Chapter Text
The match had ended hours ago, but Itoshi Rin still felt like he was running.
Not physically.
Something worse—like his body had never fully accepted that the whistle had blown.
The stadium noise was gone now. Replaced by silence that pressed too tightly against his ears.
He stood at the train station in Kamakura, hands shoved into his pockets, staring at the timetable like it might rearrange itself into something that made sense.
It didn’t.
Isagi will change Japanese soccer.
That sentence kept looping in his head, uninvited.
Then something sharper followed.
And what am I supposed to be?
Rin looked up slightly, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular.
“Damn it…”
His voice came out quieter than he meant.
“I train every day… hours and hours…”
His fingers curled inside his pockets.
“So why…”
His throat tightened in a way he refused to acknowledge.
“Why can’t you just see me as your equal?”
The question didn’t have anywhere to go.
It just hung there.
Cold air slipped under his collar. His body always ran colder than it should—he knew that. Three years of it. Three years of living with iron levels that never stayed where they were supposed to, three years of pushing through fatigue that didn’t match the effort he put in.
But Rin didn’t call it weakness.
He never did.
His jaw tightened.
“Does he hate me…?”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
A tear followed.
Just one.
Silent.
Quick.
He wiped it away immediately with the back of his hand like it was an insult that had touched his face.
No one saw.
No one needed to.
The train arrived with a metallic screech, cutting through the platform announcements.
“Please be careful of the gap between the train and the platform.”
Rin stepped in.
Tokyo line toward Kamakura.
The doors closed behind him with a soft mechanical sigh, sealing him into motion.
He found a seat near the front. Not because he cared where he sat, but because it was empty.
He leaned his head against the window.
Glass cold against skin.
Outside, Tokyo blurred into streaks of light and shadow.
The train started moving.
At first, it was just silence again.
Then his thoughts returned.
Uninvited.
Isagi will change Japanese soccer.
Rin’s fingers tightened slightly.
“No…”
Barely a whisper.
“I will.”
Ten minutes passed like that.
Stillness.
Then the next stop arrived.
The doors opened.
A shift in air.
People stepped in.
And then—
Rin felt it before he saw it.
That familiar presence.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just heavy in a way that made the space feel smaller.
A figure stepped inside, hands in pockets, expression unreadable.
Itoshi Sae.
Of course.
The universe must hate me
Rin didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t acknowledge him.
Sae scanned the carriage once, then sighed faintly when he saw the only empty seat was beside Rin.
He walked over anyway.
Sat down.
Casual.
Like nothing in the world had ever changed between them.
“Yo.”
Rin didn’t respond.
Not even a glance.
A pause.
Sae tilted his head slightly.
“Now you’re ignoring me?”
Still nothing.
Another beat of silence.
Sae exhaled through his nose, calm as ever.
“You know, communication is kind of important in soccer. Something you seem to lack.”
Rin’s fingers twitched.
His jaw tightened harder.
He didn’t look at him.
Didn’t give him the satisfaction.
The train rattled slightly as it curved.
Outside, darkness swallowed the coastline.
Sae leaned back.
“Maybe that’s why you can’t score when it matters.”
That did it.
Rin’s breathing hitched for half a second.
But he still didn’t speak.
Instead, slowly—carefully—he pulled his headphones out of his bag.
Noise-cancelling.
A barrier.
A decision.
He put them on.
Sae glanced sideways.
“…Not even going to talk to me?”
No response.
Just silence.
Then—
Sae reached over.
Calmly.
Too calmly.
And pulled one side of the headphones off Rin’s ear.
Rin’s head snapped slightly, sharp and immediate.
Eyes narrowed.
A warning without words.
Sae didn’t react.
Instead, he looked at the device in his hand.
“Hm.”
His tone was flat.
“What kind of emo depressed stuff do you listen to?”
Rin yanked them back immediately.
Hard.
“Leave me alone.”
The words were sharp, clipped.
Controlled.
But the control was starting to thin.
“There’s noise cancellation for a reason.”
Sae didn’t answer right away.
His eyes lingered on Rin’s face instead.
Longer than usual.
Then—
“…You’re pale.”
Rin froze.
That wasn’t about football.
That wasn’t about ego.
That was observation.
Too accurate.
Too quiet.
Rin looked away.
“I’m fine.”
But the train felt louder suddenly.
Too loud.
The rhythm of motion started to shift in a way he didn’t like.
Not real. Not fully real.
Just a distortion at the edge of perception.
His grip on the seat tightened.
The overhead lights flickered once.
Then again.
His vision stuttered.
Not darkness.
Not yet.
More like the world forgetting how to stay still.
Rin blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His breath slowed without permission.
The sound of the train became distant.
Muted.
Like it was underwater.
His fingers loosened slightly.
Then stopped responding properly.
“…tch.”
He tried to straighten.
Failed.
His body felt disconnected—like it was a fraction behind his thoughts.
The window reflection looked wrong.
His own face wasn’t matching his movements.
He swallowed.
Hard.
“Not now…”
“ Please.. just not in front of him”
The words didn’t fully form.
His vision tightened at the edges.
Light stretching.
Pulling.
For a second, everything tilted sideways.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to make reality feel unreliable.
His hand moved toward his chest instinctively.
Then stopped halfway.
Frozen.
Sae noticed.
He always noticed things like that.
“…Oi.”
Rin didn’t answer.
The sound of Sae’s voice came from far away now.
Too far.
Like someone speaking through thick water.
The train rumbled.
Rin’s breathing became uneven—not fast, just… misaligned.
Like his body had forgotten the rhythm it was supposed to follow.
His head tilted slightly forward.
Eyes unfocused.
Not unconscious.
Just absent.
A break in presence.
Seconds stretched.
Then—
A small jolt.
Like something inside him reconnected.
Rin blinked sharply.
The world snapped back into place.
Sound rushed in all at once.
Light stabilized.
His fingers twitched.
He inhaled sharply, catching himself mid-fall into nothing.
“…Tch.”
He straightened immediately.
Like nothing had happened.
Like it didn’t exist.
Across from him, Sae was watching.
Quiet.
Measuring.
But he didn’t say anything.
Not yet.
Rin didn’t look at him.
Didn’t dare.
The train slowed.
Next stop approaching.
The announcement came through the speakers.
“Next stop: Kamakura.”
Sae stood first.
Rin followed a second later.
They stepped off together without speaking.
Platform air hit colder than expected.
Rin adjusted his coat instinctively, forcing his posture back into something sharp again.
Normal.
Controlled.
Sae looked around briefly, then spoke like it was the most casual thing in the world.
“Why are you here?” Rin asked
Rin frowned.
“…What?”
Sae glanced at him.
“I’m staying for two weeks. Family dinner. Mom insisted.”
A pause.
“Didn’t you know?”
Rin’s expression tightened.
“No.”
Sae shrugged slightly.
“Kamakura’s my hometown too.”
Silence.
Then Sae added, almost lazily:
“So I’m not going anywhere.”
Rin looked away.
Something in his chest sank—not emotion, not weakness.
Just timing.
Bad timing.
“…Great,” he muttered under his breath.
Sae didn’t respond.
But he walked beside him anyway.
Like it was normal.
Like nothing had ever been different.
And Rin—despite everything—didn’t speed up to leave him behind.
Not yet.