Chapter Text
Rin was no stranger to self-destruction.
From childhood, there was little hesitation on his part before hurting himself, whether intentionally or not. Be it almost falling to a cold death in the sea, pulled back by his brother's firm hands; throwing himself into a tower of wooden blocks in front of his classmates at daycare; jumping from a high toy only to land face-first on the ground, or, once he got older, training to the point of maximum exhaustion, his muscles protesting so violently they resembled a rope about to snap, stretched to its limit.
Pain is a common word in his personal dictionary. Emotionally or physically, he remembers it. He remembers admiring all its representations, in himself or in others. A strange and compulsive fascination, dangerous for someone as impulsive as he was. His eyes gleamed when he saw an animal with large fangs sink its teeth into the neck of some smaller, defenseless creature. Pain and death. Pain and end. Pain and peace.
He preferred physical pain, the kind he could always see and understand. Now, invisible pain, the emotional kind, was irritating and despicable. He couldn't understand how something could hurt without bleeding. It seemed so unfair and illogical that it made him want to throw a tantrum. To cry and hit himself, to express this thing that grew inside him, maliciously creeping in furtively and settling, growing, scratching, like a worm. It made him want to open himself up, literally, to dig out his own insides with a sharp object and pour out what bothered him.
That's why he turned emotions he couldn't understand into physical things.
When he was bothered by his obvious displacement at school, he threw himself on the ground. His chin ached from the impact in a kind of dry shock, his teeth clacked, and for a moment it was as if he was feeling cold, similar to the sensation of biting a very cold popsicle, the difference being the pressure on his gums. Some pieces of the broken toy underneath him made his skin burn for a few seconds and then go numb. Not only did his skin go numb, with sensory damage, but that wild beast stirring inside him (and he's not naive, Rin is aware that these are his uncontrolled emotions) also seemed to fall asleep.
That was better. Now he could understand the uncomfortable feeling he had being there, surrounded by people who weren't his brother and, therefore, would never understand him as Sae did.
Sometimes he hurt himself just to show himself how he could get back up afterward, to see living proof that he was capable. Sometimes it was for pleasure. For relief. A strange and confusing kind of relief, but one that still helped him.
A therapist would say his parents didn't guide him well, didn't nurture his emotional intelligence. In reality, both his mother and father seemed too enamored with Sae and his football potential to pay attention to anything else, including their younger son. And it's not like Rin complained; he was also obsessed with Sae at the time, with a silly grin on his face and eyes openly focused on absorbing everything his brother did. Any splash of learning expelled by Sae had to be devoured immediately. Such was the nature of his admiration.
Sae was not only his older brother but also his bridge to the world, his connection to people. Sae understood him like no one else ever could, and Rin believed that with all his soul. The only person he would trust, the only person who would never doubt him, the only person who would always be by his side: his brother, Sae Itoshi.
It's no wonder that after his brother's departure, Rin felt out of place. And it wasn't just him who noticed, but all his classmates too. There wasn't a single soul on the field who didn't comment on how Rin was just another average guy without Sae's passes. None of his goals were truly his; they were all the result of Sae's passes, always aligned with Rin's movements. Without his brother there, he couldn't even get close to scoring. None of his teammates understood his movements; no one understood what he intended to do. Suddenly, Rin felt very lonely; the bridge his brother had built for him was increasingly in ruins.
And then, there was the locker room. After losing every game, after getting frustrated with every useless attempt to play without Sae, he still had to face all the other boys in the locker room, irritated, their eyes blatantly directed at him, with hatred and resentment. The comments made loudly on purpose, so he would hear them.
"Why do we still keep this guy on the field?"
"I told you he only scored because of Sae!"
"He's just another piece of trash without his brother."
"We should ask the coach to kick him out of here."
"When's Sae coming back? I don't want the copy."
This infuriated him in such a deep and rooted way that he couldn't help clenching his teeth and digging his nails into his palms. He often broke his things, scratched his arms and saw those red and shapeless streaks stand out later, a small physical relief for all that confusion, for all those irritating and disgusting screams crawling from within him. Like larvae. Rin could easily, after so many horror movies, imagine a nest of agitated worms squirming inside him, as repulsive as possible.
And still, Rin pushed himself. Every day was endless training, mental or physical. He read books about soccer all the time, watched game after game tirelessly, practiced his kicks, stretched and strengthened muscles only for them to ache afterward, ate only what was necessary, didn't interact with anything that didn't concern soccer. He suppressed his playing style and tried to play like Sae. Sae was good, controlled, graceful, and logical. He could make his own way to the goal. Rin wasn't as good. He lacked control; his playing style was ugly and crude, totally instinctive, like a hideous beast with bared teeth, out of control. And worst of all, always depending on someone to guide his way. Always dependent.
Rin began to find this increasingly disgusting. He started to fight against the idea of rejecting his dependence. Maybe it was okay to depend on Sae, but his brother wasn't there, and no one else measured up to him. The angry looks that scorned him every time he failed to lead the team to victory spun in his head non-stop. They were so unfair, so idiotic, and yet, they churned something inside him. Something that had been there since he was born, like an irremediable evil. The same repulsive thing that made him want to destroy and hurt. The worm that only Sae seemed capable of calming. The monster that not even his parents could understand, what made him a nuisance in the eyes of everyone else, that is, with the exception of Sae.
He wanted Sae to be there to tell them all they were idiots. But he wasn't. But that's okay, Rin thought, when Sae comes back, everything will go back to normal.
Yes, it was just a matter of time until his brother returned, he just needed to hold on until then. He would continue striving for their dream, working hard day after day, enduring that horrendous itch that came from within him, that seeped through his skin and made him long for pain. The itch that only grew with every stupid phrase from every classmate, that made him want to scream until his throat burned and dried, to run out of air in his lungs just to tell them how wrong they were, to show that if they really wanted to play a good game, they should try to understand his plays. But that would be stupid, they could never do anything like that. Only Sae could. So, Rin stayed quiet, listening to all those annoying words being thrown his way.
He didn't want to keep breaking his things. His mother clearly wasn't thrilled with the habit, and he didn't have spare money to fix what he broke. The only thing that fixed itself was his body, so he scratched and scratched. His arms were almost always red from so much itching.
During the night, on the loneliest days, Rin searched for news about Real Madrid just to see how Sae was progressing, smiling as he remembered that his brother had been working just as hard as him, believing there was a reason why he endured all the insults, a reason why he had been pushing himself in recent years. Something that made him feel less alone. One of the few things that seemed capable of reducing the itch in a non-physical way, a hope that lessened the irritation.
Rin endured for four long years until Sae returned. All the nights he should have been talking to his brother were replaced by horror movies and horror games. Incidentally, one of those nights brought a new insight to Rin. He was playing an online Halloween horror game. He rarely turned on his microphone, so he just listened. The two other young men chatted in English, and Rin quickly supposed they both noticed his name in Kanji and did a good job of completely ignoring his existence. They talked to each other in a carefree manner; Rin could understand what they were saying, although he didn't really care about any futile information shared there, like one of the boys' ex-boyfriends and the problems he'd gotten into with his parents because of some addiction.
Addicted people were nothing new, especially with drugs being so present in horror movies, even more so when most of them are about teenagers being hunted and dismembered in some random camp after getting high or having sex in the wrong places. Therefore, he quickly assumed the guy was talking about drinks or drugs.
His character was walking down a dark path through a cornfield, his flashlight half charged.
"I thought your parents already knew about that?" The other boy said.
"They say I'm ungrateful. You know how it is. I even... I can understand their desperation." The voice was apprehensive, but the reigning tone was somewhat dismissive. "They said they're tired of trying to help someone who doesn't want to be helped."
"They should understand that it's a slow process. It's an addiction like any other." Rin really didn't care to listen, but the person responsible for playing the killer seemed to be having some connection issues, given the delay in attacking or even moving, and, damn it, it's embarrassing to admit, but he felt a little less lonely listening to those people talk.
Don't get him wrong, Rin liked being alone. But it had been so long since his last conversation with Sae, and frankly, with anyone, that even someone like him could miss hearing something more intimate. Even if it was the intimacy of two strangers.
"Yeah... it's just I promised... no more cutting..." Rin shifted in bed. Cutting?
"Relapses are normal, you know." The boy who was now leading the way reassured him; his character was a bearded man in a plaid shirt. It seemed strangely fitting.
"I know. You don't...", the hesitant voice stopped for a few moments, "They think I tried to kill myself. Because I cut too deep and they had to take me to the doctor."
That's what this is about, Rin finally had the mental click.
Clearly, with all the internet access, strangers' online vents, awareness campaigns, shock-value horror movies, news constantly bombarding his feed, including about suicides of famous idols or "tragically beautiful" singers, and even overheard conversations among his classmates, Rin knew what self-harm was. Or simply, the act of hurting oneself. He just had never heard of it as an addiction, to be honest. He was aware that it was something depressed people did, or people who needed psychological help. At least, those were the warnings on prevention posters.
Rin didn't consider himself depressed or even psychologically unstable. Despite this, he could see himself in the act of violence against himself. He wasn't naive; he knew there was a kind of invisible line between what he did (scraping the soft flesh of his arms with his nails until they were sore and bloody) and what "depressed" people did, which in essence was the same as him, only with blades.
That instilled an unsettling curiosity within him.
When he was a bit younger and heard about this, he didn't make this connection between his own self-destructive actions and such people. In fact, individuals who self-mutilated earned a kind of "pity" title. Someone who needed to be saved from themselves. Rin wouldn't even want to be minimally compared to someone who needed pity or salvation. And, in the worst case, someone who needed "attention." However, now that he had grown, something within him, from that old perception, had changed. Now, the connection his mind made between pain and relief was somewhat clearer, firmer.
The contempt, for lack of a better word, had turned into a single question: "What would it feel like?"
Would it be very different from his own nails? Better? Worse? He wanted to... experiment. But only that. To see just once, to understand what made that guy use the word "addiction" to describe a habit of this nature. To cut himself. To tear himself open. And, of course, Rin didn't believe he could get addicted to something like that. He promised himself he'd do it just once, a first and only time, never again. And besides, wouldn't it be worse if he let this curiosity grow inside him? Wouldn't it just make things worse? It was better to just settle this matter once and for all. Yes, he had everything under control, Rin convinced himself. There shouldn't be any problem since he wasn't sad or depressed, right?
Right. Because he just wanted to test something. To scratch an itch that seemed endless, since he was little, no matter how much he dug his nails into the milky skin on the inside of his arms.
Later, he would recall this moment and ask himself: "Was that where everything started to fall apart?" Furthermore, he would also be more aware. Informed enough to know that someone more experienced, even if only a little older, would never make such a decision with the ease and speed with which Rin had. But what to say? He was 13. In his own eyes, he was invincible. Superior to these addictions that only affected others, never him. No, he couldn't end up in such a situation.
What could be so hard about just stopping something?
However incomprehensible it might seem to others, his logic gave him a secure and firm sense. He didn't want to punish himself, he wanted to help himself. It was different. Different from the reports of awareness campaigns, different from movies. Rin didn't think he hated himself, he just thought that this was also a valid experience to scratch his discomfort. And he also believed it would be a unique situation.
The flashlight's battery finally died, plunging his character into a sea of black, the phone screen showing twisted corn leaves. Sighing loudly, Rin realized how tense he was; his shoulders relaxed and loosened, however, that feeling of curiosity that caused a kind of urgency was still there.
He left the game just by cleaning his phone screen, not worrying about the rank penalty he'd probably receive for it. His parents were surely asleep, yet his walk to the bathroom was steeped in silence, with a poorly camouflaged sense of guilt.
He knew most people who had this habit had bad family relationships. Rin didn't think he did. Yes, it was true his parents weren't as present as he would like. But sometimes, when he thought about it, he decided he might not feel so comfortable with them asking about his life all the time. And, yes, it was also true his parents didn't understand him. Rin understood this when he saw his mother's frustrated—and to be fair, worried—look, sitting at the kitchen table being gently comforted by his father saying, "One day Rin will calm down."
But they weren't that bad, not at all. For a brief moment, he wondered what they would think if they discovered his intentions now, locked in the bathroom with that cold sensation in his stomach.
He was rummaging through the bathroom cabinets in search of the razor blades he once saw his father put away. Then he stopped, wondering how suspicious it would be to mess up an entire set of blades when his intention was to use only one, just once. He reflected for a few seconds, changing his route. He looked for his own razor, now that he had started needing one to deal with the annoying changes in his body. It was practically the same as blades, just with a handle, right?
So, the moment was there, before him.
He thought about how he used to do it as a child, like that time he jumped from a high toy, without hesitation. He knew that if he hesitated, he wouldn't be able to. The faster you scratch, the more satisfaction you get.
Therefore, he didn't think much before pressing the razor firmly against the soft skin inside his arm, scraping in a quick sideways pull and observing fascinated, in a morbid and wondrous way, a single line with small red blood dots sprouting along the path. He barely felt any pain, besides a prick, which was confusing, so he didn't think about it. It was like when he accidentally cut his finger on the side of a paper, but without the burning sensation, just the sting.
He had to stay still and absorb the sensation, or rather, the lack of it. It was hard to explain, it was euphoric. A feeling close to what he imagined being drunk was like. When he noticed, his mouth was open in disbelief, almost drooling with concentration, while a second line appeared just below the first, with thicker spatters of blood, spitting out as if tiny needle holes had been made. Another prick, another mark.
These two lines seemed so... harmless. Two tiny things for such obvious satisfaction of his itch, and he wasn't even very affected today. He couldn't help but wish he knew what it would be like to do something like this on one of his bad days. Would he get truly significant relief?
Once again, he stopped. Even with only two small cuts on his arm, Rin could understand, albeit very intuitively, what that guy meant by the word "addiction." So, he washed his arm, which, to his relief, didn't really bleed much, then washed the razor, putting it back where he'd taken it from. He promised himself never to do anything like it again.
Still, since that lonely night in the bathroom, he would keep recalling the sensation, sometimes catching himself savoring the memory of the prick, trying to feel it again through his memories, looking at the two lines on his arms and imagining the bubbles sprouting there again, thinking they had just been made, even if they seemed less evident as time passed. Incidentally, he was also very satisfied when the marks took longer to heal, unlike what happened with the shapeless and messy lines from his nails.
There was something comforting in observing those two little things on his skin throughout the days. He would roll up his training shirt sleeves to look at his precious lines whenever his teammates blamed him for a poorly executed play. He started to look at his own arm when he got frustrated with the feeling of playing alone, despite all the people who supposedly were part of his team. For Rin, playing soccer alone sounded strange, even though Sae had already left about a year and a few months ago.
As the months passed and Rin grew older, his lines faded, becoming as imperceptible as old cat scratches, and he felt lonelier. In compensation, he improved in soccer, perfecting his game, becoming more and more like Sae, that is, closer to what his teammates approved of. He noticed over time that he couldn't stand still waiting to be understood by those people; he would have to play his own game and show them the way to his rules.
The team still wasn't kind to him; Rin didn't feel like one of them, but at least they started to respect his personal space. The tension in the locker room no longer existed, and any negative comments they had were made in discreet whispers that could be easily ignored. The people at school weren't mean to him; in fact, they seemed even interested in him to some extent, but Rin never allowed himself to discover more about it.
He always ignored others' attempts at closeness. He preferred to train later, find stricter exercise routines, look for kicking techniques online, and watch talented professional games.
Besides, training helped him not to think. To ignore the fact that there was a razor in the bathroom, easily accessible, ready to be used as a weapon of oblivion. Rin was scared when he noticed that, even after two years, now at 15, there were still nights when he remembered the sensation of the prick, the numbness.
On particularly bad days, he would walk to the bathroom in the middle of the night, almost like a zombie. The awareness of what he was doing, of his intentions, pushed to the back of his mind, prevented from emerging as a clear thought. When he noticed, he was standing, suffocated within four white walls. Only then did he realize what he was planning. Sometimes he was scared, other times, angry. He wondered: "Did I mess up my own head forever? Will I always be thinking about this?"
He felt that every day he was closer to giving in and making one, two, or three more red lines appear. It was quite a nuisance. Not that his family would suspect. Anyway, Rin rarely wore clothes that didn't have long sleeves, and most of his uniforms came with that addition. Thinking about it, he considered how easy it would be to make this habit a secret, should he ever give in.
It was a snowy day, Rin was kicking his ball towards the goal when he heard from behind him, "That kick was a bit lukewarm, don't you think?" in a casual, tired tone of voice.
How could he not recognize that voice? Of course, his face turned almost instantly.
"Nii-chan!" His eyes widened and sparkled with joy. Sae was back. Sae was finally back. His lonely days were finally coming to an end. Now he could tell him about everything that had been happening here. Now he could stop being bothered by the boys on the team and their scornful comments, now he would talk to his brother instead of going to the bathroom at night.
And, of course, he'd show Sae how much he'd improved. Despite everything, he was genuinely proud of all the effort he'd put into soccer, into his brother, the dream they both shared, throughout all those years. His strength and reason to wake up every morning would finally have a rewarding moment. Things could go back to normal, feel right again.
Soccer would be fun again.
However, when he looked at Sae, after four years, something inside him trembled. His brother certainly looked different. But still... It had to be Sae.
"Welcome back. It's..." Rin smiled, nervousness rising in the pit of his stomach.
What happened? Was Sae tired from the trip? Probably.
"Thanks." The answer was monotonic and almost lifeless. Rin certainly didn't expect such a reception.
Even so, he just brushed it off. His brother was back! That's what he should focus on.
"It's been four years, huh?" Rin really tried to put that discomfort aside, the invisible weight in the air. Inside him, small movements came to life. "But... weren't you supposed to come back tomorrow?"
"I arrived early."
"I see... I've been keeping up with the news about you, you know?" To be honest, Rin was scared. He was scared of this person in front of him, with Sae's face, but so, so... exhausted? Sad? "You're amazing, Nii-chan." Sae had changed. Well, it would be foolish to think he wouldn't change in four years, anyway. Rin just hoped it wasn't too big a change for him to keep up with. He pushed the thought away. Regardless of any change, Sae was still his brother, right? "But... Oh, did you lose weight?"
Sae looked away. He had bags under his eyes. "Hmm, maybe." He dismissed the question. "Hey, Rin." Sae sighed and paused. Silence stretched between them, heavy as a tarp.
"Turns out the world is huge," Sae continued. "There are much better players out there than me..."
Rin felt his stomach churn. He silently begged everything to stay still, just for that moment.
"Huh? Why that out of nowhere?"
Again, silence. And once more, Sae broke it.
"I have another dream. Instead of being the best striker, I'm going to become the best midfielder in the world."
Rin thought of all the days of those four years. All the days he woke up earlier than his parents, got up and did his painful exercises alone, read about soccer until his head hurt, watched game after game until his eyes burned, trained late even when his feet ached, endured all the annoying teammates despite the itch they caused, without even thinking about giving up. He would never give up on their dream, never give up on Sae, despite the difficulties.
So why was Sae doing exactly that? Why would he do something like this when the dream was initially his proposal? It was Sae who put Rin on this path; how could he so simply decide he no longer wanted to walk it with him?
"What are you...? You're a striker, aren't you? What's the point of becoming the best at anything else?" Rin now realized how much harder it was to breathe in the snow. His lungs felt heavy. A cloud of mist came out of his mouth.
"Shut up. You say that because you don't know the world."
Yes. Sae was right, Rin didn't know the world, but he knew his brother, and that had been enough. Why couldn't it be anymore?
"What the hell?! Don't decide things by yourself like this! You said we'd fight together, right...?" His breathing was getting heavy and difficult. It was hurting. Were his lungs hurting? Also... But there was something else. Something cold pricking inside him.
"Right... So I'll be a midfielder, and you'll reach the top as a striker."
Stop it!
"I don't want that! I'm the brother of the world's best striker!"
Rin wanted to reach Sae's ears and, for a moment, thought he had succeeded when his eyes grew wider. He couldn't let Sae give up, not after everything. Sae just needed motivation, right? Encouragement! Rin endured all those years thinking of Sae, so Sae could do the same if it was for Rin. That's what their relationship was about.
"You came back here to spout all this nonsense...?" His voice trembled, and Rin couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from the worms that seemed to crawl out of his flesh. "I didn't want to see you like this! You... You're not the same brother I shared a dream with!"
He hoped Sae would wake up. Rin only said that because he wanted Sae to hear him and come to his senses. Then they would go home, eat some special food their parents would make for Sae, talk about the amazing things that happened in Spain, watch a movie together, and the next day they would play soccer.
"How insensitive." It came out of Sae's mouth. "Rin, haven't you realized that the soccer field is a battlefield?" His feet pulled a ball so fast Rin barely noticed.
Everything felt like a hallucination. Rin felt the streetlight make him dizzy and lightheaded.
"Come on..." Sae commanded, like in an unreal nightmare. "If you can beat me one-on-one... I'll share that dream with you again." And then, he said what would end up cursing Rin's next few years. Or at least, Rin saw it that way. "But if I win, our dream ends here."
And when he realized it, Rin had lost. Not just a match, but something more important that now seemed irreparably broken. Although he would only realize how shattered his dreams were hours later. Not at that moment. In this instant, he tries to find a way out, an end to hope.
"Nii-chan, wait... After you left, I... I gave it my all." The way Sae remained motionless could make him shiver, especially when he was being so sincere. Rin was showing his brother everything he could. "To become the best striker in the world and then be recognized, just like you. I tried to become someone who could replace you. I played for the team, and then I became the best in Japan, as I promised... But now, you're saying it's over? If I can't pursue my dream with you, then... I have no reason... to play soccer."
Rin had poured his soul into words the best he could. And Sae... He just looked down, without looking at his brother sitting in the snow.
"Then just give up, damn it." He spat. "Did you want me to comfort you, by any chance? Asshole."
What? No.
This couldn't be Sae.
Who was this person? Where was his brother? Rin wanted his brother to hug him now, just that. After four years... He gets a cruel creature wearing his brother's skin and spitting horrible words like these.
"This country is truly accustomed to peace. Anyone with a little talent ends up turning into trash... 'Best in Japan'? 'Replace me'? You make me want to vomit." Sae wasn't even looking at him. Please, stop saying these things. "Never use me as motivation to play soccer again."
Stop it.
"And there's more. Maybe you see me as special," yes, but now he wasn't so sure. "But to me, you're nothing but an insufferable younger brother."
Rin wasn't sure how to breathe. His heart seemed not to know how to beat. His head couldn't formulate anything. Nothing in his life seemed right at that moment.
"Don't get cocky just because you're my brother." Sae's suitcase was leaving tracks in the snow. Two small lines... Two small lines, huh? "If you can't play soccer, you're worthless."
"Get lost, Rin, I don't need you in my life anymore."
And he disappeared.
Rin was in pain. Pain in his chest, which wouldn't stop trembling, quivering with every exhale and inhale, breathing—if you could even call it that—faster and faster, inconsistently. His heart was beating so fast he was on the verge of believing in a possible heart attack. He needed air, he needed Sae to help him breathe. Why did the air feel so heavy? So humid? Crushing. It hurts, it hurts too much. The snow began to melt beneath his knees and seep into his pants. He felt so cold and, yet, so distant from that physical place, that serene snowfield.
At some point, he managed to get up. Somehow, he managed to go home, even though he thought he was closer to death than ever. In a blur of hours, he had showered, was in a warm hoodie in a warm bed.
In another blur, he was destroying his room like he hadn't in years. And yet, he didn't think he had ever done it in such a bad and angry way as now. He had finally realized. Sae only saw him as a path of utility. Rin was useful like a tool, not precious like a brother. And now that Sae had evolved, Rin wasn't even useful, wasn't even human or familiar. Sae's trophies were all on the floor from the aimless punches Rin threw. His knuckles ached.
Rin stepped on a broken picture frame. A photo of him and Sae with their childhood team. The glass of the frame shattered further when he stepped on it, and Rin's foot registered a small sting before a red stain appeared.
"Damn it!"
He had cut his foot, and for a moment, his feelings quieted so he could observe his cut. It was nothing complicated; it wouldn't even leave him injured or scarred. However, even such a small cut was capable of changing the direction of his mind, which Rin couldn't help but notice.
In that moment, he recognized something dangerous and detestable. The razor blade in the bathroom was still there. Casually resting on a plastic holder.
Rin went to it.
By the end of that night, Rin had three more lines with their characteristic little red bubbles on each arm, and would have made more had he not mentally stopped himself. It was pleasurable, like finally doing something you'd waited for a very, very long time. There was also something purifying about cleaning (even if amateurishly) the bloody mess on his arms and covering everything with a hoodie. He still felt the wounds sting and prickle under the sleeves of his fleece shirt, which satisfied him somehow, as if he felt the "healing" process twice. It was hard to explain. A feeling similar to when you finally sit on your bed after cleaning your room. It's pleasant. Like a moment of aftercare.
Frankly, now that his caution and hesitation regarding blades had finally burst, he didn't give a damn about his restraint. He started making one or two new cuts a week; it was incredible how there was always something to depress or stress him.
Meanwhile, Blue Lock emerged.
When he received the notice, he thought it was some stupid scam. Or maybe some glorified high school event. But then he recognized the Japanese Football Association symbol, and, after all, why not give it a shot? What better things did he have to do instead?
His team seemed stagnant. His life seemed stagnant, and the only things that seemed to increase were the lines on his arms and his list of watched horror movies.
In the end, he actually showed up on the appointed day, at the designated place, and on time. It was truly a... peculiar experience, to say the least. A wide-eyed man with huge dark circles under his eyes announced the event with a dramatic and emphatic speech. First, the people there hesitated. Then they rushed inside like madmen, so much so that Rin barely had to move to be dragged in.
Lukewarm.
Anyway, there he was, ready to start what was supposed to be the revolution of Japanese soccer.
The first impression of the Blue Lock project wasn't very positive or encouraging. Most, or rather, anyone there, didn't seem to come close to Rin's level. All lukewarm and tiresome. The first phase was as soft as the training he did as a child, the hardest part being having to endure the crying of the eliminated player. The second selection also wasn't complicated. He guided his team to an undefeated victory, hoping to finally find players who could present some challenge, as his team was apparently the lowest-ranked. All to discover that the rank was actually completely false and he was probably one of the best, if not the best.
Then came the trio selection, and Rin didn't care who would join his team, so he accepted the first two who appeared. A long-haired guy who wouldn't shut up about "glam," and another kid insecure enough to make Rin's body tremble with anger and embarrassment.
Fortunately, all the clothes had long, comfortable sleeves. They also had an infirmary in the facility, where Rin could get bandages if he needed them. Usually, it wasn't necessary; his cuts weren't usually deep since he had to do regular exercises. The real problem was finding privacy. Privacy in the showers, in the locker rooms, to change, to cut when he got stressed or out of sheer habit. He felt like he was constantly surrounded by people, and that irritated him even more. His temporary solution was to return to the old habit of scratching his now not-so-immaculate skin. This time it worked better than it used to, as many cuts would open and hurt when he scratched. He would sigh softly in his room while the others slept, sometimes grunting when a loose thread from his shirt got caught in an uncovered wound and pulled in a painful twitch.
If he really needed to cut, he'd lock himself in a bathroom stall. Cutting was a simple task, actually. Washing up was a bit more complicated. Over the years, he'd gained some experience in the matter and knew that the consequences of not washing could be really irritating and nasty. So he always had to satisfy his needs at a time when he was sure there was no one else near the bathroom, or at least very few people. It was very easy to catch him with his arm bleeding and nicked, which would lead to unnecessary questions he didn't want (and also didn't know how) to answer. Besides, a rumor like that would spread like wildfire, and the last thing Rin needed was for his teammates to think he was weak.
Therefore, he opted to cut in the afternoon, when the flow of people was lower. Although with a much lower frequency than he did before Blue Lock. It worked for some time, until Bachira showed up.
Bachira was like a flea. An especially sticky and happy flea. Actually, more like a bee. The kind of person so cheerful that they must be bordering on madness or extremely high.
Rin normally wouldn't care beyond rolling his eyes and keeping to himself, that is, until Bachira started following him like a persistent dog and trying to talk to him most of the time. It was an endless deluge of "Rin! How's your training?", "You're so dedicated!", "That game was good", "You're really amazing, Rin!".
All this admiration for him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could see a bit of himself in Bachira, which was embarrassing.
And of course, Bachira had the strange habit of being half-naked half the time. Rin wasn't going through any sexuality crisis or anything; he never cared about that in the first place. He didn't even think he was capable of liking anyone that way, and he was fine with that. However, it was still stressful to keep a neutral face when there's a dick swinging in front of you.
Bachira made a point of noticing his presence, all the time. Even when he wanted to shower later than others or in a separate corner. Rin usually confined himself to the shower, never using the bathtub. Therefore, he had to be careful to observe whether Bachira was there or not. The worst part? Bachira was strangely very observant and attentive. He noticed when Rin got up at night or disappeared in the afternoon. Once he even followed him to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and Rin had to pretend he had gone there to wash his face—he would never stoop to peeing in front of Bachira—while Meguru maintained that same carefree expression.
No matter how much he tried to scare the boy away, Bachira never gave up. The most he did was stay away for a few hours when Rin criticized his ego, saying he could only exist because of another person. That night Rin ended up making two more cuts to honor the thought that he was no different. Everything he had done so far, after all, was for Sae or as a result of Sae's actions. Who was he trying to fool? His ego also always sought someone else.
Rin no longer used razors. Over the years, since he started cutting himself, at a certain point he switched the tool for razor blades. He discovered that they could cut deeper and with greater precision. He had better control than with any diagonal blade of a safety razor. Besides being easier to carry around. You can carry several blades, but hardly several safety razors. This also meant the deepening of some cuts, which now looked more like tiger claws instead of cat claws.
Rin always took care not to cut too deep when he didn't have bandages nearby. It would be a hassle if the pressure from routine exercises made the wounds open and bleed onto his uniform—knowledge from past experiences. Although it still happened occasionally. In these cases, it usually only stained the inside of the sleeve, without showing through. A superficial bleeding.
The two cuts he had just made, buried in the suffocating bathroom stall, seemed to be exactly the type that bleed little after a few hours, although now he was pressing a wad of toilet paper to suppress the bleeding and prevent his blood from dripping onto the floor. A common hiss of pain escaped through his teeth. When the bleeding finally subsided after a few minutes, Rin left the stall, only to find Bachira outside washing his hands, which for some reason were dirty with food and...
The boy turned to him when he heard the door open.
His arm was there, exposed like shredded meat, with scars and marks in different stages of healing. Some almost open, others on their way to closing, still others completely closed, and two bleeding. A mediocre, already blood-soaked piece of paper pressing disgustingly and stickily against his skin and fingers.
You know, it was like he was giving away quite a scene for free to Bachira. His arm was extended towards the boy, as he didn't want the blood to run onto his clothes.
How had Rin not heard Bachira arrive? Especially when it was such a noisy boy? Was he that engrossed in tearing himself apart?
He felt like he could throw up his stomach.