Chapter Text
The first thing Isagi noticed about Blue Lock Academy was the fences, tall steel bars wrapped around the campus like they were expecting something to break out, or something to get in, though he wasn’t sure which idea felt worse with him.
The smell hit him after that.
Rain still clinging to concrete, fresh-cut grass from the pitches, and the constant press of too many people moving through the same air at once, layered with cologne and suppressant patches that tried and failed to cover what was underneath, until everything just blended into something heavy and hard to ignore.
It was already annoying, and he hadn’t even stepped fully inside yet.
Blue Lock Academy was the most prestigious sports school in the prefecture, which basically meant everyone here already acted like they mattered more than they actually did. Future professionals, national-level players, the kind of athletes who got treated like finished products before they’d even proven anything.
Trophy cases lined the corridors, polished so clean they almost looked unreal under the white lights, framed jerseys sitting behind glass like evidence of people who had already made it out, and names he recognised mixed with names he would probably end up memorising whether he wanted to or not.
Everyone moved through the halls with that same quiet certainty, like ranking themselves and everyone else was just part of the environment here, something as natural as breathing.
Isagi didn’t care enough to join in.
He just kept walking.
The football division was the worst of it.
Huge.
Competitive.
Violent in a way that had nothing to do with fists.
People stared here.
Measured you.
Even now, as Isagi adjusted the strap of his bag and walked through the corridor toward the changing rooms, he could feel eyes following him.
The transfer student.
The striker.
The one Ego Jinpachi personally scouted.
Whispers trailed behind him like smoke.
“That’s him?”
“He’s shorter than I expected.”
“They’re saying he scored a hat trick against his old school.”
“No way he’s better than Itoshi.”
Isagi kept his expression neutral and kept walking.
He learned a long time ago that if people sensed weakness, they dug their claws in deeper. His fingertips brushed briefly against the suppressant packet hidden inside his blazer pocket.
Still there.
Good.
Even after months, paranoia hadn’t left him.
Because all it would take was one mistake.
One missed dose.
One alpha with a good sense of smell.
And suddenly he wouldn’t just be Isagi Yoichi anymore.
He would become an omega first and a football player second.
Again.
His old school had taught him exactly how quickly that happened.
At first it had just been comments.
Jokes.
“You’re too pretty to be a striker.”
“You’d make a better mascot.”
Then came the touching.
Hands lingering too long on his shoulders after practice.
Alphas pushing pheromones at him just to watch him tense.
Blocking exits.
Laughing when he got angry.
As if his discomfort was entertainment.
As if he wasn’t a person underneath it.
By the time he finally fought back, it was already too late.
Rumours spread quickly.
The omega wannabe striker.
An omega who doesn't know its place.
An aggressive omega.
So Isagi left, well more preciesly he was saved by that 4 eyed twig, who scouted him.
He transferred schools.
Started over.
And lied.
Beta.
The word sat bitterly in his throat even now.
But it kept him safe.
Mostly.
“Yoichi! Over here!”
The tension shattered instantly as Bachira Meguru came barreling down the hallway at full speed.
Isagi barely had time to react before Bachira crashed into him dramatically, nearly sending both of them into the lockers.
“Jesus Christ- Bachira-”
“You ignored my messages.” Bachira accused, hanging off him like an oversized cat. “For three whole minutes.”
“I was in class.”
“Sounds fake.”
Isagi snorted despite himself.
Bachira grinned immediately like he’d won something.
That was the thing about Bachira.
He filled space effortlessly.
Warmth radiated off him naturally, not overwhelming the way some alphas were. His pheromones felt bright without being oppressive, subtle citrus and rainwater and something electric underneath. Easy to breathe around.
Easy to trust.
Which honestly terrified Isagi more than it should have.
Because trusting people had never exactly ended well for him.
Still-
Bachira had attached himself to Isagi within two days of his transfer and never really stopped after that.
He dragged Isagi into conversations, into lunch groups, into football drills and convenience store trips and chaotic late-night messages about impossible goals he wanted them to recreate someday.
And somehow, despite Isagi trying very hard not to, he’d started relaxing around him, in fact, he was greatful.
Just a little.
Isagi had his walls up after what happened when he trusted people at his old school.
He’d trusted someone once.
That had been enough.
God, that fucker still haunts him even when he's not around.
It wasn't always like this.
He's the reason.
He's the reason everything went to shit.
The reason he had to endure all of that.
“Earth to Yoichi?” Bachira poked his cheek. “You’re zoning out again.”
Isagi snapped back to reality.
“Sorry.”
He forced the memory down before it could settle properly.
“You nervous?”
Things will to be fine now.
“No.”
The lie came automatically.
Because the truth was standing outside on the pitch.
Itoshi Rin.
Even from the second-floor hallway window, he stood out immediately.
Dark hair damp with sweat beneath the cloudy afternoon sky. Black compression sleeves rolled to his forearms. Shoulders sharp and straight with the kind of posture that screamed don’t fucking touch me.
And those eyes.
Those sharp green eyes.
Piercing.
The rest of the team naturally orbited around him without realizing it.
Although Rin wasn't the type to entertain conversation, there was still something about him that pulled attention effortlessly.
Quiet. Unavoidable.
After all, it was Rin Itoshi.
Captain.
Top scorer.
Alpha.
Monster.
Rin stood near midfield listening to Ego rant about offensive formations with an expression so blank it somehow became intimidating.
Then he moved.
Just slightly.
Adjusting his stance.
And Isagi’s breath caught embarrassingly hard.
Because watching Itoshi Rin move felt wrong.
Too smooth.
Too precise.
Like every action had already been calculated six steps ahead.
Beautiful.
That was the worst part.
Rin played football so fucking beautifully.
Not joyfully.
Not freely like Bachira.
Rin played like he was starving.
Every sprint looked desperate for something.
Every goal felt violent.
Watching him was like standing too close to a thunderstorm and realizing too late you wanted to be struck by it.
“You’re staring again,” Bachira sang.
“I’m literally not.”
“You totally are.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
Before Isagi could respond, Ego’s whistle shrieked across the field loud enough to make half the students flinch.
“Quit flirting and get on the pitch!”
“We’re not flirting!” Isagi shouted automatically, his ear striking red.
Several first years nearby turned to look.
Bachira burst into hysterical laughter.
And from across the field-
Rin glanced up.
Only for a second.
Still, Isagi felt it immediately.
Sharp green eyes slid over him slowly.
Assessing.
Cold.
Interested despite themselves.
Then Rin clicked his tongue and looked away like Isagi had already annoyed him somehow.
Weirdo, Isagi thought.
Which would’ve been a lot more convincing if his heartbeat hadn’t suddenly kicked against his ribs.
The whistle snapped again, sharper this time, cutting clean through the damp air hanging over the pitch.
“Form up. Now.”
Ego Jinpachi didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The entire field shifted the moment he spoke, like gravity had subtly tilted in his direction and everyone else was just trying not to fall off.
Isagi dropped from the walkway with the rest of the team, cleats hitting wet turf with a dull, satisfying thud. The grass was still slick from earlier rain, dark green and heavy under the floodlights that had already begun to flicker on despite the afternoon sky still being faintly grey.
Everything at Blue Lock felt like it was already halfway to night.
Like time didn’t matter here.
Only results.
“New formation trial,” Ego announced, hands in his pockets like this was all mildly inconvenient rather than life-defining. “I don’t care about your positions, your pride, or your little high school reputations.”
A pause.
His gaze swept across them.
Cold. Precise. Unfriendly in a way that felt almost surgical.
“Only goals.”
Some of the players shifted.
Nagi yawned loudly like he was being personally offended by the concept of effort, although as soon as he saw Reo move, of course he trailed right behind him, like a puppy eagerly obeying his master. Isagi had thought it was weird at first. Nagi's not one to say much, however, his friend Reo stood out. He was a Mikage after all, and Mikage's flock to the spotlight. So what was someone like him doing letting that lazy alpha orbit around him, and whilst he was at it, look like he enjoyed it a bit too much. Isagi didn't dislike Reo, in fact he thought he was a pretty decent guy. But he was an omega. He didn't hide it. Of course no one would dare to touch a hair on his head, that Mikage name acted as an invisible shield, and Nagi was a not so invisible one.
Isagi often caught himself thinking, what if it was like that for me.
Fuck it would have been so much easier.
But it wasn't like that for him, it never would be.
He has no shield.
Rin didn’t move at all.
Of course he didn’t.
He just stood there like the world had already been filtered down into a calculation only he could solve.
Isagi found himself looking again before he could stop it.
That was becoming… annoying.
Ego raised a hand slightly.
“Rin Itoshi. Forward line. As usual.”
Rin didn’t react.
“As expected,” Ego continued, almost bored. “You’ll be paired with…”
His eyes drifted.
Just slightly.
And landed.
On Isagi.
A beat of silence.
It wasn’t dramatic. Ego never did drama. But something about the pause made Isagi’s stomach tighten anyway, like he’d just been stepped onto a stage without being told the script.
“Isagi Yoichi.”
A few heads turned.
Whispers immediately followed like sparks catching dry grass.
“Oh, he’s with Rin?”
“That’s brutal.”
“Transfer guy vs captain already?”
Isagi exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his expression into something neutral.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
Ego’s mouth tilted faintly, like he was enjoying something only he could see.
“Try not to get swallowed up.”
That was it.
No further explanation.
No comfort.
Just a sentence dropped like a weight and left there to sink.
Rin’s eyes finally moved.
Straight to Isagi.
Not surprised.
Not impressed.
Just… sharp.
Measuring.
Like Isagi had just been placed in front of him as a problem to solve rather than a person to acknowledge.
Great.
Perfect.
Exactly the kind of teammate who looked like he’d argue with gravity if it slowed him down.
Isagi adjusted his stance slightly, rolling his shoulders back.
Fine.
If Ego wanted this, then-
He’d just have to prove he wasn’t the one getting swallowed.
The drill started fast.
Too fast for most people.
Balls were already being fired across the pitch before anyone had fully settled into position, the sound of leather striking turf echoing like gunfire under floodlights.
Bachira laughed somewhere to his left, immediately sprinting into chaos like he’d been personally invited by it.
Nagi barely reacted until the ball literally arrived at his feet and even then looked mildly annoyed that it had bothered him.
And Rin-
Rin moved like the field had opened specifically for him.
First touch: clean.
Second: gone.
He didn’t dribble so much as erase distance.
Every movement forward was direct, efficient, almost brutal in how little hesitation there was. Defenders didn’t get beaten so much as dismissed.
Isagi felt it immediately.
That pressure.
That suffocating certainty.
So this is Itoshi Rin up close.
Not from the hallway.
Not from the stands.
But on the same pitch.
It hit differently.
Rin wasn’t flashy like Bachira, wasn’t chaotic like Shidou, wasn’t relaxed like Nagi.
He was controlled violence.
A straight line to the goal that didn’t care who existed in the way.
Isagi’s fingers curled slightly inside his gloves.
…fine.
Then I’ll cut into that line.
The ball came loose.
Just once.
A loose deflection off a tackle, spinning into open space near midfield.
For half a second, no one moved.
Then Isagi did.
He didn’t think.
He never really did in moments like this.
He just saw.
Space.
Angle.
Pressure points shifting across the field like invisible threads.
And he ran.
“Isagi’s going for it!” someone called out.
Rin noticed instantly.
Of course he did.
Isagi felt it like heat on the back of his neck-those eyes locking in, sharp and immediate, like a predator finally deciding something was worth chasing.
A second later, Rin moved too.
Faster.
Cleaner.
The distance between them collapsed with alarming speed.
Isagi’s lungs tightened.
Not fear.
Something closer to… pressure.
Good.
He smirked.
He pushed harder.
The ball bounced once.
Twice.
Rin closed in from the right side, cutting off the obvious lane without even looking like he’d made a decision. It just… happened. Like the field adjusted itself around him.
Isagi clicked his tongue.
Annoying.
He shifted left.
A fraction.
Just enough to suggest one direction-
Then cut the opposite way.
Rin reacted instantly.
Too instantly.
But-
Isagi was already through.
For a split second, space opened.
Clean.
Perfect.
Goal line in sight.
The world narrowed down to a single frame.
Strike.
Isagi shot.
The sound cracked across the pitch.
Clean direct shot.
Fast enough to blur.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Even Ego’s voice didn’t interrupt it.
Then the ball hit the net.
Silence.
A fraction longer than it should’ve been.
And then-
Noise exploded.
Somewhere behind him, Bachira screamed something incomprehensible in pure excitement.
Kunigami exhaled like he’d just witnessed something inconveniently impressive.
Nagi blinked slowly like he was trying to decide if that counted as effort.
And Rin-
Rin stood still.
Not clapping.
Not reacting.
Just staring at the net like it had personally offended him.
Isagi landed lightly from his follow-through, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual.
Then he looked back.
And met Rin’s eyes again.
This time, there was no distance.
No hallway.
No crowd.
Just the pitch between them.
And something unspoken tightening the space like a pulled wire.
Rin clicked his tongue.
Low.
Sharp.
Almost annoyed enough to be interesting.
“…lukewarm,” he muttered.
Isagi smiled without thinking.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
Then, softer-
“Try to keep up, Itoshi.”
Isagi smirks.
Of course he did. He couldn’t fucking help it.
For the first time since he’d arrived at Blue Lock Academy
Rin’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Like something inside him had finally decided Isagi was no longer background noise.
He turned away.
But not before Isagi caught it.
That flicker.
Interest.
Challenge.
Something dangerously close to recognition.
And the worst part was-
Isagi felt it too.