Chapter Text
"Ba-Ya-san?"
Nagi's body had been numb the moment he left the fake turf of the pitch, leaden legs dragging him stiffly through the exit. He could vaguely hear his soles clack against the cold tile, even more distantly, he could still hear Reo's stifled crying. Nagi was somewhat glad his body was on autopilot, otherwise he'd have to fight the urge to turn around one last time. And running back to Reo only meant prolonging their pain, the hurt.
He could do this, he could be the one that walked away . But even that thought was little more than a faint whisper, unfocused and barely breaking through the cloudy fog of his mind. Now past the exit, his partner's (ex-partner?) soft sobs slowly faded. It felt like Nagi was already a million miles away.
Was it supposed to feel this way?
Nagi's mind receded far, far into the back of his head, a detached observer watching as sluggish body moved mechanically through the empty white walls of the facility. Back in the dorm he shared with Chigiri and Reo, he stared blankly as his arms went through the motions of packing his belongings.
Phone? Check. Charger? Check. The Hakuho uniform he wore on his first day? Check.
Was that really all he had? He hadn't brought much to Blue Lock, but it felt like he was leaving with much less.
Reo's neatly tucked sheets and Chigiri's unmade bed haunted the periphery of his vision. The cold silence echoed with the remnants of banter they shared the night before, warm despite the anxious anticipation that hung tense in the air.
Chigiri and Reo had nagged him about going to sleep with his hair wet, with Reo offering to dry it for him and Chigiri giving both of them his usual look of disdain. Despite the decisive match looming over them, Chigiri and Reo's biggest problem last night was Nagi's admittedly soaking hair drenching his pillowcase. In the end, they both relented only after Nagi promised he'd dry his hair tomorrow night before bed.
With his bag packed, there was nothing keeping him in Blue Lock any longer. And yet, when Nagi made his way to the door, an emptiness creeped into him. Something felt deeply off, but Nagi couldn't place it, and wouldn't let himself linger long enough to place it.
Nagi expected being locked off to hurt a little more. After all, Reo's tears were fresh in his mind. He walked out with Tokimitsu and Igaguri who were barely able to make it past the exit before collapsing on the ground. Nagi thought he'd feel something besides the dull emptiness pitting in the center of his chest.
At least I was able to be with Reo. Maybe this was another side of the satisfaction he felt. A side that tasted a little more bitter, but he could be okay with it all the same. After all, he had been able to stand by Reo longer than he had thought possible, even though Blue Lock had been nothing but a ticking countdown to their inevitable separation.
Reo would be able to win the World Cup, so Nagi really was able to help him with his dream, their dream in the end. He'd be happy to stand on the sidelines and support Reo, even if he'd only do it from afar.
It might be the end of a chapter, but at least it was the happiest chapter of Nagi's life. That reasoning alone could be enough for him.
Outside the facility, he was surprised to be met with the long silhouette of the Mikage limousine and its witch-like driver exiting the car. A situation so starkly familiar that it left Nagi disjointed.
"What are you doing here?" Nagi watched blankly as Ba-Ya made her way to the rear doors, greeting him with a slight bow.
"Hello, Seishirou-sama," Baya leveled Nagi with her usual smile, crinkled eyes welcoming him as he shuffled closer. "Young master Reo listed me as your contact. I'm here to take you home."
The hollow ache from before settled heavier in Nagi's chest.
His parents rarely checked their phones and were in Japan even less, so Nagi saved himself the hassle of even listing then as emergency contacts. It wouldn't have made a difference either way if the form was empty. He hadn't expected Reo to fill it out on his behalf. Rather, Nagi had always been anticipating a long, troublesome commute home alone.
"Oh," Nagi's hand found its way to the back of his nape, fingers tugging lightly at the white curls. A strange hazy heat bubbled up in his stomach, unable to look Ba-Ya in the eyes.
Even now, Reo was helping him. Even after he broke their promise.
"You have a special guest waiting for you inside," Ba-Ya offered softly when Nagi didn't budge. "We wouldn't want Choki to wait too long, would we?"
Ba-Ya swung the back door of the limousine open, revealing a well tended Choki flashing Nagi its signature peace sign. The weight on his chest marginally lifted, allowing Nagi to let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Hello again, Choki," Nagi picked up his old companion, finding a bit of solace from the weight of the pot in his palms.
He cradled the cactus gently in both hands, turning it side to side, marveling at how much Choki had grown under Ba-Ya's nurturing care. Choki had plumpened, its once thin edges rounding and the green of its body darkening vibrantly. Perched on the top of Choki's head was a tiny delicate white bud, its newly formed petals curling in tightly on itself. Choki must've outgrown its old plastic container from the plant nursery, as Ba-Ya had repotted it in a lavender ceramic pot.
A little gasp escaped Nagi when he turned the pot around, greeted with a cactus growth sprouting close to Choki's side. Maybe Ba-Ya really was a witch. The new cactus was small, no larger than Nagi's thumbnail, but it made Choki's side infinitely less empty all the same. More importantly, Choki seemed happy. Warmth bloomed, fleeting and fragile, in the hollow of Nagi's chest.
"You have a friend," Nagi whispered, softly pricking a finger on Choki's thorn. A light pain bloomed across his finger tip, a familiar comfort that Nagi welcomed. "You've grown so much, Choki."
"And I'm sure he isn't the only one," Ba-Ya's small smile never waned. "It's a long ride home and you two have much to catch up on."
"You look a little different now," Nagi leaned his head against the backrest, eyes drifting over to Choki, buckled safely in the seat next to him. Choki, patient as always, let the silence stretch comfortably between the two of them.
"I guess I'm a little different now, too."
Without meaning to, Nagi's gaze fell to the seat across from him, where Reo had once sat animatedly talking so many mornings ago. If Nagi focused enough, he could probably make out the flippant wave of Reo's hand, the faint dimples whenever he fully grinned, the way his eyes lit up whenever Nagi responded, no matter how minimal or unenthused. The image of Reo's outstretched arm clinking a champagne glass dramatically against his, with a smile far too bright to be directed at Nagi, was so achingly vivid that the sinking feeling came surging back.
"Ah, right, you can't read my mind, Choki," Nagi mumbled, willing the heavy lump forming in his throat to disappear. Or at the very least stop it from hurting so much. "I did a lot of things I didn't know I could do... I've felt a lot of things I didn't know I could feel."
Like the foreign pain that currently pressed down on his sternum, keeping him on edge, making it difficult for him to breathe. It wasn't the same as the frustration he felt when he was defeated for the first time, lacking the heat that burned his veins. But it also wasn't the same restlessness Nagi felt when he was away from Reo in the Second Selection, the anxiety of seeing each other again and the desperate need to be better, to be good enough.
"I lost for the first time. I worked hard. I got angry. I was frustrated." In Choki fashion, the cactus remained silent, leaving Nagi alone with the quiet hum of the car's engine and his own thoughts. Thoughts that had been easy to hide in the numbness of his mind, but were now plummeting into the pit of his stomach. "When I thought I wouldn't be able to stand by Reo's side anymore, I was scared."
Nagi had said he was satisfied. He should've been satisfied— he had been with Reo again, they were by each other's side. But the unabating weight pressing down on him felt so strikingly different from how he felt after he scored against Isagi, after reuniting with Reo. Where he once felt light and warm, there was a cold sinking dread.
"I felt lonely," Nagi confessed. He had lived his whole life alone, at home, at school and he was fine. And yet, at Blue Lock surrounded by others, Nagi was painfully aware of Reo's missing presence whenever they were apart. It was like the emptiness of the seat across from him, where Reo used to be, should've been, but wasn't. "I feel lonely."
When Choki didn't respond, couldn't respond, the weight building inside Nagi crescendoed, crashing down on him with a vengeance.
"I was happy, I should be happy now," Nagi grounded the heel of his palms against his stinging eyes, determined to not see the empty seat across him, hoping it would make the pain subside. "Reo has become so strong, so bright, and he'll win the World Cup. His dream, our dream—"
Nagi choked back the half-sob that clawed its way out of the aching chasm in his chest. The numbness he felt earlier fractured into a raw ache, leaving him a live wire. He wanted to run from the sharp hurt that stung his chest, but it felt impossible. He was trapped by the ghost of Reo and the thought of never getting to stand by his side.
The outside scenery faded into the streets of his neighborhood, the same trees and crosswalks he'd seen everyday on his way to school. The thought of walking those same roads again, going back to class, seeing his classmates, not seeing Reo made the hurt gnawing at him insurmountable.
It was back to the empty apartment, the cold four walls, the fridge full of jellies. It was back to the loneliness that Nagi thought he didn't feel, had convinced himself he couldn't feel. Back to floating through life numb and unfeeling.
"I feel really sad, Choki," Nagi admitted silently, blearily looking down at the small wet spots in the hem of his sleeves before balling them up in his fists.
The limousine quietly pulled up to the curb in front of his apartment. He held his breath, counting down the seconds until Ba-Ya opened the door and he had to face reality. Nagi Seishirou was back to being alone.
"What do you think about Choki's new pot, Seishirou-sama?" Ba-Ya gently opened the door, breaking the silence that was already beginning to haunt Nagi.
"Huh?"
"Choki grew a lot in the time you were apart," Ba-Ya warmly continued. "You probably already know that plants can't grow and thrive if they're kept in a pot that's too small for them. Choki needed a new pot."
"Thank you," Nagi's gaze flicked down to the cactus in his hands before returning to Ba-Ya's soft smile and crescent eyes. "I'm sure Choki appreciates it."
"Change is good, Seishirou-sama. I'm sure Choki cherished the time it had with the old pot and embraced the chance of having something new."
"I'll be sure to re-pot when Choki needs it."
"You as well, Seishirou-sama," Ba-Ya bowed before preparing to leave. "Your life is only just beginning."
He really didn't know what to say next, so Nagi settled with a wave goodbye as Ba-Ya left. He stood on his apartment steps, feet unmoving, and watched as the limousine pulled away, its receding form shrinking until it was nothing but a black speck before disappearing completely.
Alone outside his apartment, that sinking feeling loomed closer in the back of Nagi's mind, threatening to pull him down with it. Alone, alone, alone. The weight returned, pressing firmly on the middle of his chest, it was getting hard to breathe again, he couldn't—
Choki caught his attention. The small white bud on its head, once tightly folded in on itself, had started to bloom. Its hesitant thin petals had opened up, a hardly noticeable difference from before. And yet, it was enough for Nagi.
"Ba-Ya really is a witch, isn't she?" Nagi accepted Choki's silence as an agreement.
Later that night, hidden beneath layers of sheets and comforters, Nagi sent Reo a picture of Choki's signature peace sign with the tiny white flower perching on its head mid-blossom. Nagi wasn't sure what he was hoping the message would convey. If it was enough to be an apology for making Reo cry, a tentative olive branch asking for reconciliation if Reo ever forgave him for not being strong enough, or even a simple I miss you, I miss being with you, I miss your smile.
Did Reo miss him too? Nagi hoped not.
The memory of Reo's shining tear-stained eyes, crying so hard that he was barely able to get his last sentences out, twisted Nagi's stomach. Reo's apologies, sorry for forcing you along with my dream, echoed in the hollow of his mind. It should've been him that was sorry, for letting the both of them down, for not pushing himself hard enough to want more than just being with Reo, for growing complacent.
He'd rather Reo hold onto the joy of their shared memories, of gentle spring days spent easily by one another's side, than feel the sting of regret. It would hurt less if Reo kept Nagi in the past, preserved in nostalgia, untainted by broken promises and bygone dreams. At least then, Reo's World Cup victory would be as innocent and pure as the day they first met.
Clicking his phone off, Nagi stared at the empty white expanse of the ceiling, wondering where life after Blue Lock, after Reo, would take him. Living had been such a pain— a monotonous drag of waking up, going through the motions until enough hours had passed for him to go back to sleep again.
Nagi couldn't go back. The time he spent with Reo, the frustration he had never known, the happiness he cherished, it would be a waste to throw them all away. When he told Reo their time together was the treasure of his life, he had meant it. If Nagi couldn't stand next to him anymore, at the very least he would be able to nurture the light Reo gifted him.
A chance of something new, huh.
One Month Later
On Nagi's first day back, his classmates immediately swarmed him with a volley of questions about Blue Lock.
How was it playing with Isagi? Fine.
What was Chigiri like? Okay.
Were any of the players single? Who cares.
Nagi's blatant indifference dampened his classmates' excitement in that first week. The interest surrounding Nagi's time in Blue Lock quickly dwindled as the month went on. At the very most he only got bombarded with questions the night after a U-20 match.
For how much his classmates bothered Nagi about his time in Blue Lock, they avoided one thing, one person. There were continued questions about Isagi and Rin, the occasional ones about other players, and even a few about Ego. Nagi even had to answer a question about Fukaku, who he didn't even realize existed until then. At that point, they had asked about literally everyone, except Reo. It was painfully obvious that his classmates avoided asking about him like the plague.
To Nagi's annoyance however, avoiding asking him about Reo didn't exclude his classmates from constantly talking about him.
"Are you going to watch the U-20 Finals tonight?"
"I hope Reo's on the starting line-up! I was sooo sad I couldn't get tickets to the game."
"I still can't believe that Hakuho has a student playing in the U-20 World Cup, we didn't even have a soccer team last year."
"I heard Mikage might play on the national team in the actual World Cup after Blue Lock."
"Shh, Nagi's right there. He could totally hear you."
Such a hassle. To be exact, Nagi hadn't been able to go a single day without someone mentioning Reo. In the hallways, in class, even in the stairwell on the days he was missing Reo a little more than usual. As if adjusting to the Reo-shaped emptiness in his life wasn't enough, everyone was bent on simultaneously reminding him and pretending Reo didn't exist to his face.
"It's fine," Nagi idled in response to the sudden silence. "I'll be cheering on Reo in the finals too."
Apparently satisfied, his nameless classmates turned back to their conversations.
It would be a long bothersome day at school, but at least tonight, Nagi would be able to see Reo play in the U-20 match. Nagi let out a small huff and slouched lower in his seat, reaching into his bag to find a wrapped red-bean bun. He had almost forgotten to eat breakfast and broken his current 14-day streak.
Despite the nuisance of having to chew more and buying groceries more often, Nagi's been steadfast on having three meals a day. Or at the very least, three pre-packaged pastries from the convenience store. The added trouble of it all paled in comparison to the thought that Reo would be happy that Nagi was taking care of himself.
There were still days when it was harder for Nagi to shake off the malaise, when he would lay in bed, unable and unwilling to get his body to move. Two weeks after coming back home, he stayed under his covers for an entire weekend. He left the bed twice, once to eat half a pre-wrapped bun and the other to use the bathroom.
It came to him naturally. Nagi had gone seventeen years lethargically trudging along with the heavy weight of fatigue pressing down on him. The bone-deep exhaustion didn't bring him any semblance of happiness, but it was at least familiar and he was content with it. Not wanting anything, not needing anything was effortless. And if Nagi convinced himself, the ease could be comfortable.
But it wasn't. It hadn't been since he met Reo.
On the days when Nagi wanted to do nothing but lay in bed, rotting away in comfort until he disappeared and left nothing behind, he thought of how much fun he had after Reo bumped into him in the stairwell. Even if he wasn't playing football with Reo anymore, the thought of maybe one day laughing like he did when they went to Harajuku or experiencing the same high after their goal against Isagi made everything seem less gray.
Reo had shown him that there was more to life than just tediously waiting for days to pass in a colorless blur. He had shown him that there was more to Nagi.
Not that Reo has said anything since they last spoke.
No matter how frequently Nagi checked his messages, scrolling past the pictures of Choki and Choki Jr and refreshing his phone, Reo hasn't responded.
Late that night, sprawled out on his stomach and buried under at least two comforters, Nagi opened up the BLTV app. He had almost lost track of time, busy mindlessly rising through the ranks in one of his FPS games. The second half of the final U-20 match had just started, with Isagi starting with the first kick.
"So cool," muffled by the pillow, Nagi's eyes raptly followed as Reo's small form flitted across his phone screen.
The ball flew back and forth between the other players and Reo at midfield. Each time, Reo's playstyle adjusted to the other, one minute passing freely back and forth with Bachira, the next stepping into a copy of Sae to pass to Shidou.
It was such a Reo thing to do. Even through the chaos on the field, Isagi and Rin fighting for the chance to score, Barou and Chigiri following close behind equally focused on the goal, Reo seemed collected.
"Isn't Reo so cool, Chokis," Nagi turned his head, resting his cheek on the pillow between his arms, to where Choki and Choki Jr happily watched from the windowsill. As always, Nagi took their silence as an agreement.
With the score tied 3-3 late into the last quarter, the frenetic energy mounting on the pitch slowly seeped into Nagi's veins. When the other team's defense sent the ball in a sweeping arc back to defense, Reo stopped its movement at the centerline. With the forwards still by the goal post and defense pushed back, Nagi's eyes were glued to the screen as the other team's midfielders surrounded Reo.
Seeing him alone on the pitch, under the pressure of the thousands of eyes watching the U-20 stage, Nagi's blood ran cold. He's scared for Reo, infected by the same icy fear he felt in his final match, a chill creeping up on him. There was Reo, separated by a screen and thousands of miles from Nagi, with the world waiting for his next move.
Reo pulled his leg back, maybe in an attempt to get the ball away from the other team even though no one else was available. With bated breath, Nagi watched Reo's golden cleat make contact with the ball. And then nothing. The ball doesn't go flying blindly across the field in a desperate bid to shift the game's momentum.
Nagi's breath froze in his chest.
Reo faked a volley. A midfielder on the other team reached out to intercept the ball mid-air. And Reo does it again. And then a third time.
Right when he thought Reo would do it again, a copy of Nagi's four fake volleys before shooting, Reo instead sent the ball in a straight line towards Isagi, who was finally able to break free from the defense. Despite the frenzy, the pressure that Nagi couldn't imagine escaping, Reo had bought time for the team.
It was enough. The second he made contact with the ball, Isagi charged the goal with such fervor he might as well have been the only person on the field. The paragon of egoism, with a single-minded desire to score, Isagi's direct shot secured Blue Lock's victory.
Ah.
There was Reo's brilliant smile, stretched so wide in excitement that his cheeks dimpled. In the silver glow of the U-20 World Cup trophy, Reo's flushed grin was impossibly radiant. One arm was slung around Isagi, the other resting on Bachira's tousled head before Zantetsu tackled the three of them. Chigiri and Barou bickered over holding the trophy and Reo laughed, bright and airy. He looked so, so happy.
It hurt.
Nagi should've known. He kept telling himself that their dream was over, that he was okay with that as long as he could cheer on Reo. But the entire time he clung onto the minute hope that it wouldn't be the case. That maybe Nagi could still be in Reo's life.
The unread messages.
Reo's silence.
The truth was Nagi wasn't enough anymore for the football that Reo wanted to, needed to, play. Every time he stepped onto the field, he was afraid it'd be his last time with Reo. He wasn't even playing tonight and the fear still paralyzed him.
The small hope that Nagi had been clinging onto tethered him to Reo. But while it had been Nagi's lifeline keeping him afloat, it was dead weight to Reo, another burdensome reminder of Nagi's failure.
Reo was on the way to winning the World Cup, of reaching his dream. For Nagi to truly support him, he had to first say goodbye to his childish hopes.
U-20 World Cup Post Game Interview: Mikage Reo, Blue Lock No. 11
"Thank you for answering our questions about the final match," the interviewer briefly paused, momentarily glancing down at their notes. "Before we wrap up our interview, I have a few closing questions."
"Of course, I'd be happy to answer them," Reo flashed the camera his well-rehearsed smile, charming but not excessively so, glad but not too overly excited. It did well to bely the adrenaline still coursing through him, even hours after the match ended.
"We know that the Blue Lock journey hasn't been easy." Reo nodded as the interviewer continued. "Could you share a little more about your experience in the program?"
"I will be the first to admit that I struggled during my time in Blue Lock. There were times when I thought I wouldn't be able to keep up with the other players, when I doubted myself and my place here."
Reo paused, feeling the weight of the practiced response on his tongue, before continuing, "I can't say that I look back on those moments fondly. However, I know that they were needed. Change is often accompanied by some growing pains, so I'm very proud of how far I've come."
"The renewed vigor you displayed in the U-20 matches has shocked us and the viewers at home. What motivated this change?"
Reo's momentum wavered.
"There is someone very important to me, who believes in me, more than I believe in myself," Reo sheepishly admitted. "Before I met them, I thought I would always be alone in my dream. But now, there's someone who has faith in me, who always did. There's someone who isn't waiting for me to fail, and I'm fighting for the both of us until we can be together again."
"Please, tell us more." The shadow of Nagi Seishirou lingered in Reo's unspoken words.
"The last time we saw one another, I wasn't able to properly thank them and I haven't had a chance since," Reo hesitated, eyes flickering down to the microphone before returning to the camera. "There's so much I have to say."
"What would you say to them now?"
"I—" A resolute smile crossed Reo's face, before bowing to the interviewer. "I would like to save my response for when I see them again. Thank you for your time."
Blue Lock TV Announcement
Congratulations to the Blue Lock team for their victory in the U-20 World Cup. Effective immediately, the Blue Lock program will be suspended for a one-month hiatus as our players take a well deserved break. We thank all of our sponsors and viewers for their continued support.