Archive of Our Own ^beta

Get off the station and walk up the stairs to the right. Just keep walking straight, and you’ll see a big, ugly church somewhere with one spire, and an ugly ass stick next to it. I’ll be waiting across the street, at that shitty booth.

...Wait. Right stairs?

He meant right as in left and right, not wrong and right—Right?!!

Oh God. He was already getting confused. Kaiser should’ve just sent a location instead of directions in a language they were both ass at. Alright—admittedly, Isagi was struggling more with English, but Kaiser never used any stickers or emojis, and half the time it borderline impossible to tell whether he was being sarcastic or actually serious for once. [Like that one time two days ago, when he’d texted, “Gonna pick you up with a limousine.” Isagi had just laughed it off, assumed it was a joke—

—and then Kaiser had actually pulled up in a goddamn limousine.]

At any rate, how the hell did Kaiser even know what direction Isagi was coming from? His right could be his left, for God’s sake!

Whatever. The church was probably visible from anywhere. He’d figure the rest out... somehow.

Crossing his fingers internally, he took the right stairs—an unattractive stretch of concrete, littered with trash and cigarette stumps along the edges. The sky slowly crept into view, pale-blue and sleepy mixing early afternoon light.

At the top of the stairs, Isagi paused to take a breath.

The street that opened up before him was gorgeous—a million times more than the station he just came out of.

European cities always had a way of stealing his breath with their sheer sublimity. Tall, old buildings with ornate stone facades and lavishly detailed windows stood shoulder to shoulder with sleek, modern architecture. The ground floors were lined with shops, every entrance dressed up in colorful Christmas decorations—some modest, some absurdly elaborate, complete with trees, gifts, and glittering displays. The large shop windows were garnished with every winter cliché imaginable: stars, snowflakes, and faux frost. Warm yellow lights hung from bare trees, stretching across the street in strings shaped like stars and wrapped presents. The sky was still rather bright, but Isagi figured it must look incredible once it evening fell.

A sharp gust of wind cut through him, making him shudder.

Right. His scarf and wool hat.

The subway had been uncomfortably warm—like a moving human oven—and he wasn’t used to trains feeling like that. Even during rush hour, Saitama lines somehow managed at least some form of temperature control. But now, coming out here in the open air again, the contrast was so stark that it felt like he’d stepped straight into a giant freezer. It just felt so much colder here than back home.

And really—Kaiser still should’ve given him better directions. Or, you know. At least dropped a pin on the map like a normal person?!

Now he had no clue if he was walking the right way or heading straight into the opposite direction like an idiot!

Whatever... More time to see the city!

If Isagi got lost because of Kaiser’s stupid instructions, then it was only fair that Kaiser wait for him. (Even if Isagi was doing anything but looking for Kaiser.)

But he was the guest, after all. He had a right—no, an obligation—to actually see this place.

...Especially because this was his first time.

 First time on this side of the world. First time in this country. First time in this city.

Welcome to Europe—Germany—Berlin.

Isagi tugged his scarf higher, pulling it up over his freezing face.

This avenue, too—everything around him was a reminder that he’d really flown halfway across the world. The buildings, the people, the air itself—it all screamed foreign. He needed to burn these views into his memory!

Oh… and he needed to take a picture for his parents!

They’d been urging him to send more photos since the day he arrived, even though—at least in his opinion—he’d already sent more than enough… but they always—

PUSH.

Someone suddenly bumped into his shoulder.

Isagi immediately spun around.

“Sorry!” He heard the apology before his eyes fully caught up with the guy—a tall, brown-haired man wrapped in a long dark coat. He looked like the kind of person who belonged on a billboard—perhaps even taller than Kaiser. The stranger shot him a brief apologetic glance before disappearing into the crowd like he was late for something important.

Isagi frowned, then figured it was probably his own fault. Standing right in the middle of the walkway wasn’t exactly smart. It was only Monday afternoon, but the street was already crowded—clearly a busy shopping area—so he moved a bit to the side and took shelter next to one of those small fake Christmas trees.

He watched as the people passed by.

…If there was one thing that truly drove home the fact that he wasn’t in Japan anymore, it was the people.

It felt like an entirely different world. People came in every height and build imaginable, hair colors ranging from light blond to deep black to straight-up rainbow. There were far more mixed nationalities than he’d ever seen in Tokyo—and a lot more tall people at that.

Like… incredibly tall.

Blue Lock had already conditioned him for this somewhat... but when he’d returned to Saitama this autumn, he could still see just slightly over everyone else’s heads.

Here?

No chance.

People towered over him like that handsome guy from earlier, or were much shorter, barely reaching his neck—but there were far fewer people around the height of his mom. He suddenly thought she might’ve felt a little intimidated walking these streets alone.

Ah—right. Speaking of parents. The picture!

He reached for his phone—but before he could open the camera, it started ringing.

It was Kaiser.

…Wait. He was calling?!

Isagi froze for half a second before quickly picking up.

“Where the hell are you, Yoichi??”

Ah... Ever the friendly tone.

“I’m just looking around,” Isagi muttered. “I haven’t seen the church yet.”

A heavy sigh crackled through the line.

“You were supposed to go up the --- stairs--- right--- do you even--- understand?”

Isagi adjusted the instant translators in his ears. There was a reason they almost never called: those things loved to glitch near phone screens, and trying to decipher broken static mixed with a German man yelling through electrical interference was a nightmare.

They could technically communicate in English too. The problem was that Kaiser was much better at it than Isagi—and there was no way he’d let himself lose an argument just because English still made absolutely zero sense sometimes. Seriously—why were speak and steak pronounced completely differently when they looked almost the same? Why was there an S in island if you never had to say it? And how the hell were you supposed to tell there, their, and they’re apart in an actual conversation?!

“Hey,” Isagi said quickly, feigning annoyance, “the connection is really bad. It’s really hard to hear you.”

Maybe it was also because of the crowds of people around him. He’d never used those Mikage Corp translators in such busy places before—was it possible they were picking up fragments of other conversations? Mixing voices together?

Well… today would be a test run, more than anything.

“---getting dark. I’ll send --- pic -----”

“What?” Isagi pressed the phone tighter to his ear, shifting it uselessly back and forth, but Kaiser’s voice dissolved into a mess of static and chopped syllables. He sighed. Why couldn’t Kaiser ever do things the easy way? A location pin. One click. Done! But, no—everything with him had to be unnecessarily complicated.

Still walking, still half-praying he hadn’t completely messed up the directions, Isagi just kept walking down the street—and just a few seconds later, he froze.

There… just barely visible over the top of a blocky apartment building, a spire cut into the sky.

His eyes widened. There it was!

He immediately veered left, steps quickening as he approached a wide crossing. The church came into view in full, and Isagi slowed without meaning to.

The church was massive.

Dark stone rose sharply from the ground, its facade carved with intricate details that looked almost too delicate to be real. Tall, narrow windows stretched upward, framed by pointed arches, and sculpted figures—saints, gargoyles, something in between—watched over the street with eroded faces, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. The spire towered above everything else, elegant and severe, as if the building itself was reaching for the sky.

Ugly?

Kaiser called this ugly?

He felt almost offended on the church’s behalf!

And right next to it was—

The ugly ass… 'stick.'

A strangely shaped glass tower stood beside the church, barely as tall as the surrounding buildings, its purpose completely indecipherable. Modern and out of place. Honestly… okay, yeah—that one was kind of atrocious.

Isagi blinked.

Anyway—one thing left.

He let his gaze wander across the broad pedestrian area in front of the buildings.

Tiny ugly booth… tiny ugly booth…

Oh... there it was!

A small, octagonal green kiosk with a pointy little roof stood near the crossing, a few newspaper racks cluttered in front. It was oddly charming. Cute, even. It reminded him of France for some reason.

Alright—Now all that was missing was Kaiser!

He glanced left and right again, but that guy was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t like Kaiser was usually hard to spot too, although Isagi had told him to dress less conspicuously this time. Still, as he approached the booth with slow, careful steps, he kept glancing around, half-expecting some kind of sneak attack. After all, this was Kaiser—the guy who’d shown up at the airport in a flashing red limousine to pick him up, with a goddamn private server inside. Fucking insane, this guy!

An older man was chatting with the kiosk clerk, and people were walking past or talking on their phones … but still, no Kaiser. Frowning, Isagi wondered if maybe the guy had finally run out of patience and bailed.

“—Yoichi.”

“Ah!”

He nearly jumped, spinning around to see—

“What the hell… Kaiser!”

“What do you mean ‘what the hell’? “Why are you sneaking around like you’re in some knockoff spy movie?” Kaiser frowned, immediately grabbing Isagi by the sleeves and tugging him toward a nearby tree. “You’re being way more suspicious than me here.”

“You— you’re the one who’s suspicious!”

Isagi glanced him up and down—once, then twice. And… damn. Kaiser’s outfit wasn’t exactly “blend-in” material. The long brown wool coat—probably some ridiculous designer thing—hung perfectly off his broad shoulders. A checkered cashmere scarf framed his neck, paired with tailored pants and shoes that were absolutely, unquestionably expensive. Combined with his height, his posture, and his stupidly good looks—Why the fuck did he look like he’d stepped straight out of a fashion magazine?!

“I told you not to walk around like some elite runway star,” Isagi hissed.

Kaiser just raised an eyebrow. His face annoyingly sharp and perfect like always, the red eyeliner making his eyes stand out even more against the pale winter tone of his skin.

Isagi swallowed.

At least he’d tied up his hair in a bun, but still… God. They were not here to get paparazzi shots taken all over them.

“Yoichi, what the hell is that thing on your head?” Kaiser said bluntly. “I expected you to dress a little better for this.”

He stared at the wool hat sitting innocently on Isagi’s head, like it had personally insulted him just because it was a little fuzzy and didn’t match his shit designer aesthetic.

“It’s a gift from my dad,” Isagi said simply.

 “But it makes you look super unflattering.”

“Then you take it!”

“What—?“

Isagi didn’t wait for permission. He yanked the wool hat off his own head and, in one swift motion, planted it firmly onto Kaiser’s—two hands, decisive, no hesitation. Then, like muscle memory kicked in, he tugged the stupid designer scarf off Kaiser’s neck (a move he’d done a million times for his clumsy dad), swapped it for his own grey scarf, and wrapped Kaiser up like a poorly coordinated present.

Done!

“What the—!“

Kaiser just stared at him, eyes wide. Now he had a comfy wool hat squashing his hair, and a thicker scarf whose color absolutely did not match his coat, rounding out his silhouette in a way that should’ve been illegal.

Isagi nodded to himself. “Much better. You actually look… kinda normal now.”

Kaiser immediately ripped the hat off and shoved it back into Isagi’s hands. “I don’t need your stupid hat!”

“You stand out too much like this!” Isagi protested.

“But—”

Kaiser stopped.

He sighed, eyes flicking to Isagi’s stubborn expression, then reluctantly slid the hat back on. It sat a little unevenly, slightly crooked—somehow making the disguise even more effective.

“Can’t a guy look nice for a date?” Kaiser muttered, almost pouting.

“It’s not a date.”

“Sure,” Kaiser said dryly. “And I’m just your tour guide.”

Was that supposed to be a joke?

Isagi ignored it. He’d barely been out of the station for a few minutes, met Kaiser literally seconds ago, and he already felt exhausted to hell and back.

Kaiser gave him a sideways glance. “Won’t your giant head get cold like that?” He nodded toward the shops across the street. “Want me to buy you another hat?”

Isagi frowned. “We’re not here to buy hats. I don’t even wear hats in Japan.”

“But you’re not in Japan,” Kaiser said solemnly. “I’m worried your ears will fall off by the end of the day.” He blinked. “Oh. Wait—I got an idea.”

Before Isagi could react, Kaiser leaned in and snatched his cashmere scarf back.

“What are you—”

“Stay still.”

Kaiser pinched one end of the scarf and let the rest fall like a curtain. He looped it over Isagi’s head, carefully covering his ears, wrapped it once around his neck, then let the remaining fabric drape over his shoulders. He stepped back, clearly admiring his work.

“Perfect,” Kaiser said with his shitty signature smirk. “You totally look like a local grandma now. Especially with that old jacket.”

Isagi could only stand there, frozen. “…What. What the hell is this. Why do I feel—”
—a violent urge to smash this guy’s face—!!?

“’Tis quite common here,” Kaiser hummed. “Lots of people wear headscarves.”

“Only girls!” Isagi yelped.

Oops… too loud.

A couple nearby glanced their way. Isagi panicked and ripped the scarf off his head.

Kaiser snickered. “Careful, Yoichi. Rip that and you’ll owe me big time.”

“Like this’ll even make a dent in your money bag.”

“It’s about the principle,” Kaiser said smoothly. “Let’s try again.”

He took the scarf back and wrapped it around Isagi’s neck properly this time—like an actual scarf.

Isagi adjusted it, tugging it into place.

…Oh.

Only now did he notice that the fabric was incredibly soft. Warmer. And… so much smoother than his own scarf. Which made sense, unfortunately, because—designer. Still, it felt really nice against his skin. Now he felt a tiny bit bad that Kaiser was wearing his instead, but when he looked at Kaiser, Kaiser didn’t seem to mind.

Also… it smelled nice. Something woody, slightly sweet.

Isagi swallowed and very deliberately did not comment on that.

“Great,” Kaiser muttered. “Because of you, we’re about to walk into this market looking like a pair of ragtags.”

“But now we’ll blend in better,” Isagi said quietly. “And we match a little.”

Kaiser lifted a brow. “Oh? Like a couple? I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“It’s not,” Isagi snapped immediately.

Kaiser just waved him off and headed for the crossing. “Whatever. I don’t want my date today to consist of nothing but arguing.”

Isagi hurried after him, scowling. “It’s not a date.”

It really wasn’t.

This was just a visit. Just Isagi Yoichi, coming to Germany. And this annoying guy just so happened to live here and offered to show him around—that was all, nothing more.

His parents had told him about it.

Ever since he was little, he'd wanted to come to Europe. Not because of Noel Noa, who wasn’t even German, not because of Bastard München, and not even really because of soccer. He’d learned about the country through football, sure, but long before that he’d been fascinated by the things Europe had that just didn’t exist in Japan. There were replicas of it—but never the real thing.

Japan had Christmas. Japan had snow and lights and songs.

But here, it felt… heavier.

Windows worn smooth by centuries of winters. Churches that weren’t landmarks but neighbors. Choirs echoing through the streets instead of concert halls.

Traditions that didn’t announce themselves, but simply… continued.

They crossed the street, the church looming behind them like something out of a postcard. A soft glow of white lights slowly emerged down the avenue ahead. When they reached the other side of the church, Isagi stopped.

And, one of those traditions was...

“...Here’s the Christmas market you wanted to see so badly.”

Kaiser stood casually beneath a large wooden sign that read Weihnachtszaubermarkt. He glanced back, clearly waiting for a reaction.

But Isagi couldn’t answer.

The lane stretched out before him, curving slightly at the end. On both sides stood rows of wooden stalls—dark brown panels, pointy roofs draped in pine garlands and tiny golden lights. Every booth was a little different. Red, gold, and silver ornaments dangled from the greenery. Somewhere deeper inside the market he spotted the top of a massive Christmas tree glowing with colorful stars.

The church embraced the whole scene from the side and behind, its medieval stone backdrop making everything feel unreal.

Someone brushed past him, carrying the rich scent of honey and cinnamon. Further ahead, the same red-and-white cone paper bags were being handed over a counter. An elderly couple struggled with their change, while a younger pair tried—and failed—to juggle cups, plates, and shopping bags while corralling their two daughters.

“…stop standing there?” Kaiser furrowed his brow. “You don’t like it?”

Isagi blinked, realizing Kaiser had been talking for a while. He shook his head. “No. It’s… it’s nice.”

Kaiser stared at him, incredulous. “That’s it?”

“No, no.” Isagi tugged his scarf higher, shrinking into it. “It’s just—I didn’t expect it to look so similar. To the one in Tokyo.”

“W-what—” Kaiser nearly bumped into the trash can behind him. “You’ve been to a Christmas market before?!”

“No!” Isagi said quickly. “I mean—yeah, they have them in Japan too, but I wanted to see the real one!”

“But if it looks the same, why did I drag myself all the way—” Kaiser cut himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “…Argh. And here I thought I was showing you something new.”

“You are!” Isagi insisted. “It is different—like, the booths look nicer here. The lights are warmer, it feels cozier, the people… and it smells so different.”

He pulled the scarf closer to his face, breathing in slowly.

“It’s just… a lot to take in.”

Kaiser squinted at him like he didn’t buy a word of it, but then he just sighed. “Whatever.” Then he took off the hat and shoved it back onto Isagi’s head, tugging it down over his ears.

Isagi’s eyes widened.

“What—”

“You’re shaking like hell,” Kaiser said. “I don’t want you freezing to death before we’ve even gone anywhere.”

“But what about—”

Kaiser waved it off. “It’s getting dark, and more people are coming anyway. I’m not that famous that someone’s just gonna recognize me on the street.” He paused. “Yet. Unfortunately.”

Isagi shook his head. “No, I mean—aren’t you cold?”

Kaiser blinked. “…I’m probably way more used to it than you.” He turned and started walking into the market. “Worry about yourself first.”

Isagi hurried after him, still wanting to argue, but finding it hard to do when he could literally feel his ears thawing back to life.

The crowd was light enough that they could walk side by side, but packed enough that they had to keep pace with everyone in front of them. Not that Isagi minded—his head was on a swivel.

One stall had wooden handicrafts—little ornaments, home décor, window hangings. The next overflowed with candles in every shape imaginable: trees, hearts, stars. [Gingerbread stall!] Then came the food stalls: Sausages in bread—he’d had those yesterday—and steaming pans of unfamiliar dishes he didn’t recognize. And then—

Cinnamon.

Like, insane cinnamon. Sweet, warm, rich, like someone had baked heaven and dumped it straight into the air.

Isagi’s mouth watered before he even saw the booth.

But instead of pastries, the counter was covered in… peanuts? Or—no, some other kind of nut? Different shades and coatings, piled high, while a vendor in a red apron scooped them into red-and-white cone bags with a shovel.

“What’s that, Kaiser?” Isagi asked, leaning closer. “Candy?”

Kaiser stopped beside him. “Nah. Those are roasted almonds. Covered in… stuff.”

“What stuff?”

Kaiser squinted at the signs. “Uh… Normal. Caramel. Wine…”

“You’re literally just reading.”

“I don’t eat this stuff,” Kaiser said. “It’s basically a calorie bomb.”

Isagi tilted his head.

Well—it was Christmas break. His first time in an actual Christmas market. And Kaiser was actually bothering to show him around.

So.

Isagi smiled. “Don’t worry about it today. It’s my treat!”

Perfect timing—the previous customers were just stepping away, and Isagi marched up confidently and pointed at the almonds that looked the most… almond-like.

“One bag of the normal ones, please!”

The vendor blinked. “…Sorry?”

“One bag of the normal ones!” Isagi repeated.

The vendor gave him a strained smile. “Uhm…”

Isagi frowned. Was he too quiet? He tried again. “One bag of those—”

“Yoichi.”

“What? I’m trying to—”

“English.”

…Oh.

Oh.

Blood rushed straight to Isagi’s face like someone had flipped a switch, and he turned, marched to the side of the stall, and immediately squatted down to die in peace, burying his face in his hands.

You absolute idiot.

He’d completely forgotten he’d been talking to Kaiser through those goddamn ear translators the entire time. He’d just spoken full-on confident Japanese to a German vendor, like it was perfectly normal!!

God. Couldn’t the ground eat him up for something?

He stayed crouched there, squatting in shame, until he felt someone kneel down beside him.

“…That’s why I’m your guide,” Kaiser murmured. “Remember?”

It almost sounded gentle, the way he said it. Almost. But Isagi could fucking feel it—Kaiser was definitely smirking his ass off right now. If they weren’t trying to avoid attention, he’d definitely already be doing that stupid, rich-villain laugh he always saved for Isagi’s worst moments.

“I’ll get you the almonds,” Kaiser added lightly. “This time in the right language.”

Isagi stared at the outlet screwed into the side of the wooden stall. A tiny, miserable “Thanks,” was all he could manage.

Kaiser walked off, and Isagi—still squatting—peeked over. Watching Kaiser talk to the vendor in fluent German from this angle was surreal. He looked stupidly tall. The giant Christmas tree in the background lined up perfectly with his head.

If he moved two steps to the right, he’d basically have a star hovering over him.

Some kind of savior? Angel in disguise?

Hell no. A devil, anything.

But… unfortunately—a necessary one.

Better to find out about the translator disaster now than later. Who knew what kind of public humiliation Kaiser would’ve let him walk into otherwise?

He was just straightening up when Kaiser returned, holding a plump cone bag filled halfway with roasted almonds. As he passed it over, the warmth seeped straight into Isagi’s palms, the smell of cinnamon flooding his brain.

He wanted to shove his face straight into the bag.

“I said I’d pay,” Isagi said. “How much was it?”

“A million.”

Isagi squinted. “Kaiser, the sign says 3.50. I can literally see it.”

Before he could reach for his wallet, Kaiser stopped him. “Yoichi.”

“What.”

“The service costs extra, y’know.”

Isagi sighed. “How much.”

Kaiser blinked, clearly not expecting him to bite. “Well… it’s a date, so. The price should be obvious.”

Isagi rolled his eyes. “It’s not a date,” he muttered, already pulling out an almond.

Oh God… it was still warm.

He bit into it and immediately lost all higher brain function.

The crunch, the sugar, the cinnamon—oh fucking god. It was like Christmas exploded in his mouth. One turned into two, two into three, and suddenly he was just shoveling them in.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” he said with a full mouth, having fully abandoned the concept of moderation. “And I still don’t know what your dumb ‘service fee’ even means.”

Kaiser only shook his head. “You’ll find out when I hand you the bill later.” He reached in, stole one almond, took a single bite—and instantly turned into a full-on grimace caricature. He swallowed it like medicine. “Too fucking sweet.”

Isagi laughed under his breath and started walking, bag in hand, with Kaiser trailing behind him. “Then I’m cancelling your ‘service.’”

Kaiser pointed ahead at a stall with a massive line. “Even for these fresh, soft Belgian waffles?”

“We have plenty of those in Japan.”

“How about some warm and hearty crepes?”

“Nope.”

“What about freshly-fried potato pancakes?”

Isagi stopped dead. “…What?” What the hell was that?

“What.”

“You’re telling me it’s pancakes with potatoes on them?”

“No, idiot. Pancakes made of potatoes.”

“…Potato flour?”

“No,” Kaiser said slowly. “…Actual potatoes. You cut them up, fry them flat. Savory stuff.”

Isagi watched someone walk past with a plate of golden, crispy disks, steam curling into the cold air. Something clicked in his brain.

“Ah—so it’s like okonomiyaki!”

Kaiser frowned. “What the hell's that?”

 “Nevermind. Is it good?”

“Haven’t tried it.”

What?

Isagi spun around, completely scandalized. His tour guide had been trying to sell him food he’d never even eaten before? What a scam!!

“Then let’s try it!” he declared, already stepping toward the stall. “What toppings do they have?”

Kaiser followed, scanning the menu over the crowd. “Sweet’s basically just applesauce. Savory—sour cream, garlic sauce, salmon…”

Isagi glanced at him. “You don’t like sweet, right?”

“I don’t mind it,” Kaiser said. “Those almonds were just too much though.”

“Then let’s go savory.” Isagi nodded firmly. “Sour cream.”

“Sure.”

There was a short line, so they shuffled to the back. Isagi carefully tucked the almonds into his bag—he needed stomach space for later—and slipped into the familiar waiting trance he’d mastered in Japan.

“If they knew who I was,” Kaiser muttered, “they’d be clearing the way for me.”

“And then we’d get stuck in here forever,” Isagi said. “Also, being famous doesn’t mean you get to cut lines.”

“Do you have any idea how much money I make?”

“Shh.” Isagi waved him down. “We’re basically next.”

Sure enough, a pair of exhausted-looking teens staggered away with half a family’s worth of food, and suddenly it was their turn.

“One portion of potato pancakes with sour cream,” Kaiser ordered.

“Six euros, please.”

Isagi jolted. “Oh—uh—”

The girl behind the counter stared at him expectantly.

He fumbled into his bag and flipped open his wallet.

…Oh no.

No coins.

Just giant bills.

Like… hundreds.

He glanced up in mild panic. Was it okay to hand that over? Would she even have change? There wasn’t even a visible register—and over a bill that big for six euros just felt wrong. Suspicious. Inconvenient? Embarrassing!! He didn’t understand how the hell he hadn’t brought any small change when he knew he was going to—

“Here.” Kaiser dropped the coins on the counter and nudged Isagi away. “You’re taking forever.”

“…But it was supposed to be my treat,” Isagi muttered as they moved aside.

Kaiser was doing him a favor by showing him around, and Isagi was supposed to repay it by… well, paying. That was just how it worked. Well, back home, the host always paid—but Kaiser wasn’t Japanese, and Isagi had his own principles too.

“Yoichi,” Kaiser said with a click of his tongue, “six euros doesn’t even register in our bank accounts. Why the hell are you so fussy about this?”

“It’s about principles,” Isagi replied quietly.

“Your order’s ready!”

Kaiser grabbed the plate and followed as Isagi drifted off in search of somewhere to sit.

Then, at the crossing of two lanes, Isagi suddenly stopped short.

 “…Whoa.”

The lane ahead of them looked like something straight out of a fairy tale—tiny colorful Christmas trees lining both sides, their ornaments glittering softly. Above them, a canopy of fairy lights shimmered in gentle waves, like a tiny aurora dancing overhead. And at the very end of it all stood the giant Christmas tree: drowned in lights, gold ribbons spiraling up its branches, a massive glowing star blazing at the top like something sacred.

Isagi just stood there, completely stunned.

He’d honestly thought it was fake. There was no way something that tall was real, right? But when he leaned closer, the branches actually looked like… real leaves. Did they seriously haul a tree this huge into the middle of a busy street? People were lining up to take photos at the center, and some were already posing in front of it.

Oh... that reminded him. “I need to take a picture for my parents!”

Kaiser nudged him forward. “Not now, Yoichi. Eat the damn pancakes first.”

“But—” Isagi looked back at the glowing lane—then at the line—then at the plate in his hands. “...O-okay...”

They continued down the regular row of stalls, but every table they passed was already taken, and neither of them felt like squeezing in next to strangers. Eventually they reached the side entrance of the church, where a few people had claimed spots on the wide stone steps.

”We can sit here, if that’s okay,” Isagi said.

“Works for me.”

He blinked, half-expecting Kaiser to protest about his expensive coat touching dirty stone, but Kaiser simply scanned for a clean patch and plopped down. Isagi followed.

He grabbed the wooden fork and tried to lift one pancake. It slid straight off and plopped into the sour cream.

Isagi frowned. “I should’ve brought chopsticks.”

Kaiser snorted. “Kartoffelpuffer with chopsticks?”

“They could’ve at least cut it,” Isagi muttered. “Like okonomiyaki.”

He tried again and finally managed to take a bite.

Kaiser tilted his head. “How is it?”

“You wanna try?”

“Just a bite.”

Isagi hesitated. “…You can take the fork.”

“Just feed me.”

“But that’s—”

Too late. Kaiser leaned in and bit off a piece before Isagi could react.

Isagi frowned. Good thing he hadn’t jerked the fork away, or Kaiser would’ve been wearing sour cream as eyeliner!

Kaiser grimaced immediately. “Way too oily.”

Isagi looked at the half-eaten pancake. “I like it. The sour cream balances it.”

The potato chunks were bigger than he’d expected, but it wasn’t clunky at all—crispy edges, soft inside, every bite different. Eventually he gave up on the fork entirely and just used his hands.

“There’s one left,” he said. “You want it? You paid after all.”

“Nah,” Kaiser replied. “You can have it.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” They weren’t huge, but the pancakes filled him up fast—as all things fried did. After finishing the last one, he tried to lick the sour cream off his fingers. Everything felt so oily now. “Ah...”

Kaiser frowned. “What?”

Isagi stared at his greasy hands. “…They’re all dirty now.”

Kaiser sighed theatrically. “Yoichi, do I have to do everything for you?” He dug into his coat and pulled out a pack of tissues, snapping one open with exaggerated flair. Then he leaned closer. “Don’t move.”

“What—?”

Kaiser leaned in and wiped a spot off his cheek.

Isagi jolted. “Hey—what—! I could’ve done that myself!”

“Not with those hands,” Kaiser said calmly. “You looked like a toddler who needed adult supervision.”

“Give me those!” Isagi yanked the tissue pack out of his fingers.

Kaiser laughed, palm over his face like this was the highlight of his day. “You’re really just a child!”

“And you’re a fucking menace,” Isagi muttered, scrubbing his fingers like an offended germaphobe. The grease was mostly gone, but his mouth still felt weirdly haunted.

“My mouth’s dry,” he said. “Can we get something to drink?”

“Oh?” Kaiser’s face brightened in a way that immediately raised all red flags. He stood, smirk firmly in place. “You want a drink?”

Isagi narrowed his eyes. “Why do you look like that.”

“Because if you come to a Christmas market,” the other said, already heading down the steps, “there’s one thing you’re absolutely supposed to try.”

Isagi hesitated—Kaiser in actual guide mode was worring at best, and life-threatening at worst—but he followed anyway. Kaiser had joked about being his tour guide earlier, but so far they’d mostly just wandered wherever Isagi felt like stopping. Maybe Kaiser had been... bored. Maybe this was him actually trying to show something.

So Isagi brushed off his pants, checked they hadn’t left a mess behind, and disappeared into the crowd after him.

+++

It was alcohol.

Of course it was.

Isagi didn’t know that though when Kaiser dragged him to one of the biggest stalls yet: octagonal, topped with a ridiculously oversized red canopy. People were clustering around it instead of lining up, clutching black mugs filled with a steaming crimson liquid. The air was thick with spice and warmth, winter coats and ski jackets brushing against Isagi from all sides.

“What’s this?” Isagi asked, watching as people passed with their drinks.

“Grape juice,” Kaiser said casually.

“…Kaiser.”

“Yeah?”

“This is wine.”

He stared into the mugs.

“I wanted something like tea, not—alcohol!”

Kaiser huffed. “Relax, it's not just any ordinary wine. It’s THE thing you get at Christmas markets. There’s… spices inside, and it’s hot. ‘Mulled wine’, or whatever your translator calls it.” He turned to Isagi, looking dead-serious. “You have to try it.”

Isagi shook his head violently. “I can’t drink!”

Kaiser blinked. “What, are you twelve?”

“I’m underage—I can’t drink until twenty-one!”

Kaiser rolled his eyes. “We’re in fucking Germany, Yoichi. Kids here drink before they learn algebra.”

“But I’m not German!” Isagi panicked. “And I’ve never even had alcohol before!”

Kaiser’s lips curled into a knowing grin. “Well—there’s a first time for everything.”

“I don’t even like the smell of wine,” Isagi insisted. “My dad drinks it all the time—it’s so sour.”

“This one’s better.”

“Have you tried it?”

“No.”

“What?!”

Kaiser shrugged. “...Not a big fan of alcohol.”

Isagi threw up his hands. “Then why are you trying so hard to make me drink it? You planning to get me drunk or something?!”

Kaiser scoffed and turned away, shoulders stiff. His mouth pulled into a tight line, eyes lowered—suddenly looking almost sulky. “I’m just trying to give you a proper Christmas market experience,” he muttered. “A real one.”

Isagi froze.

He relaxed his stance, uncertainty softening his irritation. Kaiser was probably acting—no, he was definitely acting—but… on the off chance that there was a sliver of truth in there…

“…Fine,” Isagi said at last. “I’ll try it. But only one sip. One.”

Kaiser lit up instantly, grinning like he’d just won a trophy. “That’s my boy.”

They queued up, and within a minute it was their turn. There were a bunch of different options, but Kaiser looked just as lost as Isagi, so they went with the most normal one.

The vendor dipped a giant ladle into an even bigger steaming pot, somehow managing not to spill a single drop as she filled a thick ceramic mug. The cup was decorated with a little city skyline and absurdly large Christmas trees, thick steam rolling off the surface.

The wine must be really warm.

When they’d found a quiet corner, Kaiser handed it over. “Careful. It’s hot.”

Isagi almost said yeah, no shit, but the warmth of the mug in his hands stopped him short. His fingers had been freezing all afternoon, and now it felt like he was holding onto a tiny heater.

He leaned closer and sniffed. The steam warmed his face—but the smell was still strange. Sweet, sour, and spicy. …Weird.

 “I don’t know if I should…” he mumbled, nose wrinkling slightly.

Kaiser stepped closer. “Just one sip. Aren’t you curious?”

“Well…” To be honest, he was.

But this was supposed to be his first real time drinking. Okay, not entirely—his dad had let him toast once when they’d celebrated his return from Blue Lock, and his mom had complained to them (but not seriously,) and Isagi had been curious enough to try just a little of his dad’s wine.

It had tasted like shit.

He never understood how his dad could drink that stuff regularly—every time he came back from company outings he smelled like alcohol. Isagi knew well enough what alcohol did to an athlete’s body, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t drink unless it was at some big celebration, international event, or something that actually mattered.

Not here.

Not now.

Not outside, out in the freezing December cold and a completely foreign country—
and definitely not with... Kaiser.

Still, he lifted the mug.

Lowered his lips, and took a careful sip—

“Ah—AH—fuck, it’s hot!!”

He nearly dropped it, his tongue on fire. What?! Why the hell hadn’t he benn more careful?! There was literal steam pouring out of it and his hands had been comfily roasting on it!—but he’d been so stuck in his own head he forgot basic physics.

Kaiser just stared at him, eyes wide, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Isagi heard the faintest snort. “I told you it was hot.”

“You did no—”

…Oh. Yeah. He did.

Isagi clicked his tongue, lips pressed tight against the sting on his tongue. “I did my sip. Your turn.”

“What? All you did was burn yourself. Try again, Yoichi.”

“I don’t want—”

“The real experience,” Kaiser insisted, giving him that insufferable meaningful look.

Isagi sighed. He leaned closer to the mug and blew into it a few times. It was nice to have something warm his face, and the smell was… less awful now. Still weird, but not unbearable. He actually felt a little bad—Kaiser wasn’t wearing gloves. His hands had to be freezing.

Whatever. It was his turn next.

After blowing on it for a solid minute, Isagi took another slow sip.

It was warm. And sweet... really sweet. Like honeyed juice, spiced with something sharp—almost minty?—but also… wrong.

Chemical.

As he swallowed the liquid slid down his throat, it suddenly started… burning—somehow hot and cold at the same time—

He coughed violently.

“What the hell—!” He coughed again, erupting into a whole fit, eyes watering. Why did he swallow that so fast—?!

Kaiser laughed openly now. “It’s alcohol, duh.”

“It’s so strong!” Stronger than anything his dad drank for sure!

“You’re just a lightweight,” Kaiser teased.

“Ha.” Isagi shot him a dry look. “Big words for someone who’s ‘not a big fan.’”

“I don’t like the taste,” Kaiser replied coolly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.”

“Don’t believe you.” Isagi held the mug out. “Prove it.”

Kaiser narrowed his eyes. “You think I’ll fall for that?”

Isagi grinned. “I don’t mind if you don’t. You’re always like that—all talk, no substance.”

“What—”

With an annoyed click of his tongue, Kaiser snatched the mug and took a huge gulp—way bigger than Isagi’s. You could literally watch it slide down his throat. It bobbed once, twice—three times—then Kaiser lowered the mug with a smug exhale.

“See? It’s—”

His face twitched.

The smile froze. His hand drifted to his chest.

Then he folded in half, coughing into the crowd like he’d just inhaled a bonfire.

“Hey!” an old man snapped nearby.

Kaiser wheeled around, hacking. “What the hell—why is this shit so strong?!”

Someone nearby burst out laughing. Isagi turned to see the amused bystander—but without warning, Kaiser grabbed his sleeve and hauled him off at top speed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, wiping his mouth as he ditched the mug on a random table.

Isagi reached for it on instinct, but Kaiser was already pulling him away. It was a waste, sure—but not like either of them would’ve finished it. He laughed breathlessly as they weaved through the crowd. “All talk, no substance.”

“Shut up,” Kaiser snapped. “You weren’t any better.”

“At least I didn’t pretend I could hold my liquor.”

Kaiser didn’t reply. He turned sharply into another lane, pace never slowing.

“What?” Isagi smirked. “Cat got your tongue?” He was always like this—talk big, then crash halfway through. ”Can’t you admit you were wrong just once?”

“Yoichi.”

Kaiser’s voice dropped, suddenly serious. His eyes stayed locked on the crowd ahead.

“We’re being followed.”

Isagi’s eyes widened. “What? Someone recognized us? I told you to keep the hat!”

“Hey,” Kaiser muttered. “I didn’t want your ears freezing off.”

“And I didn’t want us sneaking around like fugitives!”

“It’s two girls,” he said. “One with a white hat, one with red hair. They kept looking our way the whole time. I thought it was because of the wine, but they were already at the pancake stall.”

What? That long? Isagi hadn’t noticed a thing. He’d been so distracted by the lights and smells and mood, his usual spatial awareness had flown out the window.

“Can you see them?” Kaiser asked.

Isagi scanned the crowd behind them, eyes sifting through the sea of winter hats. “I don’t think so.”

They slowed near the giant Christmas tree, where the crowd thinned—most busy with way too close-up photos of the tree, or their own closed conversations. Kaiser finally let out a breath.

“We were making way too much noise.”

“Ahem.” Isagi cleared his throat pointedly. “You were.”

“What?” Kaiser frowned. “Come on!”

“I didn’t cough into the face of some poor grandpa who now probably carries whatever plague you’re incubating!”

“Should I have coughed into your face then?”

“No! But at least I’ve got your scarf to protect me!”

“And I've got your damn scarf to—”

“Uh… Sorry?”

They both froze.

That voice hadn’t been either of them.

They turned and saw two girls standing before them—one with short red hair, the other one blonde in a fluffy white wool hat. Both looked about their age. Definitely the ones Kaiser had mentioned.

“Oh, sorry,” the girl in the hat said quickly, flashing a nervous smile. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kaiser straightened instantly, flipping into full charm mode like someone had hit a switch. That stupidly perfect and painfully fake movie-star smile spread across his face again. “No problem at all. Can we help you with something?”

Isagi shot him a hard side-eye. Did he seriously think that cheap knockoff smile could erase the public coughing incident and their shamefully idiotic argument from just five seconds ago?

The red-haired girl flushed a little. She glanced at Isagi, then back at Kaiser. “Um—she... we just wanted to ask... did you dye your hair yourself?”

Kaiser blinked.

“It looks amazing,” the girl in the white hat added quickly. “I’ve been thinking about doing a similar gradient, but the last salon completely messed up my hair, so I just wanted to ask you how you got yours done.”

“Well…” Kaiser said, slightly thrown off. “I had professional help.”

“A salon?”

“Not exactly.” He shrugged with a small smile. “But they’re just as good. I can recommend them if you want.”

Aha—no mention of how it was probably some absurdly expensive high-end professional somewhere overseas no normal high schooler could ever hope to afford?

The girl’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome!” She pulled out her phone. “Can we exchange contacts real quick? I don’t wanna keep you guys for too long.”

Isagi went cold.

There it was. That was almost too smooth. And now, if she ever followed through with the hairstyle, she’d even have the perfect excuse to stay in touch with him—...only to eventually find out Kaiser had zero interest in girls her age.

He shot Kaiser a heavy look. Kaiser just raised a brow back at him.

Time to reject her, you doofus.

“Sure,” Kaiser said easily. “I don’t use my phone much, but I’ll send you their info later.”

...What?!

Isagi bit the inside of his cheek, glaring daggers at the guy. What are you doing?!

The girl’s smile grew even brighter, practically rivaling the massive Christmas tree behind them. “That’s totally fine!” She started typing immediately. “What’s your number?”

Kaiser blinked. “Zero, one, seven—”

Wait… wait, he wasn’t serious, was he?! That was the start of his actual number—and Kaiser looked so fucking nonchalant, like he wasn’t just about to hand over the personal contact of one of the most famous youth footballers on the planet!!?

“…Six, seven, five—”

Isagi’s pulse went nuclear. What the fuck—

Stop him. You had to stop him!!

 “…Two, five—no, wait. Two, nine—”

But they’d been speaking in German this whole time—he couldn’t just blurt out now with a completely different language!! But what was he even supposed to say?! Think. Think!! German words... any German word… the best German word he could use right now…!!!

“…Seven, eig—”

“NEIN!!!”

Isagi lunged between them, arms flailing like a possessed Italian. “Nein, nein, NEIN!!”

Kaiser frowned. “What’s wrong, Yoichi?”

Both girls stared at him, very confused and mildly alarmed.

Isagi clutched onto Kaiser’s sleeve, eyes screaming what the hell are you doing you absolute moron you cannot give your number to random people?!

“Stop! Nein! DANKE!!”

The girl in the white hat took a small step back, startled.

Kaiser quickly turned to them with a polite, apologetic smile. “Sorry. My friend has… issues sometimes. He gets very overwhelmed when I talk to women for too long. Or anyone, for that matter.”

What the fuck? Issues?! Women??!!?

I will fucking END you, Michael Kaiser.

“Oh…” The girl in the white hat nodded awkwardly, clearly catching the hint. “I just thought he wasn’t very good at German. I—uhm... really only wanted the hairdresser’s name. If you can tell me…”

“Eight and four,” Kaiser said smoothly. “That’s the last two. Text me later.”

Okay, what the hell—he had to be joking.

The girl hesitated, then nodded. Her eyes flicked briefly to Isagi before returning to Kaiser.

Great... Now I’m the weirdo.

“What’s your name?” she asked. “Just so I can save it.”

And she really wasn’t letting this go, huh?

“Alex,” Kaiser said without missing a beat. “Short for Alexis.”

Oh—he definitely had to be messing with them now.

“Thanks… Alex.” She smiled.

“Anytime,” ‘Alex’ said, flashing that perfect smile again. “And sorry about my friend. He came all the way from another country just to hang out with me, so we should probably keep moving before it gets too crowded to walk.”

The girl laughed faintly. “It is getting crazy out here. Thanks again—and enjoy your Christmas!”

“You too.”

The two girls disappeared into the crowd, and Isagi caught the red-haired one already whispering something, shaking her head as they left. Whatever they were saying, at least they hadn’t gotten Kaiser’s actual number. Hopefully.

The second they were gone, Isagi spun on him.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

Kaiser blinked. “What the fuck were you doing?”

“I really thought you were about to give her your goddamn number!!”

Kaiser held up both hands. “Whoa, relax! Didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

“I am not—”

Kaiser tilted his head. “But you remembered my number.”

Isagi flinched. “Yeah—because you’re literally the only person I can contact here!” He bit on his lip, exhaling sharply. “But... apparently I remembered it wrong.”

“No, you didn’t,” Kaiser replied coolly. “I just swapped out two digits.”

“So she’s gonna text some poor stranger now?”

“Exactly. You think I’m stupid enough to give out my real number?” He smirked. “What do you take me for—an idiot?”

“An idiot who does dumb shit just to mess with people.”

Kaiser just chuckled. “Half-correct. Didn’t expect you to go into full meltdown mode though. Where’s the calm, analytical Isagi Yoichi who never panics under pressure?”

“Fuck off. I’m at a disadvantage here.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.” Kaiser snorted. “You sounded like some grumpy old geezer. ‘Nein nein nein! Stop! Nein! Danke!!’” He was barely holding back his laughter. “You should’ve gone with, ‘Ja, ja, ja!!’”

Uuuugghh—Isagi wanted to rip his own hair out. “Don’t remind me! Try yelling in Japanese when you’ve never spoken it before!!”

Kaiser smirked and took one earbud out. “Go on. Impress me.”

Isagi huffed. “It’d be like—‘iie, iie, iie,’ or ‘hai, hai, hai.’”

Kaiser frowned. “So… yeah, yeah, yeah? Shark, shark, shark?”

“Either the translator’s broken or you are.”

Kaiser sighed. “Everything would be so much easier if you just fixed your terrible English.”

…That one landed.

Isagi looked away, jaw tightening. Language had never been one of his strong points. And yet here there was someone who seemed effortlessly good at everything—math, languages, people, looks, and soccer—even if, underneath it all, he was actually a walking mess of a disaster and one of the most infuriating people Isagi had ever had the misfortune of getting to know.

“Everything would be so much easier if you’d just listened to me,” he muttered in response. Then he glanced down the lane, eyes catching on a nearby stall. “Anyway… we need to get you a hat.”

Kaiser blinked—but Isagi had already started pushing through the crowd, so Kaiser had no choice but to hurry after him. “What? No. I don’t want a fucking hat,” he complained. “It ruins my hair.”

“Your hair is exactly why we got into that mess in the first place.”

Kaiser said something else, but Isagi was too focused on threading through the people to listen. “Also,” Isagi added. “It’s always so fucking weird to hear you talk to normal people.”

Kaiser threw him a look. “You’re not exactly normal either. It’s like I always get the Isagi Yoichi: Extreme Mode whenever I’m with you.” He paused. “Not that I hate it... Usually.”

“What are you talking about?” Isagi shot back. “I’m as mild as they come.” Obviously, he knew by now that that very much wasn’t the case—but off the field, it was only around Kaiser when those… other sides of him crawled out so easily.

And ‘those other sides’ meant a lot of things.

They reached the stall, which was nearly empty—probably everyone who needed a hat already had one, and everyone else didn’t want to pay Christmas-market prices.

For Isagi and Kaiser, though, it was perfect.

The table was cluttered with knitted wool hats in every imaginable color—deep reds, forest greens, washed-out pastels—some stitched with snowflakes, others with tiny reindeer or crooked stars, their pom-poms bobbing whenever someone brushed past.

Isagi scanned the display until his eyes landed on a dark-blue knitted hat patterned with white snowflakes and topped with a small pom-pom.

“This one’s nice. I think it’d suit you!”

 “I thought the whole point was to make me look like you,” Kaiser said. “Aka: tasteless.”

Isagi grumbled under his breath. This was getting old.

“So you agree it looks nice.”

Kaiser leaned closer, inspecting the row. They all shared the same basic shape, only the patterns changing. On the far end of the booth were caps and—for some baffling reason—sunhats, while the vendor continued to stare at them expectantly.

“The color’s fine,” Kaiser grumbled. “But I hate pom-poms.”

Isagi stared at him. “My hat has a pom-pom.”

Kaiser blinked. “…You just strengthened every argument I had against this.”

Isagi ignored him and picked up the hat. “Can you ask if we can try it?”

But before Kaiser could protest, the elderly vendor was already waving them on. Isagi smiled gratefully and turned back, pulling the hat down over Kaiser’s head, making sure that it covered his ears.

It fit perfectly.

His sharp blond-blue hair was half-hidden now, swallowed by wool and ending in a fluffy little bobble. He looked… different. Softer. Almost shy.

“I still think it suits you,” Isagi said. “It even reminds me of the one my dad always likes to wear.”

“With every word you say,” Kaiser muttered, “I want it less and less.”

Isagi rolled his eyes. “Look in the mirror. You look good!”

“I look ridiculous.”

Ok, now he was just being dramatic. Isagi was ready with a sarcastic reply—but the words died when he met Kaiser’s eyes in the reflection. Kaiser didn’t look annoyed.

He looked genuinely… uncertain?

It was strange.

“We can check another stall,” Isagi said, softer this time.

“No,” Kaiser replied. “I mean, you’re right—I need something to tone me down. I’m just not… used to fluffy-ass wool hats.”

Isagi tilted his head. Huh? “You want a cap or something?” But that wasn’t gonna keep him warm. Even if Kaiser was used to walking around bareheaded—if Isagi hadn’t worn his own hat earlier his ears would’ve already long frozen off. No matter how tough Kaiser was, he couldn’t be that different. “I still think it fits you. I mean, I also think the neon-pink one with three pom-poms there fits you, but that won’t exactly help us blend in.”

Kaiser huffed. “You really like pom-poms, huh.”

Isagi chuckled softly. “My mom used to tell me that every pom-pom is actually a tanuki in disguise. It’s the best place to cling to humans—and it even fits with the sound they used to scare travelers with. And it would explain why they keep flapping around.”

“What the fuck are tanukis?”

Isagi paused for a second. Oh… damn. “They’re, uh… magical raccoon things from Japanese folklore. They can transform into anything.”

Kaiser stared at him. “Your family’s… weird sometimes. And why do all of you have a thing for pom-poms?”

“I mean—who doesn’t?”

Kaiser kept looking at himself in the mirror, jaw tight.

“We can still try others,” Isagi added. “But I really do think this one suits you.”

He wasn’t even sure why he was so fond of this particular hat—maybe because it reminded him of his dad’s, or because the shade matched Kaiser’s tattoos. Or maybe because they’d both be wearing pom-poms then.

Kaiser exhaled slowly. “Fuck it. You keep saying that, and it’s annoying. I’ll take it.”

Isagi lit up. “Really? I’ll pay!”

“What? No—”

Too late. Before Kaiser could even react, Isagi had already whipped out a hundred-euro bill into the elderly vendor’s hand, gesturing enthusiastically at Kaiser’s head. “Danke,” he said with all the confidence his broken German could manage.

The old woman nodded and handed him three twenties. “Thank you. The wool hats are all handmade. Handmade!”

“Oooh,” Isagi replied in perfect tourist fashion, nodding far too enthusiastically.

“It’s lambswool. Real wool!”

“Aaah!”

“You can wash it in the wash machine—but only cold water! And special detergent!”

“Okay, okay,” Isagi said with a nervous smile, still nodding like his life depended on it.

Kaiser rescued him by saying a polite goodbye and dragging him back into the crowd.

“I can feel the pom-pom bouncing at the back of my head,” Kaiser muttered, “and I hate it.”

Isagi laughed softly. “It’s the tanuki with his giant—”

…Okay. Better not say it.

“Doesn’t it look weird,” Isagi said instead, “me seemingly talking Japanese into thin air? The vendor must’ve heard us… but he still spoke German to me.”

“But he also heard me talking German to you,” Kaiser answered. “So I guess it just looks like we both understand everything and choose chaos.”

Well, okay—guess that plot inconsistency just solved itself!

Eventually they reached the opposite entrance of the market. It looked almost identical to where they’d started.

“Guess we’ve seen everything,” Kaiser said. “Anything else you wanna get?”

Isagi let out a slow breath and looked around.

It was fully dark now. You couldn’t even see the sky anymore because of all the lights, but you could feel that it was evening. The air had that heavy, cozy winter vibe—cold, but not in a bad way.

It was weird. He felt like he’d barely seen anything, and yet like he’d seen way too much all at once. Back home, winter always sucked. Everyone at Ichinan High had always complained about the cold and just rushed home after practice. But if they’d had places like this to hang out… maybe winter wouldn’t have felt so miserable.

He pondered for a moment. Part of him wanted to walk the whole market again, just to see how everything looked now that the sky was darker, the lights brighter, and the crowd thicker. But also…

He glanced at Kaiser.

…Something else had bothered him.

Even after getting Kaiser that hat, Kaiser still hadn’t really eaten anything all day—everything had either been too sweet, too oily, or just not interesting enough.

Isagi smiled wryly to himself. What a picky, snobby little man.

Still—he felt bad. It didn’t seem like Kaiser had enjoyed himself nearly as much as he could have.

“Is there anything you want to get?” he asked, voice hesitant. “You’ve barely eaten anything today.”

Kaiser frowned. “I’m good. I’ve got a calorie plan I stick to. And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad—I’m serious.”

Isagi blinked. “Come on. You can’t take a day off every now and then?”

“One day off is one day behind,” Kaiser said firmly.

Isagi blinked at the weight in his tone.

He understood the sentiment. Slacking off, even for a moment, meant falling behind someone who hadn’t. And that was especially true for talented learners like Kaiser and him—they just simply didn’t have the luxury of taking it easy.

But…

At the end of the day, they were still just people, with the same human needs and wants as everyone else. Isagi tended to forget that when he was too wrapped up in training and matches. It was only whenever he returned home that his parents insist he take a few days to relax, reminding him that breaks mattered too.

And this wasn’t just any random break or day—it was a freaking Christmas market in Germany. Even Kaiser, who lived here, only had this a few weeks every year!

Isagi went up on his tiptoes, peering over the crowd. “I mean… there’s gotta be something. And I want you to get something. Did you see anything you liked?”

Kaiser shrugged. “…Not really.”

Isagi pressed his lips together. This guy was really hard to satisfy. “Then we’re walking through again. When something catches your eye, we’re getting it. Deal?”

“I seriously don’t want anything.”

“We’ll see about that,” Isagi replied.

They turned back into the flow of people. The market was packed now. They passed by various stalls filled with handmade candles, sweets, local honey and cheese, carved wooden toys, art prints, and endless Christmas decorations. The food stalls repeated—waffles and crepes, Flammkuchen, grilled sausages, Spätzle and Kartoffelpuffer, mulled wine and candied fruit—each filling the air with different scents that made Isagi’s imagination run wild.

Honestly, it was getting hard for him to just keep walking. He wanted to try everything. At the same time, his stomach was still painfully full from the almonds and potato pancakes—and Kaiser hadn’t shown the slightest interest in any of it.

Only now did it dawn on him: Maybe Kaiser just… didn’t care anymore?!

Maybe he’d been to so many Christmas markets that this was all old news, and he was only tagging along because Isagi was having fun. Which would explain why he hadn’t really shown him anything either!

Isagi narrowed his eyes at the back of Kaiser’s head.

But then… why did it seem like Kaiser had never tried any of this stuff before? And the way he’d been showing him around—or rather, not showing him around—was suspicious too!!

The more he thought about it, the more lost he only got. At this rate the whole day would just fizzle out—Isagi full and happy, Kaiser bored and counting the minutes. What the hell were you even supposed to do at a Christmas market to excite someone like Kaiser??

 “…Yoichi.”

They were almost at the far end of the market when Kaiser stopped.

To their left was a quieter side lane, and there—next to the second stall on the outer edge—stood a narrow, unassuming canopied cart with only one faint fairy light and a few sprigs of evergreen hanging over the counter. In a wide pan, little brown balls rolled and popped in thick clouds of steam.

Roasted chestnuts.

The steam drifted toward them, carrying a sweet, earthy smell tinged with smoke. Like autumn in food form.

“Oh… yaki-guri!” Isagi brightened. “I love these!”

Kaiser blinked. “You have those in Japan?”

“Yeah! You can find it everywhere in autumn!”

Kaiser didn’t reply. His eyes were glued to the pan, watching the vendor shuffle the chestnuts with a massive wooden spoon.

“…I guess we can get those then,” he muttered.

Isagi looked at him. “What? Why are you saying it like you’re doing me a favor? I’m already full.”

Kaiser frowned, lips pressed tight. “…Then we don’t have to.”

“You clearly want them!” Isagi threw his hands up. Why was this guy so stubborn? Sometimes, Kaiser just grabbed straight what he wanted without thinking, and sometimes, it was like he was allergic to admitting he wanted anything at all!

Kaiser exhaled sharply. “…I won’t be able to finish them.”

“Then we’ll share. I still have, like, a teaspoon of stomach space left.”

They stepped up to the stall. The older man was shuffling the chestnuts around roughly; they were a perfect glossy brown, some sides just lightly charred. Smoke billowed so thickly it looked like a veil between them and the vendor.

“…One small bag,” Kaiser said.

“That’ll be three euros!”

The vendor scooped up a heap and poured it into a paper cone.

Kaiser frowned. “That looks bigger than small.”

 “That’s fine, that’s fine!” the man chirped, handing him the change and waving them off with his spoon. “Put in a good word for us! Merry Christmas!”

They barely had time to answer before they were ushered away. Kaiser shrugged and moved down the lane, Isagi hurrying after him.

“That was weird. Why’d he give us extra?”

“Chestnuts can’t be roasted in the pan for more than two days,” Kaiser muttered. “I’m guessing this batch is already too old.”

Isagi blinked. “So… they’re gonna taste bad?”

Kaiser stared at him. “No. One day old doesn’t make them bad, just less sweet. The dried-out or split ones get thrown away.”

“Oh.” Isagi stared at the cone. “Then it’s good we saved them from the trash.”

“Or maybe he was just feeling nice,” Kaiser said, already handing the cone over—then immediately stealing one back.

“Shit—hot!”

He juggled the chestnut between his fingers like it was a live grenade, trying to crack it open mid-panic. It slipped, bounced off his palm, and dropped straight back into the bag.

Isagi blinked. “…You know you’re supposed to peel them, right?”

“Shut up,” Kaiser snapped, shaking his fingers. “It’s been a while since I’ve had them, okay?”

He tried again, this time managing to split the shell. Steam puffed into his face as he peeled off the flaky skin and popped it into his mouth—

—and immediately froze.

His jaw locked, eyes watering just a little. He tried to look normal for a full three seconds before coughing lightly into his fist.

Isagi watched him with open fascination. “I didn’t know you liked chestnuts this much. Did you secretly work at a chestnut stall before something?”

The image hit him at the same time: Michael Kaiser, hater of non-designer clothes, culinary perfectionist, wearing a too-small apron and oversized gloves, standing behind a pan for hours with nothing to do but stir chestnuts.

It was so ridiculous that Isagi wasn’t even sure anymore whether he was joking.

Kaiser glared at him, still chewing. “Ha ha, hilarious. You know, that man is actually my dad and he almost stopped me from smashing your face into the pan.”

“Your jokes really suck sometimes, Kaiser.” Was he really that offended by the idea of being a vendor? “Then how do you know so much?”

“They’re just… good,” Kaiser said thickly, already grabbing another one—this time waiting a moment before peeling it.

 “If you like them, you should try the ones in Japan,” Isagi said, getting carried away. “There’s this little stand near my place, and my dad always gets a discount ‘cause he’s friends with the guy. And my mom makes kuri-gohan every autumn—just rice and chestnuts but it’s actually insane—”

Kaiser blinked at him. “…You sure like to talk about food. And your parents. A lot.”

Isagi winced. “Hey, I still watch my diet, okay? And unlike some people, I’m not ashamed of them or anything.”

Blue Lock and the U-20 World Cup hadn’t given him any time or opportunity to remind him of his time at home. But now that he was out in the world, constantly seeing and experiencing all these new things that were so different from Japan… it made him miss home more than he wanted to admit.

Kaiser quietly finished with another chestnut. “I wasn’t judging,” he said, eyes drifting to the lane ahead. “Didn’t you want that picture? With the trees?”

Isagi perked up. “Oh—right!” His parents definitely needed to see that! “But that place’s probably gonna be packed by now.”

Kaiser shrugged. “Let’s try anyway.”

They cut through a central row instead of the outer one—which turned out to be a terrible idea. They barely made it far enough to glimpse the start of the magical tree lane before everything clogged into one giant, screaming wall of people. Someone shoulder-checked Isagi so hard he almost lost one of his translators.

“Ugh—this is insane!”

You couldn’t even see the stalls anymore. What was the point of a Christmas market if all you could see were jackets and backpacks??

“Yoichi!”

Kaiser had been in front, but the second he turned back a loud, six-headed family bulldozed straight through them.

“Yoichi, let’s---waffles, waffles!”

Isagi frowned. What? Voices started blending into nonsense. The cacophony of children shrieking and adults shouting was messing with his head, and Isagi couldn’t make out a single coherent word through the noise.

“Mom, can we---fuck this place, I don’t think we’ll---ha ha, Benni, you look like a girl---somewhere else---!”

“No! You look like a girl!” a kid yelled, pointing at his mom. Then he pointed at Kaiser. “And he looks like a girl!”

“What did you just—”

“---Hey, honey… don’t turn around, but---ha ha, then what’s up with your red---doesn’t that look like Michael Kaiser to you…?”

Isagi’s brain slammed into emergency mode.

Kaiser had actually stopped and was arguing with the kid, hands flailing like he was trying to intimidate a nine-year-old—which was somehow both ridiculous and extremely adorable, and also weird because Kaiser usually never reacted to stuff like this, untouchable as he was—but perhaps it was something about being in the middle of a Christmas market, surrounded by screaming children and drunk laughter and the thick, sugary smell of grilled cheese and mulled wine in the air, fairy lights bleeding into his vision and stars sparkling until everything blurred together—

Aaand… they had to go.

Isagi lunged, dodged a child like he was back on the pitch, grabbed Kaiser’s sleeve, and yanked him hard in the opposite direction.

“Wha—Yoichi! I was about to win that argument!”

“No, you weren’t,” Isagi huffed. “And someone recognized you.”

Leading the way himself, it suddenly became way easier to cut through the crowd. They burst back out near the edge of the market, where people still milled around, but there were no the screaming kids or drunk adults stampeding like cattle.

Isagi quickly scanned the lanes, searching for somewhere quieter, more hidden, and then spotted it—a dim little corner just past the chestnut stall, tucked between two handicraft booths. No fairy lights. No crowd.

He dragged Kaiser over.

Kaiser clicked his tongue. “That lane was like a warzone,” he muttered as he stared into the half-empty cone. “I lost, like, half my chestnuts. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just gravity.”

Isagi bit back a laugh. “…Did you just get robbed by a child?”

“What?” Kaiser shot him a death glare. “I saw one of them steal it! Damn amateur moves. Parents need to teach these kids some fucking manners, for God’s sake.”

Isagi finally lost it, stifling a wheeze of laughter. “Now who sounds like a grumpy old geezer?”

Kaiser bristled. “I was trying to get you your stupid picture!” he snapped. “And you were so obsessed with me wearing this hat— turns out it didn’t help at all!”

Isagi couldn’t stop laughing. “That’s because you were making such a scene it was impossible not to notice you!”

Kaiser grumbled to himself. “I hate Christmas after all.”

...

The words slipped out too easily.

Everything in Isagi stopped dead.

Kaiser froze too, eyes widening as he realized what he’d just said. “…That—that was sarcasm,” he added, too quickly. “A joke. You said I’m bad at them, right? Maybe I am.”

Isagi could only stare at him. He didn’t know what to say.

Because suddenly, it all made sense—the way Kaiser hadn’t cared about any of the stalls, how he’d never tried anything before, shown no interest in any of the decorations, and had just… followed along all day.

“Does that include… Christmas markets?” Isagi asked quietly.

Kaiser flinched. “Yoichi, I said I was joking. I’m just bored of them.”

“But you’ve never been to one before.”

Kaiser’s whole body went rigid. “How would you even—”

“You said that anyone who’s been to one should’ve tried mulled wine at least once.”

“I just don’t drink.”

“But you didn’t know any of the almond flavors, or the potato pancakes. Those stalls are everywhere. You’d at least recognize something.”

Kaiser looked away, jaw tight.

“I don’t get it,” Isagi said. “Your birthday’s on December 25th, right? So what does that mean?”

“Oh, great,” Kaiser replied flatly. “You remembered my birthday.”

“That’s not exactly hard,” Isagi said. “But seriously—how can you hate a season that basically exists for you? Are you just pissed you have to share it with Christmas or something?”

It sounded cynical even to his own ears. And, honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if that really was the reason—Kaiser did have the right ego size for it.

But he obviously knew that wasn’t really it.

This was Kaiser—the same guy who pushed his buttons relentlessly, who slipped between arrogance and sincerity so smoothly it was dizzying, who somehow listened when Isagi spoke even when he pretended not to.

And for reasons Isagi still couldn’t fully explain, Isagi… liked being around him.

Maybe it was the way Kaiser always acted confident and untouchable, only to let tiny cracks show when he thought Isagi wasn’t paying attention. Or how he sometimes slipped up, clumsy and unguarded, revealing something more… Kaiser. Or the way he looked after Isagi in his own crooked way while pretending he didn’t care at all.

Or how, every once in a while, despite all the endless complaining, he really did listen to Isagi—and that alone was one of the most satisfying feelings in the world.

“Can we drop the interrogation already?” Kaiser muttered, rolling his eyes, but the motion lacked its usual bite.

Isagi swallowed.

Every time he talked about his parents, his home, his stupid little memories, Kaiser listened. But whenever Isagi had tried to turn it around—whenever he’d tried to get Kaiser to talk about himself—it had always ended in sarcasm or deflection.

Kaiser never talked about himself.

And Isagi knew there was a reason. And he knew that that reason was probably much deeper and complicated than he thought, and he knew that if he ever wanted Kaiser to tell him one day… it would have to be on his own terms.

There was nothing he could do for him except wait.

So he stuck to the now.

“If you hate this stuff so much,” Isagi asked quietly, “then why did you even come with me today?”

Kaiser leaned back into the shadowed wall of the booth, half-perched on a supply crate, palms braced behind him. Evergreen sprigs rustled softly above them when he shifted. His gaze drifted somewhere beyond the crowd, where the laughter thinned into night.

“There’s only so much you can hate a season,” he said at last, cynicism curling around every word. “Besides, you needed a guide. Your English’s still ass, and who knows what kind of trouble you’d have gotten yourself into without my help.”

“You were a pretty terrible guide though.”

“I tried.”

“...I know.” Isagi smiled a little. “It wasn’t supposed to be a tour anyway.”

He stepped closer before he could overthink it. His hand found Kaiser’s shoulder—and without waiting for permission, he leaned in and pressed their lips together.

The kiss tasted like chestnuts, cinnamon and sugar, everything warm and even sweeter. Honey and smoke, a little wine and almond mixed together—he’d spent the whole day sampling sweetness, but none of it could compare to this: cold air trapped in scarves and coats, warm lights bleeding into the dark, Kaiser standing here with him like this. A messy, loud winter day, wandering through glowing sceneries with the one person he wanted to be around. It had been a long and chaotic day indeed—but it had been a long and chaotic day with Kaiser. And something about that made it all the more perfect.

When he pulled back, Kaiser was staring at him, stunned. His lips were flushed pink, the usually so sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light, almost tender. Deep blue eyes wavered at him, catching distant fairy lights like fragments of stars.

Hm… this was a much better sight than any magical lane or glittering tree.

“You don’t like Christmas,” Isagi said. “But I do. Because it gave us today. We walked around, ate dumb things, talked to strangers, and you even wore a wool hat for me.” He smiled. “Isn’t that nice?”

“…You didn’t actually drink the mulled wine.”

“And neither did you.”

Kaiser let out a quiet laugh.

“Next time,” Isagi added, “I’ll drag you out for sake.”

“I thought you hated alcohol.”

He smiled. “There’s a first for everything.”

“We could get another cup now,” Kaiser said.

“We could.”

“And we still have to get your parents a picture.”

“We do.”

There was still so much to do, and somehow no time left at all. Who knew a day spent in cold winter air and warm seasonal lights could pass by so quickly?

At the end, it didn’t matter what time of the year it was—only who you spent it with.

Kaiser had said he hated Christmas, but maybe…

...maybe Christmas wouldn’t so bad with Yoichi around.