I choose what I deserve.

Itoshi Rin — the one who always kept his distance, who always appeared strong, yet was also the one who endured every wound in silence.

The whispers about Rin began slowly, trickling through like poison: that he was arrogant, selfish, a player who couldn’t work with a team — that he even cursed at everyone behind them back.

Rin said nothing. Because he knew — the more you speak, the more they hate you.

One by one, they turned away from him.

Bit by bit, Rin was pushed to the margins, living like a shadow in the team he once gave everything for. No one asked. No one noticed the dullness growing in his eyes. No one heard the quiet sighs as he sat alone in the dim locker room.

And then, one day — Rin disappeared.

Notes:

Hello! This is a new AllRin fic, and it’s based on a real dream I had—about a month before my final exams. I don’t quite remember if I was seeing it from Rin’s perspective or as a third-person observer, but I witnessed him breaking down, shattered into pieces from betrayal. It was like fragmented memories overlapping—one moment he was in BlueLock, the next he was cooking in a forest (???). I woke up at the scene where Rin collapsed in the rain.

The rest of the fic is simply me writing a happy ending for him.

The characters don’t fully follow canon. I love all of them, even though in this fic I kind of want to punch each of them once. I wrote this based on a rough guide I made after waking up.
A few notes: this fic contains lots of flashbacks and parallel scenes. Honestly, I don’t know how to describe it well so please forgive any awkwardness!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Rin used to believe that if he caused no trouble, disturbed no one, and stayed quiet—if he simply existed without resistance—then maybe… maybe they would leave him alone.

But it seemed even his presence was a thorn in their eyes.

He stood in front of his locker, staring at the black ink scrawled across his jacket—letters shaky and rushed, yet sharp enough to cut through fabric and skin alike.

Cold-blooded monster.

The words bled into him—ugly, trembling handwriting etched in anger, or fear, or both. Still, they struck too deep.

That afternoon, every step he took down the hallway echoed far too loud.

He once thought he was used to the silence. Once thought he could live without anyone by his side. But now, the emptiness in other people’s eyes was killing him—slowly, mercilessly.

“Isagi,” Rin called out, his voice barely a breath.

“Are you… mad at me?”

Isagi paused, but didn’t turn around.

The light from the window spilled across his back, casting a long shadow that stretched coldly over the tiled floor.

Rin waited. For a no. For a what are you even saying?
For anything.
Even just a shake of the head.

But all he received was silence.

And then Isagi exhaled—long, tired, as if the weight of everything had finally worn him down.

“I just… don’t want to get involved in anything negative.”

“You should take a good look at yourself, Rin.”

He wanted to ask—What do you mean? But his lips wouldn’t move.
Wanted to say—I haven’t done anything. But his throat tightened shut.

Isagi walked away, leaving behind the bitter scent of sweat and damp grass.

Rin stood frozen in place, fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.

/// One loss. The whole team bowed their heads.
Isagi and Rin stood at the far end of the field.
Rin said nothing—he simply stared up at the empty stands, as wind and rain howled past his ears.
"Hey.”
Isagi held out his hand—soaked with rain, but warm.
“It’s okay. I still believe in you. We’ll win next time.
Rin looked at that hand.
Hesitated.
Then placed his own in it. //

That handshake was gone now.

In its place stood Isagi—smiling at someone else, avoiding Rin’s gaze, sitting two rows away in the strategy meeting room.

Rin’s eyes drifted to the old tactic table—the one where he and Isagi used to sketch out formations in pencil. Now, it was covered with Mina’s papers—the new advisor who had stepped in after Anri quietly withdrew.
Her voice was soft, sometimes tinged with a quiet fear:

“I… I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but Rin’s kind of scary.”
“I don’t want to say anything, but... I think he really hates me.”

Rin said nothing.
He didn’t argue.
He just stood there, like someone on trial for a crime he never committed.

After practice, Rin saw Isagi again.
He was standing beside Mina, talking—laughing.

The kind of laugh that used to be reserved for Rin.
The kind that once said “I’m proud of you.”

When Isagi turned and met Rin’s gaze—even just for a second—his eyes dimmed.

“Rin. I think… you should really change how you act.”

“If you don’t want everyone to turn their backs on you.”

Rin didn’t say a word.
Because even if he did—who would believe him?
If he tried to explain—who would listen?

He simply turned away, quietly packed his shoes into his bag, and left the room before the others finished changing.

Outside, the rain had started again.

And the hand that once held his—now remained only in memory.

Isagi walked away as if he had never heard Rin’s voice calling.
And Rin stood still—frozen in the hallway, beneath flickering fluorescent lights that seemed to mock his silence.

He didn’t know when things began to fall apart.
There was a time when people laughed, cheered his name when he scored.
There was a time when Isagi had said, “I believe in you, Rin.”

So when—when did that gaze turn cautious?
Was it because he didn’t know how to smile?
Because he wasn’t good at making small talk?

Or… had they never truly cared about him the way he thought they did?

Rin bit down on his lip—hard.
A faint taste of blood spread across his tongue—a sharp, undeniable sensation in a world that felt increasingly unreal.

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but Rin’s kind of scary…”

Rin heard it.
He always did.

The whispers—softer than wind, lighter than smoke—yet they carved through his mind like dull, rusted knives.

He should have spoken up.
Should have said, “I didn’t do anything.”

But his throat wouldn’t let a single word through.

Because when the entire room turns to look at you like some twisted creature,
Even the truth sounds like a lie.
And when Isagi looked at him—not as Rin—but as suspicion,

He understood.

...

Everything he had once built—had shattered.

…

The team’s dining hall was always loud.
Laughter, clattering trays, the scent of food, the slap of running shoes on tile floors.
But when Rin stepped in, it was as if the volume dropped below zero.

He used to hate this place—too crowded, too noisy, too many smells all crashing into one another.
But there had once been someone… who made it feel less terrifying.

/// “Riiin-chan~ I brought pudding! I’ll give you a bite if you sit with me!”
“You don’t smile, don’t talk, but you still come with me. I like that.”
“I’ll be the voice in Rin-chan’s head, so you don’t have to speak out loud.”
That’s what Bachira used to say.
He’d say it while clinging to Rin like an octopus,
as if letting go would cause Rin to disappear entirely. ///

Now Bachira sat at the far right table, laughing—laughing a lot.
A chocolate pudding sat in front of him—the very flavor he once claimed he’d only eat if Rin was there.

Rin stood at the entrance, a tray of food in his hands.
Bachira didn’t see him.

No—he did see him. But he looked away.

Rin quietly made his way to a separate table, two rows down.
He sat alone.
No one joined him.
He didn’t eat.

He didn’t look at them, either.
Just sat there, listening to Bachira’s laugh echo once again through the room.

“I thought Rin was your best friend?”
“Ah… he’s kinda hard to approach lately, huh?”

A voice—he didn’t recognize whose.
But Bachira’s reply came clearly.

“Mm… guess we just don’t match vibes anymore.”

// / There was a night once—just the two of them, eating ramen after a rough match.
Bachira sat across from him, slurping noodles like a child.
Rin kept his head down, worn out from the loss.
"Hehe.”
Bachira rested his chin on his hand, grinning wide.
“You look cool as hell when you’re pissed.
But don’t push yourself too hard, yeah? I think Rin-chan’s really lonely.”
“So I’m gonna stick with you.
Even if you glare, snap, or stay cold—I’ll still be here.
You’ll just have to deal with it.”//

Rin stood up, about to leave—
When Bachira came out with his own tray, and their paths crossed at the door.

Just for a second.

Bachira’s eyes passed over Rin’s—just passed.
No pause. No recognition. No surprise.
Not even the faintest flicker of anything.

Then he turned away.
As if Rin were a stranger in the crowd.

Rin remained still, the air from the AC brushing cold against his skin.

He didn’t know when it had started—
When people began to walk past him as if he were invisible.

They didn’t just leave.
They forgot him, gently—politely—like erasing a name from a chalkboard.

And the one who once said
“I won’t let you be alone anymore!!”

…

Had become the first to walk away
Without even looking back.

...

//It was a quiet evening after practice. The rest of the team had gone home, leaving only Bachira and Rin on the field.
The stadium lights were dim, the air just beginning to chill.
Rin sat alone in the stands, fingers tightening around his water bottle.
Bachira came running, panting, his voice bright and breathless.
“RIN-CHAN!!! I told you to wait for me so we could go eat!”
Rin glanced at him, face unreadable.
“I never promised. Why’d you always wait?”
Bachira braced his hands on his knees, bending down to look Rin straight in the eyes.
“I don't know... I just… didn’t want to go home if it wasn’t with you.”
A simple sentence. No drama. No pleading.
But Rin turned away, lips curving ever so slightly—
A real smile. Small, quiet, almost invisible—
But it was the first time he hadn’t pushed someone away when they reached out.
“Whatever. But I’m hungry.”
Bachira’s entire face lit up.
“Then let’s go, my dinner buddy!”
“And no sharing pudding today!”//

Rin returned to the dorm.
Set his untouched meal tray on the table.
Didn’t turn on the light.

He sat in the dark, still, the faint glow of his phone screen the only light.
An old message hovered in an open chat with Bachira:

[Bachira – 3 weeks ago]
“Riiin-chan what are we eating tomorrow? I swear no ramen this time 🐙 ”

Rin stared at those words for a long time.
His fingers moved to the message box.
Paused.
Then erased what he’d started typing.

No one would reply.
Even if he sent something—
No one would read it.

In the hollow quiet of the room, Rin curled into himself, arms wrapped around his knees.
There was a crack in his chest. Not deep. Not sharp.
But it spread.

Each averted gaze.
Each forced laugh.
Each step that moved away from him—

Turned that crack into something more than just a fracture.

If he hadn’t smiled that night,
If he had never let himself step out of the shell—
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much now.

Because the one person who had made him feel seen—
Was now the first to pretend he had never existed.

And Rin understood—without anyone needing to say it:

…

In their world,
He was the extra piece.

And that first smile…
Had also been the last.

...

Rin didn’t know why he came here.
The auxiliary training room. 9 p.m.
Everyone else had already left—except one.

Kaiser.

He was slouched on the bench, shirt damp with sweat, overhead lights casting a dim glow on his tousled blond hair. When he heard Rin’s footsteps, he looked up—unsurprised.

“Oh. Itoshi-kun.”
“Here to pick a fight, or to ask for a hug?”

His tone, as always, danced somewhere between mockery and truth.
Rin didn’t smile.

“I’m not here to start anything.”

Kaiser raised an eyebrow, spinning a ball slowly in his hands.

“Then what are you here for? A confession?”
“Right, I forgot—you’re the hot topic these days. Putting pressure on others, cold to your teammates, doesn’t play well with the group…”

“I didn’t do those things.”
“I just wanted to ask…”

Rin’s fingers clenched for a moment—then released with a quiet exhale.
For once, he set his pride aside.

“What do you… think of me?”

Kaiser narrowed his eyes. The room fell still.
Shadows stretched long across the wall. The ball stopped turning in his hands.

“That’s an interesting question.”
“You’re hoping I’ll say, ‘You’re fine, they’re wrong,’ aren’t you?”

“Because I’m the only one who doesn’t seem to hate you?”

Rin didn’t answer.
He looked at him—silent, steady, waiting.

// It was after a match. Rin sat alone on the grass, head bowed.
Kaiser passed by, tossed him a water bottle.

“Please don’t look like the world just ran over your pet.”
“You lost. But you played well.”
“Itoshi Rin doesn’t need forgiveness. He just needs to win.”

Rin hadn’t said a word, but that day—
He drank all of it.
The first time he took something from someone else without hesitation. //

“I used to think you were strong,” Kaiser said.
“A cold, solitary bastard who never broke.”
“I used to think you were like me—someone who didn’t need anyone.”

“But now here you are, asking me what I think.
Waiting for some comforting words.”

“Tch… how disappointing.”

Rin’s fists clenched.

“I just needed to know… if you think I’m as awful as they say.”

Kaiser laughed—not with amusement, not with mockery,
but with something far crueler.

“I think… you’re weaker than I thought.”
“Proud and fragile. That’s the most pathetic combination.”

Rin didn’t react. Didn’t snap back.
He just stood there—still—
Because something inside him truly cracked this time.

Not because Kaiser insulted him.
But because—he had hoped.

He had hoped for something from this person.
Something he never should’ve let himself want.
When everyone else turned their backs, Kaiser’s eyes had been the only ones that didn’t look at him like he was some malformed thing.

But now—
They did.

“So… you too.”
“I thought… maybe you’d be different.”

Rin turned away and walked out of the room.
He didn’t wait for another word.

Kaiser watched him go.
Didn’t follow.
Didn’t call out.

He simply let the ball drop—
a hollow thud echoing through the empty space.

Rin had thought Kaiser might be different.
Because for a moment, he had looked at him like no one else did.

But it turned out—even that gaze had been an illusion.

And maybe…
maybe the deepest wound doesn’t come from being rejected.

But from being understood—and trampled on anyway.

The door closed behind Rin with a soft, final click.
His footsteps faded down the quiet hallway, until nothing remained.

Kaiser stood still for a long while.
The ball rolled gently across the floor, untouched.

He lowered his head, elbows on his knees, breathing out.

“…Did you really think I could be your anchor, Itoshi Rin?”

His voice was hoarse, small—
as if he were speaking only to himself.

“I’m a bastard. I know that.”
“I don’t save people.
I’m not kind enough to listen.
Especially not to someone like you.”

For a brief moment, his eyes flicked toward the door—
as if he might chase after him.
As if he might call out—just once:

“Wait… I don’t hate you.”

But his lips didn’t move.
His feet stayed rooted to the floor.

And then—softly, bitterly—

“You’re fragile.
But I’m even weaker.”

“I was afraid to stand beside you.
Because if I did…
there’d be no turning back.”

“…Forgive me.
If you still can.”

No one heard him.
No one answered.

Only the dim light spilled across the tiles—
and a man left behind, silently realizing
he had just lost something he couldn’t name.

Itoshi Rin would never know this part.
And Kaiser—the one who seemed the strongest—
was the only one who didn’t dare hold him back,
even though he understood him best.

Rin didn’t know why he came here.
Not because he wanted comfort.
Not because he trusted Kaiser completely.
But simply because—
in a crowd that was slowly turning its back,
Kaiser’s was the only gaze that hadn’t yet looked at him like a monster.

There were moments when the man looked at him—not with disdain, not with pity.
Just… directly.
As if he could see something inside Rin that even Rin himself couldn’t name.

// One night, Rin was practicing long shots after everyone else had left.
The wind was biting cold, the ball kept slamming off the post, over and over again.
He grew frustrated—nothing was landing right.

Kaiser sat on a stone bench nearby, watching silently.
Didn’t say a word.

Only when Rin finally dropped to his knees in exhaustion did he get up,
walk over, and place a hand on Rin’s shoulder.

“You’ll never be perfect.”
“But you can be good enough to make people afraid.”

Not praise. Not comfort.
But somehow… it quieted something inside Rin.
That was the first time he wanted someone to stay.
To hold on to that gaze. That presence.

He never said it. Never admitted it.
But he knew—
Something had started that night.//

“I think you’re weaker than I thought.”
“I hate people like you.”

Rin didn’t feel angry.

Only… a stillness.
A hollow ache.
Something quiet, and dying.

He had once hated Kaiser.
But he had also—admired him.
Had wanted to push him away.
But had also—wanted to draw closer.

And now, all those contradictions, fell like ash in his chest.

“I thought you’d be different.”

It wasn’t an accusation.
It was a farewell— to something unnamed, fragile, and once hopeful.

Rin walked out of the room.
Didn’t look back.

Rain had started falling in the hallway outside.
Not heavy. Just steady—
a slow, rhythmic knocking against the hollow inside him.

“I used to think… maybe, just once,
I could let someone in.”

“But you were right— I really am weak.”

“So weak that even the smallest warmth… leaves me dying when it disappears.”

He kept walking.
Didn’t wipe the rain from his face.
Didn’t wipe the tears either.

...

Because sometimes, the deepest kind of pain doesn’t come from being hurt—but from watching someone
shatter something
you never even dared admit you were trying to protect.

…

Rin didn’t know when it began— this slow fading into the background, this quiet erasure of his presence.

When he became “the guy standing in the middle of the pitch with no one willing to pass to him.”

Today’s training was just another quiet confirmation.
He was placed low on the field. No clashes.
No strategy built around him.

The coach offered no explanation.
But the glances—the half-second looks from a few teammates—were enough.

He wasn’t part of the core anymore.
Just a name.
A contract obligation they couldn’t drop, but no longer cared to include.

Reo passed the ball past Rin’s side, not to his feet.
Rin had to sprint back just to keep possession.

“Little quicker, Number 10.”
“Or maybe switch to goalkeeper. Might have better luck surviving down there.”

Reo’s voice wasn’t loud.
Wasn’t sharp.
But every syllable carried a blade’s edge of mockery.

// There was a night, after a rough loss,
when Reo shoved a water bottle into Rin’s hand.

“No joke, you’re wound up too damn tight.
But everyone sees you’re good.”
“If it were Nagi, he’d have gone home by halftime to sleep it off.
But you? You ran to the end.”
“We noticed. You were solid.”

Rin hadn’t said a word.
But that night, when he walked home—
his shoulders had felt just a little lighter.//

“Surprised you haven’t quit yet.”

Reo stood with hands on hips, watching Rin gasp for air.

“No one passes to you.
No one trusts you.
No one needs you.
And yet you keep running.”

Rin wiped the sweat off his brow. Didn’t respond.
The air clung to him—thick with grass, sweat, and the slow suffocation of being forgotten.

From the far corner of the pitch, Nagi approached.
Slow. Tired. As always.

“Rin,”

“Tired yet? Or are you gonna drop already, save everyone the eye strain?”

No sarcasm.
No bite.
Just a flat, tired line—
like asking what’s for dinner.

But Rin understood.
Silence was the coldest cruelty.
Because it didn’t have form.
But it cut deeper than steel.

// There was a time—
during an important scrimmage—
when Rin missed a crucial shot.
Teammates grumbled under their breath.

Nagi tossed him another ball, scratching his head.

“Try again.
Not fun if you’re not out here.”

Rin turned, confused, eyes wary.

Nagi only shrugged.

“I don’t think you’re the problem.
Maybe they’re just looking at you wrong.” //

Every gaze that once held him steady— now made it harder to breathe.

“Still not down yet?”
“What kind of player are you if no one wants to be on your team?”
“Or maybe... we were the ones wrong for ever cheering you on?”

Each word felt like someone ripping out his nails—
slowly, deliberately.

Because they didn’t come from enemies.
They came from the ones who once pulled him back up.

The locker room was empty.
Rin sat alone on the bench, forehead resting on one hand.
His cleats were caked in dried mud, streaks of missed footing trailing behind him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled.
Couldn’t remember why he was still playing.

All he remembered was—

“Keep playing, Rin. We think you’re great.”

But now, “we” was gone.

And the question echoed endlessly in his mind:

...

"If no one sees me anymore…
what's the point of existing at all?"

…

Sae sent a message.

Short. Emotionless.

“Meet me in the auxiliary meeting room. 17:00. Don’t be late.”

Rin arrived five minutes early.
He didn’t know why his hands were trembling.

It wasn’t fear—not of Sae.

But because…
some part of him still hoped Sae would be different.

The world had turned its back.
But not Sae—right?

He was Rin’s brother.
The one who once held his hand in the middle of a crowd.
The one who once stepped in front of him and shouted:

“Don’t touch my brother.”

Sae sat across the table, fingers laced.
His eyes were steady.
His voice held no warmth.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately.”
“You’re divisive. Poor in teamwork. A source of pressure for your teammates.”

Rin said nothing.
Didn’t deny it.
Didn’t nod.

He waited—for a different sentence.
A defense. A sliver of recognition.
Something that still resembled the Sae from long ago.

But what came was—

“You embarrass me, Rin.”
“You’re a stain on this team.”

Rin looked up.
That was the first thing his brother said?

//When they were younger, and Rin had missed a penalty kick.
His classmates mocked him, loud and cruel.

Rin hid in his room. Didn’t eat. Didn’t speak.

Sae knocked once, walked in, and placed a warm bowl of rice in front of him.

“You don’t play to please anyone.”
“You play because you love it. That’s enough.”
“I’m your brother. Even if the whole world hates you,
I won’t let go of your hand.”//

“I can’t protect you forever.”
“I have my reputation. My career. My duty to this team.”
“You’re not my priority anymore.”

Rin let out a soft laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because it was the only thing he could do
instead of breaking in front of the one person
he had still dared to believe in.

Because if he cried—he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand back up again.

“Then… say something.”
“Tell me what to do so I won’t make you ashamed anymore.”

Sae said nothing.
So long that Rin wondered if he was even still there.

And then—

“I wish… you weren’t my brother.”

// T he very first day he entered the national training camp.
How Sae had pulled him aside, rested a hand lightly on his shoulder, and said:

“I might not be good at showing it…”
“But I’m proud of you.” //

Rin had repeated those words in his head hundreds of times.
Whenever the pressure crushed him.
Whenever he was shunned.
Betrayed.
Lonely.

That single sentence had been the anchor
keeping him from falling apart.

And now—
the very person who said it had cut the line himself.

Rin walked out of the room.
No shouting.
No slammed doors.
No tears.

The hallway wind was sharp and empty.
Every step he took felt like walking through water.

“I’ve lost teammates.
Lost friends.
Lost the people who once cheered as I tried to crush the world beneath my feet.”

“But now… I’ve lost you —
the one who once was my world.”

Sae wasn’t his brother anymore.
Just a man.
A man who chose to protect his name
instead of the little brother he once swore never to let go of.

…

And just like that—
Rin had no one left.

…

“I tried to be strong.
But I’m not made of steel.
I’m just a younger brother
who once believed his brother would always stay.”

No one saw him the next morning.
Not on the pitch.
Not in the cafeteria.
Not even in the dorms.

He had left at dawn.
No suitcase.
No phone.
No message.

Just one boy—
and the shadow of the rain trailing behind him.

It was raining.

Not a storm.
Not a downpour.
Just a quiet, steady cold drizzle—
as if even the sky had grown too tired to be angry.

Rin walked along the narrow stone path.
His jacket soaked through.
Hair clinging to his forehead.
Shoes caked in mud.

People passed by without looking.
As if he didn’t exist.
As if he was nothing more than a smudge—a wrong color on a finished painting.

He had nowhere to go.
No one to call.
No reason to turn back.

“I don’t have a team anymore.”
“No teammates.”
“No family.”
“No one who calls my name like it means something.”
“No hand pulling me back. No one asking ‘Are you okay?’
No one who needs to know whether I’m still breathing.”

He sat down on a bench in the park.
Rain dripped slowly from the ends of his hair—
right into his eyes.
Indistinguishable from tears.

But Rin wasn’t crying.
Not anymore.

He had passed the point of screaming.
Passed the point of sobbing.

Now, he was only…
empty.
Hollow.
Still.

For a moment, he thought he heard laughter echo in the back of his mind.

Isagi.
Bachira.
Kaiser.
Reo.
Nagi.
Sae.

One by one— voices that once called his name, laughed with him, pulled him to his feet.

Now they rang like distant bells— fading from a world he no longer belonged to.

...

“If I really am the villain they say I am…
Then why does it still hurt so much to be left behind?”

...

Rin stood up.
Walked into the middle of the road — without an umbrella, without a jacket.
He tilted his head back toward the sky.
Rain lashed into his eyes.
Cold. Sharp. Numbing.

“Erase me.”
“If this world doesn’t need me… then let the rain wash me away.”
“Wash away everything that was once Itoshi Rin.”

A choked sound broke from his throat.
He covered his mouth,
as if afraid of the noise he might make.

But the sob never came.
There were no tears.
No sound.

“I’ve already died.”
“It’s just… my heart kept beating.
And that feels like a mistake.”

He collapsed beneath a flickering streetlight.
Its pale, yellow glow fell over him like a funeral shroud.

...

“If no one sees me…
If no one touches me…
If no one believes me…
If no one remembers me…”

“Then… do I still exist?”

...

Rin wandered through an old park.
The heavy rain had stopped, but puddles remained — wet soil, and wind whispering through the trees.

He was still soaked.
Mud stained his sleeves.
His hair clung to his skin like seaweed lost at shore.

He thought…
maybe if he kept walking,
he would disappear into the night.

Then — a sound.

Barely audible.
So faint it could’ve been the wind.
A whimper — broken and shallow.

He turned.

At the base of an old tree,
was a bundle of wet fur.
A tiny puppy — white and brown, no larger than his shoe.

Curled into itself, shivering.
Eyes half-shut, breath thin.
No collar. No one nearby.
Probably abandoned.
Probably had wandered through the storm.
Probably… just waiting to fade.

Rin stared.
And somehow — the puppy stared back.

Neither of them could speak.
But both recognized something in the other.

The same kind.
The kind left behind.

Rin knelt down.
He gently brushed mud from its back with his sleeve.

“You… got left too, huh?”

No reply.
But the puppy opened its eyes.

It licked Rin’s hand — just once —
lifting its head with the last of its strength.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”
“I don’t even know why I’m still breathing.”

Rin picked it up.
It was terrifyingly light —like cradling a wound that still breathed.

He didn’t know where to go next.
But he knew one thing: At least one living thing had just chosen not to turn away from him.

...

A flicker of light — in the ruins of a broken night.

...

Rin pulled a towel from the public supply bin and gently wrapped it around the puppy.
He sat down on the brick steps beneath the shelter’s awning.
The pup burrowed against his chest, breathing faintly. Its heart was still beating.

“If you’re not dead…
then I’ll try to stay alive a little longer, too.”

The night was cold.
But Rin let his eyes fall shut.

For the first time— since he disappeared— there was something in his heart that wasn’t bleeding.

– Blue Lock, Monday morning, the second day of Rin’s disappearance --

The low hum of the training room fan filled the silence.
The clock edged toward 10 a.m.
Itoshi Rin still hadn’t shown up.

Kaiser sat with arms crossed, eyes scanning the training schedule.
For once, he didn't make a single sarcastic remark.
No one could tell what was turning in his mind.

Bachira flipped open his notebook, only to find a blank page.
The one from yesterday—
where it used to say: “2v2 match with Rin after practice.”
Had been torn out.
He didn’t know when.

Isagi stared once more at the PR magazine in his hand.
Mina’s smiling face beamed beneath the bold headline:
“The Connector – Blue Lock’s New Inspiration.”

Bachira tilted his head, voice dulled, as if poking at something fragile:
“Did Rin ever say anything bad about Mina?”
“Was he ever… jealous of her?”

Silence fell.
Reo looked away.

Isagi’s fingers clenched the paper until the crease cut deep.
He thought of Mina—the girl with the trembling voice, eyes always on the verge of tears,
who often came to him whenever something had happened with Rin.

“He doesn’t like me.”
“He makes me feel useless.”
“I just wanted to help…”

Back then, Isagi had only thought, “Rin again, huh.”

But now—
He remembered every time Rin stayed silent.
Every time Rin didn’t deny anything.
Every time Rin lowered his gaze… and walked away before anyone else could.

Why is Rin the one who is becoming more and more silent, withdrawn, and not fighting back?

And the last time—
when Isagi had said:

“Rin, I think… maybe you should change the way you act.
If you don’t want people to turn their backs on you.”

He remembered Rin’s eyes.

Not angry.
Not hurt.
Just… tired.
Like someone who’d stopped expecting anything.

“Maybe we were wrong,” Isagi murmured—
as if trying to stop the blood surging back into his chest.

Bachira’s mouth twisted. No smile.
“How much more ‘wrong’ can we be?”

Reo folded his arms, trying to keep steady.
“Don’t overreact. Maybe he just took the day off.”

Isagi turned to him.
“You were the one who used to cheer Rin on the most, Reo.”

Reo’s hands tightened on his sleeves.
“And he was the one who pushed everyone away the hardest.”

Kaiser stood up.
The chair scraped sharply against the floor.
He didn’t look at anyone.

He only said, voice dry as bone:

“If he doesn't come back… then maybe it wasn’t just his fault.”

---- Rin wakes up – alive, but shattered -----

Rin opened his eyes.
He didn’t know what time it was.

Beside him, the puppy was curled against his stomach, breathing faintly, its small body warm despite its fragility.
The sharp pain from yesterday had dulled into something distant.

He didn’t feel hurt anymore.
Just… tired.
And hollow.

He looked at his hands—
Swollen. Red. Scratched.
His eyes were puffy. His nose throbbed.

But he was still breathing.

“I wanted to die… but I didn’t.”
“I wanted to disappear… but I’m still here.”
“And if I still exist…
then what am I supposed to do with this body now?”

---– Blue Lock, Monday afternoon----

The coach was making calls—
No one knew where Rin had gone.
His phone was off.
The security cameras showed no footage of him leaving through the front gate.

The report had begun listing him as:
“Unaccounted for – status unknown.”

Mina sat trembling in the break room.
Her voice cracked when she spoke to Isagi.

“I… I only told the truth.
I didn’t mean to…
I didn’t know Rin would… end up like that…”

Isagi turned away without answering.
His chest felt like stone.

Kaiser slammed his fist into the wall after leaving the meeting room.
Blood welled up from his knuckles.
He didn’t feel it.

Bachira stayed in the dorm room, unmoving,
eyes fixed on his last chat with Rin.
The final message was from three weeks ago.
No reply.
No “seen.”

And Sae—
the one who was always steady—
sat still in front of the tactical board.

But the pen in his hand had stopped moving.
And his eyes—
looked blank.
As if, deep down, even he was starting to question
what it was he thought he had been protecting all this time.

------ Temporary shelter, near the provincial bus terminal -------

Rin had managed to sleep a little, just as the sky began to lighten.

The puppy was still curled up beside him, its tiny body trembling in its sleep.

His clothes were stiff, dried with patches of mud that cracked like scabs.
His stomach ached from a day without food.
But he wasn’t hungry anymore.

There was only something smoky, weightless, drifting through his chest.

Rin turned over, back against the wall.
His pockets held only a few coins.
No phone.
No one to call.
No one knew where he was.

But for the first time in so many days—
no one asked him anything.

No one said: “You’re scary.”
No one demanded he change.
No one praised him just to leave him behind.
No one smiled at him and then looked away like he wasn’t even there.

There was only one small creature, sleeping soundly in his arms—
trusting him without asking for a reason.

Rin buried his face into the towel wrapped around the puppy, whispering:

“I don’t need anyone to understand me.”
“But if you’re here…
then maybe I still have something left to protect.”

— Rin – Stitching wounds with silence —

Rin rinsed his hands under the public park tap.
He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the puppy to keep it warm.
In a trash bin nearby, he found an old box of bread—stale, dry, but still edible.

No one asked him what he needed.
No one knew who he was.

And in that moment—
he felt light.

“I’m tired of existing the way others want me to.”
“But now… no one wants anything anymore.”
“So maybe… I can live like a shadow. Isn’t that enough?”

— Blue Lock – A widening hole —

Kaiser leaned back in his chair, one leg propped up, eyes resting on the player board.
Rin’s name was still there.
No one had crossed it out.

“What if he really ran away?”

Reo frowned.

“Mina had no reason to lie. She’s trustworthy.”

Isagi looked at him—
and for the first time, didn’t nod.

“Rin never had a chance to speak.”
“We never asked him.”
“We just… believed the version that was easier to hear.”

— Rin – A small question —

Rin sat beneath the rusted roof of an abandoned bus stop.
The puppy licked his hand, breath wheezing through its tiny throat.
Rin let out a small, broken laugh—
dry and twisted.

“You keep trying to breathe… even when your heart’s so weak I can hear it.”
“And I’m still breathing… but I don’t know where my heart is anymore.”

A strong gust rattled the old shelter.
The rain had started again, soft and persistent.

“I don’t want to die anymore.”
“But I still don’t know what I’m supposed to live for.”

— Blue Lock – The first crack in silence —

In the cafeteria, Nagi spoke without thinking:

“That day, Mina was crying… said Rin called her fake.”
“But Rin’s never cursed at anyone. Not once. Not to their face.”

Bachira nodded.
Isagi’s teeth clenched.

“We listened to Mina’s version… and passed judgment on Rin from one side of the story.”

No one replied.
But the air shifted.

Something had cracked.
Thin. Quiet.
Like the first break in a frozen lake.

— The only way to keep going —

Rin leaned his head against the cold metal of a streetlight.
The puppy lay against him, breathing steadily—
as if anchoring him in place, keeping him from dissolving into the night.

“I didn’t die. But I’m not myself anymore.”
“And maybe… that’s the only way to survive.”

.....

— Rin – A nameless city —

He didn’t know the name of this city.
Only that, when he ran away, he’d boarded the wrong train—
and gotten off in a place where the language no longer made sense to him.

Signs covered in unfamiliar characters.
People speaking fast, their tones sharp, brittle—like breaking wood.
No one looked at him.
And in that invisibility—he felt safe.

At the edge of a forest, Rin found an abandoned house.
The roof leaked.
The walls were soft with rot.
There was a splintered wooden platform and a ragged piece of cloth, barely enough to be called a blanket.

The puppy—now a little stronger—curled tightly against his stomach as they slept.

“This is the first time I’ve had no one.”
“But it’s also the first time… no one looks at me like I’m a monster.”

— Blue Lock —

In the meeting room, someone laid down a printed message.
A screenshot of a private chat, sent anonymously to Isagi by a hidden social media admin.

“Mina lied about Rin isolating her. She was the one who muted the group chat, leaked Rin’s private photos to the press, and paid to have video clips doctored.”

Isagi’s hands clenched the paper tight.

“Why…
Why did no one speak up until now?”

The coach asked, voice low but firm:

“Why didn’t anyone report Rin missing?”

Silence.

Kaiser stared at the table—his expression, for once, stripped of arrogance.

“Because we thought he was just sulking.”
“We thought… he’d come back.”

— RIN —

It was raining.

Rin gathered scraps of old cloth, layering them over the puppy to keep it dry.
He washed wild greens in rainwater dripping from the broken eaves.
His hands were scraped.
His feet torn.
He was hungry. Cold. Alone.

But… he was doing something to survive.
He wasn’t just sitting around waiting to die anymore.

“I don’t know who I am anymore.
But at the very least… I’m still breathing.
And there’s a small life here… that needs me.”

— BLUE LOCK —

Reo was the first to speak.

“I saw Mina editing pictures of Rin once.
I thought… she was just messing around.”

Nagi let out a breath.

“I knew she changed her story more than once.
But I didn’t want to get involved in drama.”

Isagi stood, voice unsteady.

“We decided Rin was the problem…
Because he stayed silent. Because he didn’t fight back.”

Bachira, quietly:

“Because he was too proud to beg…
and we used that pride as proof that he couldn’t be hurting.”

— RIN —

He sat inside the abandoned house, tearing old newspaper to line the wooden floor beneath him.
He read words he couldn’t understand—
but saw an image:
a pair of legs mid-run, splashing through the rain.

And he wondered:

“Maybe someday…
I’ll be able to run again, too.”
“Not to score. Not for anyone.”
“Just… because I want to.”

The puppy looked up at him, its tail wagging gently.
Rin reached out, stroked its head, and exhaled:

“I don’t know if I deserve to live. But you’re alive. And you need me.”

— BLUE LOCK —

The coach looked around the room.

“Who was the last person to really talk to Rin?”

Everyone glanced at one another.
No one could remember.
No one knew when the last real conversation had happened.

—

Rin, tucked into the corner of a broken house, whispered:

“If no one knows who I am…
can I start over?”

—

And back in Blue Lock, beneath harsh white lights:

“If we truly want to apologize…
is there still time for him to hear it?”

---

“If he’s smiling somewhere far from here—
then who was it…
that made him cry?”

— BLUE LOCK —

An emergency meeting.
The projector lit the room in sterile white.

Clear evidence was displayed:

– Behind-the-scenes footage, deliberately cut and manipulated.
– Messages from Mina, urging others to isolate Rin.
– A secondary account used to spread false rumors and pose as a fan.

Mina sat in the center.
Still trying to appear fragile. Pitiful.
But the eyes on her had changed.

No longer trusting—
But stunned, confused, repulsed.
And a silence so thick, it echoed.

Isagi stepped forward, voice raw:

“Why…? He never did anything to you.”

Mina gave a crooked smile.
No more tears.

“He didn’t need to do anything.”
“Just by existing—he was a thorn in my side.”
“Itoshi Rin is the kind of silence that makes people hate themselves.”

— RIN —

Rin sat beside an old woman on a park bench.
He didn’t understand all of her words—
But she handed him bread.
She patted the puppy’s head.
And smiled.

“See that?” he murmured.
“They don’t need to know who I am… to be kind.”

And for the first time, Rin smiled.

It was small. Uneven. Tired.
But real.

No one here asked him to be excellent.
No one compared him to Sae.
No one called him “too cold” or “hard to approach.”
No one waited for him to fail just to feel better about themselves.

“I’m someone no one recognizes.
And for the first time… I feel relieved because of it.”

— BLUE LOCK —

Reo sat in silence.
Nagi said nothing.
Bachira bit his lip.
Even Sae—who once spoke the harshest words—couldn’t look at Mina anymore.

Mina exploded, tears finally spilling:

“Now you all pretend to care?”
“Now you say, ‘I didn’t know’?!”

“Back then, every one of you chose to believe me over him!”
“You never trusted Rin that much to begin with!!”

The room fell deathly quiet.
Because—
She wasn’t wrong.

— RIN —

In a tiny internet café near the bus terminal,
Rin sat at a corner computer.

He didn’t know why… but he turned his phone back on. For the first time in days.

And he typed.

Not to anyone he knew.
Just an anonymous post on an obscure forum:

“A player disappeared.
A boy who once screamed for fairness.
Now lives in a place where no one remembers his name.
But at least, he can still breathe.
And sometimes… a single dog is enough to keep someone from vanishing.”

No one knew it was Rin.
But hundreds began to share it.
Not from the stadiums.
Not from the headlines.
But from the hearts of people— a ripple began to spread.

— BLUE LOCK —

Kaiser stood up.

“I was the last one to hurt him.
But I won’t be the one who lets him die without anyone standing for him.”

He looked around the room.

“If none of you are going to find him… I will.”

No one stopped him.
No one had the courage to say don’t.

— RIN —

He watched as the puppy finished the last piece of bread.
The rain had stopped.
But puddles still shimmered across the cracked road.

The wind was cool.
The sky overcast.
He pulled his jacket tighter around his neck.

“I still don’t know what I’m alive for.”
“But at least… I can smile.”
“And I want to smile one more time.”

— BLUE LOCK —

After the meeting had ended,
Sae stood alone by the window, gazing out at the empty field.

“If he can smile again…
then I’ll run across the entire country just to apologize.”

— RIN —

Morning.

The sun wasn’t bright—
but it was enough to dry the leaking roof of the abandoned house.

The puppy lay curled on Rin’s stomach, tail flicking lazily as he stirred awake.
Rin sat up and stretched.
The swelling in his hands had gone down.

“I’m still alive.”
“No one’s calling my name.”
“And… I feel okay with that.”

He picked up his cloth bag and went to gather wild greens.
He’d learned to filter rainwater, to start a fire with stones.

Each movement—simple, rough, imperfect—
was proof of a life that didn’t need to be validated by anyone.

— BLUE LOCK —

One corner of the training field remained empty.
No one entered Locker Room #8—Rin’s old room.
The bed was still made.
But no one could fill the air he once breathed.

Isagi missed five shots in a row.
Bachira stayed silent.
Reo lost focus.
Nagi spoke even less than usual.
Sae came early. Left late.
Not cold anymore—just hollow.

Kaiser sat in the bleachers, watching the sky.

“There’s a kind of punishment called silence.
And now… I’m living in it.”

— RIN —

An elderly woman at a tiny eatery saw Rin helping clear out trash behind the store.
She didn’t ask.
She just handed him a leftover meal.

Rin bowed his head in thanks.
He didn’t know how to say it in her language—
But he smiled.

Not the rigid smile he used to wear.
Not the one he forced because others expected joy.

But the kind that said:

I’m alive.
And for once… I’m not being judged.

The puppy licked his face.
Rin laughed, a soft, breathless sound.

“Hey—cut it out. I haven’t even showered yet.”

— BLUE LOCK —

The coach reviewed the list of players again.
Rin’s name was still there.

No one had crossed it out.
No one dared to be the first to ask for it.

Because erasing his name— would be killing him a second time.

Sae walked down the hallway.
His eyes landed on the framed team photo hanging on the wall.

Unconsciously, he searched for a head of deep blue hair.
And then realized—

“That gaze… is no longer here.”

— RIN —

He scribbled a few lines on a scrap of paper and pinned it to the wooden post inside the house:

“This is where I live.
No one needs to know my name.
But I choose to exist.”

No longer living to prove anything.
Not living to stand out.
Not living to be forgiven.

Just—
living .
For himself.

— BLUE LOCK —

Isagi sat alone in the locker room.
He opened Rin’s locker.
It was empty—
except for a single black hair tie Rin used during training.

He held it gently, whispered into the stillness:

“I kept waiting for you to apologize…
But you were the one who deserved an apology the most.”

...

Rin lit a small fire, roasting sweet potatoes over the flame.
The puppy lay curled at his feet.
Both of them stared into the flickering glow— a fragile light, but warm.

...

Back at Blue Lock, the field stood empty.
Every goal scored that day…meant nothing.

...

“I will live—without needing to be seen.”
“And I won’t go back.”
“Because that place never held me when I needed it to.”

He didn’t die.
But he’s no longer someone we can call by name.

*******

SOMETIMES, YOU LOSE A PERSON FOREVER — EVEN IF THEY’RE STILL ALIVE.

*******

— RIN —

Rin knelt down and tied a strip of cloth gently around the puppy’s paw.
He’d cut one of his own shoelaces into smaller strands—soft enough not to hurt its tiny feet as it followed him to the market.

He touched the fragile leg with care, smoothing the wrap.

“So you don’t get hurt.”
“Not like me… Back then, no one even tied the smallest knot to keep me from falling.”

He tightened the knot—secure, but tender.

The puppy looked up at him, tail wagging,
trusting him without a single condition.

Rin smiled.

“That’s all I ever needed, you know.”
“Someone to just do this… for me.”
“Turns out, it’s not so hard.”

///It was just another practice.

Rin collapsed halfway through, foot burning.
His shoelace had snapped again.
His sock was soaked with blood.

He sat on the sidelines, trying to tie it himself—
hands trembling.

Isagi passed by.
He saw it.

And all he said, with a hesitant smile, was:

“You’ll manage, right?
You’re Rin, after all.”

Then he walked away.

Rin tied the lace again.
Wrong knot.
Kept training.
It came undone. Again.

No one asked.
No one stopped.
No one took thirty seconds —for someone on the edge. ///

— BLUE LOCK —

Isagi sat alone in the room,
holding Rin’s old cleats—retrieved from storage by Kaiser.

The laces were still caked with dry mud,
twisted in the wrong loop,
tied by hands that had no strength left.

He clenched them.

“I thought you were proud. That you didn’t need me.”
“I thought you were strong.”
“But maybe… you were trembling. And I walked away because I didn’t want to see it.”

For the first time in days—
Isagi cried.

Not for Mina.
Not for guilt.

But for this—

“You only needed someone to kneel down…
and tie your shoelaces.”
“I thought it was too small to matter.”
“But because I didn’t kneel— you kept falling.”

Rin looked at the tiny knot he’d just tied for the puppy, smiled to himself—soft, satisfied.

Somewhere far away, Isagi stared at the uneven knot on Rin’s abandoned shoe,
breath caught in his throat.

“It only takes 30 seconds to help someone rebuild their world.”
“And none of us reached out.”

***

"HE KNELT FOR OTHERS. AND NO ONE EVER KNELT FOR HIM."

*******

— RIN —

A narrow road.
Motorbikes rushed by, horns blaring.
The puppy trembled beside him, tail tucked tight.

Rin knelt down gently, wrapping his arms around its tiny neck,
fingers gripping the fabric leash he’d fashioned from a torn strap.

“Easy now. I’ve got you.”
“We’re not being left behind.
Not today.”

He smiled, pulling the puppy closer to his side— and stepped forward, one foot at a time, through the blur of lights and noise.

Wind howled. Horns screamed. Headlights cut sharp into the dark— but Rin held on.
He never let go.

When they reached the other side,
the puppy wagged its tail and licked his hand.

“See? It’s not that hard.”
“You just need someone… who doesn’t let go, so you don’t get lost.”

///It was after a late training session.
Rin had taken a wrong turn in the dark.
The hall lights were off. The yard dim. Rain falling cold.

He knocked on the staff door—no one answered.
Called a few teammates—no one picked up.

Then—he spotted Bachira walking by.

Rin approached him slowly, voice soft:

“I… forgot the way back to the dorm.”

Bachira looked at him. Smiled—
a kind of smile Rin once thought was warm.

But then… he stepped away.

“You’re strong, right? You’ll find your way.”
“Can’t be seen walking with you. People might talk.”

And he left.

Rain trickled down Rin’s face.
Cold.
Alone.
The words Bachira once promised disintegrated with each step away:

“I’ll never leave you alone.”
“I’ll always walk with you.” ///

— BLUE LOCK —

Bachira sat in his room, scrolling through team photos.

In each one, Rin stood apart.
No one touching him.
No one close.

He played an old match clip—
Rin slipping during a tackle.
Falling.

No one ran to him.
No hand reached down.
Not even his.

“I was the first one to hold Rin’s hand.”
“And I was the first to let go.”

He pressed his forehead to the desk, releasing a silent scream:

“You just wanted someone to guide you across the road, didn’t you?”
“And I… left you stranded in the middle of this damn intersection.”

Rin sat by a narrow canal,
mud-stained hands holding the leash tightly, never once loosening his grip.

Bachira held Rin’s forgotten hair tie in both hands, whispering:

“Next time… if there’s a next time…
I’ll run back to you.
I’ll hold your hand.”

“But Rin…
there’s no next time anymore, is there?”

***

“EVERYONE HELD HIS HAND ONCE—BUT NO ONE EVER HELD ON.”

*******

— RIN —

Rain poured down in sheets, merciless and heavy.

There was no shelter.
Only an old coat— and Rin’s thin, trembling arms.

He crouched low, pulling the puppy close, wrapping the coat around its shivering body.

His own back was soaked.
His shoulders shook.

With a torn rag, Rin gently wiped the water from its face.

“I don’t want you to shiver like I did.”
“Don’t want you soaked the way I was.”
“Don’t want you standing alone in the rain…”

He tilted his head up.
Rain streamed down his cheeks like tears—
except he didn’t cry anymore.

“If someone had just wiped my face that day…
maybe everything would’ve been different.”

///It was the night after a bitter loss.

No one was there when Rin returned.
No messages. No voices.
Just the downpour.

He walked from the station back to Blue Lock— no umbrella, no jacket, just tired feet dragging through wet pavement.

Kaiser stood under the awning, dry and still,a can of soda in his hand.

He saw Rin—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his face,
shoulders low, steps dragging.

Rin paused.
Maybe waiting.
Maybe hoping—for a towel.
For a hand.
For anything.

Kaiser tilted his head.

“You look pathetic.”

A smirk.
A glance.
And then he turned away.

Left Rin standing in the downpour.

That night, Rin didn’t cry.
He just smiled—a thin, bitter curve.

“I really am an idiot…to think he understood me.” ///

— BLUE LOCK —

Kaiser sat alone in the dark.

In his hands:
the towel Rin used to dry his face after every match.
Still faintly damp.
Still stained.

He gripped it tightly—
as if choking himself with it.

“I saw you soaking.”
“I knew you didn’t need sarcasm.”
“But I said the worst thing I could.”

“I stood where it was dry— and watched you get drenched until there was no light left in your eyes.”

He lowered his head to the desk.

“I didn’t push you away.
But I didn’t pull you in either.”
“I was the swamp between love and cowardice.”

Rin wiped the rain from the puppy’s face with one pale hand.
His eyes softened— but deep inside, something had already died.

Kaiser sat in silence, the towel wrapped around his arm like a shackle made of memory— trying to squeeze back what he’d once thrown away.

“You didn’t need me to love you.”
“You just needed me not to walk away.”

***

“SOMEONE GOT WET. SOMEONE WATCHED.
BUT NO ONE REACHED OUT.”

***

— RIN —

The little puppy stood on its hind legs, trying to reach a piece of bread.

Wobbled. Fell.
Stood up again. Fell once more.

Rin didn’t say anything.
He just watched—quietly.
Patiently.

At last, the puppy grabbed the bread in its mouth.

Rin crouched beside it and gently patted its head.

“Good job.”
“I saw you try.
I don’t need you to win—just to try.”

A pause. His voice dipped, faintly trembling.

“I’ve never heard those words before.”
“Every time I tried…
they only asked why I wasn’t good enough yet.”

A gust of wind passed through the broken roof, rustling a paper pinned to the wall.

Beneath the old line:
“I choose to live”—there was now a new line scrawled beneath it:
“And live well enough to praise myself.”

////After the failed match—because of Rin’s mistake—he sat alone in the corner of the room.

No one said anything.

Reo and Nagi approached.
Rin looked up, eyes rimmed red, hand clenched around a torn wristband.

He didn’t cry.
Didn’t speak.
Just sat there—trying to keep his back straight, trying not to shake.

Reo chuckled, arms crossed.

“Damn, you’re stubborn.
Took all that yelling and didn’t even crack?”

“I thought you’d run off.
But look at you—still pretending to be some kind of statue.”

Nagi added with a faint smirk:

“Or maybe you just don’t know shame?”

They both laughed and walked away.

Rin didn’t move.
Didn’t flare up.
Didn’t reply.

He just sat there.
Cold.

“I tried. I only needed someone to say that was enough…” ///

— BLUE LOCK —

Reo no longer smiled.

He sat alone in his room, staring at an old notebook—
Rin’s match analysis, handwritten in jagged, careful lines.
Including his own errors.
And detailed corrections.

Every word screamed effort.

Reo finally cried—no longer holding back.

“You gave everything…”
“And I laughed at it.”

“I thought support meant saying ‘Well done’ when someone won.”
“But with you…
I should’ve said it simply because you still stood up.”

He covered his face.

No one came.
No one heard.

Rin sat by the doorway, gently stroking the puppy’s sleepy head.
He whispered again:

“Good job.”
“You don’t have to win.
You just have to live.”

Reo stared at an old team photo—
Rin on the edge, clutching his jersey, eyes downcast.
And Reo—smiling.
But not at Rin.

“If only I had stopped…
and said that to you sooner.”

***

“A SIMPLE WORD. EVERYONE NEEDS—
AND HE NEVER GOT.”

***

----RIN----

Heavy rain. Howling wind. Thunder tearing the sky apart.

The dog trembled, curling into Rin’s chest, its whole body shaking.

Rin leaned against the wall, wrapping a blanket around both of them.

“I’m scared of those sounds too.”

“I used to hate the rain, the thunder, and those nights without a single voice.”

He didn’t speak loudly—just kept patting the dog’s back, as if trying to soothe himself.

“I’m here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“This time, I won’t leave anyone behind in the thunder.”

///It had rained. Hard.
Rin couldn’t sleep.

The thunder didn’t scare him.
What scared him were the memories it woke up.

The sound of a door slamming.
His brother’s voice raised in anger.
His mother’s silence.
A home too loud to speak, too quiet to breathe in.

Rin walked over to Nagi’s room.
He didn’t knock.

He just stood there, waiting.
Hoping for a voice to say:

“I know you’re there.”
“Come in.”
“I’m here.”

But nothing came.

Eventually, he knocked — barely audible.

Inside, a sigh.

“What is it now?”
“Can you just let me sleep?”

He stood there for a while.
Didn’t say anything.
Then walked back to his own room.

Lay down. Pulled the blanket over his head.
Shivered in silence.
No one heard.
No one called him back. ///

----- BLUELOCK -----

Nagi sat in his room, watching old match footage of Rin.

Not to study.
Not to analyze.

Just to hear his name spoken out loud again.

He turned the volume low — low enough to hear only Rin’s breathing through the mic.
The way his breath caught after every sprint.
The way silence followed every mistake.

“I thought you were fine being alone.”
“I didn’t think you needed anyone.”
“But maybe…
you were just waiting for someone to say: ‘I’m here.’”

Nagi rubbed his eyes.
Not crying — not quite.
But something behind his ribs wouldn’t stop aching.

For the first time, he realized:
That quiet… was louder than any storm.

Rin lay beside the puppy, one hand gently patting its back.
His voice was soft — as if he was trying to calm a part of himself, too.

“This time… no one has to cry alone anymore.”

Nagi lay in the dark, phone screen black, one hand resting over Rin’s old photo.
He whispered into the silence:

“I’m here.
But you don’t knock anymore.”

***

“THE SIMPLEST WORDS — AND NO ONE EVER SAID THEM TO YOU.”

***

----RIN-------

A small village market.
Kota — the puppy — ran off, curious, vanishing into the crowd.

Rin panicked.
Pushed through stalls of vegetables, heart racing.
He stood at a split in the path, hand over his mouth, eyes wild with fear.

“No… no… I won’t let you get lost like I did…”

Then he took a deep breath.
Lifted his head.

“Kota!!”
“Come here!”

His voice rang out —
Clear. Strong. Real.
A name spoken with meaning.

Kota turned, tiny legs scrambling as he ran back, leaping into Rin’s arms.

Rin held him tight. Whispered:

“You have a name.”
“I gave it to you.”
“I called you — and you knew where you belonged.”

“I used to wish someone… would say my name like that.”

////A tense meeting after Rin’s failed match in the qualifiers.

Rumors circled him.
Mina whispered behind hands.
The team looked away.

Rin stood in the middle.
No excuses. No tears.
Just turned toward Sae — eyes trembling like a lost child:

“Do you… believe me?”

Sae was silent.
Looked at him from above.

His gaze held no anger.
Only disdain.

“I wish you weren’t my brother.”
“You’ve dragged the name ‘Itoshi’ through the mud.”

Rin didn’t respond.
Didn’t cry.
Just lowered his head.
And from that moment — he never spoke Sae’s name again. ////

------BLUELOCK ------

Sae held a newspaper.
A BlueLock team photo — missing one boy.

Small caption underneath:
Itoshi Rin – Whereabouts unknown.

He played an old match recording.
The commentator’s voice called out:

“A brilliant save by Itoshi Rin!”

Sae shut his eyes.
Tried — just once — to say “Rin” aloud.
But his throat locked up.

“I told you not to say my name in front of others.”
“Told you you embarrassed me.”
“I only ever said your name… when I was angry.”

“And now… I realize: I don’t deserve to say it anymore.”

He threw the phone onto the table.
Lowered his head. Bit his lip.

“Rin…
If there’s ever another life…
I’ll say your name with every note of love I once held back.”

Rin cradled Kota in his arms, kissed his little forehead like a habit.
He whispered:

“Kota. You’re the first thing I’ve ever named with love.”
“Not because I need you to love me back.”
“But because… I don’t want to repeat their mistake.”

Sae stood before an old family photo.
His hand touched the image of Rin — the youngest, standing furthest away.

“I never called your name…
And now — I’ll never get the chance.”

***

“MY NAME, I WAS USED TO WANT TO HEAR LIKE THAT.”

***

------ RIN -------

Tiny kitchen.
Old pan. Flickering fire.

Rin stood by the stove — one hand stirring vegetables, the other still bearing a half-healed scar.

Kota lay under the table, tail wagging.
The room was empty. But not cold anymore.
Silent. But Rin no longer feared silence.

“Today… I cooked something new.”
“No one to say it tastes bad anymore, huh?”

He smiled softly, eyes drifting to the wound on his hand.

“Still not healed.
But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Not because it wasn’t deep — but because I stopped stabbing myself with it.”

Kota barked softly. Rin tapped him on the forehead.

“I’m alive, Kota.”
“And I don’t have to prove it to anyone.”

------BLUELOCK -----------

Kaiser was the first to notice: Rin’s cleats were gone.
Isagi opened the fridge — the drink Rin always took was missing.
Bachira couldn’t find the headphones Rin used to leave behind.
Nagi searched the corner of the room where Rin used to sit — and found nothing but empty space.

“He’s not coming back,” someone muttered.
“It’s not absence. It’s erasure.”

Reo opened Rin’s locker — the lock rusted, untouched.
Inside the crack, a small piece of paper pressed between two books.
No words.
Only the faint wrinkles of dried tears.

Sae visited BlueLock for the first time in weeks.
He stood outside Rin’s room. Silent. Never stepped in.

No one asked why.
No one dared to say Rin’s name anymore.

Dinner — one pair of chopsticks missing.
Team meetings — no one adjusted strategy like he used to.
The sound of the ball — off rhythm.

“We should find Rin,” someone said.
No answer.
“What for?”
“He’s no longer somewhere we can reach.”

And in the silence — the emptiness grew.
Not because of screaming.
But because hope had quietly died.

Rin laid out a blanket for Kota.
Sat on the floor. Opened an old book.

No one beside him.
But he read out loud — as if telling someone a story.

“This page tells of the last lonely soul…
But no one said he was sad.
He just didn’t want to be betrayed again.”

BlueLock. The stadium silent.
The big screen flickered — team photo.

Itoshi Rin — name still there.
A red line struck through it.
Not for breaking rules.

But because:
“He doesn’t belong here anymore.”

***

“I’M STILL ALIVE. AND YOU —YOU’RE STARTING TO DIE,
PIECE BY PIECE,
BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU THREW AWAY.”

***

A letter with no return address.
No name signed.
Just silence — the kind once buried, now rising softly to the surface.

📍 Recipient: Undesignated — because everyone in that room knew they were one of the reasons it existed.

Bachira found it first —
A plain brown envelope on the meeting room table.
No label. No sender.
Only a handwritten line on the front:

“Read together. Do not tear.”

He picked it up with trembling hands, as if already knowing where it came from.
One by one, the others entered: Isagi, Kaiser, Reo, Nagi, Sae.
No one spoke.
Their eyes fell on the envelope.

No one said, “This is from Rin.”
No one dared.
Because they all knew.
And were afraid it wasn’t.

Inside — a short letter, ink slightly smudged in places, like someone had written it with fingers that once shook.

“I used to think, if I disappeared, someone would come looking.”
“I used to hope someone would tell me I didn’t have to try so hard to be loved.”
“I used to wait for someone to say, ‘I’m here,’ when I didn’t believe in anyone anymore.”

“But no one came.”

“I don’t blame you anymore.
Because I’ve realized…”
I don’t have to die to be mourned.”

I’m still alive. Somewhere my name isn’t a curse.”

(Don’t come looking for me.
Because you only look when there’s nothing left to lose.)

No one moved.

Reo sat down, covering his face.
Kaiser slammed his fist into the table — no one stopped him.
Sae gripped the letter like he might tear it — but instead, folded it gently. Carefully.
Nagi spoke, voice low — for the first time, not lazy. Not indifferent:

“I had a friend once...
And we all killed him, without laying a hand.”

Isagi didn’t cry.
He just stared at the paper, dry-eyed:

“He wrote this...
so I guess it means he doesn’t hate us anymore.”
“But he doesn’t love us either.”
“Forgiveness came. But not return.”

The letter was placed inside a glass box in BlueLock’s common room.
No one dared destroy it.
Not out of respect.
But because some truths are too heavy to lose.

“To remember. To not forget.”
“And to stop lying to ourselves that ‘we never really had him.’”

In a quiet place far away, Rin was writing his next journal entry.
Kota gnawed on a mop rag nearby, tail wagging.

“They’ve read it by now, huh?”
“Good.”
“I don’t hurt anymore.
But they needed to know — their silence once killed me.”

He looked at Kota.

“We’re cleaning this life up, huh, Kota?”
“No one else has to come in.
But if, someday, someone actually keeps a promise…”
“…maybe I’ll let them knock again.”

***

“DON’T LOOK FOR ME OUT OF GUILT.
FIND ME — ONLY WHEN YOU FINALLY UNDERSTAND WHAT LOVE MEANS.
BUT I WON’T NEED IT ANYMORE.
NOT FROM YOU.”

***

The audience sat in trees.
Their benches: a few bricks stacked together.
No LED lights. No digital scoreboards.
Just a ball. And laughter.

Rin wore jersey number 11 — borrowed. No name printed.
No one called him Itoshi.

Instead:

“Hey, darkgr guy! Pass here!”
“Tall one! Run for it!”
“New guy! You’re good!”

And strangely…
He didn’t mind.

The ball moved like a heartbeat.
Number 8 passed to Rin — without hesitation.
Number 3 yelled, “MARK HIM!” — and Rin dropped back without thinking.
They trusted him.

Not because he was from BlueLock.
Not because they knew who he used to be.
They trusted him — because he was here.
Now.
With them.

And in the final minute —
Rin took the shot.

The net shook.
Cheers erupted.
And arms — one, two, three pairs — wrapped around him:

“YOU DID IT!!”
“NICE ONE, GREEN EYES!!”

He froze — just for a second.
Then — for the first time —
He hugged them back.
He laughed. Unrestrained.
No fear of being pushed away.

“I won… with someone else."
“And I got hugged… not for losing this time.”

The breeze was soft. Kota napped by his side.
Rin still smiled, one hand resting on his chest.

“I’ve never had someone pat me on the back for winning.”
“Only when I failed.”

“But today… they called my name.
Not out of pity.
But because they were genuinely happy for me.”

He brushed a stray grass blade off his shirt and whispered:

“I don’t need to go back.”
“I don’t need fame.”
“I just need…
a field where people want to play with me — not win on top of me.”

Rin sat around the campfire, teammates laughing, someone handing him a box of milk and marshmallows:

“Hey, blue eyes. Smile again. It looks good on you.”

He chuckled — bashful, but didn’t flinch away.

Back at BlueLock, someone sat alone, staring at the old team photo.
A hand hovered over the empty space Rin once stood in:

“He’s probably playing somewhere… right?”

“I hope…
they call his name better than we ever did.”

***

“YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW MY NAME.
JUST MEAN IT — WHEN YOU ASK ME TO PLAY.”

***

Ness was no longer a player.

After the knee injury, he left BlueLock, returned to university, and pursued abstract literature.
His life was peaceful — but not empty.

That afternoon, he passed through a small town for a community research project.
He heard cheering from a dusty local pitch and wandered over — curious.

And then…
He froze.

He saw Rin.
But not the Rin from memory: quiet, bracing, eyes sharp as knives.

This Rin — Was shouting his teammates’ names:

“Toru!! That was amazing!”

“Souta, try that shot again!! I believe in you!!”

“NAO!!! PASS IT!! I’M FREEINGGG!!!”

A kick.
The net rippled.
Laughter exploded.

Rin sprinted forward, high-fiving everyone — no hesitation.
A kid almost crashed into him — Rin laughed. Didn’t even frown.

He looked… radiant.
Not because he won —
But because he was alive . Truly alive.

Ness took out his phone and started recording.

Not long.
No zoom.
No commentary.
Just enough to capture one clear truth:

Rin never smiled like that at BlueLock.

-------BLUELOCK---------

Kaiser was mid-training when he got the clip.
From Ness.

No subject line.
No greeting.
Just a video file, with one line:

“He’s okay.”

Kaiser pressed play.
And froze.

It wasn’t a god-tier goal.
Wasn’t a complex formation.

Just Rin —
Clapping a teammate’s back,
Shouting someone else’s name,
Laughing.

Kaiser laughed, once — sharp, broken — like being punched in the chest.

“He really left our world behind.”

He handed the phone to Reo.
Reo hesitated. Then played it.

Shaky camera. Blurry lens.
But too clear.

Rin laughed. Rin passed. Rin didn’t look at the camera once.

“He doesn’t remember us,” Reo murmured.
“He doesn’t need to remember.”

Bachira whispered, as if only to himself:

“I used to think……if we apologized hard enough, he’d come back.”

“But now I know — He doesn’t need to come back.”

“Because he found the place we were never able to create for him.”

The video ended on Rin looking up — sunlight through his hair —someone from offscreen shouted:

“Rin!! What do you want to drink?!”

And Rin —
grinning without a trace of caution or fear — yelled back:

“Anything! I’m easy to please!!”

No guards.
No weight behind the smile.
Just a boy — living like a normal person who was loved .

At BlueLock, one by one, they left the room.
No one spoke.

Someone, no name signed, wrote quietly on the whiteboard:

“HE’S ALIVE — WITHOUT US.
AND THAT… IS A GOOD THING.”

***
“DON’T SEEK FORGIVENESS TO HOLD ON TO SOMEONE
IF YOU’RE THE REASON THEY HAD TO LEAVE.”

***

Regional Community Broadcast — “Friendship and Football in Forgotten Places”
Host: A journalism intern, fresh-faced and earnest.

The camera rolled through the dusty fields of Aomori, a village nobody talks about.
Until — it stopped.

There, on a makeshift pitch, was a boy with sea-green hair, striking the ball clean and fierce.

“Hey, can I interview you for a minute?”

Rin blinked. Then nodded.
No fear. No hesitation.

“What’s your name?”
“Itoshi Rin.”
(Said without a second thought.)

“You’re new here, right?”
“Yeah.
But they welcomed me with fish cakes and plastic sandals. I hated it.”

He smiled — small, real.
The camera panned to his teammates waving from the sidelines:

“Don’t trust him! He eats everything!”

Rin laughed and turned back to the camera:

“I never thought I’d say this...
but I finally know what it feels like to have teammates.”

“Not because they’re good.
But because I don’t have to fight to stay.”

“There were rumors you were once part of BlueLock, right?”

The air grew still.

Rin didn’t flinch.
Just tilted his head slightly, smile softening:

“Yeah. I was there.”

“And it hurt like hell.”

“But I’m okay now. Because I’m not anyone to them anymore.
I’m just me — right here. With people who’ve never heard of BlueLock,
but still trust me enough to pass the ball.”

“So... thank you to everyone from my past.”
“Not because they helped me.”
“But because... they’re in the past.”

It was just a short clip.
Posted online no fancy edits.
Only this caption:

“I’ve never seen a smile like that on any national team player.”
#ItoshiRin #NotYourPast #ButMyOwnFuture

Rin bowed to the young reporter, then jogged back toward the field.

“This time I’m passing to Kaito first!”
“If you miss, don’t even think about stealing my fish cake!”

Laughter echoed through the golden light.

-------BLUELOCK-------

Each of them watched the video.
No one said a word.
No messages.
No tags.
Just silently shared into the old BlueLock group chat — the one Rin had once been removed from — with a single caption:

“He never smiled like that when he was with us.”

.....

Kaiser didn’t tell anyone.
Didn’t notify BlueLock.
Didn’t send a text.

He just went.
To the edge of the pitch in Aomori,
hidden behind a tall tree, where the light filtered through the branches —
but never quite touched him.

His heart thumped, loud and uneven —
Not out of hope.
Out of fear.
Fear that he no longer deserved even to look.

Kaiser saw him.
Saw Rin holding Kota like treasure, arguing over the last popsicle with a laughing teammate:

“It’s mine!”
“You already shared with Kota! This one’s mine!”
“No! Both are mine!!”

The group burst into laughter.
Rin pouted — a soft, playful kind of sulking Kaiser had never seen…
and no longer had the right to tease.

Later, Rin twisted his ankle mid-spin.

The team didn’t scold him.
They rushed over.
Someone carried him to the bench.
Someone else handed him a warm compress and a bottle of water.

“Just cheer for now.”
“This sucks…” Rin mumbled — then stood on one leg and shouted:

“Souta!! SHOOT!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!”

The ball sailed.
The net trembled.
Goal.

Rin jumped, waving his fist in the air:

“YES!!! WE DID IT!!!”

They didn’t wait.
They didn’t ask.
They lifted him.

One.Two. Three.

He flew — like he’d never carried a scar in his life.

Kaiser stood frozen.
Watching not the arrogant Rin, not the guarded Rin, not the bruised Rin —

But a boy.
Laughing.

Not needing to be loved to exist —
because he had already learned to love himself.

His hair damp like that rainy night…
but this time, he was lifted above the mud.
To a place Kaiser never gave him.
Couldn’t give him.

Kaiser turned to go.
No recording.
No name called.

Only a whisper to the wind:

“You don’t need me anymore.

Maybe… you never did.”

“But thank you.For letting me see you — truly alive.”

Leaves rustled.
Kaiser walked back to the train station.
No words.
But his heart — was lighter, more broken, and somehow, finally… at peace.

On the field, Rin sat on his teammate’s shoulders, grinning into the setting sun.
He raised a hand toward the sky and yelled:

“We’re a team!!”
“I’M ITOSHI RIN!!”

***

“IF I WAS ONCE A WOUND —
THEN NOW, I AM MY OWN PROOF THAT I SURVIVED.”

***

Rin walked through the village market with two teammates — Souta and Toru.
Kota trotted ahead, red scarf flapping in the breeze.

Rin wore sunglasses and a cloth hat, arms full of grocery bags.
No one knew — or needed to know — that he had once been BlueLock’s brightest rising star.

“Careful, you dropped something!”
Toru said, then reached out to grab Rin’s hand.
Souta tugged on the other side:

“Stick close, idiot. You get lost like a toddler.”

Rin chuckled under his breath:

“Yeah yeah... you two act like I’m three years old or something…”

—

Across the street, Bachira stepped out of a convenience store, soda can in hand.
The BlueLock logo stretched across his chest.
He was here scouting potential sites for a youth summer training camp.

And then —
he saw him.

Rin.

But not the brooding Rin.
Not the guarded, bitter Rin.
Not the sharp-edged Rin clinging to silence like armor.

This was Rin being pulled by two friends like a misbehaving kid.
And he didn’t resist.
Didn’t frown.
Didn’t push them away.

Bachira stopped in his tracks.
The soda in his hand trembled slightly.
The two groups moved forward, fate drawing their paths together.

And as they passed —
Rin looked up.

Their eyes met.
One heartbeat.

No wind.
No dramatic music.
Just... stillness.

Rin stopped walking.
Toru and Souta halted with him, still holding his hands.

“Oh.”
Rin smiled softly.
“Bachira.”

Bachira forced a smile back:

“…Rin.”

Toru leaned in to whisper:

“An old friend?”
Rin nodded:
“Yeah. Someone I used to know.”

Then, turning back to Bachira:

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

No blame.
No questions like “Why did you leave me?”
Not even a goodbye.

Rin bowed his head slightly — and walked on.
Both hands still held tight.
No release.
No glance back.

—

Bachira stood still.
Something heavy settled behind his ribs.

He’s gone.
So far gone, he doesn’t even need to ask why I abandoned him.
Someone pulled him out of the darkness.
The kind of thing... I never did.

Rin moved farther down the street, still being led like a mischievous child —
but glowing, because this time, even if he got lost… someone would come find him.

Bachira stared at the soda in his hand.
It trembled.
He walked to the nearest trash can — and tossed it.

Like a habit too old to break.
Like something once precious… but left to go cold.

***

“WHAT I NEEDED MOST — I HAVE NOW.
AND IT DIDN’T HAVE TO COME FROM YOU.”

***

A friendly game — a dusty pitch, barely a dozen villagers watching from the sidelines.
Rin stepped up to take a free kick.
The ball rested perfectly on the edge of the box.

Everyone held their breath.

His teammates yelled from afar:

“DON’T BLAST IT LIKE LAST TIME, OKAY?!”
“AND YOU’RE ONLY GETTING TWO ICE CREAMS IF IT GOES IN!”

Rin let out a quiet laugh.
Then…
he kicked.

Too high.
The ball flew over the bar.

A soft collective “ooooh…” from the crowd.
A short silence.

Rin bowed his head — slightly embarrassed.
But before he could even begin to blame himself—

“GREEN-EYES, YOU IDIOT! HAHAHA!”
Souta tossed a water bottle at him.
“You think you get double dessert for that shot?”
Toru laughed, rolled the ball back to him.
“Take it again. I’ll cover the ice cream if it goes in this time.”

No one shook their head.
No one looked at him like dead weight.
They teased him — and still passed the ball back.

Just outside the sidelines…
Reo and Nagi stood frozen.

They had come only to see Rin.
No expectations.
No reunion.
Just a glimpse.

And then they saw that.

They saw him miss.
They saw him laughed at.
They saw him trusted anyway.

Reo’s foot moved — instinctively — like he might go to him.

Nagi reached out, gently caught his sleeve.
Held him back.

Together, they watched.

“That day… when he missed the deciding shot during selection…”
Reo murmured:
“What did we say to him, again?”
“‘Why haven’t you given up yet?’”
“Not ‘Are you okay?’”

Nagi said nothing.
Just lowered his gaze.
His eyes — for the first time — full of guilt.

—

The second shot.
Not the most beautiful strike.
But the whole team surged forward to high-five him.

Rin stood in the middle of all of them, smiling.
And as he walked back to the bench… he saw them.
Two familiar silhouettes.

He stopped.

Reo stumbled over his words:

“Rin, I— we didn’t come to—”

Rin raised a hand.
Not cold.
Not bitter.
Just… peaceful.

“Thank you, both.”
“Because once — just once — you cheered for me.”
“Only once. But I remember.”

He gave them a small nod — then turned away.

Two or three teammates ran up to tug at his sleeves:

“Let’s go, Ice Prince. You’re buying the ice cream today.”

Rin was pulled away, laughing wide — never once looking back.

Reo bit his lip. Nagi closed his eyes.

Because they knew —
Rin didn’t hate them.

But he didn’t need them anymore.
And that…
was the fairest punishment of all.

***

“THANK YOU FOR REACHING OUT.
BUT I NO LONGER NEED TO HOLD THAT HAND.”

***

Rin stood before the bookshelf, fingers gently gripping a copy of “Zen for a Busy Life.”

Behind him —
Isagi took a step forward.

Not planned.
Not brave.
Just… the final step he should’ve taken years ago.

His breath hitched at the familiar figure.
He took another step.

“Rin…”

“It’s me.”

Rin turned around.
No surprise.
No frost.

Just silence.

Isagi’s voice cracked:

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know— I…”
“I didn’t believe you. I listened to others…”
“I thought you were arrogant. That you didn’t need anyone…”
“I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”

His voice trembled.
Eyes red.
Isagi stood there — crying like a child who found their old home, only to realize the lock had been changed.

Rin looked at him.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t step closer.

Just calmly reached into his bag, pulled out a tissue, and held it out.

“You cry ugly. Wipe it.”

Isagi took it with shaking hands.

Rin smiled. Gently. As if speaking to a memory long gone:

“I don’t blame you.”
“Because if I had…
…I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“Just live well.
You don’t have to fight so hard to be worthy anymore.”

He turned to leave.

“RINNNNNNN!!”

A wild chorus outside the bookstore window —
Souta, Toru, Kaito and their whole chaotic crew.
One had ice cream. Another held a flip-flop.
Kota bounded happily beside them, tail wagging like crazy.

“Don’t even try to sneak away! We always find you!!”
“What’d you buy, huh? Philosophy again?? You better lecture us later, Professor!!”

Rin burst into laughter — this time, real and full.

He turned to wave back:

“Wait up! I tried to escape and still failed…”

Then looked over his shoulder, one last time.

A small nod to Isagi.

“Goodbye, Isagi.”
“Thank you… for once being someone I believed in.”

He ran outside — into a mess of colors, voices, and warmth.

Laughter spilled through the door.

Isagi stood alone — still holding the tissue.
A final tear slipped down, and he finally looked up.

“I lost you.
And now… I have to learn to live with that.”

Outside, Rin was being half-dragged by friends — laughing as Souta pulled at his sleeve:

“Two more steps and you’d have face-planted. Your shoelace’s undone, idiot.”

“Thanks for the warning!!”

Isagi stepped out of the bookstore slowly.
A soft breeze passed by, carrying a scent he hadn’t breathed in for a long time — the scent of Rin, of what once was.
A scent he would never touch again.

***

"MY SHOELACES CAME UNDONE.
I KNOW HOW TO TIE THEM NOW — NEAT, SIMPLE.
TURNS OUT, IT WAS NEVER THAT HARD."

***

Rin walked home, grocery bag in hand, Kota nestled comfortably in his sling bag.
He was humming—half a tune, half a recipe for braised pork.
The night was cool. Not too cold. Not too warm.

And then—he saw him.

Sae, standing under a streetlight.
Thinner. Eyes sunken. Coat too large for his shoulders.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, as if words had long abandoned him.
Rin stopped.
He didn’t run.
He didn’t freeze.

“…Nii-chan.”

Sae inhaled slowly.

“I didn’t come to explain.”
“I just… wanted to see you. For once. Not through rumors. Not through regret.”
“Are you okay?”

Rin nodded.
Then, step by step, walked toward him.

No tears.
Just a quiet, steady hug.

“I’ve always loved you,” Rin whispered.
“Even when you said… you wished I wasn’t your brother.”
“But now…”
“I love myself more.”

Sae froze.
His shoulders trembled.

Rin let go, smiling gently.

“I hope you do, too.”
“Love yourself—
instead of resenting the world for not fitting your expectations.”
“I’m okay now, Nii-chan.”

He stepped back.
No more needed to be said.

Kota peeked out from the sling bag, nuzzling under Rin’s chin.
Rin chuckled.

“Almost dinner time, huh?”
“Seaweed soup, egg rice, and some fish cakes tonight, okay?”
“No leftovers, you picky eater…”

He walked on, softly laughing to himself.

The sun was gone—
but somehow, he shone brighter than ever.

Sae stayed under the streetlight, watching his brother fade into the distance.
He didn’t call out. He didn’t follow.
Because he knew—
Rin no longer needed a brother who only ever hurt him.

Rin turned the corner, gently patting Kota, murmuring:

“Let’s go home now.”
“Our home, Kota.”

* **

"I LOVE MYSELF NOW.

I HOPE… YOU ALL DO TOO."

***

A year after Rin left BlueLock.

Alexis Ness – who was once the shadow behind Kaiser, the secondary link in a system built on talent and hierarchy –
is now a young psychologist. An author.
Someone who writes not to be known, but to breathe.

His book never mentions Rin by name.
But each line is a quiet whisper:

“We cannot save others when we are still forcing ourselves to live up to someone else’s expectations.”

“There are people, like him…
I cannot go back and apologize.
But I can live well, so he doesn’t have to carry the guilt I should’ve owned.”

.......

....

Arms wrapped around Kota — now chubbier, lazier, and fond of resting his paw on Rin’s cheek.

From downstairs came the call:

“RINNN! ARE YOU DEAD?! GET UP! WE’RE GOING TO THE MARKET!!”
“IF YOU DON’T MOVE, I’LL BE THE ONE CARRYING EVERYTHING FOR NAO!! AGAIN!!”

Kota woke first. Wriggled excitedly. Then—

“Ugh… Kota… don’t—AAAHHHHH!!”

Rin sat up, hair a mess, eyes squinting.
Kota jumped around like an alarm clock with fur.

He sighed, rubbing the dog’s head:

“I told you. Stop waking me up with your tongue…”

Another voice shouted up:

“I HEARD THAT!! HE’S AWAKE!!
HURRY! IF YOU’RE NOT DOWN IN 5 MINUTES, KAITO’S THROWING YOUR SANDALS ON THE ROOF!!”

Rin chuckled softly.

He scooped Kota into his arms and walked to the window.
Sunlight spilled in.

A new day.
A little house.
Friends waiting loudly under the porch.

Not out of duty.
Not out of pity.

But because they loved him.

Rin opened the window and yelled:

“GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES!
AND DON’T BUY THOSE CURRY-FLAVORED EGG CAKES JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE ON SALE! THEY TASTE AWFUL!”

Laughter erupted below.
Kota barked.
And the world —
once something Rin feared —
had become something he now knew he deserved.

He turned back, caught sight of himself in the mirror.
Smiled — not at perfection, but at persistence.

“Thank you…for choosing not to disappear.”
“Thank you for staying, Itoshi Rin.”

Notes:

This is my first time writing a fic that's soft, gentle, and focused on healing—so I’m a little shy about it. I usually lean more toward drama and humor, so this was a new experience for me.
I hope you’ll enjoy it, and if you do, please leave a comment sharing how you felt after reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts—or even your ideas for funny behind-the-scenes moments!
I’m always looking forward to that. 💙

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