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Rin avoided setting foot in Japan whenever he could. But that afternoon, he had no choice. A photoshoot to promote the World Cup: lights, cameras, forced smiles. He hated walking the streets of Tokyo—always loud, always crowded.
As he entered the hotel where the shoot would take place, he spotted several players he recognized from past matches: Reo Mikage and Chigiri Hyoma chatting together; Bachira Meguru playing with a prop ball. That morning, he’d remembered the day he left Japan—and finally understood Sae’s distaste for this country.
Rin walked through the lobby and stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the city. He leaned against the railing, waiting for his turn. From up high, people looked like ants, just like the crowds at his matches—noisy ants.
“Hey, Rin! You should get changed, the last guest will be here any minute,” said one of the shoot organizers.
Rin sighed and stepped away from the railing, walking heavily toward the changing area—a cramped space separated by a curtain. He pulled off his shirt and grabbed the PXG jersey. Shorts, socks, cleats—everything was laid out, clean and ready.
When he came out, he saw Bachira talking to someone—but he never would’ve guessed that someone was Isagi Yoichi. He should’ve expected it—Isagi was a football star in Japan. Rin exhaled sharply and glanced at his wrist: the watch, the green and turquoise woven bracelet. He shut his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, Isagi would be gone.
...
Rin had spent countless afternoons in that park, always with his brother. That day, Sae had stayed to train with his team. The Kamakura air was always cold around then. Seagulls flew across the horizon, the waves whispering in the distance, the air tinged with salt.
Rin looked forward to the warmer months, when the sea would be warm enough to swim in. That little park, with a few playgrounds and a soccer pitch with netless goals, was one of his favorite places. He kicked the ball around, pretending he was at the World Cup with his brother, imagining the crowd chanting his name.
A voice interrupted him.
“Um, excuse me,” said a boy, shy and about his age. “Can I play with you?”
Rin stopped, frowning. In front of him stood a boy wearing a Japan team jersey, his hands hidden behind his back, black hair falling into his eyes.
He didn’t answer. He just kicked the ball toward him. The boy smiled. And they started to play.
It was fun being with someone. Usually, it was just him or Sae. But Sae couldn’t always be there.
They ran around, laughing, passing the ball, dribbling, weaving past each other, until they were too tired to keep going. They collapsed onto the ground. Rin hugged the ball to his chest.
“What’s your name?” the black-haired boy asked, eyes glowing in the sunset. “I’m Isagi Yoichi.”
“Itoshi Rin.”
Isagi smiled. To him, Rin wasn’t weird.
...
The studio lights gave him a headache. The camera flashes, people moving back and forth—it all got on his nerves. The sooner he was back in Paris, the better.
The photographer began positioning them—Isagi and Rin in the center.
“Hi,” Isagi whispered with a smile. “It’s good to see you here.”
“Shut up,” Rin muttered. “Don’t bother me.”
He tried to focus on anything else but him. His hair was in his eyes—he brushed it aside and, just then, caught Isagi looking at him. He saw the blue of his eyes—like the sea in Kamakura. Under the lights, they were even brighter. A flash. Another. They changed their positions. Rin was now beside Reo, perfectly able to see Isagi on the other side. Instructions echoed through the room, but to Rin, they were muffled noise.
When the group shots ended, they began the solo ones. Rin stepped away, back to the little terrace.
He heard Isagi laugh—a sound so light, Rin thought he’d forgotten it.
He breathed in the Tokyo air. And his gaze—inevitably—drifted back inside.It was Isagi’s turn. He smiled at the camera, in profile, seated, holding a ball... He looked the same. Just with a deeper voice and a sharper jawline.
Their eyes met for a moment. Rin’s breath caught in his throat. He turned around, arms crossed.
...
“Happy birthday, Yoichi,” Rin said, kicking the ball at his feet.
It was Isagi’s 10th birthday. The day before, Rin had dragged Sae with him to buy a gift: a blue scarf and football stickers.
“My mom said you could come over,” Isagi grinned, his backpack slung over one shoulder, the wind tousling his hair. “You can stay the night and watch the game with us.”
Rin nodded and smiled.
The seagulls were already squawking, settling in for the night.
That evening, they ate cake and sat in the living room to watch Real Madrid vs. Barça.
Both of them focused on every play, every movement.
Rin hugged a pillow, leaning toward the TV.
“My brother’s gonna play for Real one day—as their best forward,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the screen.
Isagi turned to look at him.
“What about you?”
“Me?” Their eyes met. “I’ll be there too. I’ll be the second best. That’s our dream.”
“All three of us will fight to be number one,” Isagi declared, eyes burning with ambition. “We’ll win the World Cup.”
“All three,” Rin echoed, turning back to the screen. He imagined playing beside Sae and Isagi.
...
Rin stepped in when it was finally his turn. He tried to get it over with quickly, but Isagi kept watching him from across the room, still wearing his Bastard uniform.
Rin growled and went to change as soon as he was done. The truth was, he wanted to leave—but his legs wouldn’t move. His actions were slow, eyes locked on his phone. Just a few more seconds.
Until Isagi walked up to him. He’d changed—now wearing baggy jeans and a blue hoodie. Rin glanced at his wrist—he wore a green and turquoise woven bracelet.
“Rin,” Isagi greeted softly. His fingers played with his sleeves.
Rin looked away, annoyed, brushing past him toward the exit.
“Rin, let’s get ramen,” Isagi said, walking alongside him.
Rin didn’t answer. He stopped. His fists clenched inside his coat pockets.
He wasn’t coming back to Japan.
So why—why did those blue eyes still appear every time he closed his own, when he thought he’d left them behind long ago?
...
That night was the autumn festival. Rin had snuck out of the house to watch the fireworks with Isagi. They were twelve.
It was a warm, short night—the only one Rin ever wished would never end.
He often thought about how he and Isagi would move to Tokyo to get closer to becoming the best forwards in the world. Sae had left for Spain a month ago. The only company Rin had left was Isagi. They both played in Kamakura’s youth league.
The smell of street food filled the air—oil, spices. People passed by in waves. Women wore yukatas. Children ran through the crowd. Isagi grabbed Rin’s hand to keep from getting separated.
The paper lanterns and warm lights rendered Rin speechless.That night, Isagi stopped at a booth to catch a little goldfish. He gave it to Rin.
“The fireworks are about to start!” Isagi cried out, dashing through the crowd.
“Yoichi…” Rin looked at the fish swimming in its tiny bag, felt the warmth of Isagi’s hand in his. “When we’re grown up, I’ll marry you.”
Isagi fell silent for just a couple seconds. Then he looked at him—blue eyes reflecting the orange glow—and smiled.
“When we’re grown up, we’ll get married, Rin.”
...
They were grown up now.
The restaurant buzzed with people. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, the light and warmth of fire filling the space.
Laughter, chatter, clinking dishes.
Isagi sat across from him.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” he said, breaking the silence Rin had tried so hard to maintain.
Rin’s eyes were fixed on the back of the restaurant, where servers came and went with trays of food. His fingers fidgeted with the wooden chopsticks.
“I hate ramen,” Rin murmured, pushing at the noodles in his bowl.
The broth smelled thick and sweet—just like before.
He hated it.
“No—he hated that Isagi still saw him with that same warmth.”
“You used to like it,” Isagi replied, stirring his soup. “You used to smile more.”
“I used to be a naïve child,” Rin snapped, looking past Isagi’s head.
The memory weighed heavy. Rin pressed his lips together.
Smiles were for the soft-hearted.
...
It was freezing that night. Isagi couldn’t train with him. They had a big match coming up, so Rin decided to stay behind and practice despite the biting cold. As he kicked the ball, he heard someone enter. He thought it was Isagi—but when he turned, it was Sae. He smiled—happy to see his brother again.
Sae wore a Real Madrid hoodie and dragged a suitcase behind him. He seemed different. Colder. Everything went quiet. No stars shone. The moon was silent, as if it were foreshadowing what Sae was about to say.
“To me, you’re just my annoying, pathetic little brother,” Sae said, voice dripping with condescension—right after beating him. Then he walked away.
Rin remained on the ground, dream shattered. He stayed on the pitch, snow melting on his clothes, the sky weeping in his place.
An hour later, Isagi appeared. But all Rin could think of was Sae’s words, echoing over and over.
He didn’t notice Isagi’s red, swollen eyes.
“Am I weird?” Rin asked, eyes on the floor.
Isagi sat next to him, trying to hug him. Rin pulled away.
“What happened?” Isagi wiped his nose, watching him.
“Just go,” Rin growled, standing up.
“Rin…” Isagi reached out.
But Rin walked away.
Days later, when he looked for Isagi—he was gone.
He’d left Kamakura.
...
Rin sighed. He felt those blue eyes on him again. If he looked, he’d go back to that winter night. He didn’t want that.
“You want me to stab you or something?” Rin asked bitterly, fingers tapping the glass. The ice had melted.
“I want to know why we never looked for each other,” Isagi said, setting down his chopsticks. His gaze was locked on Rin, silently begging him to look back.
Rin stayed silent.
“It didn’t make sense if I was going to destroy you in the end,” he finally muttered.
Isagi didn’t say anything. The steam from the ramen curled into the air, disappearing.
The people around them remained unaware of what was happening at that table, in that moment.
Rin focused on the scent of soy sauce—anything but the way Isagi’s chest rose and fell with every breath.
“You wouldn’t talk to me,” Rin whispered, as soft as the steam.
“All this time, I was longing to see you again,” Isagi replied. He reached his hand toward Rin, but stopped inches short.
They left the restaurant.
The ramen had warmed his body.
Rin kept his eyes straight ahead, hands buried in his coat. Isagi glanced at him from the side. Neither knew where they were going.
Noise lived in the streets of Tokyo. Silence lived in the streets of Kamakura.
“You forgot everything,” Rin said, turning his head away from Isagi. His heart thudded in his chest.
How could he explain to his body that he was just talking to Isagi—not playing the World Cup final?
“What do you mean?” Isagi asked, confused. “How could I forget you? You’re everywhere—in the TV, the internet, my head…”
Rin swallowed. He looked down, at Isagi’s shadow on the asphalt.
“The promise,” he said. For the first time, he looked straight at Isagi.
Their gazes collided—turquoise and blue like the sea and sky in Kamakura.
“To be the best?” Isagi asked, smiling, tilting his head slightly.
He paused.
“To get married, Rin?” he added, challenging him. He stepped closer.
“There’s still time, you know,” Isagi whispered. “We’re still the future we promised each other.”
Rin lowered his gaze. Their shadows brushed, just like that day in Kamakura—when he imagined walking beside him forever.