Chapter Text
14 days. How long can that be?
In 14 days you can fall into habits, into routines…intro trouble. In 14 days you can learn someone more than you ever planned to.
14 days. Barely enough time to unpack. Just enough time to ruin everything.
14 days, just two weeks. That’s all. People have survived worse. Probably.
Being a striker at Blue Lock requires a lot of travel. We have to play a match in Germany this time. Ego said we’ll be staying in the foreign country for two weeks at a lavish hotel resort. The catch is, he also said it would be too much of a hassle to let us choose our own roommates and has pre-assigned them for us.
It happened a few days ago, sitting in the cold, depressing environment that is the Blue Lock meeting room. I sat in between Hiori and Yukimiya, expecting little until that little snake decided the only seat available was right in front of me. I’ve never had a rival more insistent on irritating me. And I’d look like a little baby asking my seatmates to switch. So there I was, annoyed to no end.
Ego stood at the end of the large table, announcing room arrangements. At Blue Lock, I have a decent amount of friends (and rivals) so it didn’t exactly matter who I was placed with unless it was him. And of course, with my amazing luck, you can guess who my roommate is for the next 2 weeks.
“Yoichi Isagi. You’ll be rooming with Michael Kaiser. Room 553. Don’t forget that number,” Ego had declared and my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. What?
To anyone, two weeks is very little, but when you’re spending it with Michael Kaiser
It’s a different story.
Around two months ago was the first time I met him. The beginning of the Neo Egoist league. It was a fight for survival, trying to score goals during this program. The ball falls within range, and I’m completely set on scoring.
Until.
I feel this presence behind me and in an instant the ball that was once mine is in his hands. He shoots, and this shot is so extremely fast and powerful, I can barely comprehend it. The man has long golden hair with blue tips at the ends and two rattails, with eccentric red eyeliner that I’ve seen so many times I’m sick. There's a tattoo of a rose and a crown that stretches down his left arm and ends at his wrist in a deep blue. He speaks in a deep, German drawl.
Seriously. German. The bastard was dissing me in a language I couldn’t understand. But after I did my research, he said something along the lines of:
“I wanted to meet you, Yoichi Isagi.” (Why?)
“I’ll call you Yoichi, okay?” (Please don’t.)
“I’m Kaiser. The one who reveals what’s impossible.” (Yeah right.)
“On your knees, Blue Lock.” (Who does he think he is?)
The bastard walks over to me slowly, tilting my chin upward and saying,
“Yoichi. I came here to meet you, Blue Lock’s ace striker.” (Whatever.)
“Don’t let me down, new hero.”
I slap his hand away quickly, shooting him a glare. “Quit it. Don’t touch me!”
“Be a proper obstacle in my life. Prove to me that I didn’t come all this way for nothing.” (Gladly.)
“Just as you wish, I’m going to destroy your life.” I threaten, weakly. The Kaiser guy had me shook.
He proceeds to call me, in his own words, a foolish clown who thought he was the protagonist. Right. He really has a superiority complex.
Since then, we've stayed true to our words of ruining each other's lives. We fought on the field each game, stealing the ball from each other and exchanging threats in the locker rooms. He’s insufferable really. From that annoying accent to his smug look he wears all of the time. Basically, the one person I do not want to room with.
But, alas, it has to happen, right?
I flop onto my bed, complaining about my unfortunate predicament that is the room arrangement for the next two weeks to my friend, Meguru Bachira. He’s been my ally since day one of Blue Lock, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for him.
He’s got a brown bob with yellow highlights to match his bright golden eyes and a lean but muscular figure. Bachira’s also packing his things alongside me.
“Isagi, you can’t get caught up in your little problem like this. After all, we have a game in Germany. It’s not like we’re going for no reason.” Bachira said, being my voice of reason.
I huff, groaning into the bedsheet. “But, I,” I start, turning over and throwing a hand over my eyes. “Nevermind.”
My friend could tell I wasn’t over the issue and teased, “Besides, you guys could bond over the trip, you know. I mean, you ever heard of enemies-to-lovers?”
I scowled, and Bachira immediately withdrew. “Well, lovers is a stretch.”
“Enemies to nothing, Bachira. Maybe in another universe. I can’t stand that guy. I’ll just endure it. Accept my unfortunate fate.” I sigh, feeling sorry for myself. I sit up, using my foot to drag my half-packed suitcase over to me. I stuff a few more clothes inside, picking up my jersey.
“Come onnnn. You have to at least try and bond with him or you’ll make your trip even more miserable.” Bachira tried to convince me, but never in a million years would I budge.
“No. Quit trying to change my mind.” I dismissed him, folding my jersey and shorts and throwing them inside my bag.”
“Tell you what. I’ll make a bet with you. By the end of this trip, if you say even ONE nice thing about Kaiser, I win. You owe me sushi.”
I snort. This has got to be the easiest bet I’ve ever gone through in my entire life. Involuntarily saying nice things about that guy is a foreign concept to me. He has no attributes to compliment!
“Great. You’ll be getting me sushi in about two weeks, so start saving up because I won’t be nice about money.” I say, disbelieving. He’d really give me such an easy challenge? If you can even call it a challenge.
Bachira laughed, running a hand through his hair and revealing his forehead. “We’ll see about that.”
I grab my cleats, cologne, toothbrush and paste, and briefs, and launch them into my suitcase, zipping it up. What a long two weeks this is going to be. But it’s whatever. It’s not like I’m that affected by Kaiser.
…
Stepping off of the plane and strolling through the airport, I am exhausted and yearning to just go to bed. Travel is so tiring. I look around the giant place filled with unfamiliar faces and dialogue. Well, I did teach myself a little German to communicate with that…narcissist.
Speaking of
He’s here, at the airport, waiting. I almost passed away at the sight of him (no, not like that.) He’s the last person I expected to see right now. I groan, watching him approach me with a sense of dread. 14 days with Michael Kaiser might as well be 14 years.
Kaiser stops in front of me, tilting my chin upward once again. God, if he does this again, I’m going to
“Yoichi! Welcome to Berlin! I’m sure your view out your plane window has showcased the beautiful country that is Germany to you. You like?” Kaiser speaks, his voice too joyful, like he’s actually happy that I’m in his home country.
“It was fine.” I grumble, stumbling over nothing. Curse me for that, in front of Kaiser too?
“Fine? Someone must be tired. Isn’t that right? Let’s get you to the Uber and put you to bed, okay?” Kaiser spoke, ruffling my hair and smirking slowly. God, was he annoying, but I was in no mood to protest.
He hesitated before grabbing my hand to walk me through the place. I swear there was a small spark when our hands touched. His warm hands contrast against my colder ones, the sensation making me feel even drowsier. Why’d this have to be so relaxing?
Before I knew it I was drifting off to sleep as Kaiser dragged me along. He noticed, a slow chuckle escaping his lips. He shook me roughly, and I woke up, glaring at him. The hell was that for? He’s so annoying.
I didn’t realize I said that aloud and he replied, “That’s yours truly for you, Yoichi. Now let’s go. I’m not holding you anymore.”
I groan but stop myself short as I process that would imply I missed Kaiser’s touch.
Me?
Miss his touch?
Oh please.
I force myself to get through the airport, noticing Kaiser walking like 3 feet away from me. When did he start walking so fast?
That bastard wouldn’t leave me by myself in a foreign country, right?
…
He would.
Well that’s Kaiser for you.
I’m standing outside the airport with my things, and on top of that it’s POURING. One second he’s holding my hand and walking with me and the next he’s being a complete piece of trash. What the hell?
I can’t even contact him because I never bothered to get his number. Damn it! I fumble in my sweater pocket for my phone, shivering. The sky is pitch black, the wind is cold and biting. I frantically tap the screen, paying for an Uber.
God, I can’t stand that guy. He said we’d ride together. It’s not like I wanted to. Well, maybe I did. But it’s not because it’s him, I mean.
A few minutes later, the Uber arrives. I walk over to the sleek black car, the door handle being so cold it’s painful to hold. No one told me Germany was so cold, oh my god.
After sliding into the car and strapping on my seatbelt, I slump against the window and let out a sigh, tears pricking at my eyes against my will. My sweater is all wet, my nose is runny, and I’m shivering like there’s no tomorrow. I don’t exactly fight the waterworks though, my shoulders shaking violently with sobs.
It surprises me because
How’d I let him hurt my feelings? Kaiser? I had to be stronger than that.
I feel so ashamed, disappointed. I can’t let him get to me.
I drift off into sleep, only waking up to the light tap on my shoulder from the Uber driver. I sigh, sliding out of the car and dragging my things along with me and making my way to the doors of the hotel place.
Checking in and getting a key card was a blur, and finally I’m standing outside room 553. I take a deep breath, holding the doorknob. I really don’t want to go in there, but it is extremely cold and I’m extremely tired.
Okay.
How bad can this be? Opening the door will start my 2 weeks of torture living with Michael Kaiser. I’m not ready.
I’m ready.
Okay. 3…2..1.
I turn the knob and take a look at the lavish room. It has two decently sized beds (thank god), a giant television placed on the wall that’s painted in a fancy pattern, a balcony, a fluffy grey carpet and to top it off, the one and only Michael Kaiser lying on a bed, looking all smug.
“Well look what the cat dragged in..”