Chapter Text
*‘Dear diary,*
*’I’m sad.*
*I don’t know who I am without soccer.*
*Every time I mess up lately - a bad pass, a slow run, one second too late - it feels like I’m being ripped apart. Like I’m not enough, even if I’m trying so hard.*
*Blue Lock is supposed to make me strongerr, But it’s starting to feel like it’s breaking me down instead.*
*And maybe the worst part is… I don’t hear the monster anymore.*
*My mind stopped speaking back, and I hate it.*
*I used to play with joy, the kind of joy that made me feel alive. But now all I feel is pressure and fear.*
*I’m sad because I’m scared I’ve already failed.*
*And no one’s said it out loud yet, but I can feel it. I can feel myself slipping.*
*Isagi still looks at me with that same calm, hopeful face. I want to keep playing with him. I want to be in a constant competition against him, but now, he’s getting much better and I’m just… behind.*
*I don’t know who I am when I’m not playing well.*
*And if I lose… what’s going to happen?’*
---
**Bachira’s POV**
Bachira’s muffled cries bled into his pillow, the fabric damp beneath his cheek.
He couldn’t stand it — the constant ache in his chest when he thought of his past. It was like a dagger in his heart, stabbing over and over again, sharp and relentless.
He had always believed his act was convincing enough to hide the cracks — smiling wide, laughing loud, wearing that mask like armor.
But he didn’t realize that one person saw right through it.
Getting out of bed was a battle. His eyes were puffy and heavy, dark bags etched underneath from hours of crying.
Every muscle ached, every step felt like dragging himself through mud.
But somehow, he forced himself to sit up, then stand, and then get ready for training in the unforgiving Blue Lock building.
Not because he felt strong, but because it was the only thing he knew to do.
He took a shaky breath, ran a hand through his messy hair, and slipped quietly out of the room, running through the cold hallways and beneath the fluorescent lights.
He didn't know where he was going. Not until he remembered that he was going towards someone. Unconsciously.
Isagi.
---
**Isagi’s POV**
Isagi stood in the hallway, blinking as Bachira’s familiar footsteps echoed — lighter than usual, hurried.
He caught a glimpse as the boy rounded the corner: yellow hair messy, eyes red and puffy, shadows dark beneath them. But then the smile came — bright and amazing, like always — and the moment passed.
“Isagi-kun! Good morning!” Bachira beamed, voice a little too cheerful.
Isagi smiled back, warmth blooming in his chest. “Morning, Bachira.”
Before he could say more, Bachira grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the cafeteria.
His hand was warm and steady. Isagi’s heart fluttered just a little.
---
**Bachira’s POV**
The contact was grounding. Isagi’s hand in his own — solid, steady. For a second, it almost made the storm in his chest quiet down.
He didn’t dare look back. Didn’t want Isagi to see how tired he really was. How close he was to breaking again.
“Come on, I’m starving,” he said, forcing a laugh. It came out too high.
He kept his grip firm, afraid that if he let go, he might disappear altogether.
---
**Isagi’s POV**
Bachira talked fast, grinning like usual. But Isagi caught a quiet flicker behind his friend’s eyes — something soft and unspoken.
He didn’t question it or worry. He just squeezed Bachira’s hand a little tighter, steady and sure.
There was no need for words yet.
He wasn’t letting go.
When they arrived at the cafeteria, Isagi grabbed some food for both of them.
Something was making Isagi’s stomach churn as he thought of Bachira - maybe it was the tired shadows under his eyes, or the way his laugh didn’t quite reach him. Isagi couldn’t say for sure, but it unsettled him. It hurt.
He returned with the food and sat down, spreading the dishes across the table.
“You can let go of my hand now — so we can eat! Look, I got your favorite!” Isagi smiled at Bachira, then pointed to the canned pineapple across the table.
---
**Bachira’s POV:**
Bachira’s fingers twitched, gripping Isagi’s hand a moment longer before finally releasing it.
“Aw, you're so sweet. I didn't think you'd remember my favorite food!” he hugs Isagi comfortably, his heart skipping a beat and warmth quickly smearing his insides, giving the room a golden hue which he probably imagined.
“Itadakimasu!” (Thank you for the meal) They both said, before devouring the food.
After filling his empty stomach, he got up with a satisfied sigh.
---
**Isagi’s POV:**
Seeing Bachira get up, he admired the boy’s slim back, before following his hurried steps out the room.
“Aw damn, I don’t want to train!” Bachira’s gaze lowered and he faked a pout, just to get a laugh out of Isagi.
As if it were on cue, Isagi chuckled. “Come on, it’ll be okay!”
For a while now, he kept noticing that Bachira hadn’t been the same energetic boy. Now, he just looked exhausted and even played in defense.
Isagi asked about it a lot of times, but Bachira just brushed it off with a shrug.
He would usually say “Ah, I was just tired today. Don’t worry so much about me.” But how could he not worry?
Bachira just… wasn’t himself anymore.
---
**Bachira’s POV:**
For a moment, he couldn't breathe. Not when he felt Isagi’s gaze burning into the back of his neck. The stare felt too concerned, too focused, for Bachira not to notice.
His head was spinning, but as a player from the opposite team came closer, Bachira knew he had to defend.
His arms felt heavy. His legs were stoned. And the boy just… ran past him.
“Hey! Why didn't you defend, Bachira?” A teammate of his, Kunigami, yelled.
“Are you stupid or something?! Just get the damn ball!” Raichi snapped, baring his shark-like teeth.
He flinched. The anger, the words, they felt familiar.
But he didn't talk back.
Bachira just went after the striker. What was he doing, thinking about his past?!
He tackled his enemy and shot a long pass to Isagi, who scored.
The look of victory and happiness on Isagi's face made Bachira’s heart pound wildly against his ribcage.
‘He’s so… handsome…’ he thought, before shaking his head. Isagi was just a friend.
---
**Isagi’s POV:**
After he scored the goal, all his teammates cheered, but Isagi just went to his friend.
“Hey, Bachira! You alright?” He held Bachira close, to steady him, and then walked out of the field.
“C’mon. Dinner's on me” he said quietly.
Bachira nodded. It was just a jerk of his head, not even a proper nod.
Isagi didn't question him. He didn't want to make the pretty boy uncomfortable.
Slurping the ramen he bought, Isagi turned to Bachira. “Did you even close an eye last night?”
Bachira chewed a bit longer at the noodles, just to come up with a proper lie. “I slept a bit, but I was excited for the match.”
Isagi didn't buy it, but he just shrugged and nodded.
They both finished and left to their dorms.
“Night, Bachira.” He paused for a second, before continuing: “Please, try to get some rest.”
“Awh, of course! Thanks for dinner!” Bachira gave Isagi a hug which lingered.
Isagi felt Bachira lean onto him just a bit before scurrying in his room. He followed his friend's example, then changed and went to bed.
Something fell off, but Isagi didn't push it. He would talk to Bachira, but not now.
Right now, Isagi just hugged a pillow tightly, his mind replacing the soft material with a warm, pliable body.
“Bachira…” he breathed out, before passing out, exhausted from the match.
---
**Bachira’s POV:**
He’d tried — really tried — to feel normal around Isagi. To feel something warm that could stop the rope which kept tightening around his heart.
But now, alone in the dark, it all came rushing back. The ache. The fear. The heaviness in his chest.
He clutched the corner of his blanket, the fabric still slightly damp from his earlier cries of anguish.
‘Don’t cry again’, he told himself. ‘Isagi would worry if he saw your eyes all red again.’
But the tears came anyway, silently — soft and unforgiving.
*‘Dear diary,*
*I wish I could tell him everything…’* he wrote, before submitting to sleep's sweet call.
---
The next few days weren't any better. Bachira was sad. Isagi noticed, but didn't speak up.
Nights full of restless sleep proved that the skill Bachira came to Blue lock with was not improving. It was regressing.