Chapter Text
THE FIRST SWAP
ISAGI
The sound of a whistle, sharp and high pitched, rang across the field, signalling the end of practice.
Players across the field started to drift apart, boots scuffing across the grass. Someone groaned dramatically as they bent over with their hands on their knees, panting hard. A ball rolled lazily towards the side lines, where Yukimiya casually stopped it under his foot. Somewhere behind Isagi, Raichi was already complaining about the last pass. Isagi stood in the middle of the field, chest rising and falling heavily and sweat clinging to the back of his neck as his eyes fixed on one player across the other side of the pitch. Kaiser walked away from the goal with his usual effortless arrogance. Strands of his blonde hair clung damp to his forehead, and his skin shimmered with a thin sheen of sweat.
How annoying.
Even more annoying was the fact that Isagi couldn’t fault any of Kaiser’s movements during the last drill. The way he cut across the field like a crack of lightning, how he slipped into the smallest of gaps like he’d seen the whole field two seconds before anyone else…
It was infuriating how perfect he was.
“You should take a picture.”
Isagi blinked out of his daze, only to find Kaiser already watching him, that infuriating smirk curled across his mouth.
“Wha-?”
“It’ll last longer.”
Kaiser scoffed like Isagi was the embarrassing one, then turned away. Isagi blinked after him for a moment before irritation prickled over his skin.
“Y-You-” Isagi called back, his hands curling into tight fists at his side, “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”
Kaiser’s shoulders shook lightly as he laughed, but he didn’t turn around.
“Bastard,” Isagi muttered under his breath and spun around with a huff.
Bachira skipped towards him, water bottle in hand and his usual playful smile spread easily across his face. “Flirting with the enemy again, Yo-chan?”
Isagi’s cheeks burned at the insinuation. “W-what?! Absolutely not.”
He snatched the bottle from Bachira and took a long sip, mostly to cover his embarrassment.
“Mmhmm,” Bachira hummed, “You were totally checking him out that entire drill.”
The water exploded out of his mouth.
“I was not!” he spluttered, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “I was watching how he plays. There’s a huge difference.”
Bachira giggled and plucked the bottle back out of Isagi’s hands, taking a long drink like he hadn’t just almost killed Isagi with his casual teasing.
***
Isagi sighed as he lay back against his pillow.
His dorm room was quiet, illuminated only by the soft amber glow of his bedside lamp. Shadows stretched across the walls, still and unfamiliar in the late hour. On his nightstand, the digital clock blinked back at him.
10:50pm.
Isagi groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. He was exhausted. His legs still ached from practice, his shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin, and he needed to be up at 5:00am for early morning training.
He should have been asleep already. Instead, his mind kept circling back to Kaiser.
That stupid smirk.
That final run during the drill.
“You should take a picture.”
Isagi’s face burned all over again.
“Bastard,” he muttered into the silence.
But no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, sleep wouldn’t come. Images of Kaiser seemed burned onto the backs of his eyelids…
The way his muscles stretched and relaxed as he ran.
The way he smirked with all the confidence in the world.
The way he’d lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, revealing the sharp cut of his abs, skin sweat-damp and gleaming beneath the afternoon sun.
Isagi’s eyes snapped open.
What. The. Fuck.
Isagi’s cheeks burned despite the fact that no one else could hear his thoughts – thank God.
It’s not romantic.
I’m just analysing his body.
For football reasons.
Obviously…
Isagi dragged a hand down his face and groaned into the empty room.
I hate him.
I hate Michael Kaiser.
And eventually, somewhere between his exhaustion and denial, sleep finally came.
***
The sound of an alarm blaring dragged Isagi forcefully out of his sleep.
Huh.
He didn’t realise he had changed the alarm tone.
Groggy and annoyed, he reached blindly for the bedside table, but his hand hit empty air. He frowned and tried again, his fingers sweeping over the bed sheets before landing on smooth wood where his phone should have been.
Nothing.
With a frustrated sigh, Isagi pushed himself upright.
And blinked at his surroundings.
His sheets were the wrong colour. The bedside table was pushed further away from the bed than usual. The walls were bare of his football posters, decorated instead with floating bookshelves stacked full of foreign titles.
Isagi went still as an unsettling realisation settled over him: This wasn’t his room.
He burst into motion all at once, hands ruffling frantically through the sheets in search of the alarm. After a few desperate seconds, his fingers closed around a phone tucked beneath the pillow. Isagi yanked it out and swiped the alarm off.
And that was when he realised that his hands were… weird.
Wrong.
He splayed his fingers out in front of his face and frowned at the nail beds that definitely didn’t belong to him – at the skin several shades paler than his usual complexion. And, even more confusingly, black ink swirled across the back of his left hand, the lines forming a crown before disappearing beneath the sleeve of his pyjama shirt.
Isagi’s stomach sunk at the sight.
Kaiser’s tattoo?
He threw the sheets off and exploded out of bed. The room lurched around him in a disoriented haze. Slowly he realised this was another Blue Lock dorm, only the layout was mirrored from his usual suite. He stumbled toward the bathroom and yanked the door open.
At the sink, he braced both hands against the ceramic, heart pounding wildly in his ears.
He didn’t want to look.
But after one deep, unsteady breath, he forced himself to lift his head.
Blue eyes stared back at him – lighter and brighter than his usual shade. Blonde hair fell across his forehead, the blue-dyed tips tickling the nape of his neck. A blue rose tattoo curled up the side of his neck.
Isagi’s breath stopped short in his chest.
Because staring back at him in the mirror, was Michael Kaiser.
“HAHHHHH?”
***
KAISER
An alarm blared beside Kaiser’s ear, shrill and relentless, cutting through the blackness of sleep and dragging him unwillingly into consciousness.
He cracked his eyes open and stared at the grey ceiling of the Blue Lock dorm. For a long moment, he just lay there. He could hardly be bothered with switching the alarm off. But then the thought of their practice game that morning surfaced through the haze of sleep, and a slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Because he’d get to play with Yoichi again.
He rolled onto his side and plunged his hand underneath his pillow, searching for his phone to switch the alarm off.
But his hand skimmed over empty sheets.
Frowning, he lifted the pillow – still nothing.
Did it fall down the back of the bed?
Kaiser slowly looked to the bedside table, where a phone beeped loudly on the wood.
Wait.
That wasn’t Kaiser’s bedside table… was it?
Kaiser’s eyes flicked up to the rest of the room, scanning quickly over the football posters lining the walls, the clothes hamper overflowing with dirty jerseys, and the small whiteboard propped against the desk, covered in messy arrows, formation notes, and half-erased names.
What the…?
Kaiser groaned.
Then paused.
Because the sound that came out of his throat was unfamiliar.
Shaking his head, he threw the covers aside and set his feet down on the cold floor. A chill seemed to run from the bottom of his feet up his spine as he stood and blinked around the unfamiliar room. He padded over to the wardrobe and threw the door open.
Then froze.
The inside of the cupboard door had a long mirror hanging over it. And the reflection that stared back at Kaiser was not his own. It was Yoichi’s – chest bare, pyjama pants hanging low on his hips, dark hair a mess from sleep. And those eyes – those deep midnight blue eyes that haunted his dreams – blinked back at him.
Kaiser lifted his hand.
And so did the reflection.
Wait…
Kaiser’s eyes widened – and so did Yoichi’s.
Oh.
My.
God.
A flurry of emotions rampaged through Kaiser’s mind as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. Shock. Confusion. Awe.
Slowly, Kaiser touched two fingers to his throat.
“I’m…” he breathed.
Yoichi’s voice slipped out of his mouth, soft and familiar and impossibly close.
Kaiser’s lips parted.
“Yoichi?”
He swallowed thickly, eyes catching on the movement in the mirror – the way Isagi’s throat bobbed beneath unfamiliar skin. Before he could help himself, his fingers drifted lower. They ghosted across Isagi’s – his? – chest, over the rise and fall of his breathing. Then lower still, over the firm muscle beneath his ribs, tracing the shape of a body Kaiser had spent far too long watching from across the field.
Damn…
A sudden banging at the dorm room door shook Kaiser out of his stupor.
“Yo-chan!” A voice called from the other side of the door, “You awake yet? We should hit the cafeteria before the Germans take all the good food again!”
Kaiser jolted into action, slamming the cupboard door closed and frantically looking around the room – for what, he wasn’t entirely sure. An answer? A clue? Somewhere to hide?
Ok.
This is fine.
Just be Yoichi.
“Uhhh,” he called back, still relishing the way Yoichi’s voice came out of his mouth, “Two seconds!”
“Huh?” The voice called, “You’re not ready yet?”
“Not yet!” Kaiser shouted back.
But the door knob was twisting anyways.
Does this idiot not lock his door?
The door swung open.
And Bachira stood in the entry way, already dressed in his kit and holding a soccer ball under one arm. He blinked at Kaiser – well, Isagi – and tilted his head slightly.
Kaiser froze under his gaze, his shoulders tensing.
Then Bachira giggled, holding a hand to his mouth.
Kaiser blinked, confused.
“Did you undress yourself in your sleep again, Yo-chan?”
Kaiser frowned.
What is he even asking me?
Then he looked down at his bare chest and pyjama pants combo. Then his eyes flickered to the bed – which was a tangled mess of sheets – where his sleep t-shirt lay discarded over the pillows.
“Uh,” he said slowly, “I guess?”
It definitely came out more like a question.
“Well hurry up and get changed, man,” Bachira chirped, stepping further into the room and throwing the wardrobe open.
The two-toned striker rummaged through the clothes and pulled out a training shirt and shorts, tossing them over his shoulder. Kaiser caught them easily and blinked down at the fabric in his hands.
They were soft.
And they smelled like Yoichi.
Bachira glanced back over his shoulder, eyes suddenly so sharp that Kaiser felt like he could see straight through Isagi’s skin to the striker currently inhabiting his friend’s body.
“You gunna stand there all day, or are you gunna get dressed?”
“Um.” Kaiser stumbled over the word, so taken aback by the situation that he couldn’t help but flounder. “Are you gunna… step out?”
Bachira tilted his head. Then burst into another fit of giggles.
“Self-conscious today, Yo-chan?”
He kept laughing, and Kaiser blinked blankly back at him.
Then Bachira’s grin faltered. “Oh,” he said, softer. “Wait, do you actually want me to?”
Kaiser stared at him. “Yes.”
“Oh!” Bachira immediately slapped both hands over his eyes and spun toward the door. “Right, right, privacy! Sorry!”
Bachira walked out of the room, still holding his hands over his eyes until the door clicked shut between them. Kaiser released a sigh of relief at the privacy then turned towards the mirror again.
“This has to be a dream, right?” he mumbled to himself. His reflection stared back at him with Yoichi’s wide, sleep-mussed eyes.
Kaiser exhaled sharply and pulled the training shirt over his head. The moment the fabric settled against him, his skin prickled. The collar scraped against the back of his neck, the tag catching at his skin in a way that was far sharper than it had any right to be. The fabric wasn’t even rough – it was soft, worn from use. It should have been comfortable.
And yet Isagi’s body reacted like it was too much.
A strange, crawling discomfort prickled down his spine.
Kaiser frowned, tugging at the collar.
Ridiculous.
It was a shirt. Yoichi wore these every day.
So why did his skin react like the fabric had teeth?
Kaiser shook his head and finished changing, careful not to look too closely at anything that wasn’t his to look at.
He stepped into the bathroom and shivered involuntarily as the cold tiles bit into the soles of his feet, sharp as electricity.
How sensitive is this body?
Kaiser gripped the edge of the sink as he stared back at his reflection – at Yoichi’s reflection – still not entirely believing that this was real. That he had woken up in Yoichi’s body.
But did that mean…?
His eyes darkened as the thought crossed his mind.
Yoichi must have woken up inside Kaiser’s body.
Kaiser brushed his teeth with renewed urgency, his movements sharp and efficient. He had to find Isagi – or more accurately, himself. He had to make sure he wasn’t being weird in Kaiser’s body. If the others found out…
Kaiser shook his head.
No way.
He wouldn’t let anyone figure it out.
There was a lot at stake here – his career, his relationships, his reputation.
His image.
Kaiser spat into the sink and looked up at the mirror. Yoichi’s face stared back at him, tense and unfamiliar.
Oh God.
The practice match.