Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hey Isagi? What do you plan to do after Blue Lock.”

It was a sudden question, one that caught Isagi off guard. He turned to face the one who asked the said question, Bachira Meguru.

They were currently laying on the artificial grass of one of the practice fields. The two had been training together just like any other night. But today, their session ended with tickle fights that led to them collapsing onto the ground, laughing into the air.

Usually, more like normally, Bachira wouldn’t ask such deep questions, and this time, it even sounded like he was hesitating—which was also unlike him.

Since Bachira seemed so serious, looking at the ceiling dead on, Isagi thought about it. Truth be told, he never thought about his life after Blue Lock. Would he even succeed in becoming the number one striker? Or would he get eliminated midway through. Whether success was his future or not, he didn’t know the answer to the question. So he answered honestly.

“I don’t know,” Isagi had whispered into the air. “What about you?”

That got Bachira to turn and look at him, golden eyes met blue, slight shock evident. 

“Huh?”

“What would you do after Blue Lock?” He repeated the question, slowly.

Then those golden eyes looked at the grass, Isagi could almost see the thoughts running through his brain. It was also unlike Bachira to think so hard.

“I’d…”

Isagi snapped out of his thoughts to here the answer, and it was one he wasn’t expecting.

“I’d want to be with you, if that’s still possible…”

Isagi’s eyes widened, Bachira was still staring at the grass, his eyebrows furrowed. It was clear that he was still lost in thought, Isagi wondered if the other knew what he even said.

Whether that meant something or not, Isagi never found out. Bachira had gotten up and brushed away the topic—easily at that. He offered his hand out to help the other up and that was it. They went back to their group where all of them were sleeping soundly.

Isagi sighed fondly at the sight. They looked down stupid, most of them sleeping on top of each other. Then he heard Bachira mutter something under his breath but couldn’t quite catch what was said. When he turned to face him, Bachira also had a fond look of his own when staring at their Team Z.

“Something wrong?” He had whispered, slightly tilting his head when he noticed him staring. For some reason, Isagi couldn’t bring himself to say anything, he only shook his head and made his way over to his bed. Bachira followed suit, climbing into his own futon as Isagi closed his eyes, bidding goodnight to him.

But before sleep overtook his mind, he heard Bachira mutter something again, and this time, he heard a few words.

“…-lease… don’t leave… alone.” Isagi wanted to ask Bachira what he meant, but his fatigue betrayed him.

The next day, when Isagi did manage to ask Bachira, the other only said that he must’ve been imagining it, claiming that he fell asleep as soon as his back hit the mattress. Seeing Bachira’s daily nature, Isagi ended up agreeing alongside him.

I was probably thinking too much into it.

Then came the second selection, when Bachira and Isagi took Nagi away from Reo.

Bachira looked back at the closed door with pity, even making a comment on how sad Reo had seemed. Nagi had only brushed it off, claiming that Reo would get over it. The other two looked at each other hesitantly, the white haired genius was hopeless.

Somehow, not all that surprising actually, they (Isagi) immediately chose to go against the top three, barely a few minutes after making their team.When they got to their room, Nagi had already collapsed onto his claimed bed, taking his nap of the day.

Isagi sighed, “How does Reo do it? A few minutes in and I’m already done.”

Bachira had fallen onto the bed beside his, already in his pajamas, groaning at the comment. “You said it, Nagichi is awesome at soccer, but he has to get better hygiene skills.”

The egoist snickered, it was the unfortunate truth though. Nagi was a soccer genius with natural born talent. He’s only been playing for six months since he’s started playing while it took others years to be as good as they are. Isagi would be lying if he wasn’t envious of the overwhelming talent Nagi has.

I wonder is Bachira feels the same way, he turned his head to look at the other. Bachira was silently gazing over at Nagi. Isagi couldn’t tell whether it was envy or concern by the way his eyebrows were furrowed.

He gets his answer soon after.

“Hey, Isagi,” Bachira spoke up after the moment of silence. “Do you think that we’ll be separated like Nagi and Reo?”

Isagi’s eyes widen, was Bachira anxious that they’d get separated? “Bachira, are you-“ he stopped talking as soon as he saw his face properly.

Bachira, the joy that brought light to others even in the darkest moment, had his knees tucked into his chest—arms resting over them. His fists clenched at the fabric of their sleeves. The eyes that were usually so full of light were now dully staring at Nagi’s sleeping body.

It was weird, seeing Bachira so quiet. Isagi learnt to love the noise that comes from him—his rants about his dreams, random sound affects, his praise for him when he scored a goal. Those sounds became something Isagi couldn’t live without. When it was too quiet, he started to worry that something bad happened to the other.

The only times Isagi can handle Bachira being quiet was when he was sleeping. His features became more relaxed than they usually were, hair draping down his face perfectly as of he was modeling. He looked so at peace, Isagi can’t help but wish him extra sweet dreams in his mind.

“Bachi-“

“Hahaha, who am I kidding,” Bachira’s signature grin appeared on his face. “You won’t leave me right, Isagi?”

Isagi blinked a few times before chuckling. “Of course not,” he had said. “Never plan to.”

Bachira was gone.

He was taken by the top three and progressed to the next round, leaving his old teammates behind.

“ If you want me, come and get me .” Is what Bachira had said to his partner before turning away to follow his new team.

Isagi seethed with rage—despair, clutching the artificial grass as if it was the one who took Bachira away. You told me to never leave you, but you were the one who left.

Of course Isagi knew that it wasn’t his best friend’s fault that it ended up this way. Bachira was brilliant—stunning, it was only natural that they wanted him. He knew that he wasn’t going to be the only person who saw Bachira’s talent, in fact so many people already do. The only difference is that they took the matter into their own hands and took him away from Isagi.

It was frustrating, having your partner separated from you. Now he knows how Reo feels and why he wore that expression when his own partner left it. It must’ve been even more heartbreaking for him though, Nagi left willingly while Bachira was stolen.

“Damn it!” Isagi cursed out, he couldn’t do anything but reflect on the match that had just happened. He can’t blame them for choosing Bachira, he wouldn’t choose himself if they were them either.

Isagi knew far too well that he wasn’t even an option, Nagi was barely acknowledged too. Bachira was just that amazing, his passing skills were to die for though.

No—it was just Bachira in general that was worth dying for. His ego doesn’t get in the way of his teammates, connecting them all together instead. He doesn’t mind playing the follower but does what he wants in order to ensure his victory. If you want the ball, Bachira will get you the ball. You want to score, he’ll make sure you’re worthy enough of scoring first.

Then a pull at his hair jolted him painfully out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Isagi. How am I supposed to get stronger when you’re like this? It just proved that you’re nothing without Bachira.”

Isagi felt his eye twitch at that last sentence. “Oh yeah? Well you aren’t anything without Reo.” He spat with venom that promised to hurt.

That made Nagi back off at the mention of his (ex)partner’s name. Then he just turned around and left, leaving Isagi there alone.

“Fuck…” Isagi muttered, he needed Bachira back. And he swears that he’ll get him back.

After finally catching up, Isagi stood outside a training room, waiting. He was informed that Bachira would be here, but not alone. His foot tapped the ground anxiously, it wasn’t that he minded that Bachira was training with someone, but rather who he was training with.

Then the doors slid opened, Bachira was slightly sweating while he talked to the one in front of him with a happy grin. Itoshi Rin, being the centre of his attention, just nods to whatever he has to say. But any reaction from Rin is a win. Blue Lock’s number one was about to say something until he spotted Isagi leaning against the wall.

His eyes narrowed at the sight. Bachira, who had almost bumped into Rin, followed his line of sight. Isagi saw the way his eyes widened and heard his breath hitch, and he knew that he was the one Bachira would be thinking about for the night.

“Isagi…” Bachira whispered out in a mix of shock and amazement.

A small part of him felt cocky towards Rin because Bachira’s attention was now on him.

“Bachira,” he started, staring at the dazzling boy in front of him. “I’m here to steal you back.”

Then, an adrenaline fuelled grin appeared on is face, and oh how Isagi missed that look.

He was going to steal back Bachira Meguru from Itoshi Rin.

He didn’t end up stealing back Bachira, but he still managed to be by his side. Though he still felt kind of lame.

Isagi got lucky, that’s what it was. He managed to catch the attention of Rin, who he almost devoured. On the field, the two were clashing together, not thinking about anything else other than beating each other.  It was a scary rivalry, maybe the best there is in Blue Lock.

Isagi’s face tightened, Rin was a huge obstacle in becoming number one, and he was always getting in the way. He’s already lost twice to him.

He then felt a tap on his shoulder. “Isagi? You okay?”

For some reason, Isagi’s heart skipped a beat at the way his name sounded coming out of the dribbler’s mouth. When he turned to look in his direction, Bachira had a concerned expression that turned into slight relief when he met his eyes.

“Phew, thought I lost you there.” He laughed, his face scrunched up slightly, it was adorable.

Wait what, adorable? There’s no way I thought that my best friend was adorable… right? Thoughts ran wild in Isagi’s head while his face slowly heated up. He stood there frozen in place, eyes wide.

“Eh? Isagi? Isagiiii?”

Bachira was waving his hands in front of Isagi’s face with a small pout, but his eyes couldn’t hide the concern that was growing. He then touched his shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Isagi!” The striker jolted, Bachira’s hand was still in his shoulder.

“Wha- oh sorry, I zoned out there for a second.” He replied sheepishly, giving an apologetic smile.

Bachira sighed but didn’t push. If Isagi didn’t want to say anything he won’t push him to do so. He stared at the other, who had his eyes on the ground. It reminds him of how different Isagi is on field compared to off.

The fact makes Bachira laugh softly. Isagi, Isagi, Isagi… just what goes on inside your head? He mused, shaking his head lightly, the striker was interesting. He claims that he wants to avoid drama but is always at the centre of it all. He’s a “peacekeeper” but has brought the look of anger and despair to his opponents. People have said that he’s “average” in all places, but Bachira can only see a once in a lifetime being—someone who is more than just average.

It was his turn to be so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Isagi staring at him. All that was going in his mind was how funny Isagi’s nature was. Definitely not ordinary.

Isagi just stared, his eyes wide ever so slightly, taking in the sight. Bachira was still laughing at God knows what, but he had to admit it now . Bachira is so goddamn adorable. His heart couldn’t help but beat faster.

How can one laugh so purely after a heated match—one where everyone was each other’s enemy. It had always amazed Isagi, how Bachira could smile in any situation. It was addictive—his light was addictive.

Then Bachira slowly opened his eyes, his laughter settling down, but a smile still lingering on his face. For some reason, it made Isagi’s heart beat even faster than it already was. There were these short and rare moments where Bachira seemed… mature. Where he’d make expressions Isagi didn’t think he could make. And this was one of those moments.

Of course, Isagi still liked Bachira’s childish nature—loved it even, but he liked that “mature” side because it’s part of him.

Then their eyes met, Isagi jolted slightly at the sudden gesture, but kept his calm overall. Bachira tossed a fond grin. “What’s got your gears turning up in your head, Isagi?” It was more of a tease than a question, but Bachira’s charm made him slip up.

“Just you…” Isagi then realized what he said when he saw Bachira freeze, just a little bit. But instead of trying to defend himself, he just let his mouth talk nonsense. Well, it wasn’t really nonsense. “You- *sigh*, you’re the only thing that’s on my mind, ever since you got taken away. There’s more… I want to say, but I’m going to have to ask you to wait. I want to wrap my head around so things first, if that’s alright with you.”

Isagi then heard Bachira let out a soft giggle. “Oh Isagi, you’re adorable really,” He heard his heart skip a beat at the comment (compliment?), Bachira’s expression didn’t help either. “Why do you need to ask me for my permission to speak your mind?”

Isagi eyes went wide. “Huh?”

The other only laughed more at that. “Isagiii, I’m willing to do many things for you. You don’t need to ask me to wait.” His laughter slowly died down, and Isagi already missed the sound. At least his smile was still there.  “Though I’m honoured, to be the one on your mind~”

Isagi felt his face heat up in embarrassment, he should be glad that it was the most carefree one out of them all who was teasing him. Or else he would’ve dug his grave already.

He let out a sigh, he was so tired. “Isagi,” His head rose at the call of his name.

“Hm?”

His head was slightly tilted to the side, and Bachira found it adorable. “Nothing, just happy to be by your side again.”

Isagi tensed up before relaxing. It was as if the weight on his shoulders came off in an instant. He smiled warmly, it felt good, to have Bachira back at his side.

“Yeah, I’m happy you’re here too.” And suddenly, Isagi felt the need to protect—to hide away Bachira from any darkness that could corrupt his purity. He wanted to take the sight for himself, seal him away so that he can only make these faces for him. Isagi’s heart thumped harder in his chest. That’s when he figured out.

I have a crush on Bachira Meguru.

Do not fall for your best friend. That is probably the best advice Isagi has ever heard and is now giving. Because once you do, you can’t escape it.

Falling for your best friend is the worst. You see them everyday and even just their name makes your heart race, seeing them is a whole other story. Stuttering over your words when talking to them will be your new best friend. Wet dreams that should not be talked about and then having to see them the day you wake up.

Isagi groans into his hands, he’s practically a waving white flag at this point—he gives up. Who knew having a crush would feel so embarrassing. Isagi swears that he was an holy and innocent (…) teen before all of… this.

Because one time, when he and Bachira were talking, Bachira noticed that his shoe was untied so knelt down to tie it. Then a ball hit the back of his head when he was about to stand up, causing him to fall down onto both knees. The person who kicked it ran up to apologize, but Isagi couldn’t remember who or what they were saying. His eyes were locked onto the position Bachira was in, sweat training down his face. The kind smile Bachira gave to the one apologizing made it so much worse.

And when Isagi thought it couldn’t get worse, Bachira had to look up at him from the ground with those adorable doe eyes. Yeah, Isagi was fucked.

His face heat up at the memory, but shook his thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time for this, at all. The U-20 match was close, he couldn’t afford to take his mind off of training. This was going to be his biggest match yet. The world is going to see their game.

But alas, Isagi isn’t a God nor is he invincible. After hours of training for hours nonstop, he had collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. It reminded him of his nightly training sessions with Bachira. He’ll admit that he missed those days. His head turned to the side where Bachira would’ve been but found nothing, only blades of grass.

He sighed, his not so little crush has only been getting bigger and bigger. Bachira is living in his mind rent free, only Isagi faces the consequences of this. He shut his eyes closed, this really was the worst.

Another sight left his lips as he turned his head to the ceiling once more. When he opened his eyes, a pair of upside down golden eyes were staring right into him.

“What’s got you sighing so much?”

…

“Bachira?!”

Isagi jolted up, accidentally crashing their foreheads together, and that made him fall right back down. Both of them groaned in unison, he felt Bachira collapse to the next to his head.

“Urghhh, Bachira?” Isagi repeated, rubbing his forehead. “What are you doing here?” He turned to face the poor boy who was also rubbing his head, still upside down in his view.

“Hahhh, I didn’t think you’d jolt like that, sorry Isagi.” Bachira sighed, the ache soothing slowly. “But I was here to do some training, didn’t realize that you were still here. When I saw you I thought I might as well say hi, but you were so lost in thought and didn’t even notice me.”

He then let out a cute pout to show his frustration, showing Isagi that he cared more about the fact that Isagi didn’t see him than of the red bruise on his forehead.

“Ah… sorry, I guess I really was lost in thought.” Isagi responded sheepishly, his face tinted pink. “You can take the field now if you want, I’ll leave.” He did the motion to stand only to be stopped by a hand on his wrist. When he turned around, Bachira was looking at him pleadingly to stay.

“Stay? Just a few more minutes?”

Isagi hesitated only for a moment, because how could he say no to those eyes—to him in general. He sighed and then laid back into his original position. Bachira was always hard to say no to, and it wasn’t just him who thought so. Throughout the time here in Blue Lock, he’s learnt that dangerous ability puppy eyes, you can guess where that leads to. Isagi curses the person who taught him that, it was too powerful to be true.

But when he looked back into the past, Bachira never asked for anything that was hard to do—just simple things that didn’t interfere with anyone’s day. The demands he made were all little things to keep him company, maybe that’s why no one said no. He’d ask others to talk to him while he dried his hair, sometimes he’d even get them to do it for him while they talked. He’d ask for short cuddle sessions, a stretching buddy, someone to train with, and so on. He honestly could’ve asked for more and no one would’ve minded.

Being with Bachira felt so easy that it sometimes scared him, but he could never complain because he enjoys their time together too. Whatever involved him was always comfortable, even now the silence is comforting. But Bachira was never one to be quiet.

“Bachira?” Reluctant, Isagi broke the silence. “You okay?”

He heard the other shift to the side. “I don’t know,” He admits honestly, though that honesty made Isagi’s concern grow. “Are you?”

You can always count on Bachira to catch you off guard. Isagi turned in his direction to hesitantly respond. “I don’t know.”

“Mhm, I guess we’re clueless together.” Bachira turned his face to meet his eyes. He was smiling—laughing, it was small, but it was there. “Partners in even the smallest things aren’t we?”

Isagi chuckled softly, partners, he yearns for more than just that. It’s silly and cheesy, but it’s the truth. Though he can’t say that, not now, so he says something else. “Yeah, partners in everything, right?”

Bachira had his eyes widen for only a few seconds before that smile was on his face again. “Obviously.”

It is a win if you go from pining to situationship? Because Isagi doesn’t think so. It’s like coming in second place, you’re so close yet so far at the same time. He’s still pining just closer to Bachira than he’s ever been, but that just leaves him wanting more.

Growing up he’s been told to never be too selfish, but for Bachira, he just couldn’t help but break those morals he’s been holding onto. Isagi wants him to be his and his alone. He’s started to have this ugly feeling whenever Bachira was looking at someone else which makes him feel guilty. Of course he’s allowed to have other friends and just be himself, but that one familiar feeling always gets the better of him.

Isagi has made selfish requests for Bachira to stay with him longer. He’s lucky that the other is more than willing to stay, the only times he isn’t is if he’s already made plans to train with someone else. It’s upsetting, but Isagi already knows that he’s the one who has Bachira for majority of the day.

Ever since that one moment on the fields, Bachira has become a drug that Isagi couldn’t live without. He keeps him energized, calms him down, gives him motivation—gives him everything .

He’s addicting and healing—like a drug.

Currently, Isagi was sitting across from Chigiri at a cozy corner café, nursing an iced coffee while they waited for Bachira to show up. After their exhilarating win against Japan’s U-20 team, Ego had, in a rare moment of grace, granted them a two-week break. With all the new contacts and media buzz surrounding them, they finally had the chance to breathe—and naturally, some of them planned a casual meet-up to unwind. Not everyone could make it, but that just made the gathering feel more intimate.

The two were mid-conversation, talking about everything from recent training rumors to Chigiri’s latest obsession with hair care products, when a familiar voice suddenly cut in—breathless but cheerful.

“Awe, you two are already here? Sorry I’m late,” Bachira huffed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. It was obvious he’d sprinted the last few blocks.

Chigiri laughed softly at the sight. “Relax, you’re fine. We just got here too,” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Isagi, however, wasn’t quite so casual. He stared—shamefully, or maybe shamelessly—because this was the first time he’d ever seen Bachira in normal clothes. No cleats, no Blue Lock training kit, no jersey. Just… casual, everyday clothes. And damn it, he looked good.

He always figured Bachira would be the type to throw on whatever was closest—mismatched socks, clashing colors, maybe even a hole in his sleeve. But no, today Bachira wore a pair of slightly baggy denim overalls over a simple white tee, paired with a black jacket that added just the right touch of style. On his head sat a black bucket hat, tilted slightly to the side, decorated with tiny enamel pins—frogs, stars, even a mini soccer ball.

It was simple, yes. But effortlessly fashionable. And painfully adorable.

Before Isagi could combust from internal screaming, Chigiri thankfully voiced what he was too embarrassed to.

“Bachira, is this what your wardrobe looks like? Oh, I’m so proud,” Chigiri cooed dramatically, pretending to wipe away tears with a sniffle that had all three of them cracking up.

Bachira rolled his eyes, though his grin never faded. “Yes, Chigirin, this is what I usually wear. No, I didn’t steal anyone’s clothes,” he replied with playful sass. Then he pivoted with a teasing twinkle in his eye. “You look good too though! As expected from the princess.”

Chigiri scoffed at the nickname, flipping his hair like a royal. “Haha, very funny. But thank you.”

Unfortunately for Isagi, Chigiri had already noticed the way his gaze lingered a second too long on Bachira’s frame. The devilish smirk that followed could only mean danger.

“What do you think, Isagi? He looks good, doesn’t he?” Chigiri asked, voice dripping with mischief.

It wasn’t even a real question. Of course Bachira looked good. That much was obvious. But Isagi suddenly felt like every word he could possibly say would betray his very soul. “Uh—”

“What?” Bachira leaned in slightly, mock-hurt. “Don’t think I look pretty, Isagi?” he pop teased, clearly delighting in his discomfort. “I’m wounded. I didn’t expect this from you.”

Isagi groaned, face half-hidden behind his hand. There was no way out. If you wanted to beat Bachira at his own game, you had to hit him where it hurt—in the truth. “No, no, you look pretty,” he muttered into his palm, gaze darting up to meet his. “You look gorgeous , even.”

And just like that, Bachira’s grin faltered. His expression froze as a soft flush crept up his cheeks, pink blooming slowly across his tan skin.

Isagi, triumphant, allowed a sly smirk to tug at his lips. He’d done it. He’d flustered the unflusterable.

But alas, Bachira recovered fast—too fast.

“Wow, Isagi,” he said, eyes twinkling as he placed a hand over his chest like he’d been serenaded. “Didn’t know you could be such a smooth talker.”

Isagi snorted, rolling his eyes fondly. “Says you, Mr. ‘I’m-glad-I-got-to-meet-you.’”

Chigiri, watching the exchange from his seat, sighed dramatically. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused, annoyed, or just plain jealous of how domestic the two of them acted. For months now, he’d watched their dynamic shift—from weird teammates to something warm, something gentle, something that made Chigiri feel very much like a third wheel. It was no secret anymore that the two liked each other. Especially Isagi—it was written all over his face every time Bachira laughed.

Where’s Nagi when you need him?

But instead of sulking, Chigiri did what he did best—he teased.

“Aww, aren’t you two cute? ” he said in a sing-song voice, smirking behind his palm as both of them went beet red. “I think I might get diabetes just from watching you two flirt.”

While Bachira tried to recover behind a choked laugh, Isagi wasn’t about to take that and let him get away with it.

“Oh shut up, Chigiri. You wish someone would sweep you off your feet like a certain hero—”

His phone buzzed, interrupting the incoming roast.

All three paused. Bachira glanced at his phone. “Wasn’t mine.”

Chigiri shook his head. “Not mine either.”

Their eyes turned to Isagi, who stared down at his screen with a dark look of betrayal. He looked mildly annoyed.

“Whoa, Isagi,” Chigiri said carefully. Even Bachira looked slightly alarmed. “Who’s got you looking like you want to commit arson?”

Okay, maybe there was nothing mild about this.

“Nagi,” Isagi seethed, dragging a hand down his face. “That lazy-ass punk ditched us for an arcade he passed by.”

A long, dramatic pause. Silence. Processing.

Of course he did.

“Let’s jump him,” Bachira said with all the seriousness of someone declaring war, cracking his knuckles.

Beside him, Chigiri looked equally ready to throw hands. “Agreed.”

Isagi let out a long, slow exhale, watching his two companions plot vengeance like it was an Olympic sport. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

Yeah… this wasn’t going to end well.

Along the way, they had met up with Reo’s group and once they heard the plan, it didn’t even take them a second to agree. And with the extra people, they successfully managed to attack Nagi.

As punishment, they had him stand facing a dart board as they threw the darts, Isagi wonder just how— how they haven’t gotten kicked out yet. Still, Isagi watched the chaos with a small, almost foreign smile pulling at his lips. His shoulders felt lighter than they had in months. During Blue Lock, it had felt like something heavy and unseen had sunk into his bones, pushing him to grind harder, aim higher, be better . But here, now—he could breathe.

“Isa-gi~” Bachira sung into his hear, causing him to jolt. Isagi felt his sanity slip away in an instant.

“Bachira?!” He whipped around to come face to face with the other who was smiling in satisfaction at the reaction he got.

“Yes, Isagi?” He replied in mock innocence, but everyone knew that the boy was anything but innocent. Isagi scoffed in his head, don’t let his cute face fool you, I’m speaking from experience…

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing. But what are you doing here? You’re not playing anything?”

“Nah,” Bachira shrugged, casually rocking back on his heels. “I already did. Besides, it’s not like I know how to play most of these anyway.”

That sentence stopped Isagi dead in his tracks.

“Wait. Huh? ” His jaw dropped slightly. “You don’t know how to play… most of these games?”

Bachira just blinked, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “Yeah? I mean, growing up I’d rather play soccer instead of play video games. Not a lotta screens, y’know?” He smiled with a shrug, like that explained everything.

And maybe it did—but to Isagi, it was baffling. The idea of Bachira, chaotic genius of the field, not knowing how to work a claw machine or button-mash in a fighting game? It felt almost illegal.

“You’re full of surprises,” he murmured, shaking his head with a smile tugging at his mouth.

Bachira leaned forward a little, his grin cheeky. “Only the good kind, right?”

Isagi didn’t answer right away—but the blush dusting his ears said enough. “Of course,” He turned to face Bachira with his face still pink. “That’s only obvious.”

The other tensed up before relaxing, letting his smile shyly widen. He didn’t reply—didn’t need to, Isagi already knew.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. The had encountered the U-20 team and even Barou which lead to a Blue Lock vs U-20 bowling match. And with Nagi’s accidental strike, Blue Lock was declared the winners.

Cheers erupted through the bowling alley, loud enough that even the surrounding players—not part of their group—paused to clap and whistle at the winners. Laughter rang out, high-fives were exchanged, and confetti from a popped arcade prize tube still lingered in the air.

Isagi watched from the side, smiling faintly as he saw Bachira practically launch himself onto Nagi in celebration. His legs wrapped tightly around the taller boy’s waist while his hand vigorously ruffled Nagi’s hair, laughing all the while. Nagi looked as unbothered as ever, muttering something about “not messing up his flow,” but didn’t push him off either.

Isagi grimaced at the sight, the feeling that twisted in stomach matched the darkness on his face quite well. It burned—a slow, simmering heat that settled deep in his gut. He pushed it down. Ignore it, he told himself. This wasn’t the time.

Eventually, the group began to scatter. They’d spent hours together, and the evening sun was already slipping below the skyline. It was time to go, though a part of Isagi didn’t want to. Still, he had promised to meet up with an old friend that night—someone he hadn’t seen in months—so he gave in.

He made his rounds, bidding goodbye to everyone with a casual wave or a quick fist bump. At the entrance, with one final glance at the group still chatting and teasing each other in the background, he stepped toward the exit.

Then he heard it—his name, called out with warmth that made him freeze mid-step.

“Isagi!”

The voice was too familiar, too bright. He turned instantly, heart thudding as his eyes landed on Bachira.

The next thing he knew, a body flung itself at him. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and before he could even react, Isagi felt Bachira’s weight pressing into him, holding him close. For a second, everything else vanished. The noise, the people, the time—it all blurred around the edges.

“Bachira…?” Isagi’s voice cracked more than he wanted it to, coming out softer, shakier. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around Bachira’s waist, tentative at first, then tighter. He let himself feel the warmth, the softness of skin, the way their bodies fit so closely together.

“Isagi…” Bachira murmured into his ear, voice low and breathless. And just like that, every defense Isagi had carefully built over the past few months nearly crumbled. He was not God’s strongest soldier.

When they pulled apart, it was slow, reluctant. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them looked away. Isagi’s hands remained resting at Bachira’s waist, while Bachira’s palms pressed softly against his chest, grounding them both in that brief but powerful stillness.

Nothing more happened. Not a kiss, not a confession. Just them , caught in a moment that felt like it might shatter if they breathed too hard.

Although there were many words that were left unsaid, Bachira smiled gently, the kind that tugged at the corners of his eyes. “You should go,” he said, voice light but eyes unreadable. “If you wait any longer, you’ll miss your train.”

Isagi nodded, unable to form words.

But before he turned to leave, he was pulled back into another hug. This one was quicker, more fleeting—but something about it was even more intimate. Bachira’s breath brushed Isagi’s ear as he whispered, “Text me when you get home.”

The words sent a shiver skimming down Isagi’s spine.

“Okay,” he murmured, lips brushing just slightly against the skin of Bachira’s neck. He hadn’t meant to get that close—but he didn’t pull back right away either.

When he finally stepped away, he ran, almost like he was afraid he’d turn back if he didn’t. He headed toward the station, heart pounding louder than it ever had during a match. And somewhere deep inside, as the echo of that final hug lingered on his skin, he wondered—

Was Bachira’s heart beating just as fast ?

The German stratum sucked ass . The only good thing about it was that he wasn’t the only Blue Locker there and that Noel fucking Noa was his coach. But other than that, he’s never charged up that many curses in the depths of his brain.

Isagi had never considered himself a people-hater . He wasn’t one of those “I hate everyone with every inch of my body” types—unlike a certain emo striker with a superiority complex and death in his eyes. Heck, he had nothing against people at all. At least, he didn’t used to.

Now? Now he was firmly in the “I don’t mind people—unless your name is Michael fucking Kaiser” camp.

Just when Isagi thought he’d already experienced the worst types of players to go up against—arrogant, selfish, impossible—Kaiser showed up and redefined the category. The man didn’t just take the cake; he stole it, decorated it with his face, and dared you to breathe near it. Every day, it took all of Isagi’s willpower not to launch a direct shot into Kaiser’s obnoxiously smug skull.

His anchor? A quiet voice in his head: “Bachira wouldn’t like it if you purposely hurt someone.”

And that usually worked. Usually.

Speaking of the boy—Isagi couldn't help but think about how they had chosen different paths after Blue Lock. Both had chased after their egos, their ambition. As much as they loved the connection they had on the field, both knew they couldn’t grow while clinging to it. They needed to become stronger on their own, forge their own identities.

In truth, it was Bachira’s influence that had led him here. His fearlessness. His ability to follow his ego, no matter how wild or uncertain the path ahead was. Isagi admired that. Wanted to emulate it.

So even though he was stuck on a team with Kaiser and his little lapdog, Ness—both determined to throw wrenches into his progress—he knew this was the place he needed to be. If he wanted to grow, really grow, he had to fight in the lion’s den. This would be his domain, whether they liked it or not.

He’d claw his way to the top. Crush anyone in his way. Burn his name into the pitch.

But right now, none of that mattered—not when he was sitting on the bench, watching the first game unfold without him.

Apparently, he hadn’t developed quickly enough to be part of the starting lineup. As much as the truth stung, he understood. The players chosen for the match were ahead of him. Stronger. Sharper. Better.

Admitting that nearly made him sick.

Then, just as he was starting to sink into the familiar sting of self-disappointment, the opposing team entered the field—and the air in the stadium shifted. Isagi felt his heart beat faster.

“No way,” someone muttered, voice barely audible over the growing buzz in the room.

Isagi’s breath caught in his throat. No way, indeed.

“That’s crazy,” Igaguri gawked from beside him, wide-eyed and practically vibrating. “Bachira’s their main forward?!”

More exclamations followed. He heard a sharp inhale from Hiori. Yukimiya muttered something under his breath, stunned. Chatter erupted all around him, but Isagi couldn’t register a single word.

His eyes were fixed on one person.

Of course it was Bachira. Of course he’d become the star player. How could he not be?

He was phenomenal . He lit up every field he walked onto—made the game look like art, like magic. Lavinho, his coach, loved players like that. Unpredictable. Dazzling. Hungry.

But it wasn’t just talent that got him there. Isagi knew Bachira. Knew how hard he worked. How he fought, trained, evolved. He wasn’t just relying on instinct anymore—he was refining it. Pushing himself toward greatness with the same fervor Isagi had come to crave in himself.

And now here he was, standing beneath the stadium lights, smiling like he owned the world.

Isagi watched him laugh as Otoya casually slung an arm over his shoulder, leaning in to whisper something. Bachira tilted his head toward him, grin widening, eyes bright with amusement.

That was when it hit—the burn in Isagi’s gut. Hot. Raw. Familiar.

He clenched his jaw, trying to push it down, but it clawed its way to the surface. He hadn't seen Bachira in weeks. Not a text. Not a call. Just silence.

Although he knew that it wasn’t Bachira’s fault that they haven’t had any sort of communication, it still hurt—just a little bit.

And now he was watching him from the sidelines like a stranger. Watching someone else make him laugh.

Isagi looked away, heart hammering too hard in his chest.

He was… hungry. For the game. For growth. For him .

And he’d get there. No matter what it took.

They won, Isagi’s team had won with his assist. And although they won, Isagi’s ego wasn’t satisfied, not even close to being. Kaiser had humiliated him on that field, the gap between their talent was far too large.

Isagi was able to join in mid-game, but it was obvious that someone didn’t like how he played. But that didn’t matter right now, for his someone was jogging towards him with that big smile that could lit up his world.

“Isagi!” He looked up from where he was sitting and couldn’t help but smile at the sight, despite his frustrations.

“Bachira,” It felt so good—so right—feeling Bachira’s name roll of his tongue.

The buzzing bee laughed and raised a hand for a high-five. “Good game there! You did really good, despite being benched for the first half.”

Isagi winced with a sheepish smile, but raised his own hand for the incoming contact. He ignored the way a jolt flowed through his body when their palms touched. “No need to add salt to the wound, y’know.”

More laughter continued, and suddenly, the air didn’t feel suffocating anymore.

“Well, you better got on it or else I’ll leave you behind, Yoichi~” The mischief was evident in his voice, though his hand was extended out to him—inviting him to stand.

Isagi took it, adrenaline fuelling his blood. “Don’t be acting cocky now, Meguru,” Once he stood, he leaned towards him to whisper his ear. “I’ll reach you and you’ll be the one underneath me.”

He heard Bachira’s breath hitch, a pit of satisfaction pooled up in his stomach. Easy, now it’s so easy to fluster him. Or maybe this NEO Egoist league has been making him more confident.

“Then,” Bachira pulled away, his cheeks dusted with a beautiful pink. “I’ll go on ahead, try to catch me, egoist.”

A familiar fierceness appeared in his eyes, and Isagi found himself starving for that look. He chuckled, the urge to just hide the boy away and keep him all to himself became stronger. “Oh, it’s on, monster. Just wait for me, I’ll be there.”

The Neo Egoist League had finally come to an end, and with it, the official player bids were released for the world to see. The long, brutal journey—the pressure, the sacrifices, the constant need to evolve—all of it had led to this moment.

And Isagi had won.

Well— technically he tied. But that wasn’t the point. He had climbed his way to the top.

With a staggering bid of 240 million yen, Isagi Yoichi had secured a place among the elite. His name sat right there on the screen, glowing in bold letters alongside the best of the best. He was officially part of Japan’s U-20 team. One of the faces of the future. One of the players that would represent their country on the global stage.

His chest swelled with pride. All the fights, the losses, the nights he spent thinking he wasn't enough—it was all worth it. He made it.

Out of the corner of his ear, he heard Rin mutter something under his breath—something clipped and bitter, as expected. Isagi didn’t pay it much mind. His attention was already pulled elsewhere, toward the leaderboard, and specifically…

The name sitting at fifth.

Bachira Meguru.

Isagi blinked at the screen with awe. His heart gave a sudden, unexplainable tug.

Bachira’s team hadn’t dominated the league. In fact, they'd only managed to win a single game. And yet… he had made it into the top five of all the Blue Lock players.

Isagi could hardly believe it—and yet it made perfect sense.

Over the past few weeks, he’d kept tabs on the matches when he could, especially those that featured his former teammate. The stat sheets alone didn’t do Bachira justice. But when he read through the fan reactions online, it became even clearer just how much of an impact he had made.

“He carried his team.”

“Bachira was the only reason that team didn’t crash and burn.”

“That monster dribbling—he’s unreal.”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

Bachira had scored in every single match . It didn’t matter how tight the defense was or how far behind his team was on the scoreboard—he found a way through. When he wasn’t netting impossible goals, he was setting them up, weaving through defenders like a phantom. His footwork was art. His vision was chaos, in the best way.

He didn’t just survive the Neo Egoist League. He thrived in it—alone.

There was no Isagi to read his passes, no Chigiri behind him ready to assist, no Nagi to deliver on his chaos. Just Bachira . Playing his game. Dazzling the world on his own terms.

And it worked.

Isagi couldn’t stop the small smile pulling at his lips. There was something satisfying—comforting, even—in seeing Bachira succeed in a way that only he could. With no system, no crutch, no partner to lean on. Just him and the monster he chased after. Just him and the ego he finally embraced.

Perfect, Isagi thought. Not just in talent, but in heart. In mindset. In growth.

Bachira Meguru was made to shine—and now, the world was finally seeing it too.

And maybe… Isagi was a little bit proud. Maybe more than a little.

He didn’t know what it was, but something had clicked inside of him. After all the eliminated players exited their soccer careers, he ran—ran to the person who started it all for him. He heard people call out his name from behind him, but he couldn’t make out their voices, there was only one thing—one person on his mind.

Bachira, Bachira, Bachira, Meguru, Meguru, Meguru, Meguru-

Isagi’s mind chanted that name like a mantra. He wanted to see him, no—he had to see him. His legs carried him towards the Spanish stratum even after that hectic game. But he didn’t have to run that far, for an incoming voice that made his heart beat called out his name.

“Isagi!”

His head snapped up like a string had been yanked, eyes wide as they zeroed in on the source of the voice. And there he was— Bachira Meguru , sprinting across the hall like nothing else in the world mattered. His heart had already launched itself into his throat.

Then suddenly— impact.

Two bodies collided, all momentum crashing into one desperate embrace. Isagi barely registered the force before arms were all over him—one tangled in his hair, the other gripping the back of his neck, holding him like he might disappear if he let go. Isagi’s own hands fumbled before finding their home around Bachira’s waist, clutching tight, grounding himself in the warmth of the person he had missed more than he’d let himself admit.

But this time— this time wasn’t just a hug.

This time their mouths crashed together, messy and hungry. Lips seeking, sliding, pulling. Unpracticed. Frantic. Absolutely unplanned.

But it felt right.

Like this was where they were always meant to end up. Like all those months of pining, silence, and lingering stares had been leading to this exact moment. Bachira let out a breathy whine, the sound muffled between them, and it short-circuited Isagi’s brain. His grip tightened, fingers digging into fabric as their kiss deepened—too much, not enough, perfect.

He gasped slightly between kisses, eyes fluttering open for half a second to take in Bachira’s flushed face—his brows drawn in, lips swollen, breath trembling.

“I missed you,” Isagi whispered hoarsely into his mouth, barely pulling away, voice trembling with honesty. “I missed everything about you.”

Bachira whimpered again, like the words physically hit him.

Isagi’s heart thudded harder. He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I love you.” It spilled out like it had been waiting on his tongue for months. “I love you, Bachira. You're amazing. You’re incredible. Watching you—God , it makes me want to be better. You make me better.”

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Bachira leaned in again, cupping his face between trembling hands, tears threatening to spill from his lashes.

“I love you too,” Bachira whispered into his mouth, forehead pressed against his. “You’re the only person who’s ever bothered to see me. You’re everything.”

Another kiss—softer this time, but just as intense. As if they were memorizing each other. As if the seconds weren’t enough.

The air between them was thick with everything they’d never said. The want. The admiration. The fear. The longing. And finally—finally—the love .

They stayed like that for a moment longer, arms locked around each other, mouths brushing and parting, soft laughter that filled the halls, hearts pounding in perfect sync.

And in that moment, Isagi knew.

This— they —were no longer just chasing monsters.

They had found each other.