.” Kaiser’s tone was a blend of mockery and amusement, “You really think Lindt isn’t preparing months in advance for this kind of thing? Not everyone just throws stuff together at the last minute like you do.”

“Get it together, you two.” Noa pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want Bastard München’s good name stained because you guys can’t get along for a month.” 

Isagi looked down at his schedule. He had five shoots lined up with Kaiser, every Friday until the week before White Day, save for the one shoot set on the Thursday before Valentine’s Day. 

The one today was set for the afternoon, with the others lined up earlier in the morning—he’d probably be skipping practice for them. 

He groaned. 

“Their team requested you come in early today to get a feel for the environment, so I expect you guys to be ready by midday.” 

“Since when did you become my manager?” Kaiser was already stepping back onto the pitch, clearly uninterested in the conversation.

“I’m just relaying the information given to me.” Noa narrowed his eyes at him. “Whether you choose to listen to me is beyond my control.” 

Isagi sighed, feeling the weight of the upcoming schedule already pressing on him. Five shoots with Kaiser. The thought made his head spin.

★

Isagi had known the campaign director for less than thirty minutes before he’d come to the realisation that contract termination may have been the easier route. 

“I’m picturing,” He ushered (shoved) the pair towards a vision board, “rivals brought together through the power of chocolate.” 

Photos and rough sketches of sunsets over a cliff and couples hand feeding each other littered the board, connected with a red string as if he was trying to solve some confectionary-themed murder mystery. 

The director popped a Lindor into his mouth, half-spitting as he spoke. “You guys like chocolate?”

“Sure.” Isagi half-mindedly answered, eyes still rummaging through the vision board. He had pictures of him and Kaiser hung up as well, some of their on field interactions connected to the sunset pictures. The pictures were scattered haphazardly, and the string connecting them seemed to have absolutely zero coherence from what Isagi could make out.

The director quipped his head to the side, thinking, before bringing Isagi’s hand up to Kaiser’s chin. 

“Woah what-”

He stepped back, using his fingers like a picture frame. “No, no, this won’t do at all.” He swallowed before pulling out another chocolate, unwrapping the packaging with one hand. “Isagi, bring your hand to Kaiser’s lips.”

Isagi pulled his hand away almost reflexively. “I’m sorry, what?”

The director waved his hand dismissively, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "It’s all practice for the shot." He didn’t give Isagi a chance to protest further, stepping in and adjusting his footing so he was closer to Kaiser with an air of practiced authority.

"Come on, Yoichi.” Kaiser stepped closer towards him, unfazed, “We haven’t even started shooting and you’re already chickening out?”

Hesitantly, reluctantly, Isagi brought his hand back up—not without a violent flush creeping up his neck. He stopped short of Kaiser’s lips by mere inches, and he could feel the warmth of his breath on his fingers.

“It’s…” The director pouted, almost like he was expecting more from them. “Fine.”

Fine? Isagi tugged his hand away. If that was fine then he was already dreading what other ideas this ‘director’ had in store for them. 

“Whatever. Go get changed so we can shoot.” 

★

“Give me romance!”  

Isagi had just finished spending the past two hours getting his hair pulled, washed, blow-dried and gelled, his face powdered like a cookie. Considering how long he spent practicing at Blue Lock, he didn’t expect to be so exhausted from a photoshoot. 

Of course, the director wasn’t making it any easier. He was practically pacing, barking out orders with the intensity of a coach during a match—hell, Noa didn’t even yell at them this much.

“Closer!” He waved his megaphone around, “Are you feeding him chocolates or giving him a handshake?!” The director glared at Isagi and Kaiser, as if the very fabric of their existence was ruining his shot.

They were sat on a picnic bench outside, with the sun about to set behind them. Isagi had never realised how manufactured advertisements were until then—everything from the folds of the tablecloth to the shine on the Lindor in his hand was planned out, meticulously put together by some overworked staff member. 

“You!” The director turned his attention away from Isagi and Kaiser for a second and instead focused it on the intern next to him. “Who told you to put the fairy lights hanging over the third branch?” 

“U-uhm,” she stammered, gripping onto her clipboard, “you did, s-sir.”

“I said the second branch!” He popped in another Lindor, “Well?”

“Y-yes, I’m on it, sir!” 

Isagi rolled the chocolate in his hand, feeling sorry for the poor woman. She didn’t look that much older than them—not that they were getting any better treatment.

The director moved towards the camera centering the entire scene, pressing his eye onto the viewfinder. “Quick! Like we practiced.” He motioned towards Isagi, “The sun’s about to set.”

Isagi held the round Lindor between his index and thumb, hesitating before shoving it near Kaiser’s face.

“No! No!” The director gestured with both hands dramatically, chocolate in one, his megaphone in the other. “This is for White Day, not a game of chess! Where’s the passion?!” 

Kaiser let out a low chuckle as he leaned closer. “You heard the man. Where’s the passion?”

Isagi shot him a glare, “This is insane.”

The director cut in, hands on his hips. “No, this is art. Now, romanticize it!” 

How Isagi was meant to romanticize anything in the presence of a man clearly going senile, he wasn’t entirely sure. Despite this, he did his best at summoning some kind of charm, blinking away the exhaustion that was slowly taking over. He wasn’t sure why, but having his face covered in so much product made everything feel foreign. It all felt so forced, awkward.

“Wrong! It’s all wrong!” He pointed at Isagi’s hand—which had been hovering awkwardly near Kaiser’s face for what felt like hours now—with his megaphone. “You’re holding that chocolate like it’s a grenade. You’re supposed to make him want to eat it!”

Isagi, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, glanced over at Kaiser for some kind of support. Kaiser, however, was far too entertained by the situation, giving him a devil-may-care smile in mock encouragement. 

“Make me want to eat it, Yoichi.”

Isagi, admittedly, had little experience modeling before this, but if every director was this abrasive, and if every co-model was this arrogant, then he supposed this was his potential modeling career down the drain. A branch of his metaphorical fig tree withered and replaced with Lindors. 

“Look at him not the chocolate-” He could see him pop in another chocolate in his peripheral as he spoke, “Goddammit Sandra! What did I say about the tablecloth!”

Isagi took a deep breath, mentally bracing himself for whatever ridiculous demand the director would throw at him next. His eyes flickered to Kaiser’s for just a split second before quickly looking away, feeling like he might combust from the sheer awkwardness.

“What are you doing? You’re ruining my shot!”

Kaiser, ever the professional, gave him an exaggerated wink as he scooted closer. “Come on, Yoichi, let’s give the man what he wants.”

Isagi leaned in closer, his hand trembling slightly as he held the chocolate out, not quite meeting Kaiser’s open mouth, but close enough to where the feeding motion could be inferred. 

It was exactly like before—it should’ve been fine .

But of course it wasn’t fine . Because this was Kaiser, and nothing ever turned out just fine with him.

Without warning, Kaiser took his hand by his wrist, his touch searing into Isagi’s skin like a hot plate, and closed the distance. Isagi’s face was burning at the touch—they did not practice this.

He could feel every point of contact between them like electric currents, jolting through his system and short-circuiting his thoughts. Kaiser's eyes never left his, boring into him with an intensity that made Isagi's heart hammer wildly against his ribcage.

He feared he’d smush the Lindor from how tense he was, but save for some melting he managed to avert the disaster. 

His fingers brushed against Kaiser’s bottom lip. Isagi didn’t know what expression his face was making, but what he did know was he would’ve been a shade of red deeper than the sunset behind him had it not been for the powder. 

“Hold it-” Isagi heard some clicking as he, with difficulty, kept Kaiser’s gaze, replicating none of his intensity. “Perfect! Perfect!” The director started nodding like a madman, clapping his hands together in glee. “That was perfect!”

Kaiser bit into the ball with an overdone flourish, pulling away from Isagi with an almost frightening duality. Isagi sat frozen for a moment, wondering what the hell just happened, but Kaiser’s grin never left his face as he chewed, completely unbothered.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

★

The RAW’s came in that Thursday, the day before their next shoot—one with the other members.

Isagi felt his stomach twist as he scrolled through the images. 

He looked so… flustered. 

The photos were professional, polished even in their unedited state. That somehow made it worse. The composition emphasized the stark contrast between Kaiser's controlled confidence and Isagi's obvious lack thereof. 

He quickly swiped to the next image, hoping it would show him in a more composed state, but each photo told the same embarrassing story. Kaiser looked completely at ease in every shot. Smug, confident, like this was all some elaborate game he was effortlessly winning. 

Isagi looked horribly out of his depth. 

“Let me see!” Hiori lunged onto his bed. Isagi clicked his phone off before he could sneak a peek. “Hey!”

“No way,” Isagi shot back, shoving his phone under his pillow.

Hiori narrowed his eyes at him. “That bad?”

Isagi rolled his eyes. “It’s the damn director. He wants us to do these stupid poses and of course Kaiser has way too much fun with it.” Isagi dragged his hand down his face. “And I have to do four more of these!”

Hiori gave Isagi a smirk. “At least let me see ‘em, they’re gonna be public eventually ya know.”

Kunigami entered through their dorm door then, towel resting on his shoulders and catching the droplets of sweat dripping from the ends of his hair. 

“See what?” He looked over at the two. 

Great.  

Hiori forced Isagi off his pillow and reached for his phone. “The Lindt photos!” Isagi tried fighting back but lost grip on his phone when Hiori pried his thumb off it. 

Maybe when they were still in the initial stages of Blue Lock, the idea of Kunigami seeing these photos wouldn’t have been as mortifying. Ever since he came back from whatever they did to him at Wild Card, however, the prospect of him seeing anything remotely embarrassing in relation to Isagi felt ten times worse. It almost felt as bad as Noa seeing them.

Hell, the man looked like he just came back from fighting a bear (and winning)—the last thing Isagi needed was for Kunigami to see him looking like a blushing rookie next to Kaiser.

“Hm,” Kunigami patted his hair as he watched Hiori press in digits into his phone, trying to figure out the password. “Try 0104.”

All Isagi could do was watch in horror as his treacherous phone unlocked to a picture of him hand-feeding Kaiser. His heart sank into his stomach.

“How did you-”

“You mentioned you were born on April fools once.” Kunigami shrugged, his tone revealing nothing. “And you seem like the type to have your birthday as your phone password.”

He didn’t even have the time to take offense to the last part from how loud Hiori had snorted. “Oh my god. ”

Hiori covered his mouth with one hand, barely containing his laughter as he brought the phone up for Kunigami to see. Kunigami peered over his shoulder, silently examining the photo with that unreadable gaze that had become his trademark since returning.

Isagi silently prayed a meteor would strike him.

After what felt like a century (maybe five seconds?) he heard Kunigami let out a low whistle. “Jeez. That’s a tough one to live down.”

“I- give me that!” Isagi lunged, but Hiori twisted out of reach.

“No, no, we need to appreciate this,” Hiori wheezed between laughs. “Are they seriously gonna use this?”

Isagi winced. “I hope not.”

The worst part wasn't even Hiori's merciless teasing—he’d gotten used to that by this point—it was the way Kunigami's eyes kept flicking between the photo and Isagi's face, as if comparing the two versions of him. 

“Why?”

Isagi paused his attempt to wrestle his phone back. “Why?”

“Why’d you do this?”

The tips of his ears burned slightly. “It wasn’t like it was my choice. Ego said I had to.”

“No, I know that.” Kunigami’s expression remained stoic, his voice flat and even. “I mean, why’d you let Kaiser beat you like that?”

Isagi shot him a glance, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. “Beat me?”

“You’re always competing with him on the field,” Kunigami continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, “didn’t think you’d let him get the upper hand on you in a photoshoot.” He knit his eyebrows before turning away, his posture unchanged, like the conversation was already over for him.

Which it was. The conversation, at least for Kunigami, was definitely over. 

Isagi felt a twitch of frustration but kept his response cool. “It’s not like that.”

Kunigami didn’t seem to hear him—or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. He just pulled out his bag of toiletries from their closet and closed the door behind him, his implied disappointment hanging in the air. 

“Well,” Hiori cut through the silence. “It definitely looks like that.” He waved his phone in front of him, stealing his attention back, before Isagi finally managed to snatch it back from him. 

“Shut up.” His words had a little more bite to them than he’d meant them to and he immediately regretted the way Hiori’s shoulders dropped in response.

He gave him a weird look before speaking up again, voice quieter but still teasing. “Ya know, Isagi, ya’ve beaten Kaiser on the pitch before.”

“Which just makes this” he tossed his phone to his side, “that much worse.”

“Or,” Hiori got up, “Ya could just beat him again.”

Isagi glanced at him, still a little lost in his head, before slowly nodding. 

“Yeah. I could.”

★

“Baking!” The director-turned-variety-host exclaimed towards the camera. “An essential first step for any decadent dessert. At Lindt, we pride ourselves on our catalogue of chocolatey recipes, easy enough for anyone to follow along.” He conjured up a makeshift cookbook, frivolously flicking through the pages for the recording. “The question is, can everyone follow along?”

The second shoot in the BLTV x Lindt campaign was more long-form than Isagi had anticipated. He had, foolishly, assumed photoshoots would involve… well… photos. However, he had failed to take into account Lindt’s director when arriving at that conclusion. 

“In honour of White Day, today we have Japan’s newest hot-button topic with us, along with some of their fiercest competitors.” He stepped aside, revealing the three kitchen islands behind him, each with a pair of players in cooking aprons and chef hats. “Will our football prodigies master the art of cheesecake, or do their talents fall short of the kitchen?”

The pairs, save for him and Kaiser, were randomly drawn from a raffle. All that meant, however, was that Isagi was not only subject to Kaiser’s idiocy, but now had to deal with Shidou and Rin’s bickering on the island next to them. 

“Quit your glowering.” Shidou elbowed the younger, “You’re ruining my vibe.” 

Rin shot him a glare, more disgusted than angry. “Don’t touch me.” 

“Now then,” The director stepped back into shot, popping in a Lindor, “the clock is ticking,” he motioned at the timer on the wall, set for sixty minutes, “and I have a hankering for cake—let the game begin!”

Isagi was, by no means, a master chef, but he liked to think he knew his way around the kitchen. 

However, as he looked at the recipe laid out in front of him, lacking any pictures and consisting of nothing but ingredients and steps, he was starting to worry his instant ramen skills were non-transferable. 

Step 1: Grease and line a 20 cm / 8-inch springform tin with non-stick baking paper and set aside.

“Okay, I’ll start with the PAM and you-” 

“Stop.” Kaiser cut him off. He was already unwrapping the dark chocolate, readying his knife to chop it into chunks. “How about I make the cheesecake, and you revel in my genius?”

Isagi could already feel his temper begin to flare. He tried to keep his voice level despite the irritation that threatened to boil over. "I'm not going to just stand here and watch you make cheesecake."

"Why not? You'd certainly learn more that way," Kaiser replied without looking up, chopping a bar of dark and milk chocolate each with practiced ease in a way that almost left Isagi impressed. 

Almost.

“Well, I’m going to grease this pan whether you like it or not,” he snatched up the metal tin left for them on their island, “so how about you try not to fuck up?”

A flicker of something—amusement, maybe?—passed over Kaiser's face before he shrugged. "Fine. Try not to make a mess of it."

Isagi pushed his comically oversized chef hat out of his eyes before violently popping the lid off the spray, making a point to cover every square inch of aluminum in grease. 

In the corner of his eye he could see the director move over to his right, camera crew in tow. “Let’s see how our contestants are starting. Shidou, Rin, mind walking us through your steps?” 

Shidou grinned, clearly relishing in the attention. “Of course! I will be working my hands on the biscuit base.” He gave the camera a wink, despite not holding any biscuits, “Though, I can always work my hands in other ways~”

Rin, who actually did have the biscuits, was immediately covered in crumbs from the way they exploded in his grip. “Can you stop being gross for five fucking seconds-”

The director let out a nervous chuckle, “Now, now, let’s keep this family friendly!”

Shidou leaned back, casually tossing a crumb that landed on his shoulder into the air and catching it in his mouth with a smirk. “What can I say? I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Isagi let out a small snicker before focusing back on his work. 

He finished lining the pan, moving onto measuring out the biscuits and butter. Standing over the scale, he methodologically chopped in slithers of butter as the numbers teetered closer to 100 g.

“What are you, a chemist?” Kaiser scoffed, setting his bowl of chocolate over a pan of simmering water. 

“If this recipe is going to work it’s going to be because I actually bothered to read the instructions, not because you think you can half-ass everything in life.” 

“Not my fault I can half-ass everything and still be better than you.” He brought out his spatula, stirring the melting chocolate, “Football, modelling, cheesecake-”

Kaiser’s listing was cut short by a very loud yelp to Isagi’s right. 

“Are you serious ?” Isagi looked over to find Rin covered in a coat of whipping cream, the tub in Shidou’s hand.

“What? I had to sweeten the mood up somehow.”

Rin sounded like he was on the precipice of using the knife in his hand for something very different to chopping chocolate. “Oh, I know exactly how I’m gonna sweeten the mood-”

“Moving on!” The director ushered his crew over before their White Day campaign became co-opted into a true crime documentary. “How about we check in on Table 3 over here—Bachira, Ness! Some truly phenomenal footwork from the both of you, would you say any of those skills transfer over to baking? ”

Bachira, all smiles, gave a dramatic bow to the camera. “It’s all about improvisation.” 

It was like he was made for the public eye. 

Ness, on the other hand, definitely was not.

He shot him a look, his posture a little more reserved. “And precision.” He carefully folded over the butter and biscuits in his bowl, the contrast between them almost comical.

Bachira began twirling his spatula like a basketball. “Come on, Ness, try it!”

Ness rolled his eyes, “How is that going to help our cheesecake?”

“It won’t,” He caught the handle as it lost balance, spinning it in his hand, “that’s the fun of it.”

“Your version of fun sounds messy.” He muttered, raising an eyebrow at his teammate.

Bachira let out a light-hearted laugh. “Messes are part of the magic! ” He turned back to his melted chocolate, turning down the heat slightly. 

Ness shook his head in apparent disapproval, the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips betraying him. 

“I don’t know about you guys,” The director chirped, “but I can’t wait to see this pair's cheesecake! Now, how about we check in on Kaiser and Isagi?” He gave the camera a sly smirk, “Or as the fans know them, Kaisagi.”

Isagi felt his stomach churn at the nickname, the director’s clear endorsement of it only adding fuel to his frustration. He shot the director a quick, annoyed glance, but the crew was already zooming in on him and Kaiser, clearly eager to see some of their culinary expertise in action.

“How about it, Isagi? Walk us through your process.”

Isagi forced himself to focus, inhaling sharply through his nose before turning to the camera. “Right now, I’m making sure the biscuit base is evenly packed.” He angled the tin towards the camera, “You want it firm enough to hold the filling but not so compact that it turns into a brick.”

He pressed the crumbs into the tin with the bottom of a measuring cup, making sure to layer the pan evenly.

The director didn’t seem too occupied with Isagi’s tin. Instead, he stood behind the camera motioning towards Kaiser and him. 

Up the tension he mouthed. For the camera. 

Isagi felt a storm cloud materialise above him, like some sort of annoyed cartoon character. He didn’t care how much funding this collaboration raked in for Blue Lock, he wasn’t about to be strung around like a wind up doll, bending and flopping at every one of this director’s insane whims.

He turned back to his base when he heard Kaiser’s voice cut through the moment, having transformed into something resembling the director’s TV persona.

“That’s my Yoichi, always so precise.” Isagi turned to look at him in surprise. “Though,” he abandoned his half-tempered chocolate, positioning himself behind Isagi—close enough that the smell of his cologne wrapped around him like a blanket, “you should be pressing harder at the edges to ensure structural integrity. Like this, see?"

Isagi tensed as Kaiser reached around him, hands obnoxiously close as he pressed against the edge of the tin. He couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at the proximity or at how easily Kaiser gave in. 

He was about to pull away, refusing to fall into the director’s mold, when he thought back to Kunigami.

He looked down at Kaiser’s hands on his. They were for show, evidenced by how superficial the touch was. He was just gently grazing his skin, following orders enough for the director to shut up.

They were also, however, more than what Isagi was giving. Isagi had stiffened at the touch on reflex, incapable of reciprocating their supposed chemistry. Whenever Kaiser pushed, all Isagi could do was pull.

He thought he was starting to understand—it wasn’t that he was resisting the director, his pulling was actively making him lose to Kaiser.

Whatever energy Kaiser had given the camera at their photoshoot, Isagi had failed to imitate. It’s why he lost to him last week; if Isagi couldn’t keep up, no matter how humiliating, he’d be left in the dust. Both on camera and on the field. 

And Isagi would be damned if he let Kaiser beat him for a second time.

He schooled his expression into something almost thoughtful, taking a deep breath to clear his head. He intertwined his fingers with Kaiser’s, something Kaiser almost pulled back in surprise at. 

“Hm, like this?” His voice dropped an octave, just enough to be noticeable in the suddenly way-too-quiet kitchen.

Kaiser stilled.

Isagi turned his head slightly, close enough for their breaths to mingle, close enough to watch the faintest flicker of surprise flash through Kaiser’s eyes. “You always have such good insight, Michael .” 

He relished in watching his ears burn red.

The moment stretched, charged with an energy that had absolutely nothing to do with marble double chocolate orange cheesecake. Kaiser wasn’t expecting anything, evidently, and the thought almost made Isagi angry at how sorely he’d underestimated him. 

Isagi wanted to frame his reaction. Stop time for a picture, commit it to memory so he could look back on the day he managed to stun the Michael Kaiser.

Isagi stole a glance towards the director, who was giving the pair a silent thumbs up, but still mouthing for them to turn up the heat.

Kaiser’s smirk returned at the orders, sharp enough to dice chocolate. 

“Careful, Yoichi,” he leaned in closer, lips almost brushing up against the shell of his ear causing Isagi’s cheeks to go traitorously red, “pressing too hard might cause the base to crack.” 

The way the ends of his hair tickled his neck pushed all the air out of Isagi’s lungs. 

“Are they crazy? ” Bachira turned to Ness, who was watching the pair with the same morbid curiosity he’d watch a car crash.

“If they aren’t, they’re definitely getting there.”

The director whistled. He looked like he was practically boiling over with excitement, barely containing the grin stretching across his face. He gestured wildly for the camera crew to get even closer, as if afraid they might miss a single microexpression between the two.

Isagi thinks he might’ve heard some gagging sounds to his right.

★

While Isagi admittedly did enjoy watching Kaiser nonchalance finally crack for a second—even if he immediately bounded back—he almost regretted his stunt from how obsessed the director became with them after that. It took Shidou putting his metal bowl into the microwave and almost burning the set down for him to finally move on from the pair, opting to instead focus on extinguishing the minor fire. 

Isagi looked over at the clock—fifteen minutes left, and the cream still wasn’t whisking to form peaks. 

“What the hell is taking so long?” Kaiser shot him a glare. Now that the cameras were focused on Rin and Shidou again, the pair had abandoned their pretend compliance and had gone back to their usual dynamic (though, something felt slightly charged in a way it wasn’t before). “The filling is going to go stale at this rate.”

Isagi paused the mixer, lifting the top only to be disappointed by how soft and soupy the cream still was. “Does it look like I know?”

“You’re going to over whip it.”

“How is it over whipped if it isn’t even whipped?” Isagi snapped. “You know what, if you’re such a chef, how about you just do it!” He shoved the stand mixer over, small droplets of whipping cream spilling out. 

Kaiser's eyes narrowed, that infuriating smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he carefully wiped a speck of cream from his cheek. "Is this your way of admitting defeat?”

Isagi began slicing an orange for the decoration, “I’m just splitting our tasks properly, since you apparently have all the time in the world.” 

He chuckled, turning the mixer back on. “Just don’t mess up. I don’t need my Valentine’s day ruined before it even starts.”

Isagi stopped mid-slice at that, if only for a second. He’d fully forgotten what day it was tomorrow until then, his focus monopolised by the bake-off. 

Not that it mattered, Isagi didn’t exactly have anything lined up. 

He never did, truthfully. 

The last time he had experienced anything adjacent to ‘romance’ was back in the second grade, when a girl gifted him a dead flower she picked up off the side of the road. And even then it was nothing more than a childish dare. 

Really, he’d begun losing interest (hope) in romance altogether come his sixteenth birthday, instead devoting himself fully to his sport. He didn’t mind it, is what he told himself. He didn’t mind watching his friends get into relationships while he’d never so much as gone on a date before, because he had a football dream to nurture. No one would tend to his athleticism for him, and that was justification enough to drown whatever feelings he’d develop down to where they’d never meet the surface. 

And if he stayed up at night, heart twisting in fear of never being known, that was no one’s business but his own.

Isagi continued slicing his orange, pressing on them with perhaps more force than what was necessary. 

“Ten minutes left, folks!” The director yelled into the camera. “And then it’s into the freezer to chill.”

Kaiser stopped the mixer, content with the cream’s finally stiff peaks. He pulled the filling over, carefully folding it in. “Pass me the base.”

Isagi, still a little lost in his thoughts, glanced up at Kaiser, watching the way the studio lights filtered through his lashes and onto his cheeks like gold sifting through sand. 

The words weren’t his, and the question wasn’t even relevant enough for him to care. 

Yet.

“Do you have plans?”

Kaiser looked slightly taken aback from how abruptly the question came up. “What?”

“For Valentine’s day, I mean.”

Kaiser reached out for the pan himself, clearly still thrown by Isagi’s sudden mood swing. “What does it matter to you?”

His answer bothered him in a way Isagi couldn't quite pinpoint. “Just making conversation. Forget it.”

Kaiser began pouring doloups of the bowl’s contents into the biscuit base, the weird look he was giving Isagi dissolving into the fine lines of face.

Isagi shook his head, letting his mind wander back to his current realm of existence, his chest still a little tighter than what he was used to. 

He finished with his orange slices, now moving on to coating them in a layer of sugar syrup. His fingers worked on autopilot, dunking each slice with precision, until his train of thought was abruptly derailed by-

“How do you mess up sugar water?” He heard Ness’ voice ring through the air from beside him. “It’s literally sugar and water .”

Isagi glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Bachira staring down at the pot on the stove with an expression of pure betrayal. The sight reminded him of a rained on puppy.

“It’s burnt,” Bachira muttered, almost in disbelief. “How the hell did I burn sugar water?”

Ness let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing the inner corner of his eyes with his index and thumb. “It’s… fine. We'll figure something out.”

“Five minutes on the clock, what ever will Team Three do?” Isagi turned back to his oranges, putting his syrup down as the director moved his way towards the table behind him. “Start over? Or come up with a solution at the last minute?”

Isagi watched Kaiser top off the rest of the pan with filling, gently dragging a toothpick across the surface to create an intricate marble pattern. Isagi had never thought Kaiser as someone this proficient in the kitchen—he'd just assumed he'd be the type to proclaim himself above the trivialities of cooking. “And I thought we would be the disaster team.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kaiser leaned back as he stretched his fingers. “If anything, you should be grateful you got paired with someone on my culinary level.”

“In your dreams.”

Kaiser smirked. “And just how often do you dream of me, Yoichi?”

Isagi rolled his eyes. He wanted to up the ante without any cameras? Fine. 

“I dream of you plenty, Michael.” He forced his name out like a needle through plastic, pleased with how it still made Kaiser falter. “Only when I’m trying to fall asleep, though.”

Kaiser placed the toothpick down and leaned on the kitchen island, face resting in the palm of his hand. “That’s rich coming from someone who was practically drooling over me in our last photoshoot.” 

Isagi felt his cheeks warm as the realisation that Kaiser also got the RAW’s yesterday began to sink in. And that he now had this permanent ammunition to use against him. “You’re delusional.”

“Sure.” He twirled a whisk in his hand. “And I suppose you're blushing because of the fire?"

“Get away from me you freak.” Rin threw a metal bowl at Shidou with surprising precision. His hair was still shiny, coated in a film of sugar from Shidou’s tub of whipping cream.

Shidou dodged right before the metal made contact, the edge of the dish brushing against the ends of his hair. “With that aim, it’s no wonder you’ll never be the best in the world.” 

“I’ve scored twice as many goals as you, dumbass.” He picked up a spare spatula, getting ready to make another shot. “And you don’t even need eggs for this recipe, you idiot!”

Shidou held a dozen eggs in his left arm, something Isagi could only assume he found while rummaging through the back. “Yeah maybe.” He tossed one into the air, catching it in his right hand. “But you know what I do need them for?” 

Isagi heard the splat before he saw him throw it. 

He whipped his head around, expecting to see Rin—covered in egg yolk, face twisted in pure rage. But to Isagi’s absolute horror, Rin was fine.

No, Rin had learnt from earlier that Shidou near anything breakable, non-microwaveable or in tub-form meant his reflexes had to be in overdrive. Rin had dodged Shidou’s throw. 

The egg had splattered on the director .

Silence. 

Ness and Bachira suddenly seemed much less concerned about their failed syrup.

Shidou, to his credit, blinked in mild surprise. “Huh.” He looked at his now-empty hand. “Did not mean to do that.”

Isagi thinks he sees a vein pop out of the director's forehead, starkly contrasting his otherwise (attempted) composure. “Wow!” He used the back of his hand to, aggressively, wipe the yolk off his cheek. “Talk about passion!”

“You could probably cook the damn thing from how hot his face is right now.” Kaiser quipped under his breath, quiet enough that Isagi was the only one who could hear, with the corners of his mouth curling into a smile.

Isagi couldn’t help the snort which preceded him, despite his best efforts. 

★

They ended up winning the competition. If only because Rin and Shidou's cheesecake didn't freeze (because of course it didn't—Isagi swore he saw Shidou use caramelised milk instead of whipping cream at some point) and Bachira and Ness had given up on the candied oranges entirely. 

It was close, however.

The director wrote about how much he appreciated the marbling on his and Kaiser's cake.

★

Isagi clicked his phone off after reading the last sentence. Marbling? He scoffed. Who cares about marbling when my base was the whole reason we had a cake in the first place.

He could not believe he woke up at 5 am to bake all to lose to marbling.

Marbling! It was like no matter what he did, Kaiser somehow managed to get the edge up on him with nothing but the absolute bare minimum. Isagi dribbles through the whole team? Oh, but Kaiser scored the winning goal! Isagi starts a chemical reaction? Wow, how was Kaiser at the right place for that receive? 

The universe was sending him a sign, and the sign looked like a giant middle finger.  

He stomped around the Blue Lock halls, looking for a way to blow off steam. 

The facilities were emptier than usual—many of the players had been called in for filming, which Lindt had scheduled back to back after the baking stuff. Of course, this just meant Isagi was heading straight to the pitch to practice.

He had cheesecake-related anger to let out, after all.

Isagi stomped past the canteens and straight towards the end of the corridor, where he knew no one had scheduled use of the field. Not for the next couple of hours, at least. 

He’d checked the schedule that morning, and once again after getting back to Blue Lock. 

However, as he poked his head through the door, all he could do was groan at the person already inside.

It seemed Kaiser had beaten him here too—and judging by the sweat running down his forehead, it was by a lot. 

Isagi felt like he was about to lose his goddamn mind. 

Granted, he was never the best at literature in school, but he knew a metaphor when he saw one.  

He was about to turn away, opting to train in the gym instead, when Kaiser made a shot for the goal. He was almost at the halfway line, nowhere near where he usually took them.

Isagi had witnessed Kaiser’s shooting before, both in person and for the 17th time on repeat while studying game recordings. And yet, after all this time, he’d be lying if he said it had lost its grandeur. 

It was still Isagi’s depiction of a near perfect shot. The speed at which his foot connected with the ball, at the perfect angle, all calculated for the corner of the goal—it was so logical . So meticulously planned out and perfected, like he’d somehow whispered to the ball where to go. 

But it was more than that. It was logical, yes, but it somehow still made no sense. 

He’d heard Kaiser kick the ball, he’d seen the force with which he hit it with, yet it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t disruptive. The ball was accepting of it, almost. It didn’t fight back against Kaiser, instead letting him guide it exactly where he wanted, allowing him to vent whatever emotion he had pent up into his kick. 

“Are you just going to continue ogling at me or do you plan on saying anything?” Kaiser turned around, making direct eye contact with Isagi. 

Isagi blinked out of his trance, the ball hitting the back of the net serving as background noise to his welcome back to Earth. 

“Uh,” He continued blinking. “I was-”

“Awestruck? At a loss of words?” He crossed his arms, a stupid, annoying, stupid, smirk dancing on his lips—like he didn’t look absolutely spent. “Getting ready to resign from being a striker at the realisation you’ll never be on my level?”

Isagi deadpanned, any sense of admiration melting like the ice which steeled his voice. “About to leave.”

“Shame. You could really use with the practice.”

Isagi stopped in his tracks, an emotion a notch above annoyance coming over him. “You know what, fine.” He took his own shot at the goal with one of the balls near him. “You, me. One on one. First to score wins.” The net made a whooshing sound as the ball connected with the goal. “We’ll see who needs practice after this.”

Kaiser, who’d turned around, looked back up. The crazed excitement in his eyes almost doing a good enough job at eclipsing the exhaustion that hid behind them, “Now that’s more like it.”

★

Isagi made a slide bordering on a foul for the ball, his attempted tackle becoming a hurdle for Kaiser to jump over. 

He gritted his teeth.

Kaiser dribbled past the midfield partition, Isagi soon getting back up despite the protest from his knees. 

They’d both nearly scored once by then, Kaiser first and Isagi not even five minutes after. Kaiser managed to get possession first, faking out in one direction and causing Isagi to nearly break his ankle before making a run for the goal. Isagi barely managed to keep up, a desperate swing of his instep being the only difference between Kaiser and a goal.

Isagi quickly managed to gain back composure, however, using the opportunity to steal the ball back. He used Kaiser’s near-goal as inspiration for his own, modeling his shot after the way he slipped by him. He faked out twice in opposite directions as he dribbled in the opposite direction before making a clean shot straight at the upper right corner of the goal. 

It would’ve gone in, too, had Kaiser not somehow cleared it with a mid-air scorpion kick.

Kaiser started the next match-up, and from the looks of it, he was about to win. For the third time.

Isagi wasn’t as fast as Kaiser, but he wouldn’t let that stop a second slide tackle—one Kaiser wouldn’t be able to predict. One that would finally stop him.

He braced himself for the inevitable sting of the grass against his skin, flinging himself forward, feet first. His socks bunched as he did, the friction pulling them up. 

The soles of his cleats made contact first. 

His vision was blurred by the sweat in his eyes, but he could tell he hadn’t made contact with the ball just from the vague figure he saw roll forward. 

A soft body soon appeared on Isagi’s right where before there was only grass.

The ball, neither tackled nor shot, ended up rolling away, though still in bounds. 

Isagi covered his face in his hands, panting heavy from exhaustion, before turning to his side to find Kaiser. His cheeks were red, prickles of blood and sweat dotting his skin. He looked more frustrated than anything, his chest heaving as he took in air.

Isagi wanted to scream. What more would it take to beat him? He was barely keeping up with him as is, his plays resembling blunders more than anything as the match went on.  

What would it take to get inside Kaiser’s head? 

Isagi didn't get up, instead studying the man next to him. He looked worn—much more so than Isagi was. He thought this would give him some sort of advantage, the fact that Kaiser had already been practicing and was clearly running on depleted energy, but whatever advantage it did give him was ultimately futile to Isagi scoring. 

Not that Isagi wanted the advantage. He'd much rather beat him at his best, to know he'd surpassed him fully and truly.

The idea of beating him had become so foreign by then, so distant, that he hadn’t even begun to consider what he would do when he did. What would he do once he'd beaten Kaiser?

Isagi turned the idea around in his mind for a moment, each possibility coming to a head one way or another.

He’d have to find someone else to devour is what he concluded. Beating a new-gen-11 was grounds for making his way up the ranks—he'd have to aim higher. He could go for the World 5, the club mentors. Noel Noa, even.

The thought made him a little ill. 

The floodlights washed out Kaiser’s skin in a way that made the blue painting the ends of his hair and the side of his neck stand out more. His ponytail was in complete disarray, strands of his hair splaying across his face, which only concentrated more of Isagi’s attention on the blue which seemed to trail every aspect of his appearance. 

He was red, too. The eyeliner which somehow hadn't come off yet; the flush veiling his jaw. 

Isagi had never noticed he had a scar on his forehead. It was faint, pink from age, but it was there. Jagged, sharp, and completely out of place with the rest of his polished, almost royal appearance. 

It lined his temple, wandering against his hairline before disappearing entirely. A scar of that length, no matter how faint now, was sure to have hurt. 

The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them or his mind could catch up with what he was asking.

“What happened?”

Kaiser hummed, as if to say what happened when?

“Your forehead.”

Kaiser brought his hand up to the scar, gently passing over it like muscle memory. 

“History.”

“And what's history?”

“Just that.” He let his arm fall beside him as he turned to look at Isagi. “History.”

Isagi wasn't sure why he hadn't gotten up yet. He could probably make a run for it right then, take advantage of Isagi’s inattention, score and beat him once and for all. He knew he and Kaiser shared the same hunger for greatness. Kaiser could very easily move on to bigger goals right then, set his eyes onto grander challenges.

Isagi didn't take his eyes off him, trying to decipher what he meant. His expression betrayed nothing and Isagi was left wondering if history meant anything at all.

”I’m bored.” Kaiser was the first to get up. “This is boring. I’m done.”

Chapter Text

Apparently, the bake-off was a one-of-a-kind shoot for the collaboration—the other ads involved a lot less baking and much more posing, as Isagi was informed.

“I see what ya mean,” Hiori leaned into his side as he stretched his arm, “that director guy was crazy. Kept talking ‘bout eggs.”

“I've dealt with worse if I'm being honest.” Yukimiya leaned back on the heel of his foot, extending his hamstring. “Photography does something to your head. Or maybe it's the other way around.”

Isagi half-listened to their conversation, rolling his shoulders back and exhaling as he raised his arms above his head. He interlocked his fingers as he lifted them towards the ceiling, palms facing up. 

It was getting late, and most of the other players had decided to either go back to their dorms by then, still tired from their shoot (the director took at least two full days to recover from) or they were out for Valentine’s day. 

Isagi assumed Kaiser had gone out for the night, if his non-answer from the bake-off yesterday was anything to go by. It must've been someone important if he refused to even divulge whether he had plans or not, avoiding Isagi’s question like an active missile.

It made sense, once he thought about it. Kaiser was good looking and extroverted. He didn't need manners or a personality when he could cruise through life sustained by nothing but his golden-blue hair and his stupid cerulean eyes. 

He tilted his neck, feeling the tug of his muscles. His hair fell gently to the side.

He wondered if he used special eyeliner for the occasion. He wouldn't put it past him to have a vintage, ultra-luxury red pigment extracted from some sort of extinct plant. 

Isagi scoffed at the thought of Kaiser pulling his eye delicately taut to make sure he got the red in the exact same position he always did. Right under his lower eyelid, blended into his waterline. 

He probably saved his cheap stuff for things he deemed below him—the bake-off, the NEL, their photoshoots. Isagi had worked so hard, he'd sacrificed so much to get where he was, and Kaiser treated everything like it was some sort of joke. 

“When's ya’r next shoot, Isagi?”

“Hm?” Isagi snapped out of his monologue at Hiori's question. “Oh, next week. It's every Friday until the 7th.”

“That's tough, I can't imagine having t’deal with that guy for three more weeks.”

Isagi couldn't agree more. The thought of Kaiser on an expensive date at an expensive restaurant with some expensive girl while Isagi was here training made him physically ill.

“Yeah, no kidding. Michael Kaiser’s a real piece of work.”

Just saying his name reminded Isagi of the smug look on his face during filming. The way he pressed up against him over a biscuit base , giving into the director’s every whim, trying to one-up him at every corner. Because being a football-model-baking prodigy wasn’t enough for him, apparently. 

He's probably going to be pushed up like that against some random girl later tonight. Or maybe he already was. And here Isagi was wasting his precious youth training . 

Isagi felt a cold sweat wash over him, suddenly feeling like he seriously needed to puke. 

He unlinked his fingers before the nausea overtook him, the pit of his stomach feeling like it was made of lead, and looked back towards Yukimiya and Hiori who'd gone quiet since Isagi’s last comment. They looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

They blinked, once, then twice before sharing a look between the two. Isagi couldn’t make out the expression on their faces—concern?

“What?” The words came out more breathless than he'd expected them to, the feeling of Kaiser's lips against his ear still fresh in his mind. 

“No one said anything about Kaiser, Isagi.”

★

The next couple of days were certainly entertaining. For Hiori and Yukimiya, of course. 

For Isagi, however,

“What do you guys wanna train today?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What’s Kaiser training~?”

“Wow, this steak’s really good!”

“Ya should take some for Kaiser.”

“Did you know Noa uses contacts?”

“Did Michael tell you that?”

★

“Have you ever heard of the term praline?”

Kaiser deadpanned. “You know I’m German, right?”

The director didn’t seem to hear him. Or care, for that matter. “It’s a term in the chocolate industry (“It’s a term in the German language -”) for high-end chocolates.”

Isagi didn’t really seem to understand what that had to do with the arrow heart headband currently in his hands. “So, basically, assorted chocolates.”

“Yes, but no.” The director pulled out a toga from his duffel bag. “ Pralinen are chocolates of utmost class, (“Again, it’s literally just a German word-”) the culmination of what we want to push here at Lindt.”

He pushed the toga at Kaiser, who turned his nose up at the attire. “And this involves a toga, how?”

“What’s more classy than Rome?” He pulled out a pair of soft, white wings and a wooden bow, shoving them both into Kaiser’s reluctant arms, “and what’s more Roman than Cupid!” 

★

Isagi sat waiting for his makeup artist to finish, half mindedly fiddling with his headband in his seat. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with this week's concept, but then again, when was he?

He could, at the very least, admit that having to wear a headband and a linen shirt was leagues below a toga and wings . 

Again, not that he was thrilled. 

“How does this feel?” The makeup artist gently powdered his nose. 

If Isagi were to be honest, he’d probably tell her that he hated it. Not the makeup itself, but how it felt. He never quite got over feeling like a powdered biscuit. 

However, Isagi wasn’t the type to complain (at least, off-field he wasn’t) so he usually let it go. 

“Great.” He worried his face would crack like papier-mâché. 

She pulled away from him, and Isagi instead focused his attention back onto his headband. The arrow seemed slightly bent—presumably from how it was stuffed into the director’s duffel bag with the remainder of their props. He tried bending it back up to offset the weird curve. 

He was too busy to notice Kaiser walk in immediately.

Isagi had seen Kaiser shirtless before—of course he had. They were on the same team, shared a changing room, got fitted for uniforms together. 

Kaiser wasn’t even shirtless ; he had the white toga slung over his shoulder, tied onto his matching white shorts. You could barely even see his abdomen—the most that was visible was a patch of skin leading down from his collarbone, following his rose tattoo.

Isagi almost broke the arrow.

“Perfect!” The director clapped, “The set’s almost ready, so if you’ll both step out, we can get this show on the road.”

Kaiser looked at his reflection in the vanity mirror, less than amused. “This definitely isn't what they wore in Rome.”

“It’s a costume!” The director waved away as he stepped out the door, “It doesn’t need to be perfect.”

“Nevermind perfect, it isn’t even good .”

“Never knew you were big on Roman history.” Isagi hoped he sounded at least somewhat normal.

“I don’t need to be a history geek to know this is wrong .” He looked over at him. “And what’s with you?”

He gave him a confused look. 

“I know most of what we have left from Rome are statues, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one, too.”

Isagi would probably be a little more offended if he wasn’t right. 

★

The concept itself was decently simple. Isagi just had to pretend to be wounded by one of Kaiser’s arrows, and according to the director, they’d edit in a box of pralinen (“just say chocolate for the love of -” ) between them in post. 

The problem came from, as Kaiser would put it, Yoichi’s conversion to stoicism . 

“Just, improvise it like last time!” The director called out, “Make sure I feel something .”

It wasn’t that Isagi was trying to go stone faced. He just genuinely felt like his face was made from plaster—it was somehow worse than their first photoshoot.

Isagi thinks he tried to smile. 

“Don’t… Don’t do that.” 

He slumped over the rock he was propped up against in defeat. 

“Awh, and we were doing so well these past two weeks.” Kaiser’s appearance bore an effect on Isagi for maybe a total of four seconds before he was reminded of how insufferable he was, in which case he just went back to (mostly) his usual emotion of annoyance towards him. “What happened, Yoichi?”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’d love to, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a joint photoshoot.” He sounded equally as annoyed, “And not that I’m trying to rush your process , but your inability to affect is eating into the rest of my day.”

Kaiser was the one in a toga and cupid wings, so why in the world was Isagi the embarrassed one here? 

“This is hard , you know. Not all of us are made for stage makeup.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

Isagi shut his eyes in frustration. He was starting to feel a little bad; he was sure the rest of the staff, director included, were probably getting a little sick of this. 

It wasn’t like Isagi desperately wanted to throw away the rest of his day for this photoshoot either, but again, plaster . 

He thanked the universe’s ruling force that their bake-off had been relatively makeup-free (at least, less than usual) because that was stressful enough without this added layer, both metaphorical and literal.

“You’re so useless.” He felt something cold and moist on his skin. His eyes shot open.

Kaiser knelt in front of him, wet–wipe from god-knows-where in hand. 

He gently placed his index finger under Isagi’s jaw, thumb on his chin, as he swiped the towelette across his cheek.

“Hey-” Isagi tried pulling away to no avail, “you’re messing up the makeup-”

“That’s the point, clown.”

Isagi went quiet as Kaiser continued cradling his face, rubbing circles into his cheeks. He wasn’t pressing with enough pressure to take all of it off, instead only wiping away the top layer. He pressed a little harder near his mouth, along the crease of his smile lines. 

This close, Isagi couldn’t help but admit that he looked… good. 

Really good, actually.

Isagi would be a liar for denying it. 

The pure white of the silk making up his toga clashed with the blue petals lining his neck like waves crashing on a beach, sea foam rolling back.

Isagi would also be a liar for denying that his face felt a lot freer wherever Kaiser pressed his thumb.

A lot warmer too.

It was weird. Like he was almost being… nice? Motivated by his own selfish reasons—wanting to get the shoot over with—but nice nonetheless. This wasn’t the Kaiser Isagi was used to. He honestly preferred him. 

He felt a small flower bloom within him, just inside his ribcage and right above his heart. Its vines began snaking into the crevices of his bones and the holes of his ribs, entangling themselves like they belonged there, wrapping around his throat and squeezing. 

Weeds, really.

“Get away,” Isagi pushed him away with as much force as he could muster, “the makeup artist put in a lot of effort into this, you know.”

Kaiser quirked his head in a way that reminded Isagi of a puppy. 

If puppies were evil, of course. 

But a puppy nevertheless. 

“Wait.”

He took one last soft swipe at Isagi’s nose before pulling back, satisfied. 

“... Thanks.” 

He hoped he didn’t hear him.

★

“You guys wanna do chest or shoulders first?” Yukimiya stretched his arms, glasses slightly askew from the treadmill.

“How ‘bout triceps?” Hiori motioned towards the cable machine. “I feel like I don’t train ‘em enough since I always do ‘em last.”

Isagi covered his face in his hands, “No way, I hate training tris.”

Yukimiya elbowed him in the ribs. “Yeah, we can tell.” 

Hiori dragged him over to the cabled, Yukimiya following. “It isn’t that bad! Besides, the stuff ya hate is usually what ya have to train the most.”

“I don’t understand the point of training tris when we play foot ball.” Isagi reluctantly uncovered his face, moving the cable up to the top. “Not like I’m ever gonna use them.”

“You’d think so, but apparently Noa loves training upper body.” Yukimiya shrugged. “Better balanced than weirdly proportioned, I guess.”

Isagi tugged on the cable, making sure it was securely in place. Not that it’d ever happened to him, but he’d seen enough disaster clips where a wire ripped clean off or an extension snapped in half to know better than to trust machines.

“You wanna go first?” He looked up at Hiori.

“Sure.” 

He and Yukimiya moved over to the side, giving him his space. The gym was usually packed around this time, seeing as dinner was in an hour. Isagi makes an off-handed comment about how he thinks the entire Bastard team was in right then.

Yukimiya let out a low whistle in response. “Jeez, look at the divide.” 

The NEL players and Blue Lock players were on opposite ends of the space—they usually didn’t interact that much, but today it looked like someone put up some sort of invisible wall. 

Kunigami was by the weight rack on the far right, Grim and Gesner on the opposite side like they weren’t allowed to breathe the same air. It was a little funny to look at.

“You think they’d move away if we went near them?”

“Probably.” Isagi’s eyes continued sweeping through the gym’s social divide. 

Ali was training legs and on the other half of the floor Raichi was doing the exact same exercise; Kurona and Gagamaru were on two row machines and across from them Mensah and Ndiaye seemed to have dragged two machines away so they could do rows without any Blue Lock members nearby. 

Isagi’s gaze locked onto Ness and Kaiser doing lat pull-downs a couple of meters left from the row machines. 

Isagi had never seen Ness pull that much weight before.

“Damn.” Yukimiya seemed to have also spotted them. “I’m impressed. Wasn’t Ness pulling down like three less plates just last week?”

“Yeah,” Isagi narrowed his eyes on the pair. Kaiser placed his hands on his shoulders, presumably encouraging him. It looked like Ness was going until failure. 

“You think he’s got another one in him?”

Isagi felt a bitter taste coat his mouth at the way Kaiser leaned in towards him. 

He wasn’t that close, not close enough that it was weird, at least. Just close enough that he was pressing down on Ness gently, helping him finish the set. 

Isagi thinks he tried to laugh but it came out more like a choke. “Well, if Kaiser continues groping him like that then obviously.”

Okay, maybe groping was overdoing it. Isagi had done the same with his teammates before—just yesterday he was leaned over Kurona to get him to finish a set of leg presses. Logically, it meant nothing. 

And even if it did, hypothetically , mean something, who was Isagi to interfere? He was a progressive guy. Kaiser could do whatever he wanted in his free time—he wanted to go out on Valentine’s day, he wanted to do whatever he did with Ness—it wasn’t Isagi’s place to care. Who knows, maybe he went out with Ness on Valentine’s day. They seemed close enough.

Ness scrunched his face up in effort and Isagi could tell he was about to give up. 

Kaiser’s grip on his shoulder moves to his traps, and he can see him whisper something to him. 

Isagi can’t make out what he said from his distance, but he can only imagine that it was something good from the way Ness manages to finish the pull-down. He feels his stomach turn to flames. 

The fire meets the bitterness in his mouth, and Isagi thinks he feels ill.

Yukimiya lets out a low chuckle. “Hey, how come you never push me like that?” Isagi vaguely feels his arm drape over him. “You gotta get some tips from Kaiser.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

“I’m done,” Hiori’s voice emerged from seemingly nowhere. Isagi doesn’t look away from the pull-down machine—Ness had gotten up and high-fived Kaiser, Kaiser’s hands dropping away from his shoulders. Hiori continued talking. “Isagi, you up next?”

Ness took a sip of water from his bottle, ruffling his hair with his towel as Kaiser warmed up for his sets. 

Isagi thought about how hard it would be to cover up a relationship. Not that they were dating—again, hypothetical—but if there was a secret couple at Blue Lock, surely there would be rumours. They were on live television, after all.

Isagi pauses.

Well, they weren’t always on live television. 

Their games were aired, but their privacy was never breached. Fans would never know what happens behind bedroom doors—hell, as far as the fans were concerned, he and Kaiser were the ones with chemistry. 

Isagi’s stomach did a weird little flip at the idea of him and Kaiser having chemistry. 

He was sure he and Ness had probably spoken about it before. Given the nature of their Lindt contract, there was no way they hadn’t. He wondered what it felt like to watch the person you cared most about busy themselves with someone else, whilst all you could do was watch.

Isagi pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, thorns scraping the inside of his throat.  

If they were dating (if!) Isagi was impressed by Ness’ composure. Isagi was sure that if he were the one dating Kaiser, and he and Ness swapped places, he’d be… 

What, angry?

Jealous?

Maybe Ness was jealous. If that were the case, surely it was Isagi’s responsibility to step in, right? To stand up for Ness, tell Kaiser off for being such a terrible boyfriend (amongst other things). 

He felt like throwing up.

“Earth to Isagi~” Hiori waved his hand in front of his face. “Are ya gonna go or not?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna do back next.”

“But today’s push?”

Isagi didn't care if they were pushing or pulling or fucking levitating today. He strode over the NEL/Blue Lock wall, straight towards the pull-down machine.

“Isagi?” Ness gave him a confused look, rolling his shoulder from the pull-downs. “What are you doing over here?”

“What? I didn’t know the NEL players reserved this half of the gym.” The words were definitely more accusatory than they should have been, especially considering he was here for him.

“I didn’t say that-” Ness looked taken aback by the sudden attack. “I just, I saw you guys doing push-downs over there.”

Isagi forcefully softened his voice. “I just felt like doing my push-dows here,” he awkwardly leaned against the machine, “on the, ehm,” his eyes flickered to the label, “on the pull-down machine.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to find another pull-down machine to do your push-downs ,” Kaiser shoved him out of the way, “because I’m up next.”

Isagi shoved back, voice immediately sharpened again and anger brimming. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Just what are you playing at, Kaiser?”

“I should be asking you that. Ness and I were here first.” 

Isagi hated the way he said Ness’ name. “You always are.”

Isagi went in for another push and Kaiser grabbed onto his wrist with a borderline painful amount of force. He refused to let go, locking eyes with Isagi. “You got a problem, Yoichi?”

Isagi didn’t back off, refusing to lose to him in front of the entirety of Bastard München. He needed to get back on level playing ground, for Ness’ sake of course. 

And he needed the pit of lava that’d built up in his stomach to dissipate before it crystalised to obsidian and suspended his flower petals in time. 

“Yeah Michael , I do, actually.” He pushes his hand against his chest.

Kaiser doesn’t get as intimidated as Isagi had hoped he would, instead grabbing onto his collar with his free hand. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

They’re close enough for Isagi to smell his spearmint toothpaste waft against his cheek, and the realisation makes Isagi blip. Suddenly, his grip seemed to burn into his skin, hotter than the fire which threatened to burst from his stomach. 

Kaiser’s eyes drop to his lips for a split second, fast enough that Isagi isn’t even sure it happened. 

Isagi feels the fire begin to creep up his chest and blaze his face. He gets closer to Kaiser on reflex, inches transforming into centimeters—he thinks he’s trying to throw Kaiser off, but he doesn’t move back.

“What the HELL is happening?” Raichi’s voice rung in Isagi’s ears and he immediately stops moving. 

His face went blank.

He looked around to find Raichi gawking at them in horror, pure horror , like he just got word that his entire family was shipwrecked and Isagi was the iceberg.

Actually, it seemed most people in the gym were looking at them with the same expression. Even Hiori and Yukimiya seemed at a loss for words, still staring at him from the cable machine. 

“Well, don’t let us stop you.” Ness crossed his arms beside Isagi, a bored expression playing on his face. “You sure didn’t last time.”

★

“Isagi, what the hell happened back there?” Yukimiya nudged him with his tray, waiting in line for the machine to dispense his chicken and rice. 

The three of them decided to leave training a little early (for reasons unknown) and head to the cafeteria for lunch instead. 

Not before Hiori and Yukimiya had pulled him away from the machine (and Kaiser), profusely apologising. As if they were at fault. 

Sorry, Hiori had tugged (yanked) him away by the shoulder, he hasn’t gott’n his prescription yet. Ya know how it is. 

Isagi bashfully scratched the back of his head at the memory. “Yeah, haha, I don’t know. I guess I was just tired.

“Tired?” Hiori hissed, “Ya know how embarrassing that was? I had to apologise to Kaiser. He laughed at me. ”

“In my defense, I told you guys I didn’t want to train upper body.” 

Yukimya slapped the back of his head. “Get it together! Your- whatever it is- with Kaiser is costing us social points here.”

“And training time!” Hiori added some broccoli to his tray. “I was really looking forward to today, too.”

All very valid points, Isagi could agree. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He gripped his tray. “Kaiser just makes me so…” He groaned, “I don’t even know how to explain it! He’s just so…”

“He annoys all of us, Isagi.” Hiori sat down on the nearest bench. “Ya don’t see me doing… all of that.”

“It’s different! He used to just annoy me but now it’s like, he was working out and I just felt sick!” Isagi absentmindedly set down his tray, picking up a pair of chopsticks, “It’s like his very existence is… Agh I don’t know! And it doesn’t help that he’s literally everywhere I go. I can’t escape him!”

Hiori gave him a weird look before looking over at Yukimiya, then back at Isagi. “Uhm, Isagi?”

“What?”

He gestured towards his hand. “Might wanna grab another pair.”

Isagi looked down to find he’d snapped the poor plastic chopsticks in half. 

Yukimiya sighed. “Look, Isagi, if this campaign is really taking that big of a toll on you, maybe you should try talking to Ego again.”

“No way! That’s how I lose!”

“:.. Lose?”

“You don’t understand, Kaiser’s this like publicity god . Every damn shoot he’s somehow always one step ahead of me.” Isagi picked up another pair, gently placing them down on his tray this time. “If I back out now, he wins, again.”

“Hey, don’t twist my words like that- I said that as a joke!” Hiori shoveled a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Okay, well, sorta. But still! I didn’t mean it to be this serious.”

Yukimiya turned around. “What the hell did you say?”

Hiori put his hands up in mock surrender. “All I told him was to stop letting Kaiser step all over him. I dunno what he heard.”

Isagi shook his head and sat down in the seat across from Hiori. “The point is, you were right.”

“No I wasn’t! I was wrong! Stop listening to me!”

Yukimiya sat down next to Hiori. “Look, I get being competitive, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes it feels like you’re a little too invested in Kaiser.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Isagi, just… don’t do anything stupid.”

★

The director had told them to be prepared for a more interesting concept for the next photoshoot, whatever that meant. So now Isagi was stepping into the studio half-expecting him to pop out with a bucket of gasoline, telling them to burst into flames like a scene out of the Hunger Games. 

However, he and Kaiser walked in to find that he was running late, the studio empty. 

“Did he forget?” Isagi checked his calendar in case he missed a last minute reschedule. 

Kaiser scoffed. “That or he finally quit after realising his entire career depended on gay-bait.”

It was only thirty minutes past schedule when the man finally walked in, his appearance a little worse for wear. 

“Apologies for my tardiness,” the director fixed the sleeve on his suit, “I was arranging the timetable for the ads to begin airing. You won’t believe what the maniacs in marketing have going on—they said they want to air it the week of White Day!” He pulled out a tin of Lindors from his back pocket (how was he not tired of them yet?) “Of course I said there was no way. If we want this to be a hit, we have to start airing this week. And even that is cutting it close.”

Isagi choked on his own spit. He logically knew the ads would air eventually, he was just hoping he’d be given another week of leisure before having to face them. 

“As in, this Monday?”

“Yes, this Monday!” He pushed through the door towards the set. “Honestly, I give so much for this job and these buffoons can’t even get the timetable right.”

“Well, I for one, think they should be giving you a pay-raise.” Kaiser lulled. “Lindt is lucky to have a man like you on the job.” He was being very clearly sarcastic, something the director didn’t seem to catch.

“You tell ‘em,” he got out between crunches. 

The director continued leading them through the set hallways—the building was a lot bigger on the inside than it appeared—almost on autopilot. 

Isagi almost bumped into the man when he suddenly paused, stepping through the door on his right without warning.

He ushered them in. 

“You’re kidding.”

It wasn’t a full - blown stadium —of course it wasn’t, how they’d even pull that off, Isagi wasn’t sure—but before them lay a football pitch of considerable size, an arena more like. The banners surrounding it, typically reserved for sponsorships, were plastered with Lindt ads.

“I asked Ego if we could use one of Blue Lock’s field’s, but he started blabbering about the integrity of his project and contracts and something about egoism, so I had to rent this out.”

Isagi wasn’t sure where they were even getting the budget for this campaign anymore. Surely they were looking at a net loss—just how much chocolate was Lindt expecting to sell here? 

Kaiser let out a low whistle. 

“I don’t want to continue bombarding the fans with photoshoots, and I’m sure you guys are used to the whole reality TV thing by now,” the director made a show of walking onto the pitch, turning to face the pair with exaggerated flair, “so I thought, why not have you act?”

★

“You can’t beat me, Yoichi.”

“I already have.”

Isagi struggled to keep himself from disintegrating out of embarrassment. His insult battles with Kaiser on the pitch were usually a little more authentic, and he prayed they came off more serious than this.

Though, it was hard to take anything seriously when his football was made out of chocolate.

Isagi dribbled the round thing—a spray painted ball—past Kaiser. They’d been rehearsing the scene for the past two hours by then and Isagi was beginning to get irritable. 

The script was simple enough: Isagi would try and take the ball (chocolate?) towards the goal on the far end, only for Kaiser to intercept and steal it from him. Isagi would then run for the Lindor, shoving Kaiser to the side, and then they’d ‘break’ it open. The editing team would take care of the rest.

“No!” The director stopped them mid-intercept

As far as Isagi was concerned, their past twelve takes were not only identical but perfect. It was an ad not a film debuting at Cannes—how many different ways was Isagi supposed to kick around a Lindor?  

Isagi leaned his weight on his knees, wiping away the beads of sweat that had begun forming off his forehead, any sentiment of missing the director entirely gone and replaced by hatred for the light’s intensity.

Kaiser shot the director a glare. “What was wrong this time?”

“I’m not feeling anything over here!”

“If you want to feel something,” Kaiser squinted his eyes, “then you should be the one playing, don’t you think?”

The director got up from where he was sat, striding over towards Kaiser. “I loved you two during the bake-off, what happened?” He grabbed onto his and Isagi’s hands, swinging them around. “Think of your faces on billboard screens! I- we could be huge!”

Kaiser deadpanned. “Right.”

Isagi barely caught himself as the director continued spinning them around like a merry-go-round gone rogue. “New York, Shanghai, Monterrey—I want to see the look on everyone’s faces when my name is behind all these ads.” The director dropped his smile, a dark look clouding over his eyes. “Those assholes from highschool will never believe it.”

“Okay- okay! We can try again.” Isagi just wanted the room to stop spinning. “We’ll get you your stardom.”

The director stopped, his hands still gripping onto the pair. “That’s more like it.” He brought their hands to his chest, smile wide across his face. “Now, I want to feel .”

Isagi let out a small sigh before getting back into position on the halfway line. He lowered his centre of gravity, brushing his hair with his fingers.

Kaiser rolled the Lindor under his foot in front of him, eyebrows knit. He passed the ball back to Isagi so they could restart the scene.

The director’s neverending instructions had made Isagi hyper-aware of his every move, maybe more so than he should’ve been. It was like he was stuck in his head, yelling at him to get closer, look at him, brush up against him.

The speakers bellowed out a whistle, and Isagi kicked off. 

“You can’t beat me, Yoichi.” Isagi passed the Lindor behind him, evading his lunge forward. 

The script’s double meaning was not lost on him. 

Kaiser’s arm brushed against his, something Kaiser pressed into as instructed by the director. Isagi didn’t know any other way to describe his touch but sharp —sharp, noticeable and too much.

“I already have.” Isagi didn’t know if it was because he was exhausted from their takes but the sentence felt heavier with each take. As if it cost him more to get the words out with each game restart. 

Kaiser followed Isagi’s evasion, sliding his leg under his to steal the ball.

Or at least, that’s what he had done for the past two hours.

He accidentally angled his leg too high up, instead knocking against Isagi’s foot and causing the pair to topple forward. The sound their cleats made against each other rang through the air, metallic and louder than it should have.

Kaiser landed on top of Isagi, his arms around him like an open parenthesis and the only reason they hadn’t fully crashed into each other. 

The first thing Isagi noticed was he smells like toasted caramel. The second thing he noticed was holy shit we’re way too close. 

Isagi’s eyes went wide at the proximity; Kaiser looked down at him with the same expression. His face went hot and Isagi was starting to seriously regret taking Kaiser’s advice on wearing less powder.

He could feel their legs still tangled, neither of them moving to separate them. It was like they were immobilised, the only movement being Kaiser’s gentle panting, the sound heavy in the still studio air.

The flower petals made their way into Isagi’s spit.

His mouth was parted, a small cut visible on his lower lip. Small enough that Isagi was the only person who was close enough to see. Who could see.

The sweat made strands of his hair cling onto his forehead, framing him like a painting. Framing him the way Kaiser’s arms framed him—they weren’t touching, but Isagi could feel how close they were, the hair on his arms standing. 

The momentum from their crash had his longer strands waving back and forth—Isagi almost didn’t want to move, afraid to interrupt their rhythmic swings. 

“Wow.” The director applauded. “I loved the improvisation! I think that was the take.”

And suddenly, Isagi’s eyes went wide for a completely different reason. 

He backed out of Kaiser’s trap, pushing him off him (and ignoring the way his hands shoving against his chest made him feel weirdly wobbly). His legs didn’t seem stable enough to lift him up yet, seeing as they seemed to have transformed into jelly, so he just desperately crawled away from him. 

“What is wrong with you?”

Kaiser sat up, slightly puzzled “What?”

“You can’t.” Petals bunched up in his throat, forming a ball. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what? ”

Was he stupid? Surely he was aware that this was going to be televised—that everyone would see. Isagi was at a loss for words—how was this guy in a relationship? Was this part of his game? 

“Calm down Isagi, it was just an accident.” The director had his eye pressed into the viewfinder now, having stood up from his chair, “And besides, it got us a perfect shot!”

The rest of the staff nodded along, most of them too focused on their own tasks, noses in clipboards and fiddling with sliders offset, to have even noticed the crash. To have noticed Kaiser on top of him.

He felt like he was being gaslit. 

Isagi forced his legs to solidify and pushed himself up. “You are terrible , you know that, right?”

Kaiser stood up too now, stepping closer towards him. “Gee, thanks.”

Isagi stepped back in response. He was better than this—he knew he was better than this. He wasn’t usually so argumentative. He shouldn’t be this angry over an accident , even if it was Kaiser. 

But it was Kaiser, and that was what made him so furious. 

Because it was Kaiser brushing up against him, Kaiser who was wrapped around him, Kaiser who refused to pull away, Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser who was dating Ness . 

Isagi who let him brush up against him, Isagi who’s eyes wandered to his lips, Isagi who let him stay there, Isagi who had to fight against himself to pull away from him, Isagi who knew . Who knew they were dating.

Who knew they were dating?

Isagi felt himself back away, slowly first, before just storming off the set altogether and heading towards the dressing rooms. 

He started this campaign with nothing but the expectation of having to tolerate Kaiser. 

How was he expected to tolerate a man who was using him as some sort of tool to get his boyfriend jealous? Because that was the only explanation anymore. Kaiser was smart—smarter than Isagi wanted to admit—he must be aware of how they must look. Of how he looks.

Perfect. 

Isagi internally kicked himself at the thought. 

It must be on purpose. To be better than Isagi. He couldn’t believe he’d throw away his relationship for a rivalry like this. Isagi was willing to compete but this was beyond anything he could imagine.

He slammed the dressing room door open, immediately looking for his bag where he’d left his water. It sat undisturbed, exactly where he put it two hours ago, next to the vanity.

He marched over, still fuming, before catching a glance of himself in the mirror.

He wanted to throw a rock at it. 

Red, blushing, flustered . 

Losing.

Losing, losing, losing. Always fucking losing.

He turned away, focusing on his water. 

The door creaks open and Isagi turns around to find who he already knew would be standing there.

“Bit overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“Get out.”

Kaiser coos, leaning against the doorframe. He closes it behind him. “And give you what you want? Never.”

“Just,” Isagi can’t even muster up the energy to pretend to be mad anymore, “get out.”

He didn’t even reach for his bottle. He just wanted to collapse and take the biggest nap on the floor beneath him, forget any of this was happening. Forget Kaiser and the way his chest contracted when he looked at him. 

It catches Kaiser off-guard, and he blinks in surprise at his sudden fatigue. He picks his next words carefully.

“Why?”

Isagi rubs his eyes. “What do you mean why?” 

“Why don’t you want me here?” Kaiser takes a step, followed by another, then another, towards Isagi.

“Why would I want you here?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” 

Isagi must’ve missed the moment when Kaiser got so close, but he pulls his hands away from his face to find his frame right in front of him.

It makes him sick. He moves back into the vanity in a futile attempt to get away. But Kaiser just places his hands on either side of him, effectively caging him in.

“Look, I know what you’re doing and I’m not comfortable doing,” Isagi desperately tries looking around, avoiding his searching eyes, “all of this when Ness is probably gonna see it.”

Kaiser looks terribly confused, and it makes Isagi’s treasonous heart flip. 

“What?”

“You know, what would he think?” Isagi thinks he’s about to cry. “Seeing these scenes—even if you’re just trying to one up me. I’m just worried for your relationship. More than you are, apparently.”

Kaiser blinks again and starts laughing. “My relationship?” 

“I know you guys haven’t made it public so I won’t-”

“Is this a joke?” He takes a step closer towards him and Isagi wants to evaporate, “I’m not dating Ness.”

Isagi feels the weight on his shoulders lift slightly at the words, before it comes crashing back down like an anvil. “Okay, dating, friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it-”

“Are you always this stubborn?” Isagi can’t make eye contact with him but he’s sure he’s amused. “Ness and I are just friends.”

“Well, if it isn’t Ness then I’m sure whoever you are dating would probably be pretty upset!”

“ Yoichi ,” The name makes the flower in his ribcage spread to his heart like a virus. “Relax. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“So what were you doing on Valentine’s day?”

“... Training?” He looks even more confused than before. “What else was I supposed to be doing?”

“You,” Isagi’s mouth goes dry, “you didn’t go out?” 

“What the hell are you saying?”

Isagi feels dumb. 

He comes to the conclusion that maybe he is a little dumb. 

“Oh.” 

He can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over him, his shoulders no longer feeling weighed down by the weight of a thousand suns. 

“Nevermind, then.”

Isagi moves to get out of their confrontation before Kaiser tugs on his hip, trapping him between his palms. 

“Not so fast.” He pushes him back against the vanity and Isagi’s limbs turn into rubber. “What was that?”

“What?” He can’t tell if his breath hitches from exhaustion or their proximity. He’s close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, the warmth of his breath against his cheek, to study the curl of his lashes and the way his jaw tightened as he tilted his head.

Kaiser doesn’t immediately respond—he just looks at him. Isagi feels his eyes search him, studying every microexpression and each strained muscle. He feels unusually exposed. 

“Oh my god,” Kaiser blinks. “You like me.”

“I do not! ” Isagi teems at the insinuation, his face blushing a furious red, “I was just concerned.”

“No you weren’t . ” Kaiser leans in closer and Isagi can’t tell if he wants to close the distance or push him away, “you like me.”

Kaiser’s hands press harder against Isagi’s hip, and suddenly Isagi feels a lot more than the mirror behind him. 

Isagi opens his mouth before closing it again, unsure of the words that would fall out if he dared to speak. His gaze meets and falls with Kaiser's more times than he could count.

“You’re delusional.”

“Then how else do you plan on explaining that?”

“Like I said,” Isagi can’t tell if he wants to throw up or start swinging, “I was worried for your relationship-”

“-which doesn’t exist-”

“-I know that now!” He tries pushing him away, to no avail. 

Kaiser looks down at him, smirking, and Isagi wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smile off his stupid face—preferably with a baton. 

“Prove it then.”

“Prove what? ” He rolled his eyes. “That you’re miserable and single? I don’t think I need to prove that.”

He smirks because of course he does. 

“Prove that you don’t like me, Yoichi.”

Which, in Isagi’s mind was stupid because who in their right mind would like Kaiser? 

Kaiser’s grip on him doesn’t relent, and Isagi’s starting to get sick of his little persona. He can act high and mighty all he wanted but that wouldn’t change the fact that he was still nothing but a-

“Kiss me.”

Isagi flounders. 

“ What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why the hell would I kiss you? How would that be proving anything-”

His hands move up his hip and Isagi is shut up by the feeling of his fabric pressing against him. 

“If you don’t like me, then you won’t mind kissing me.”

Isagi thinks he’s in a nightmare. This feels like a nightmare scenario. Was Hiori filming a prank? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He shrugs. “It’s no dumber than your ‘relationship’ excuse.” He air-quotes. “Besides, it wouldn’t mean anything if you seriously don’t like me, right?”

Isagi doesn't know what he wants him to say, if anything at all.  

“What? Scared?”

Isagi pushes against him again, using a little more force this time. Still, nothing. 

“No way,” He lets out a laugh out of what he thinks is shock. “If anything it just sounds like you like me .”

“I don’t like cowards.” 

“I am not a coward-”

“Then do it.”

Kaiser looks at him with the same stupid smirk he always has on, and it’s this look, this moment, when Isagi realises what’s actually happening.

Kaiser was never being serious—Isagi wouldn’t kiss him because he doesn’t have the gall. Isagi would always be below him, as far as Kaiser was concerned. He only droned on with his kiss offer because it was never an offer. He was taunting him.

Isagi was losing. 

Again. 

And the only way to start winning was-

“You know what, Michael?” he straightened up. “I will.” 

“Wait what-”

Isagi doesn’t know what possessed him—because it was possession. Only the devil himself infiltrating Isagi’s body and controlling his motor skills could have caused him to do what he did next.

Isagi grabs Kaiser by his collar, and pulls him in. His fingers brush up against his neck and it all feels like so much and somehow not enough at the same time. 

Kaiser stops in the middle of whatever sentence he was about to spit out, barely processing what happened, when Isagi kisses him. Hard. The feeling of his lips on his makes Isagi go lightheaded.

He hadn’t expected him to feel so, so good.

Kaiser makes a small sound of surprise in response and Isagi wonders if he’ll push him away. If Isagi had finally pushed too much, and now it was Kaiser’s turn to pull away. 

Instead, Kaiser kisses him back, and it sends every one of Isagi’s nerves into overdrive. 

Isagi’s grip on his collar tightens as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate and rushed and way too intense, but it feels good . Kaiser, here, locked onto him and only him, feels good. 

He can hear the small, logical part of his mind scream at him to let go, berate him for how impulsive he’s being right now, but his body refuses to cooperate—not when Kaiser’s lips feel so soft against his. Not when he’s close enough to hear Kaiser’s breath heaving in his throat and feel his lashes flutter against his cheek.

His fingers won't loosen their grip and his lips seek out Kaiser’s like clashing magnets, heart pounding in his ears. 

Isagi thinks he may never be satiated.

Kaiser gently bites down on Isagi’s bottom lip and the feeling makes Isagi forget how to breathe, the vine that had snaked around his ribcage finally cutting through his lungs and stopping his heart. He feels a whine form at the back of his throat.

He wants—needs—more. He wants to see Kaiser turn into an illogical mess in his hands, melt like butter and stay malleable. 

Isagi pulls away before he loses sense of reality anymore than he already had. He’s panting when he does and he thinks he might have developed hypoxia. 

He finally opens his eyes again to find Kaiser staring back at him, eyes more than a little dazed. His face is dusted a soft pink and Isagi can’t help the way his eyes search . Search as if he’d somehow, somehow , forget what he looked like if he looked away. Search as if he alone is responsible for etching Kaiser’s existence into history. As if memory itself had become an act of creation rather than passive reception. 

His skin glistens under the dim lights of the empty dressing room, like he was made of crystal. It catches the edge of his cheekbone, casting a shadow beneath it, and Isagi finds himself mentally mapping these transitions from light to dark. 

He looked so fragile. 

His eyes find their way back down to his lips—soft, red and wet—and he feels his face go hot from how intimate it feels. He's suddenly very aware of Kaiser's shirt still entwined in his fingers and of how flushed his cheeks are and how Kaiser’s lips seemed almost bruised from how rough Isagi had been kissing him.

He lets go of his collar immediately and tries to take a step back only to bump into the vanity behind him.

“I-” Isagi stammers, the words breathless and his sentence unformed. He fears he might begin spitting flower petals, like some sort of reverse plant pot. 

He’s thinks he’s about to spout some pathetic retort— see? There’s no way I like you now because I didn’t even enjoy that-

Kaiser doesn’t even let him finish before he's kissing him again—Isagi’s mouth still open.  

Kaiser leads it this time, gentler but somehow even more desperate than before. He lets Isagi breathe against his mouth, and it gives him a moment to appreciate how he tastes like caramel. 

Isagi’s hands instinctively reach for his neck, searching for the border between his shirt and his skin. He subconsciously finds himself tracing circles against Kaiser’s skin, fiddling with his collar before moving up to play with his hair. 

Kaiser begins doing the same, playing with the seam of Isagi’s shirt—he can feel his cold fingers brush up against his hot skin, and the sensation sends sparks shooting down his chest and through his narrowly-solid legs. He can’t help the small whimper that escapes him.

Kaiser smirks into the kiss, his hands reaching deeper under his shirt just to tease him. His hand explores the curves of his abdomen and Isagi forces himself to bite back another sound.

“What?” Kaiser whispers onto the corner of his lips, “Too much?”

Isagi’s grip strengthens, hair bunching in his hand as he desperately tries to ground himself—failing miserably when Kaiser trails his fingers over the side of his torso, wrapping around to his back and streaming up the peaks and ridges of his spine. He feels his back arch at the touch.

It is too much. Too much, too much, too much .

“Wait- Mi- Kaiser-”

His voice sounds so pathetically garbled, and Kaiser pushes closer into him at the sound of his name, the vanity rattling at the force. He breathes into him, the sound of his barely disguised moans sending Isagi into another dimension. 

Isagi can’t do this, is what his barely functioning mind lands on. 

He pulls away from the kiss, stomach in knots and his body protesting at the sudden lack of contact. 

He swears he hears Kaiser let out a faint no as he does, breathy and mindless. The vines wrapped around his stomach tighten, thorns cutting straight through his flesh. It’s sharp, and sudden, and it feels so good.

Instead, he leans into Kaiser’s cheek, taking his sweet time dragging small kisses down his jaw, meandering when he gets to his throat, kissing his tattoo.

Blue against red. His tattoo was so, so blue, and Isagi wanted to kiss each petal, each thorn, flush his skin so red that the rose became purple.

He places his right hand on his shoulder to balance himself, thumbing his name into the muscles under his collar. 

Yoichi. 

Yoichi’s.

He hears Kaiser’s breathing go awry as he begins gently sucking at the skin on his collarbone, biting down a little harder on the spot where he seems most sensitive as payback. He relishes in the way Kaiser sounds like a mess under his bite.

Kaiser’s hands move up to his chest and Isagi’s shirt bunches up, exposing his skin to the studio air and causing him to shiver. The cold is quickly replaced by Kaiser’s warm body pressed up against him. 

Isagi didn’t know he was greedy for anything other than goals—or at least, he didn’t know the extent of his greed—until then. He reached for Kaiser’s shirt with his free hand, pushing it up so he could feel his bare skin on his. Because he wanted more, because the vines which had consumed him whole needed more. 

The sound of Kaiser sucking in air through his teeth makes Isagi grip onto his abdomen with a dangerous amount of force.

A loud knock at the door causes them to pull away, hands snagging against shirts. “Isagi? Kaiser? Are you in there?”

Chapter Text

That Sunday, Bastard München played a game of scrimmage—split into three, somehow he and Kaiser ended up on the same team.

The whistle rang through the air and Kaiser kicked off, kicking the ball to himself—because of course he did—and making a turn to the right. 

Isagi had prematurely killed any possibility of receiving the ball, having accepted that Kaiser as centre middle meant he’d, at most, be corollary to his attempts at a goal. If he wanted—which he did—a goal this game, he’d have to force it out of him. Force it despite him. 

Isagi parted left, seeing the empty space in the field Kaiser was aiming for. His positioning would impede Ali from running up behind Kaiser, stopping him from being able to pass the ball between them. There was still a chance Kaiser would try and dribble through on his own, but with Ness playing on a separate team to them, there was no one on-field who would envision his future. 

Not the way Isagi could, at least. 

Kaiser killed the ball beneath his foot, apparently annoyed at Isagi’s read.

“Isagi,” Ali appeared on his side, not attuned to what just happened, “if you go further left, I think we can form a triangle-”

“No,” he watched as Kaiser threw himself right. “Kaiser doesn’t work in we’s."

Isagi watched Ali’s expression flicker in confusion as he ran down the centre, twisting himself into Kaiser’s vision. 

He stopped again, his frustration clear as water. 

“What are they doing?” Kurona whispered over to Raichi from the sidelines. 

Raichi scrunched his eyebrows, trying (failing) to keep up. “This isn’t even football!! They keep stopping for no reason!!”

His hands grazed against the grass as he stopped himself, meters in front of Kaiser who looked like was about to blow a fuse.

“You are on the same team. ” He heard Noa yell at them from the sidelines. “You’re acting like children.”

Three days ago, Isagi had to push himself off Kaiser before the director walked in, both of them in possibly the most compromising position yet since the start of the campaign.

When he did, Isagi was prepared for whatever reaction would come next—awkwardness, anger, regret.

Kaiser heeled the ball back, the soft sound of his shoe against the ball following.

What Isagi didn’t expect was complete cognitive dissonance. Like nothing happened at all. Not that he was complaining, of course—he’d much rather this than the alternatives. But the juxtaposition had given him whiplash.

Isagi followed his eyes to where he was routing a path towards the goal on the opposite end of the field, running over to block it whilst desperately trying to ignore the splotch of purple blooming underneath Kaiser’s collar—easier said than done. 

"What are you doing?!” He could see that Noa had gotten up, apparently frustrated enough to start yelling. 

In hindsight, it wasn’t Isagi’s proudest moment. 

All-in-all though, he didn’t regret it—he could finally say he’d gotten the upper-hand on Kaiser (not that he was going to tell anyone, because that was too insane even by Isagi’s standards). But it was worth it to know that this one moment, on-field or not, hadn’t gone the way Kaiser had envisioned. 

Kaiser faked out, running left instead. Isagi barely kept up—his poor ankle felt like it was about to sprain as he ran after him. 

He was approaching his ideal goal-spot, and Isagi did his second (potentially) stupid thing in the interest of beating Kaiser that weekend.

He slide tackled him. 

“Stop!” Noa blew his whistle. Kaiser’s shot rebounded against Isagi’s leg, sent to the other half of the pitch. “Everyone off the field, now.” 

★

Kaiser didn’t talk to him for the rest of that day.

He didn’t talk to him for the next couple of days, actually.

Not that anyone was counting. 

★

u/isagoat • 57m

Kaiser & Isagi White Day ad. Thoughts?

[attachment]

⇧ 678  ⇩  💬 649

 u/Barchira235 • 52m 

 How did either of them agree to this.

 ⇧ 263  ⇩

  u/nagireohater • 50m 

  im sure ego has his ways. glad they did haha.

  ⇧ 89  ⇩

 u/PXGG_G • 56m

 Do you think they practised blushing or… 

 ⇧ 210 ⇩

  u/BarousHairGel • 53m

  I’m sure they have enough practise when they’re alone LMFAOAO

  ⇧ 342 ⇩

  u/authormissesitoshisae • 47m

  it looks wayy too good to be forced. that’s all natural

  ⇧ 163 ⇩

 u/BastardsBitch • 48m [Top 1% Commenter]

 I did not see that one coming. 

 ⇧ 179  ⇩

  u/NoelNoaFan627 • 45m

  Lindt or Kaisagi?

  ⇧ 4  ⇩

   u/BastardsBitch • 42m

   Either lol. They look good icl. Pride month isn’t for a couple of months tho

   ⇧ 207  ⇩

 u/Cristi2389 • 13m 

 Damn, I went to school with that director dude on the bottom of the poster.  

 ⇧ 6  ⇩

  u/artconnesieur48 • 12m 

  Jump.

  ⇧ -27 ⇩ 

   u/Cristi2389 • 8m 

   ??

   ⇧ 1 ⇩

★

Their bake-off aired that Thursday, which probably would’ve bothered Isagi more had Yukimiya not taken a visit into the PXG wing and come back with a video. 

“Oh my god, he’s not seriously going to-” Isagi covered his mouth. A loud crash emanated from Yukimiya’s speakers. “Yikes, Rin.”

“You know, I was kinda expecting that out of you and Kaiser.” Yukimiya clicked off his phone, the screams which were coming from it silencing. “Neither of you seem bothered by the ads at all. What’s up with that?”

Isagi looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I mean, I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to your bickering during practice, I thought this would be similar.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

He wasn’t wrong, Isagi himself expected to be more annoyed by their first ad on Monday. The director had messaged him, sending him pictures of shops displaying the poster and billboards over highways.

Instead, he just felt… weird. 

Not annoyed, he didn’t think he was annoyed, at least. But looking back on the picture now, he felt a little more accustomed to it. 

If anything, he just felt nervous. Looking at the way Kaiser held onto his wrists—he could feel his hand on his through the photo. It was a strange sensation, his phantom touch.

Kaiser was across the pitch, running through some basic drills with Ness. Rather, Kaiser was running the drills, and Ness was watching something on his phone. Judging by his face of concern, it was probably the bake-off.

There was a strange longing in Isagi’s chest to go join them. He was tired—he didn’t even want to run drills. And he definitely didn’t want to run them with Kaiser —not that he’d even be allowed to. Noa had put them on a professional duo hiatus for the foreseeable future. 

That was pathetic , from the both of you! I can’t believe you would sacrifice team logic over petty rivalries like that-  

You will only cause your team to suffer if you keep this up. Have you considered that this isn’t helping your ego’s but-

Who even taught you to play like this?! I sure as hell didn't, and there's no way this is what you learnt at Blue Lock-

Kaiser dribbled through the cones with practiced ease, his weight shifting on his feet like a lithe cat. His form was perfect—as a striker, it made no sense for his control over the ball to be so polished. Of course, he never made any sense. Not to Isagi, at least.

It wasn’t his form Isagi was watching, though. He’d memorised the way he’d moved by then, hundreds of hours of gameplay seared into his mind. No, he was far too occupied watching the way his hair wove in and out of his face. Like silk. 

Kaiser was too far away to focus on details; Isagi wasn’t focused on details. 

“It’s not like anything’s changed.” Isagi mumbled, subconsciously thumbing circles into his wrist. “He still sucks.”

★

Isagi was in a bad mood for the rest of that week. Unfortunate as that was for everyone around him.

“Move.” He shoved Raichi into a locker as he made his way across the room. 

He made a sound of annoyance before following Isagi, “Hey! What was-”

Isagi slammed his locker door open straight into his face, effectively silencing him mid sentence. He thinks he sees Raichi fall backwards in his peripherals, knocking against another set of lockers behind him. 

★

“Hey, Isagi,” Hiori rested against a nearby wall, panting heavily. “Throw me my bottle, will ya?”

Isagi looked at the water on his right. It was well within arms reach for him. Matter of fact, it was right next to him.  

Poor Hiori looked exhausted, having just finished some of Noa’s personalised drills. Isagi had been given some to follow earlier, as well. They were especially gruelling, tailored to each player’s individual weaknesses. He recalled how they left him seeing static. 

What type of asshole wouldn’t-

“Nah.”

★

“I saw your bake off, by the way.” Grim nudged him. They were in formation, shoulders pressed against shoulders, before the start of another game of scrimmage. It wasn’t everyday an original player decided to strike up a conversation with a Blue Lock member. He was sure another player would take it as a compliment. “It was really funny, I didn’t know-”

Isagi audibly groaned before fully stepping out of line, walking away with a look of disgust directed straight at the visibly confused Bastard München player.

★

“Alright, I’ve had enough.” Yukimiya locked the dorm room behind him. “We need to talk.”

Isagi didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. 

“What is with this new attitude?” Hiori crossed his arms. “Ya’re acting like Kaiser, and quite frankly I don’t think anyone-”

The name must’ve caused a visible reaction because Hiori cut himself off. 

Isagi gripped his phone, clicking it off and aggressively slamming it down onto his mattress. “Look, you try and keep up with that lunatic director every week on top of professional coaching and we’ll see how you handle it.”

“You threw my shirt in the trash!” Yukimiya gestured wildly, “It was new- and expensive!”

“I was doing you a favour if anything.”

“Look, not that I care, but you have been acting crazy, dude.” Kunigami put down the book he’d been reading on his bed. “I saw you kick a ball straight into Gagamaru’s back and walk away the other day.”

“He’s our goalkeeper, isn’t he?” Isagi also remembered this. Technically, he didn’t mean to kick it into him , he just meant to kick it somewhere . Somewhere just happened to be Gagamaru. “Gotta make sure he’s always on alert.” 

“He was drinking water.”

“What’s your point here?” Isagi could hear his voice rise by a couple of decibels. “My schedule’s packed. Sorry if I’m a little brash here and there.”

Yukimiya facepalmed. “You know that isn’t what this is about.”

“What is this about, then?”

“Ya aren’t acting like yarself, Isagi.” Hiori looked at him with nothing but pity. It made Isagi recoil. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Yukimiya raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Isagi took a deep breath.

He wanted to scream.

Because, yeah, they were right. He wasn’t acting like himself, and honestly? He’s felt better before. 

The worst part is how he still felt bad for how he’d been acting. Kunigami may have missed it, but he did go up and apologise to Gagamaru after pelting him with a football. And Yukimiya didn't know it yet, but he'd actually bought him a new shirt—he'd only thrown the last one away because he may have accidentally spilled some soy sauce on it. 

He was never the type to lash out before, even as a child. He was much more prone to the silent treatment—and even then, he would much rather just talk things out before reaching that point.

He supposed that was Kaiser’s influence on him.

Speaking of—it was still radio silence from the other. He should’ve expected this, now that he was being fully candid with himself. 

Not that it made him feel any better. 

“I guess it’s just a little overwhelming.” He sighed. “But you’re right. I’m sorry.”

He felt like he’s had to apologise a lot recently. 

He made a mental note to find everyone else he’d wronged this past week as well (which may take a while, he realised). 

"What’s overwhelming, exactly?”

“Everything? I don’t know.” 

“Honestly, it sounds like ya and Kaiser just need to go up to Ego and-”

Hiori’s voice went in one ear and out the other. 

Did they have to bring him up every sentence? What was it about Kaiser that followed him around like the goddamn plague? 

Well, his name, at least.

He could feel his eyes go bleary at the thought. 

It wasn’t like it’d been months. It’d been a couple of days at most—not even a full week. There was no reason someone’s silence should have this profound of an impact on him. Especially not Kaiser’s. 

Did he even care? Probably not, knowing him.

He could still hear Hiori dawdling, something about tying Ego and the director together and running. He would probably laugh if he were in a better mood.

He knew focusing so much attention on something as inconsequential as being ignored by a teammate was irrational—he also knew that a majority of his actions in relation to Kaiser were similarly irrational. Maybe a month ago, irrationality would have bothered him enough to snap him out of his self-pity.  

“Yeah, well, that sounds great and all, but,” His voice rose in pitch, dangerously bordering on a yell, “Kaiser isn’t talking to me.” Hiori went quiet. “So, yeah.”

The ground beneath him went blurry and his throat began hurting—Isagi suddenly, desperately, wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Yukimiya opened his mouth to say something. 

“Whatever you're going to say, don't.”

★

“Well?” The director held up his tablet in pride towards the two. It seemed sales had gone up 192.3% since Monday, if the giant green numbers flashing on screen meant anything. “Am I a genius or what?”

The car ride to the set was torturous enough—for the most part they'd be arguing the entire trip there. Or at least, they had been for the past month.

The unforgiving silence that suffocated them now was definitely an unwelcome development. 

“Yeah,” sarcasm was basically dripping from Kaiser’s voice, “a real genius.”

“I know!” The director turned the tablet around to stare at the numbers, contentment basically radiating off him.

Isagi couldn’t help but feel a little bad at the poor man's obliviousness. 

“And we haven’t even aired most of them!” The director just continued babbling, completely unaware of how he and Kaiser were stood maybe twelve feet apart, “Just picture the reception to the one we shot last week!”

Isagi looked over at Kaiser almost on instinct, only to find him already turned towards him. 

He felt his ears burn. 

“Anyways,” The director put his tablet behind his back, finally re-entering Earth, “I think you two will like this next one.”

That, of course, was Isagi’s cue that he would absolutely hate whatever he was about to be put through. 

★

Isagi didn’t know where to put his arms. From the looks of it, Kaiser didn’t either.

“No, no!” The director was, of course, as helpful as ever. “Head on lap not against his leg!”

Kaiser awkwardly shuffled up, conveniently looking anywhere but up at Isagi—who was also conveniently distracted by the tassels decorating the sofa they were lounging on. 

A lot of conveniences. Many chance occurrences.

Simple concept, the director had said. Just lay on his lap, he said. 

Isagi placed his right hand next to his side, stretching it like it was taped to an unpinned grenade, as his left hovered over Kaiser. 

“Jesus, have you never lied down before?” The man sounded more exasperated than angry. 

For perhaps the first time since Isagi had met the man, the director had a point. During their last shoots, most of his yelling stemmed from his lack of diagnosis. This time, however, Isagi could admit that he and Kaiser were missing the mark.

“This is ridiculous.” Kaiser huffed. “Sales went up by like 200%, didn’t they? You don’t even need this ad anymore.”

Isagi wasn't sure why he felt so stung by the insinuation that Kaiser didn't want to be here anymore—as if refusal of the photoshoot somehow translated to a refusal of Isagi. It shouldn't have cut as deeply as it did, but that didn't stop his words from slicing straight through him.

“That doesn’t mean we can just break contract!” The director sounded almost offended. “Besides, 200 can always be 300, so I expect commitment now as much as before.”

Kaiser, in all his shuffling, had somehow managed to place his head on the intercept between Isagi’s muscle and bone, sending a shooting pain up his leg. Now, two weeks ago, perhaps he would’ve just shoved him off—but now, shoving Kaiser off meant shoving Kaiser off. As in, with his hands.

His hands, on Kaiser.

Which, Isagi definitely had enough experience with.

So instead, he resorted to gently moving his leg over to the side, hoping Kaiser wouldn’t notice.

“Sandra!” The director motioned for some intern who was standing over by the sideline. “Where are the Lindors? How is he meant to feed the man chocolate if he doesn’t even have chocolate?”

“On it, s-sir!”

Okay, now Isagi definitely recognised the girl. It was hard not to anymore, considering she’d shown up to every one of their shoots. 

“You think she’s gonna get a pay raise after this?”

The suddenness of the question caught Isagi off guard. 

He didn’t realise how much he’d missed hearing his voice—Kaiser’s voice, directed at him —until he heard it again. 

“Hm?”

Kaiser had his head angled to watch her run off, her bun bouncing. “Surely they’re violating some work code here.”

Isagi let out a small laugh, trying to sound somewhat normal. “Some? I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve broken all of them at least once.”

It was the first time Isagi had granted himself a recess from his… convenience, and let himself look down at Kaiser. 

He had a slight smile on his face—a genuine one, not one those smirks he gave everyone when he was playing coy. It made Isagi’s shoulders relax for some reason, as if seeing him at peace spread to him. 

A small part of him was just glad he was speaking to him again, irregardless of whether he understood why. A small, very, very small part.

He couldn’t help but notice that the bruise on his neck had faded, his rose back to its usual shade of deep blue. There was still a scar on his lip, though. Only noticeable this close.

Isagi didn’t notice his left arm had fallen until he felt Kaiser’s hair against his fingertips. The ends were coarse from his incessant use of hair dye, but the transition from blond to blue was much softer. Some of the broken ends prickled his skin in a way that felt almost ticklish.

Isagi brushed his hair up, like he didn’t even know he was doing it. His hair gently parted to reveal the serrated scar on his forehead—unlike the one on his lip, it didn’t look like it was going anywhere. 

He gently pressed his thumb against it, smoothing it over, as if Isagi could somehow make it disappear under his touch. The action made Kaiser flinch, at which point Isagi removed his hand, realising what he was doing

“Sorry.”

Kaiser didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move away either. 

He'd take what he could get.

“Here’s the chocolate.” Sandra had come back from wherever she’d gone, bowl of Lindors in hand. They formed a neat little pyramid in a way that seemed too perfect to be accidental. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Isagi made a mental reminder to slip her a note telling her to quit once they were done filming. 

“Alright, let’s finish strong!” The director got up towards the camera, giving them a thumbs up.

Kaiser picked the top Lindor from the bowl, rolling it in his hand. He held it up above him, as if watching the way the light reflected against it. 

He looked up at Isagi, and he felt his vines threaten to cut-off his oxygen supply. 

Kaiser brought the Lindor to Isagi’s mouth, his fingers brushing against his lips. Isagi had somehow not eaten a single Lindor throughout the entirety of their campaign, which only made the milk-cacao mix taste sweeter on his tongue.

Vines, vines, vines. He could feel thorns.

A small blush spread across Kaiser’s face, and all Isagi could think was how perfect he looked—how perfect he always looked. 

Because there truly was no other adjective for him.  

Isagi thanked whatever force was behind the universe that telepathy wasn’t real, because he thinks he would never hear the end of it if Kaiser could hear him then. 

Egoistic bastard.

★

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1h

—

 re.al.ma.drd 1h

 HIORIII

 Reply ↓ ❤️13

 1 replies ⬎

  nagii._.comeback.444 54m

  @re.al.ma.drd I KNOW

  Reply ↓ ❤️2

 mr_ba.chiraa 53m

 Of course Yukimiya looks insane

 Reply ↓ ❤️26

 3 replies ⬎

  aikuku_.12903 53m

  @mr_ba.chiraa he used to model right?

  Reply ↓ ❤️17

  author.still.misses.sae 49m

  @aikuku_.12903 really??? multitalented king

  Reply ↓ ❤️19

  mr_ba.chiraa 47m

  @author.still.misses.sae yes!! as a side gig before he got into football

  Reply ↓ ❤️2

 idiotshi 15m

 where is kurona :(

 Reply ↓ ❤️54

 1 reply ⬎

  mama_a_manshine.behindyou 13m

  @idiotshi I HATE LINDT

  Reply ↓ ❤️17

Hiori lazily scrolled on his phone, chin pressed into the canteen bench. “Ya know, for all that director’s antics, he actually did a pretty good job.”

Kurona had his head pressed into Hiori’s shoulder, watching him scroll. He hummed along, chewing on his food. His shirt was pressed against his braid, and it looked like he was about to doze off.

Yukimiya stole a piece of grilled broccoli from Isagi’s tray, Isagi being too late to react to stop it. Instead, he resorted to slapping his fork out of his mouth.

“Hey!” Yukimiya covered his mouth to prevent the food from splattering out. Isagi stole back a piece of chicken from his tray as he picked his fork back up.

Hiori muffled a laugh, placing his phone down onto the table. “I’m glad you’re back to normal. Things worked out between ya and Kaiser?”

Isagi was in the middle of wrestling Yukimiya for another piece when he looked over at the blunette. “Hm?”

Yukimiya shot him a look sharp enough to cut him, and Hiori suddenly went quiet. Isagi could only assume Yukimiya had kicked him under the table from how he yelped.

“What?”

Hiori sat up, gently nudging Kurona off him and onto the bench. He averted Isagi’s eyes, instead stuffing his mouth with rice. “Noffing.”

Isagi looked back over at Yukimiya, who was similarly looking anywhere but at Isagi. 

“No, tell me!”

Hiori kept stuffing his mouth with rice, chopsticks moving faster than his teeth could chew. Isagi pulls the bowl away from him in protest, incidentally covering himself in rice. 

“You’ve just been acting a little…” Yukimiya scratched the back of his head, still refusing to look at Isagi. “... weird recently, is all.”

“Ithagi,” Hiori cut in, an unreasonable amount of rice stuffed in his mouth as he spoke, “Fo ya like Kaither?”

If Isagi were in a cartoon, he thinks this is the part where he’d shatter like a glass frame. 

“What?” Isagi choked on his chicken—he wasn’t sure if he felt indignant, or if he genuinely didn’t understand what Hiori was trying to communicate.

He and Yukimiya had been discussing something in secret for the entirety of their lunch break—no, not just for their lunch break. Isagi had pretended not to notice the way they would communicate in whispers for the past couple of weeks, ever since his gym fiasco, but now it was evident they didn’t plan on keeping it to whispers anymore.

“Well,” Yukimiya took over, “we’ve just noticed some… stuff, and I mean, I don’t know.” He gently placed his chopsticks down. “Do you?”

Flashbacks of him and Kaiser in the dressing room play through his mind like an old VHS tape—Kaiser’s lips slick with Isagi’s saliva, his hand feeling against his chest, Isagi’s teeth sunken into Kaiser’s neck like a vampire—and Isagi prayed a meteorite—targeted missile, helicopter, the moon, anything, really—would strike the Blue Lock facility right then.

Isagi spluttered, and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to muster up an answer or clear his throat from the piece of chicken now permanently lodged in it. 

“No!” It’s all he managed to get out, and the lack of conviction does nothing to convince either of them (or Isagi, for that matter).

Yukimiya placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, “We won’t judge you or anything. I have a gay cousin you know-”

“No!” Isagi planted his face onto the table, mirroring Kurona across from him who may have actually fallen asleep. “No, no, no!”

Truthfully, Isagi wasn’t sure what he felt anymore—he just knew he didn’t appreciate Yukimiya and Hiori’s little makeshift intervention.

Because liking someone, anyone, was foreign to him (having his lips pressed against someone else’s even more so). The only thing he’d wanted ever since he was coordinated enough to kick around a football was just that—football. 

He lived and breathed off it, he wanted to dedicate his life to football . It was all he saw for himself, it was all he wanted to see for himself.

So why the fuck did he see Kaiser when he closed his eyes?

Hiori and Yukimiya had gone quiet, fearing they may have broken the poor man. Isagi wished they’d start blabbering again so he could just forget any of this was happening.

“We can talk about this another time if you want-”

“No,” Isagi was starting to sound like a broken record player, even to his own ears, “no, you’re right.”

“I KNEW  it! Pay up loser -” Yukimiya sent him another kick. “I mean- I’m glad ya told us.”

“No, not that! Well, yes, I mean,” Isagi lifted himself off the table and pressed his face into his hands, “I don’t know.”

Which, in all fairness, he didn’t know. 

He knew he wanted Kaiser around, maybe more than he used to (or should); he knew he wanted him when he was alone at night, tossing and turning on his mattress, unable to sleep; he knew he liked the way his hair felt, no matter how coarse or split or broken. 

But this was Kaiser he was talking about. Pompous asshole, self-centered, sabotaging, Kaiser. 

Kaiser, who’d stolen his first ever goal in front of his role-model, Kaiser, who had beaten him at every intersection, Kaiser, who

Kaiser, who looked so good when he blushed it impeded Isagi from thinking properly for hours past.

“Ya know, when I don’t know if I like someone, I just try and picture ‘em with someone else. See how I feel, ya know?” 

That, he could do.

Well, that he had been doing. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he really, really hated the idea of him with Ness. 

But, surely that made sense?

Considering the nature of their contract, Isagi was just being a good samaritan. He wasn’t close to Ness, but he didn’t have to be to look out for him, make sure Kaiser was being a good guy and whatnot.

Bro’s before hoes or whatever.

And, of course he was relieved when they weren’t dating! Again, good samaritan. 

He should really be giving himself a pat on the back. How thoughtful of him.

Okay, well that settled it. There was no way Isagi liked Kaiser. He could breathe a sigh of relief. Honestly, this entire conversation was ridiculous to begin with. 

Isagi uncovered his eyes.

“Well?” Yukimiya looked at him like he’d already come to his own answer, and was just waiting for Isagi to confirm.

He opened his mouth, I don’t know what happened to me there , when Kaiser passed by them. And his sigh of relief suddenly became a small choke.

He looked over at Isagi, just for a second, but he still felt a shock wave strike him like a tidal tsunami.  

Dammit. 

★

Sleeping, as it turned out, didn’t come easy post not-really-but-actually-really-crush confrontation. 

Isagi tossed over in bed, the feeling of his shorts against his thighs doing nothing to help him cool off.

He felt like he was going to lose his mind. 

He tried closing his eyes, focusing on the darkness of his dorm. It was silent, so quiet that the sound of him shuffling around was all he could hear in his ears. 

Too much?

Isagi bit his bottom lip with so much force he could taste metal. 

The feeling of Kaiser's fingers tracing the small of his back, pressing against his spine, feeling his abs, made Isagi's face go uncomfortably red. 

He tried thinking of something—literally anything else—but his mind kept replaying the moment Kaiser's skin pressed into his, replaying how good it felt, how Isagi’s body leaned into it like he was a malnourished dog given his first lap of water-

Air. He sat up in his covers. I need air.

He got out of bed, quietly tip-toeing towards the door so as to not wake anyone up. He flinched at the sound of the soles of his slippers against the hard tile, but kept pressing.

It was dark—which was a given, it was late—but when lights went out at Blue Lock, that meant lights went out . 

Ego had an itinerary of things the players weren’t allowed to be exposed to—alcohol, drugs, cigarettes—and apparently, windows were a part of the list. No moonlight filtered through anywhere, because there was nowhere for it to filter through . 

Thankfully, Isagi and his months having been caged up in this building had grown accustomed to the layout; getting around to the canteen was a whole lot easier when you basically had a map of the place in your head.

Back home, back when he was a kid, his mom would give him a cup of warm milk before bedtime to keep the monsters from eating him. 

They don’t like milk, she’d pat his head as a little Isagi sniffled, it makes their tummies hurt. 

It became a sacred little ritual for the two of them—and though Isagi grew out of believing in monsters, he never could shake craving a glass of milk when he couldn’t sleep. 

The cafeteria was a little easier to navigate since many of the dispensers had lights built into them. They weren’t very bright, but they served as little guiding beacons from machine to machine. 

During the first selection, Isagi had been chained to eating nothing but natto, miso and rice, with a cup of water. If he tried going up towards one of the dispensers for a cup of milk (and he knows this because he did try) it would just flash red, denying him of his ritual. 

Thankfully, getting better at football also meant he was allowed to soothe himself to sleep again without Ego telling him to go fuck himself.

Isagi placed his cup under the dispenser, the machine whirring before filling the glass with cold milk. 

He’d have to heat it himself, because apparently holograms were within budget, but hot drinks was where Ego drew the line. 

He was about to bring his cup over to the microwave when he noticed someone else standing there. It was hard to make out who just from the silhouette alone—the gentle lights from the dispensers not being strong enough to reach—but if the universe liked to mess with Isagi (which it did) then he didn’t need to see to know who it was.

“Kaiser?”

The figure turned around, and Isagi could barely see the outline of his face, framed by his unkempt hair. 

Even now, even in the middle of the night, even with the barely useful glow of the machines as his only source of light, Isagi still thought he looked breathtaking. 

The thought scared him a little.

“What are you doing here?”

The microwave started beeping. “Am I not allowed to get a late night snack?” He pulled out a paper plate, what Isagi could only assume was a grilled (microwaved) cheese on top.

“Didn’t take you for a snacker.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Yoichi.”

Isagi microwaved his cup of milk as Kaiser sat down on one of the benches nearby. 

“Trouble sleeping?” Isagi tried not to think too hard about why he was getting a cup of milk at 1 am in the first place.

Kaiser hummed. “Never was good about sleeping before holidays.”

“Oh, right. It’s White Day tomorrow.” 

Isagi thinks he sees Kaiser nod. 

The microwave beeped at him, his warm milk waiting for him inside. He swiped the glass and took a seat across from Kaiser.

“I thought they didn’t celebrate White Day in Germany?”

“Does it look like we’re in Germany?”

Isagi rolled his eyes. “I just meant, you don’t celebrate White Day. Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” He took a bite from his sandwich. “I just can’t sleep.”

Isagi took a sip from his milk. 

“I was born on Christmas.” 

“Hm?”

Kaiser didn’t respond, instead taking another bite; Isagi decided not to push him further.

“My mom used to give me a cup of warm milk before bed every night. It always helped me sleep.”

“Sounds childish.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Isagi took a sip, letting the silence settle. “Why grilled cheese?”

He shrugged. “It’s easy. It’s cheap. I like bread.”

“For a guy who won the bake-off, you sure don’t sound like a foodie.”

“Neither do you.”

Isagi couldn’t disagree with that logic. 

It was strange. Just a couple of hours ago, here, on this exact bench, his entire world felt like it’d imploded at the mention of the man. Just this morning, he’d rather the world spontaneously combust than be near him. But now, sat across from Kaiser, actually talking to him, Isagi felt

Okay. He felt okay.

Somehow, that thought scared him even more.

“They post the final ad tomorrow.” Isagi wiped off his milkstache, cup still warm. “Can’t believe it’s been a month already. Thought it’d never end-”

“Yoichi,” Kaiser cut in—he sounded quieter than usual. “Tell me about your mother.”

Isagi blinked—not that it helped, he could still barely see. It was more out of shock for how faint his voice was. How un-Kaiser his voice was. 

“Ah, well, she’s…” Isagi tried thinking of something on the spot, but really, there was only one thing he could land on, “she’s kind.”

Kaiser didn’t say anything, prompting him to continue.

“She’s really kind.” Isagi played with the brim of his empty cup, “She and my dad always made it a point to come to every one of my games, even if they didn’t know much about football. They were always the only parents in the stands who couldn’t keep up with what was happening,” he let out a small laugh. “One time, when I was really young, a kid on my team scored an own goal, and they started cheering because they thought it counted for us. His parents got really mad at them for that.” 

Kaiser continued chewing, listening. 

“She’s really hard working, too. A couple of years ago, she fell down taking out the trash and broke her leg. It was just a fracture, but she had to be on crutches for months. And somehow, somehow , she’d still wake up early to make me breakfast. If I let you cook, you’ll live on nothing but instant ramen and cereal ,” he imitated the way she spoke. 

It was less mocking and more loving. 

“Funny, too. She doesn’t think she’s very funny, but she somehow always makes me laugh when I know I’m about to cry. N-not that I cry a lot.” Nice save, idiot. 

He fiddled with his cup as he paced himself.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that she’s always there.”

A pause.

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes.” 

Isagi had visited his parents a couple of months back after the U20 game, but otherwise there wasn’t much time he could expend on home visits. They’d still write to each other every day, and call twice a week at minimum, so it wasn’t all that bad. He supposed he had it a lot easier, though, considering he at least lived on the same continent as them. 

“Do you?”

“I don’t know her.”

“I meant your mom, silly.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh.”

Idiot.

“What about your dad? Do you miss him?”

“I don’t speak to him.”

Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot- 

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.” Kaiser had finished his sandwich by then, “it’s not like it was your fault.”

Isagi awkwardly twiddled with his glass, and it’s all he could do to try and ignore the way his heart hurt. 

“Thanks.” Kaiser broke their silence.

“For?”

He didn’t reply. He just got up, placing his tray on top of the bin and discarding the little paper plate.

★

“How many did ya get?” Hiori shook Isagi’s unconscious body awake. 

He rubbed his sleep wrecked eyes and tried making sense of Hiori’s words—easier said than done, considering he’d barely gotten five hours of sleep. 

After Kaiser had left last night, he just stayed in the cafeteria for an extra couple of minutes. It wasn’t that he had anything else to do there. He supposed he just wanted some time to think.

There was a lot he’d yet to learn, he’d realized. 

“Kurona came’n clutch and got 32 chocolates! I only got 21.”

“Huh?”

“For White Day, from fans!” Isagi could barely make out streaks of light blue in front of him. “Yukimiya got 29, ‘n Kunigami won't tell us but I bet it was a lot.”

“The poor guy just woke up. I don’t think he knows, Hiori.”

“Yeah.” Isagi threw the blankets over him in protest. “Why are we even getting chocolates? Isn’t that the man’s job?”

“I’m sure some guys coulda sent these.” Isagi could feel Hiori’s body lie down next to him, “Besides, aren’t ya like in love with-”

“Shut up!” Isagi retreated further into his blanket, shoving him off his bed. “I’m not awake! Go away!”

Yukimiya stifled a laugh. “Sleep talking? That’s a first-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” 

That sounded like Kunigami’s voice.

Isagi didn’t know Kunigami was still in the room with them. 

He’d usually be in the gym at this time.

“Isagi’s in love with who? ”

Ah. 

Fackkk.

“Uh,” Yukimiya sounded a little like how Isagi felt, “n-no one?”

Isagi could practically see Kunigami’s skepticism through his blanket; he was suddenly very grateful for this physical barrier between them. 

“But Hiori-”

“Hiori doesn’t know what he’s saying—right, Hiori?”

“Yep!” He replied a little too fast, evidently feeling a little guilty. “Dunno. I dunno what I’m saying right now, even.”

“Isagi?”

He wondered if it was too late to pretend to actually be asleep. 

Maybe he could lean into the sleep talking thing.

“Did Hiori say love?” He cautiously—reluctantly—pried off his blanket. “I heard, uhm…” come on, l-words, l-words… laundry… lentils… laptop, “... lunch?”

“Isagi was really hungry the other day.” Yukimiya urgently nodded his head. “Barely had time to eat.”

Despite the situation, Isagi couldn’t help but feel grateful for Yukimiya’s desperate ad lib. If anything, it was nice to know the art of improvisation wasn’t entirely dead just yet. 

“... Is this about Kaiser?”

And the anvil dropped. 

Metaphorically, of course. 

Isagi could only pray an actual anvil would drop. Preferably on top of him.

“How-”

“You know what, I actually don’t care.” Kunigami shook his head. “I just came back from training to let you know Ego’s been looking for you.”

Isagi slowly nodded his head, making his way out of bed.

“Oh, and Isagi?”

He looked back at him.

“You’ve got really bad taste in guys.”

★

“You wanted to see me?”

Ego (well, his hologram) was already inside the little meeting room down the hall. Hair over his glasses and expression blank, if Isagi had been a little more drowsy he would’ve thought he’d somehow teleported a month back to when he’d first spoken to him about the campaign.

Did the man wear the same shirt everyday or did he own copies of the same shirt to wear everyday? Questions he feared he’d never have answered.

Inside, in front of the projection, was the same guy who’d turned Isagi’s life upside down four times and counting this past month. 

Would turning someone’s life upside down four times mean you just turned it right side up again? More questions, less answers. 

“You sure took your sweet time.”

“I was tired.” Isagi didn’t have much snark in him today. “And it’s early.”

Kaiser looked much less sleepy than Isagi felt. He was a little impressed—had he dreamed last night entirely?

“You’ll always be tired and it’ll always be early.” Kaiser waved, “Get used to it.”

Yep. Definitely a dream.

“Jeez, no wonder you’re always in such a bad mood-”

“You’ll be pleased to know that the campaign has been a complete success so far.” Ego didn’t look up at them and instead continued swiping at something on his tablet.

Isagi pressed his lips back together, turning to the big man on the screen. 

“So far?” Isagi piped up, “I thought it was over? It’s White Day, isn’t it?”

Ego set down the tablet. “Technically, yes. It is over. But your director has actually requested a contract extension.”

What, was he trying to drag this thing into Easter?

“He believes a follow-up interview in the following week will help long-term sales and BLTV visibility. Of course, seeing as this is currently a request and not binding, you both have the right to decline the offer.”

“We couldn’t decline last time, why now?”

“I’m being generous.” He deadpanned. “I could just reply for you, if you’d prefer-”

Kaiser bumped Isagi’s rib with his elbow, “Don’t punish me for Yoichi’s misstep.”

Isagi nudged him back. He didn’t know when he’d gotten so fond of his habit of calling him by his first name.

Ego rolled his eyes. “Well?”

The idea of the campaign ending, as ridiculous as it was, did kind of dampen Isagi’s mood. It’d become part of his routine over the past month. 

And, of course, he supposed there was the other reason.

Not that he could ever see himself getting sentimental over a bunch of photoshoots. They were just that, at the end of the day. Photoshoots for chocolates. Capitalism at its finest.

In apprehension of his reaction, Isagi turned to Kaiser looking for his answer. 

He just looked at him back, as if he’d been looking for his as well.

“I mean, if it’s just an interview…” Kaiser raised his eyebrow as Isagi spoke. “I don’t have any problems with it.”

“Awh, eager to spend more time with me?” Kaiser tilted his head. “How sweet.” 

Isagi crossed his arms. “It’s not like you're saying no either.”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “I guess I’m not.”

★

Apparently, according to Kaiser, Isagi had received 28 chocolates—something he only came to know because Kaiser couldn’t stop bragging about his 39 (now, why Kaiser knew, or even bothered to check, this information, Isagi didn’t know. 

Even more so, Isagi had gone to check for himself later that day, unbeknownst to Kaiser, only to find that the staff had received 27 chocolates mailed under Isagi’s name—where the extra gift came from was nothing short of a mystery.) 

★

By interview , Isagi wasn’t expecting a whole conference panel. Because why would he—why would anyone in their right mind expect a conference panel for an interview about an ad campaign (why would anyone even expect an interview for an ad campaign in the first place?) 

Yet here he was, on stage and in front of rows of journalists with their laptops, director on his left, Kaiser and interviewer on his right. For some reason, he had a sneaking suspicion the director had something to do with the setup, though he couldn’t quite confirm it. 

“Can we get a round of applause for our guests, everyone?” Their interviewer proudly exclaimed, tilting her head to the side. “What an honour it is to get to talk to rising stars of your caliber like this-”

“Please, please, hold your fanfare.” The director cut her off. His attempted humility did nothing for how he was basically radiating from the attention. “After all, an artist doesn’t pride oneself on the validation of others.”

“Of course! I just meant that more towards-”

“Really, my only purpose as a curator of fine art, a new age maestro , if you will,” which, of course, no one will, “is in bringing my vision to life; for creativity cannot exist independent of-”

Isagi steeled himself for possibly the longest hour and a half of his life. 

★

The poor woman looked like she wanted to bash her head in. If not her own, someone else's. 

“I really appreciate your enthusiasm, sir, but I was really hoping to move on to the interview.”

The director raised his eyebrow. “But I was just getting to the good part? In seventh grade-”

Isagi jumped in before it could get worse. “I think what she meant is, why don’t we discuss the ads? You know, since you did work really hard on them.”

He paused, contemplated, before relenting, slowly nodding his head in mild agreement. 

The interviewer gave him a grateful smile. “As I was saying, it’s not everyday I get to speak to rising stars on your levels!” She shared a look between him and Kaiser, who’d been wearing an amused smirk for the past ten minutes of the director’s uninterrupted rambling. “I mean, between watching you both play and these ads, I’m pretty sure you’ve reeled in a couple thousand extra fans in just the past month alone.” 

A beam of light began projecting onto the screen behind the group, a video of fans lined up at a Lindt store, boxes in one hand and cash in the other. Audio began playing through the speakers and Isagi genuinely wondered if they’d accidentally mixed it up with the mp3 file for Train to Busan.

“Seriously, talk about a smash hit.” She took a sip of coffee from her mug. “I’m sure Lindt’s investors are well and happy—but what about you two? How do you feel-”

Isagi could already see the director make a move next to him to begin another spiel. 

Thankfully, Kaiser beat him to it. “Not surprised. Always knew I could make it big as a model.”

Isagi would never understand how easily Kaiser fell back into his public persona, like it was second nature to him. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself a little.

“I think we ,” he shot him a playful glare, “did a pretty good job.” 

She hummed. “Mind elaborating?”

“I mean, the gig was definitely a lot harder than I thought it’d be. To say I went in unprepared is an understatement.” He bashfully played with his hair, “I think the shoots came out well, though. And they were successful, which-”

“Of course they were successful!” The director motioned, “The public knows art. And they appreciate innovative concepts.”

“... Right.” The interviewer looked down at her notes. “Well, innovative is definitely correct—would you say working on such an… unexpected campaign brought you two any closer?”

“Yoichi and I?” Kaiser gently nudged his side. “Nah. We’re already like two peas in a pod.” He sounded like he was being sarcastic, which he probably was—but that didn’t change the fact that his touch lingered for maybe a couple seconds longer than it should have. 

And if his hand rested on Isagi’s thigh, beneath the long table in front of the, shielded from anyone’s view, then neither of their expressions let it show. 

“My goal is always to bring people together,” Isagi was starting to just tune all sounds from his left out, like white noise, “what is the point of possessing such untapped, raw talent if not to unite people?”

“Speaking of uniting people,” The projector lights flickered and the clip of when they met began playing behind them, “I’m sure we’ve all seen your dramatic meeting by now, but I’m curious—is that really how you met for the first time? It’s a little hard to believe Ego would just throw you two in like that.”

There’s a question, Isagi thinks. 

There were two answers to this question—he, of course, did meet him for the first time on national television. 

But Isagi knew Kaiser before then—as did Kaiser. 

It was hard to not know about Kaiser, really. His name spread like wildfire through the football community when he debuted on Bastard’s youth team. The striker to succeed Noel Noa . 

Isagi had always thought the title stupid, maybe now a little more than then.

Kaiser knew of Isagi, as well. He supposed he’d made a bit of a name for himself during their match against Japan’s U20—he’d definitely gotten on a lot of people’s radars.

If meeting was knowing someone, how long had he truly ‘known’ Kaiser? At which point were they mutually aware of the other’s existence? Was that enough to know someone?

What did knowing someone even mean—did he not know Kaiser when he was a kid, dreaming of playing on Bastard München? He didn’t know it would be with Kaiser, sure, but when he pictured himself scoring goals with his team—was he not thinking of him?

The more Isagi thought of the question, he supposed there were actually three answers. 

He’d met Kaiser when he was scrolling through his news feed, his first ever goal making rounds around sports forums; he’d met Kaiser when he’d stolen his goal during the BLTV pilot episode, spouting something at him in German; he hadn’t met Kaiser yet. 

“Yeah.” Is what Isagi landed on. “We met on BLTV.” 

“I, however, only met them at the start of filming! Can you believe that? I mean, just one month ago-”

“Really? That’s quite interesting—so I’m assuming all the on-field hostility we see from you two is authentic then?”

“Nothing but the truth.” Kaiser leaned back slightly on his chair, hand still gently resting on Isagi.

“Wow, I find it hard to believe that you managed to pull off a bunch of White Day ads considering your animosity.”

Isagi absentmindedly started fiddling with Kaiser’s fingers, benignly playing with his thumb with one hand, resting his chin in his palm with the other. 

“Well, he’s not that bad. Sometimes.” 

Kaiser rolled his eyes. “Such high praise. I’m flattered.” 

Isagi kicked him under the table. “You should be.” 

Isagi could hear the audience laugh, but the sound of the hundreds of people in front of him seemed to be drowned out by the soft chuckle of the one person next to him. 

He sighed, already regretting what he was about to say next. 

“I’m being serious, though.” He let go of his hand, directing himself towards their interviewer to avoid looking Kaiser straight in the eyes. “Obviously, it’s not like Kaiser’s the easiest person ever to work with, but there is a lot that the general public- I- don’t know about him.”

The interviewer seemed intrigued. “Where is this coming from?”

He fiddled with his mic, the translator filling the room with soft static for a moment at the movement. “When all you know about a public figure is the small part of themselves they deem interesting enough to broadcast, they almost become like a caricature. Take our director, for example.” He finally turned to him, “Sure, his ideas are a little crazy, but really, he just wants to make a name for himself and be someone. I guess the same goes for Kaiser.”

Isagi tried to avoid looking in his general direction.

“And, yes, he’s almost impossible to cooperate with. But he’s really passionate about what he does. He wouldn’t be as good as he is if he weren’t. I think that’s something to admire.” 

“Wow! Is this a compliment from Kaiser’s number one rival I’m hearing?”

Isagi shrugged, fighting back a blush. “Not really. I’m just trying to add some perspective. It goes both ways—I can be pretty hard to work with too sometimes.”

“... No kidding.” 

Kaiser’s supposed insult lacked any bearing of hostility. 

The interviewer sent him a small smile before moving on, hurdling more questions which were, for the most part, just derailed by the director, who was now on a high like none other at Isagi’s off-handed compliment. 

He was starting to wish he’d just kept his mouth shut.

★

Since the Blue Lock facilities themselves didn’t have a conference hall built in, their interview had to take place at a nearby hotel. It wasn’t that far away, but the drive to and from was a little tedious due to how much equipment the staff were lugging around.

Thankfully, Lindt had kindly rented out a floor so everyone could rest before the crew got ready to head back. 

Isagi and Kaiser were paired up in an honestly really nice suite—double queen beds, colour washed walls, complimentary chocolates on both their beds, and director free (who’d stayed behind with the poor interviewer lady. Isagi wondered if he had been kicked out yet). The mattresses were levels softer than the ones Isagi had gotten used to by now, and the carpet was plush against his feet, a welcome sensation given how sore his feet felt from walking around all day.

Isagi was on his bed, lounging, as he scrolled on his phone. Kaiser was similarly sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

“Sorry.”

Isagi looked over. “What?”

“For ignoring you, y’know.”

Isagi’s brain short-circuited.

“... What?”

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no, I mean,” He was having trouble finding his words, “you caught me off guard, is all.”

“Yeah, well, forget I said anything. I just felt bad about it since you were being…” He bit down on his lip in a way that felt all too familiar to Isagi, “nice. Today—earlier.” 

He let the silence linger for a second. 

He’d assumed Kaiser’s silence the past week had been as a result of Noa yelling at them, or a consequence of his anger towards Isagi for his foul. He supposed neither explanation really made sense now. Noa had yelled at them plenty before, as had Kaiser been angry at Isagi—never had either of those events warranted the silent treatment. 

Was it really a Bastard München game if he and Kaiser weren’t trying to one up each other? Wasn’t that all they did?

So, 

“Why did you ignore me?”

Kaiser shrugged, gaze trained on him. “It was easy.”

Isagi silently considered his words, inspecting them for a double meaning he couldn’t quite find before returning to his doom scrolling. Part of him wanted to demand a proper explanation, but most of him just wanted to let it go—on some level, he supposes he agreed. 

It was easy—a lot of things were a lot easier before Kaiser. Not that they were necessarily better, but they were definitely easier. In the past week, however, he’d come to realise that maybe he didn’t like things easy. 

Because Kaiser was never easy.

He wondered if Kaiser had come to the same conclusion. 

Isagi, strangely enough, appreciated the placid quiet that followed. Now, when he didn’t feel searched by the public’s eyes nor constrained to whatever they wanted to makeup and polish him into—just Isagi, unapologetically Isagi, and Kaiser, who he felt he knew better when he wasn’t desperately trying to cling onto the image projected onto him. 

“Yoichi,” His name came out slow, careful. Deliberate. “Do you like me?”

Isagi almost dropped his phone splat on his face. He was getting some serious déjà vu. “W-what?”

Kaiser was staring at him with a look Isagi had only caught glimpses of before—never fully, never for longer than half a second, and never on purpose. “Do you like me?”

“I mean, your playstyle is tolerable but your people skills could really-”

“Yoichi.” His voice was coated in a genuineness Isagi never thought he'd hear from Kaiser of all people. Something about it made him feel like he could trust him, like the words he'd speak in this room were for Kaiser and for Kaiser only.

Isagi could feel the flower return, petals sticking to his teeth and thorns threatening to dig into him.

For the first time, he let them.

“... Yeah.”

Kaiser’s expression didn’t change, though he did seem a little surprised at his honesty. 

“Why?” He said it like he genuinely couldn’t understand.

“I don’t know.” Isagi let his hand fall and was now staring back at Kaiser. “Does it matter?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Didn’t I already admit that?”

Kaiser sat up. “You make everything so difficult.”

“I admitted to that, too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Too bad you didn’t admit to having a personality.”

“I complimented you in front of a live audience and you still can’t be nice?” 

Kaiser’s usual air of sarcasm returned, though softer. Isagi thought he looked nice like this. “I thought you said it wasn’t a compliment.”

Isagi threw his pillow at him, only for Kaiser to catch it and throw it back.

If Isagi really wanted to think about it, he had lost. He'd lost everything to Kaiser this past month. Football, photoshoots, cheesecake . 

Himself. 

But Yoichi didn’t want to think about it.

“I take it back-” He threw his second pillow at him, “you’re a one-dimensional asshole and you’re terrible to work with and I-” he was cut off by Kaiser effectively smothering him in feathers.

★

Kaiser didn't know at what point he’d gone into the Blue Lock wing of Bastard. Hell, he didn’t even remember getting back out of bed. 

What exactly was his plan here? 

Tell Yoichi… what? To get out of his head so he could finally get a good night’s sleep? It wasn’t like it was his fault (though, Kaiser almost wished it were). If anything, he should be telling Ness off for getting Yoichi so in his head.

The day the football ad aired was decisively the worst of all of them. 

What are you two—dating? You look lovesick.

What was he even doing here? Yoichi slept in a dorm , just like the rest of the Blue Lock members. No doubt his roommates were on the other side of the door in front of him. Knocking would be an act of public humiliation. 

Which, to be fair, this entire campaign seemed to be an act of public humiliation. Being thrown into these bizarro ads with no warning was definitely… an experience. He couldn’t tell if he should blame White Day as a concept or Lindt’s campaign director. 

He sighed, rubbing his eyes of sleep, of which he desperately needed. And standing here would not help.

He turned on his heel, heading back to his dorm—having snapped out of whatever stupor he was in. He considered getting a CT scan, just in case one of his recent plays had left him with a brain injury. 

The facilities were eerily quiet this late into night, an aesthetic Kaiser was sure Ego leaned into on purpose. He barely knew the guy, but judging by his limited interactions with him, he seemed like the type to thrive off the uncanny.

Thankfully, he’d gotten used to the structure of the building in his time being there—used to enough, at least, to be able to navigate the nonsensical hallways in the dark without getting lost. It was an impressive feat on its own—whichever architect designed the place needed to be knocked back into reality.

He made a turn to the right, into the hallway which led to his room, when he bumped into something. 

He almost thought he’d miscalculated his path and bumped into a wall, when the wall started yelling at him.

“Ow!” An oddly familiar voice sounded, “What the hell?”

Kaiser knit his eyebrows, trying to blink away the darkness. “Yoichi?”

“Uh.” Kaiser almost laughed at how dumbfounded he sounded. “Maybe.”

“What are you doing here?”

The wall went silent for a second.

“Nothing.”

Now, Kaiser actually did laugh. “Really? Nothing at all?”

Yoichi shoved him backwards—gently enough to where Kaiser barely had to take a step back to regain balance. “I got lost.” 

“You’ve lived here longer than me.”

“And?” He could practically imagine how red he was. “The hallways are confusing.”

“Confusing enough to end up on the opposite side of the facility?”

Kaiser decided to conveniently leave out where he was less than ten minutes ago.

“Yes. And if you will, I’ll be heading back now.” 

A beat of silence passed before Kaiser felt Yoichi bump right back into him, like a malfunctioning homing pigeon. The motion made Kaiser take another step back, accommodating Yoichi in his space. 

He smelt like mint. 

“You know, I’m sure I have a flashlight in my room.” Kaiser did not have a flashlight in his room. “Could probably help you make the treacherous journey back.”

“Don’t mock me—I really was lost!”

“And I really do have a flashlight in my room.”

Kaiser didn’t hear a reply, which he took as his cue to unlock his room. 

He flipped the light switch on, a warm yellow illuminating his room and parts of the narrow hallway. He turned back to find Yoichi still stood a couple of meters away from the entrance, arms defiantly crossed. He was borderline glaring at him.  

“Well? I’m waiting.” He sounded so stubborn and it made Kaiser’s heartstrings tug in every which way. 

Kaiser hummed. “It’s somewhere in my luggage. Might take a while to find.”

Yoichi rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging on his face. “What a shame. Looks like I’ll have to navigate back all on my own.”

Despite the words coming out his mouth, he walked over towards the door. The playful glint in his eyes was only amplified by the warm light beckoning behind Kaiser, and Kaiser thinks he could watch him forever. 

“Don’t get cocky, I don’t think you’d be able to survive that.”

“I’m a professional athlete, but a short walk in the dark is me being overzealous?”

Kaiser hummed.

“And where is your supposed flashlight, anyway, Michael?” He hated that stupid name on everyone's tongue but his, “I don’t see you rummaging for it.” Yoichi scoffed. “I’ll be here until daylight in any case.”

He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around Kaiser’s neck and ruffling his hair, twisting some of the strands between his index and middle finger. 

Kaiser really liked it when Yoichi played with his hair, he decided. 

“Unless you want my help finding it?” 

All Kaiser could feel was how warm his face felt, how matted his stomach was, and how much he wanted Yoichi. Closer, closer, and closer.

“Yeah,” Kaiser kissed him, the feeling of his lips against his making Kaiser feel like the floor just gave away beneath him, “I’d like that.”