Archive of Our Own

It’s a kind of torture, what Nagi is doing to himself right now. He’s watching Reo on the field, in the first match of the u-20 World Cup, shining, dazzling, in his element with Bachira, with Chigiri, without him, and it hurts more than he ever thought possible.

Walking out of the doors of Blue Lock, away from the only person who had ever made him feel alive, hadn’t even hurt as much as this.

He’s sure that hurt would have passed, the wound scabbing over at least, given enough time. His broken heart had been on the way to mending itself with each day he’d gone to school without anyone bothering him and to the arcade to distract himself. He would have been fine eventually.

(It would have taken decades)

But when Reo makes his goal and there’s no one next to him to celebrate Nagi knows with every fiber of his being that he would rip out his heart in a instant and give it to whoever wanted it to be right there by Reo’s side.

The railing he’s white knuckling is the only thing that’s keeping him from running onto that field and and it’s easy, like it’s the only logical course of action, to decide right then that he’ll take whatever slave contract he’s offered to claw his way back to where he belongs.

This resolution follows him all day long and has him losing sleep as ideas flash through his dreams on how to get himself back to Reo. Nagi’s never felt so determined and fired up in his life.

It’s no wonder his body isn’t able to handle it.

He wakes up the next morning with crusty eyes and a throat that hurts with each swallow. He’s pretty sure he won’t be able to get out of bed anytime soon, let alone practice kicks.

Ah, well. There’s tomorrow.

He hunts around for his phone, but peeking even one eye open is enough to blind him so badly that he pulls his covers over his head to hide himself away. He feels colder than usual.

Well, this edgier and shittier Blue Lock clone won’t start for a few days. It’s probably good to take some time to relax before he’s back in hell.

He’ll just sleep this off.

He dreams of the last time he was sick, snot running with an itchy throat, wasting away in bed with no medicine, no water, and no food.

Reo had been the one to take care of him then. It had been so cliche.

Sometime that day, he’d woken up to a knock on the door and the crinkling of plastic bags. Popping his head over the covers had shown Reo wandering around his little dorm like he lived there. He knew exactly where the bowls were, the spoons, where the medicine would be if Nagi had ever bothered to buy some.

Did friends really come by after school to take care of their sick classmates? Apparently Reo did.

Nagi hoped Reo only did it for him.

But Nagi wakes up in the present alone and miserable, no Reo in sight. Reo doesn’t even know Nagi’s sick. How would he? Reo probably isn’t even thinking about him anymore.

Groaning, Nagi turns over onto this side to fall asleep again.

Why would Reo even think about him anymore? Nagi doesn’t deserve to be thought about. Nagi probably deserves this cold, deserves to be alone and miserable after his failure. He doesn’t deserve anything else.

He wakes up on and off throughout day. Still sick. Sometimes worse, sometimes better.

The pain in his stomach is what finally drags him out of bed to stumble to his fridge, predictably empty, and then to his pantry. For a moment, he doesn’t know what he’s looking at.

A lone instant miso soup cup from the last time he was sick is perched front and center on a shelf.

Of course purchased by the one and only Reo, because why would Nagi ever buy that for himself.

The door creaks with the strength of his grip, he’s afraid he won’t ever be able to let it go, but it’s a distraction from the sting in his eyes and the hollowness he feels in his stomach.

He wishes he could stop thinking about Reo. But even when Reo’s not here, he’s taking care of Nagi.

Nagi sniffs, rubbing at his eyes so he can read the instructions clearly.

The microwave dings and he mechanically finishes his small meal standing silently in the middle of the kitchen. He does feel better.

He tries not to think about Reo. He tries not to think about Reo’s cool hands, his teasing words, the comforting warmth he brought into this sterile apartment. Instead, all he has is a cold sink with a lone, dirty spoon.

He has to stop thinking. Has to stop torturing himself. And thankfully the soup is warm enough to put him back to sleep. He lumbers back to bed, flops down on his face, and hopes when he wakes up he’ll feel better.

A ding from his phone is what wakes him up next. It’s a text from some official filling him in on Blue Lock: Side B (so dumb, didn’t they want to crush Blue Lock, why use their name?) and where he needs to be and when.

Nagi rolls his eyes and is pleasantly surprised to find his head doesn’t immediately start to pound. It seems like the soup (and Reo) helped. But he’s starving. He knows he should get some more food in him, that some fresh air would probably be good. He ignores how that voice doesn’t sound like his voice at all.

Slowly and painfully, he drags himself out of bed. He showers, gets dressed, thinks about how someone else would probably write out a list, but he has a good memory, it’ll be fine. More soup, pain medication, water, tea. It’s only 4 things. How hard can it be?

The shopping list mantra follows him as he shuffles down the street. Soup, pain medication, water, tea. Soup, pain medication, tea—wasn’t there a fourth thing? Soup, tea, some food, water. That must be it.

Maybe he’s still more sick than he thought.

He tries to visualize what Reo had brought that one time he had come over, what had he pulled out of those convenience store bags? His running list gets smaller, then bigger, and then he’s forgotten most of it. He’ll remember when he gets there, he decides.

But when he gets to the door and looks up, it’s not a convenience store entrance at all.

It’s Reo’s door.

Not even just the outside of the building, his actual door. His stomach drops. How did anyone let him get this far? There’s doormen here, right? Sure, he’s come over before, but enough that they would just let him wander around? That doesn’t seem safe.

His feet are stuck to the floor as his mind struggles to race through the fog in his head.

He needs to go.

Turn around and leave and go to the convenience store. Pretend he never came here.

But, Reo.

Reo’s just on the other side of the door. He’s so close. They haven’t been so close in so long. Reo’s cold finger tips are right there. They’d feel so good against his forehead. Reo could take care of him again. Like before.

He’s getting desperate again, it’s embarrassing, and thankfully a hacking cough runs through his body and he’s rudely brought back to reality.

Reo can’t take care of him anymore. The heaviness that settles over his shoulders almost feels good, or at least what he deserves.

He has to leave. Reo shouldn’t see him like this.

He turns, placing one heavy foot in front of the other. It’s fine. Reo will never know he was here.

“Nagi?”

It’s pathetic how he’s even imagining Reo calling out to him right now like some type of lovesick romance manga lead.

“Wait, Nagi!”

A chill shoots down his spine.

Oh, I’m not hallucinating. Fuck.

“Why are you here?”

Reo’s presence is so large behind him, Nagi wonders how he ever would have missed it, the warmth of it almost burns. He wants to run. He wants to turn around and fall into Reo’s arms. He wants to apologize and explain himself. But there's only static in his head and a pit in his stomach.

A tremor begins in his fingertips.

What should he do?

“Did you walk all the way here? In that? Nagi, it's freezing!”

Like always, Reo takes the lead and Nagi can only follow. Steady hands grab his shoulders and it feels like coming home. He’s trembling all over now and his eyes are beginning to sting. How had he gone so long without him?

The question fills every corner of his mind as Reo gently leads him inside, fussing the entire time.

He should probably help, but Reo is so good at it. He’d just get in the way. Reo’s running his hands all over his warm body, pushing back his hair to check his temperature, Reo’s at his shoulder peeling off the thin jacket he pulled on absentmindedly that definitely wasn’t helping in this weather, Reo’s at his feet pulling off his shoes and socks. Is Nagi supposed to say no?

He ignores the small nasally voice in his head that yells a resounding ‘yes’.

He’s led to bathroom and he finds himself staring down at the familiar stark white tile below his feet. He wonders hazily just how long it's been since he's been here. Just months ago, he was here almost every other day stalling in the bathroom to get out of watching and re-watching game recordings. He didn't think he'd ever miss it.

He scoffs, irritating his throat and starting off another hoarse cough.

“Are you sick?” Reo asks frantically. “What were you even doing outside like this, you idiot?”

Steam begins to fill the room as Reo works on running a bath. He spritzes something that begins to help Nagi breath a little better, fussing quietly to make sure the temperature isn’t too hot.

Of course, Reo would still take care of him. God, he’s so easy. Nagi can feel some of his old pride coming back and he squashes it back down. This isn’t the time. And he doesn’t deserve it. He’s the worst.

A drop and then two fall on his clenched fists in his lap.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“There. Get warm, you dummy.” Reo’s small feet appear on the tile for a moment before they begin to walk away.

Nagi’s heart tightens. No.

Some noise of distress must escape Nagi’s clenched teeth, because Reo hesitates, one foot flat and one arched, like he’s one step away from fleeing. “I'll… I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. Just get in.” He says softly.

All he can do is listen to the order. Mechanically, he removes his clothes and lowers himself into the tub. The warmth seeps into his bones almost painfully as he finally realizes how cold he had been for so long. His body melts into the foamy water and it’s not long before every part of his body is submerged as he finally allows himself to relax. Dunking his head helps erase any evidence of his tears.

Maybe he should just stay down here.

But, like the dutiful boy he is when faced with the most important person in his life, he sits up when Reo returns. No reason to make Reo deal with a dead body when he's already taking care of a sick one.

Some towels are placed along the edge of the tub and one is delicately placed under Nagi’s neck. Reo continues to hover, hesitating. It seems like both of them don't know what they should be doing.

Well, he's already here, may as well continue to be selfish. Like a dog begging for pets, he nuzzles his head against Reo’s outstretched hand.

Several tense seconds pass as Nagi’s actions become more and more cringe with no reaction from Reo. He’s half a second of away from finally dropping his desperate act when Reo’s fingers finally weave themselves through Nagi’s hair, lightly massaging his pounding temples.

Nagi finds himself lolling his heavy head side to side, chasing the wonderful pressure and soft scratches. “I missed this.” He says without thinking.

His voice is hoarse from disuse, from the cough and sneezes that have wrecked his body over the last few days, and from the lack of use even before that. It’s good that he’s talking, he thinks. Choki would be proud. He hopes Reo is too.

Even so, Reo’s hands freeze and Nagi immediately wants to claw those words back. Reo’s pulling away. He must have said something wrong. Why didn’t he stay quiet?

But he doesn’t want Reo to leave, can’t have him leave so soon. He’s only had one moment of greed, of comfort, of care, he needs more. He tries to blink the sleep and the sick from his eyes, because none of that matters right now. He has Reo in front of him and he can’t waste this chance.

Nagi catches Reo’s wrist and looks straight into Reo’s wide eyes and oh, wow, it’s been so long. Reo’s right here. He’s right here and Nagi wants to start crying all over again.

They’re at a crossroads again. Like every single moment between them has been since they lost that first match in Blue Lock and Nagi wonders when will it end. When will he be able to look at Reo and not feel the stinging in his eyes. When will he be able to look at Reo and not have an impossible distance between them?

“Reo, wait, I…”

He wants to be able to look at Reo and know, without a doubt, like he had when they first joined Blue Lock, that they would be at the world stage together. It wasn’t hard then, why is it hard now?

Reo looks back at him, eyes glinting with something Nagi can’t put a word to. His lips quiver, like even Reo himself doesn’t know how to feel—if he’s hopeful, or afraid, or done, or fine and it hurts to see Reo like this. Why is Nagi only capable of bringing sadness to Reo’s eyes. Why can't he fix this?

Nagi can’t stop staring up at Reo with his heart full of every new emotion Reo has brought out in him in the short time they’ve known each other. And isn’t that enough? Can’t that be enough?

All it takes is just one deeper downturn of Reo’s lips, just one more wobble, and everything Nagi’s been biting back comes rushing forth.

“I’m sorry.” Nagi breathes out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I was so cruel.”

It's obviously not what Reo expected to hear. “No, what, Nagi—”

Nagi doesn't care, he needs to get this out. “I missed you. So much. I did everything for you and it didn’t even matter. What am I—” His head falls to thunk painfully on the side of the tub as his voice cracks. He’s so frustrated he can feel the tears starting back up. Why can’t he find the words. Why can’t he get them out.

“Nagi, no, it’s not your fault—”

But Nagi’s not listening. This isn’t how he wanted the conversation to go. They’ve done this already. Reo’s heard this already, but he didn’t listen then. So Nagi needs to tell him again. Clearly, this time.

“It is.” He’s firm in his assertion. “It is—” He hiccups and Reo’s gasp spurs along his breakdown. “You’re so strong, Reo. You’re so cool. Why are you even… Why do you care? Why…”

Nagi takes a deep breath, eyes clenched tight.

“There’s 22 other people better than me. You need to leave me behind.”

He shouldn’t have come. He should have left the second he heard Reo’s voice. He should have run and not stop running. What right does he have to bring this to Reo now, after Reo has made it clear that they can’t keep doing this. He doesn’t deserve—

“Shut up!” The anguish cracks Reo’s voice and Nagi’s head immediately snaps up, only to find his nose and mouth filling with water as he’s pushed further into the tub by Reo scrambling into his lap. He comes up gasping for air and only catches sight of Reo’s eyes shining with tears for a second before he’s dragged into a strong embrace. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! You idiot! You dummy!”

“You’re right. You’re right, so let me go.” Nagi pleads.

“Absolutely not, you big, dumb idiot.” With every word Reo headbutts his temple into Nagi’s, like he’s literally trying to beat this into Nagi’s brain. With one last hit, Reo pushes Nagi back.

Reo’s always been an crier. He’s so emotional, in a way Nagi never really understood. When they’d watch movies after school or on the weekends, Nagi would pick tearjerkers more often than not just to watch Reo cry, trying to figure out just what about the movie got to Reo when Nagi was never affected in that way.

It quickly became more than that, because Reo was beautiful, no matter what was happening, so how could Nagi ever look away.

Now, Reo’s crying face is front and center, just like it was that day. His eyes are red, his nose is running, he’s drenched and glaring in the cutest way and for a second Nagi imagines that this is all just because of a random bit of high school miscommunication—one of them thought the other was dating someone else and it’ll all get figured out soon and they’ll laugh and maybe bump heads before they kiss.

But no, what Nagi did was so much worse. He destroyed Reo’s one dream. He could have had anything, but no. The only thing he wanted in the world was the World Cup with Nagi.

And Nagi ruined it.

Reo’s always beautiful when he cries. This is the first time Nagi hasn’t wanted to watch him.

Reo makes a frustrated noise at the lack of any type of response from Nagi, but really, what does he expect him to say. Instead, Reo, like always, takes the lead. His fingers find themselves gripping Nagi’s head in a vice grip. “…I missed you, too.”

Nagi heart stumbles over it’s next beat and he feels something bloom in his chest.

“You didn’t fail me. You didn’t.”

Is Reo trying to convince Nagi or himself?

“I failed you.”

Nagi will let Reo say many things, will let him talk his head off about stocks and soccer strategies and what’s a good investment, but he can’t let Reo say this. “No. No, Reo. You did everything right.”

“So did you.” Reo protests.

“No, I didn’t.”

The fight in Reo diminishes just a bit. “…you did some things right.” He amends.

Nagi was eliminated. There's nothing either of them can say to refute that fact.

Telling Reo about his second chance is on the tip of his tongue. But does it even matter if there’s a chance he could fail Reo again? He can’t give Reo hope only to take it away at the last second. Not again.

The water’s getting cold and Reo has always hated any type of silence, bowling over Nagi with his words even when Reo himself doesn’t know what to say. “…Anyway, next time, text me if you’re this sick, you idiot.” He half-heartedly splashes some water at Nagi.

Another time, Nagi would have splashed back. This time, he can’t help but stare, water dripping down his face.

Reo at least has the decency to look ashamed once he does realize that yes, that was on him, he had blocked Nagi. “A-ah, right. Hmm. Let me—” Reo reaches for his phone before Nagi’s hand once again shoots out to stop him.

“No.” Nagi grips Reo’s wrist firmly again.

He’s doing it again. Nagi’s letting Reo take the lead, again. But this time, Nagi will do something instead. Maybe Nagi won’t be as good at it, but he can try. This time, he looks at Reo with all the conviction he didn’t know he could have, hoping Reo can see what he can’t put into words just yet.

“Wait for me, Reo. I’ll catch up to you.”

Reo looks at him, confused. “What?” His little brows are scrunched and there’s a question crawling up his throat, but he hopes Reo won’t ask it.

“Blue Lock was always just a stepping stone.” Nagi reminds, grip tight with meaning.

Nagi can see the gears turning behind Reo’s eyes, can see them begin to shine brighter as the words begin to register. When was the last time Nagi saw that light?

The smile that follows brightens the room and clears the shadows that have been darkening Nagi’s mind for weeks. It’s a breath of fresh air he’s been sorely needing.

“Blue Lock was always just a stepping stone.” Reo agrees.

There’s silence again, warm and still, finally not heavy with things unsaid anymore.

Weeks ago, when Nagi had held Reo’s wrist and told him to go forward on his own, he had thought it was the end.

But now, even more than when he finally put his name into the ring for Side B, this new path seems real.

This isn’t the same dream he shared with Reo before, or maybe it is, but a dream broken into smaller and smaller pieces so Nagi can hold it all in his hands, where the end goal is the same, to be at the world stage with Reo again, but it’s his dream. And his ego, whatever it is, he’ll find it in Side B this time, unlike his previous halfhearted attempt.

It’s a new dream. One he’s chosen for himself. Though, looking at Reo, eyes lit up with the same awe he saw during their first meeting, he’s sure Reo probably has the same dream now, too.

There’s no more need for words. Now, with time, and away from the prying eyes of everyone in the world, they’ve finally been able to say the words they should have said then, but didn’t know how.

It’s not much later that Reo realizes exactly where he is—in a tub, fully clothed, with a boy that means more to him than probably anyone else in the world, who is, unfortunately, naked and, more importantly, sick.

He scrambles out of the tub a sopping, blushing, stuttering mess and begins nervously listing off everything they need to do to make sure Nagi recovers as quickly as possible.

Nagi truly has a way of knocking him off-kilter every time.

It’s been so long since he’s laughed—he can’t even remember the last time—but he hears Nagi snort behind him and he can’t stop himself. He slides to the ground giggling, wondering how this was his life.

Eventually, Nagi’s quiet huffs of laughter end up morphing into a coughing fit and Reo immediately jumps back into motion.

It’s later when they’re out of the bath and ready for bed, wrapped in warm pajamas and even warmer blankets snuggled together in Reo’s giant bed that Reo finally lets himself be present in the moment.

Nagi’s eyes look like tiny half moons behind his heavy eyes in the low light that peeks through the windows. In the haze, it feels like a dream.

Reo hadn’t wanted this to happen. He hadn’t wanted to see Nagi. He hadn’t even wanted to open the door.

His finger had hovered over the call button on his phone the entire time Nagi stood outside his door. He was half a second away from finally giving in when he heard those horrible coughs and Reo’s always been weak to Nagi, he would do anything for him, of course he opened that door.

But looking at Nagi now, his sleepy, hooded eyes, his legs slowly kicking as he sleepily luxuriates in the smoothness of Reo’s silk sheets, Reo realizes he’s glad Nagi came. He’s glad they talked. He’s especially glad they talked without everyone in Japan, maybe even the whole world—something Reo absolutely never wants to think about—listening in.

It’s just, as happy as he is, he doesn’t understand what exactly drove Nagi to come here. It’s so unlike him. Their final meeting had been so, well, final. “I’m surprised you came.” Is what he eventually whispers into the silence.

“I was surprised, too.” Nagi mumbles.

Reo laughs, unsurprised at Nagi’s lack of an answer. Truly, a guy that runs on instinct alone. “Really?”

Nagi sleepily nods. “I just found myself here?” He says like a question.

“Seriously? How did you manage that, you idiot?” Reo teases, kicking Nagi’s shin’s lightly.

Nagi groans and kicks back, “Well, I’m always thinking of Reo, so I guess my body just led me here?”

For a split second, every part of Reo’s body freezes as his heart stumbles. When his heart finally restarts, a sweltering warmth begins to spread across his whole body; he can’t decide whether to kick off all the covers to cool off or curl into a little ball to hide his face away in his hands.

“Shut up,” Reo grumbles, but he can’t help but ask. “…Always?”

“Always.”

Even half asleep, the determination in Nagi’s voice is electric. Reo’s heart must be beating so loudly that even Nagi could hear it.

Reo really hopes the cold medicine will kick in soon, because he really needs Nagi to go to sleep.

“Isn’t Reo always thinking about me?” Nagi asks, shuffling closer blindly, his eyes just narrow shards of silver now.

“I…” Not able to look at Nagi’s face anymore, Reo eyes the small inch of space between their fingers. “I’m really trying not to think about anything right now.”

“Eh? That’s no good.” Nagi yawns, tears forming in the corner of his eyes and Reo’s fingers twitch with the need to wipe those tears away. “Reo is good at thinking. You shouldn’t stop yourself.”

Reo smiles softly. “Yeah?” When’s the last time he’s had Nagi like this? Has he ever? So soft and sleepy and all for Reo.

“Yes, absolutely.” Nagi bridges the the small distance to tangle their fingers together, one last surprise that has Reo wanting to kick his feet like a child. “Reo is perfect. He doesn’t have to change.”

There’s so many different emotions bubbling under his skin that Reo doesn’t know what to do or say, so all he does is grip Nagi’s hand tighter. The warmth of Nagi’s palm settles his pounding heart and he finds his own eyes getting heavy as he feels Nagi’s breathing begin to slow.

The next morning, Reo shuffles Nagi into his limo and Baya drives them to Nagi’s dorm. Nagi looks better this morning, dressed for the weather and not freezing cold, but that doesn’t stop Reo from giving him a full lecture.

“You need to make sure your place is stocked with all the essentials. You can’t just expect to naturally get better without actually taking care of yourself.” Nagi dutifully nods along and Reo hopes he uses the advice in other aspects of his life, too. But Nagi’s his own man now, he can figure it out without Reo, he promised.

“And…” This is where Reo hesitates, but they said so much last night that he can’t allow himself to stop now. “You’re allowed to be taken care of, you know. Maybe not on the field.” Reo clarifies with a weak laugh and a wince, before going back to speak with conviction. “But in every other way, I want to take care of you. So, if you ever need me, you know where to find me.”

Nagi’s eyes widen more than Reo has ever seen and sparkle with something he can’t name. It’s not really the reaction he had expected.

“…What?” Reo asks nervously.

Nagi sniffles before falling back against the seat in a pout. “Why are you proposing again? Isn’t once enough?” He whines.

“What?” Reo yells, face burning. He cuts a quick glance at the drivers seat nervously. He really hopes Baya isn’t listening.

But Nagi continues on with a groan, “Agh, I want to kiss you. Why am I sick? This is so lame.”

“Ki-kiss??” Reo stutters and wonders how they got here. Did he propose? Why does Nagi want to kiss him? Had he proposed before? When?

“But no, I don't deserve it. Not yet.” Nagi drawls, not even listening to Reo, instead staring wistfully out the window. Is this a joke? Is he joking? “I need to beat the big boss first.”

“Isagi??” Reo asks incredulously.

“What? No.” Nagi is finally looking back at him and Reo can’t see a hint of humor on his face. “I guess mini-boss. The dumb octopus.”

“…Uh huh.” That hadn’t actually explained anything, but Reo doesn’t know what question to ask to actually get an answer.

“Don't worry, once we win the World Cup, I'll be ready. So ask me again then, Reo.”

Nagi’s eyes flash with a fire that Reo normally only ever sees on the pitch. He’s been wanting this look directed at him for so long it’s funny he doesn’t really know what to do with it. Instead, all he can say is, “OK, Nagi, I'll be waiting.”

One side of Nagi’s lips inch up ever so slightly and the corner of his eyes scrunch ever so cutely and Reo finds himself mesmerized all over again. When Nagi had been eliminated he thought there would be no path forward for the two of them, but leave it to his treasure to prove him wrong.

The car comes to a stop and Nagi clambers out. Reo let's him leave, a bit wistful. Something inside him seems to heal as he watches Nagi walk away from him. He thinks it’s fitting they’re parting ways again like this, Nagi’s back taking up his whole view, after they’ve finally talked. Which is why he’s concerned when Nagi stops and turns back around.

He comes back, stops so his broad shoulders fill the entire doorway and braces one broad arm along the top of the car to look down at Reo with his half-lidded, focused eyes. The light flush of his cheeks (he’s sick) and the light sweat running down his neck (sick!) has something stiring low in his belly.

He’s so warm. Is he getting sick now? What’s happening?

Nagi’s leaning in and the idea of kissing still hasn’t left his mind. Is Nagi going to kiss him? He thought he was sick, does it not matter anymore? What do you do in this situation? What even is this situation? Should he lean in, too?

Baya must have turned the heat up, because he’s not sure his body should be running this hot around his best friend.

Nagi stills, what feels like a hair’s breadth away, and Reo may die of anticipation. What did he eat for breakfast this morning? Does his breath stink?

He’s so in his own head, that he almost misses what Nagi says before he finally closes the door and walks away. Baya’s already driving when the words finally register.

“Don't worry, next time I'll be proposing and I'll have a ring.”

“…What the fuck?”

When Nagi finally enters Blue Lock: Side B, it's just as embarrassing as he thought it would be. There are a few interesting people, kids that had missed the cut off originally, and some really annoying people, the so-called treasure of Japan for one, but Nagi still finds that he has to put in work himself to actually get better. He's never pushed himself so hard before, but he's never had something to fight for.

If this will bring him back to Reo’s side, he do it again and again.

He walks into the next challenge, hand in pocket, fingering the ring he promised Reo.

Wait for me, Reo.