Chapter Text
Yesterday a hole had opened
Right in the middle of my chest for all to see
- Hole in the Heart (Rachie)
Spring is slipping away when the haze over his mind begins to lift. Isagi groggily awakes to the stream of sunlight through his window. Thinking his first clear thought in months, it’s morning.
What an insurmountable chore. Body sore all over, eyes crusted over with the residues of hypersomnia.
Practice must have tired him out… the natural effects of battling everyday toe-to-toe with an ego monster the size of his own.
Lightning fast, royal blue rat tails flash beneath his eyelids, followed by a memory of immense pain.
He, that Bastard must have—he must have done something, Isagi grits his teeth. The dull pain (It’s been here the entire time, he muses) flares up as his brain attempts to block its resurgence.
His hands fists into his old undershirt, right above his palpitating heart. He must have. Something is intrinsically wrong.
His body begins to react, hand beginning to shake until his grip capitulates and collapses by his side.
It hurts to think. It hurts to think it hurts. It hurts to think when all he’s led back to, is the gaping hole inside his chest.
Blurring eyes veer to look outside, through the window that awoke him. Dim strands of light through barely resisting curtains he had surely forgotten to close, alongside the room he hadn’t bothered to clean in months, nor the nails he had the energy to clip.
Cherry Blossoms outside his childhood home have begun to bud, brown nubs wriggling with life.
The tree had been there ever since he had been little. Every year without fail, they would bloom in Isagi’s backyard, where in the span of 2 weeks his house would be engulfed in a sea of pale pink petals.
Pressing his tiny cheeks to the window in anticipation, his love for them only grew when his parents had taught him over their various meanings: renewal, hope and, the fleeting nature of life.
He did not know which cut more, irony or truth.
For this year, he drowned in them.
“Kaiser, you Bastard.”
“Yoichi! You bastard!” Kaiser screeched, his voice sounding shriller than normal. Isagi fondly rolled his eyes.
“What shitty Emperor? I’m telling the truth” Isagi huffed out indignantly, was it that hard to grasp? And anyways it was freezing out here, he stuffed his hands deeper into his borrowed trenchcoat, because of course Kaiser owned several overpriced cashmere pairs.
“How can you not like dogs?” Kaiser tone filled with faux-disgust as he glared up from his kneeling position in front of him, hands carding uncharacteristically delicately through the stray’s fur.
“The strays can be sweet you know. At least they’re less feral than you on the field, shitty Yoichi.”
Isagi did have to admit the stray was well-behaved, and cute even. Its shaggy blonde fur seemed soft and approachable.
Maybe Kaiser’s words did have some merit… Ignoring the other’s smug look he slowly extended out his hand.
A low growling noise suddenly sounded out before his hand made contact.
“Ha! Prinsje doesn’t like you much Yoichi.” Isagi scoffed at the sickly sweet tone.
“Dogs are not known for good taste Kaiser. They literally eat everything so they must not be picky if they’re nice to trash like you.” He bites back.
“Funny dear Yoichi. Pass the dog food will you.” As he began to shuffle around until his cashmere back faced Isagi, ignoring the ‘mouthy clown’ once more.
A pinch of annoyance pricked Isagi, as he passed over the bag of Royal Canine (of course Kaiser had bought the most expensive option). What was so good about strays that Kaiser needed to ignore him? He locked eyes with ‘Prinsje’s’ sly beady eyes, and stuck out his tongue.
“I thought you would be too proud to kneel Emperor” Eyeing Kaiser as he began to feed the stray directly out of his gloved hand for goodness sake! “Isn’t he fat enough?”
Judging by his pudgy size, thick fur, and familiarity Prinsje seemed to be well-fed by Kaiser regularly.
Seemingly having heard him, the stray locked eyes and growled at him before throwing himself at the food once more.
Isagi sighs, and averts his gaze to watch Kaiser instead, (both have similar hair color and prissy attitudes towards Yoichi…)
Without even looking back, “You wouldn’t understand. And don’t worry even while kneeling you remain the Clown.”
Prinsje barks three times in rapid succession like agreement, short stubby tail whacking enthusiastically against his behind. Kibble falls from his mouth, as Kaiser rubs his head fondly.
“See Yoichi, this little Prince knows who’s the King here.” He turns and gets up, smirking in Isagi peripheral as he rolls eyes once more. “See you later Prinsje” who barks back in goodbye before waddling down the alley once more.
A bony elbow makes contact with Isagi’s stomach. “Don’t be rude, you clown.” Reluctantly, Isagi waves to Prinsje's fading silhouette “...bye.”
“Come on Yoichi, let’s head back to my place. I need you to return my coat so I can wash and disinfect it.” Kaiser half-heartedly sneers in his direction, but the lightness of the shared evening and their warmth melt his cold act.
Isagi is not immune either, as he hands over his unworn glove. “The only thing that needs disinfecting is your glove. It’s covered in dog slobber!” He glances down at Kaiser’s ruined glove.
Isagi can’t decipher Kaiser’s stare as his hand is outstretched. "Kings have no need for the gifts of peasants.” Isagi continues to rest his gaze on him, just looking.
Kaiser snatches the glove “However, luckily for you, I’m feeling in a generous mood.” He clutches it tightly in his left hand. “Be grateful.”
The fleeting heat of Kaiser's hands danced across his now empty palm, tingling in warmth.
Maybe because of the cold, or the winter break. Made him miss the razor-heat, all encompassing intensity they traded on the field, because Isagi's body moves him forward.
Right into Kaiser space, where Isagi can count the eyelashes of his baffled face.
Fingers gently tugs off the slobber covered glove, hiding the evidence deep into his own coat pocket. Holding one bare hand in his, Isagi’s heart speeds up.
Ignoring it, he uses his other hand to unfurl Kaiser’s white knuckled grip and slip the clean glove onto his uncovered hand.
He doesn’t acknowledge the distance (or lack thereof) between them. Kaiser doesn’t either.
Because what is this, other than an extension of the gravity between them on the field, pulling them closer together at terminal velocity even now.
Maybe they were both clowns for feeling surprised, afterall this was the most natural outcome like a pendulum they were always drawn back to each other by gravity.
“Thank you for cooperating.” Isagi mumbles, soft breath puffing into the cold.
Kaiser’s returning stare is indecipherable, his eyes are a wall Isagi hopes to read one day. But for now, he can only hope Kaiser decides to let him know.
His eyes continue to stare, as Isagi becomes awkwardly aware they are still holding hands, clearing his throat he steps back.
Nearly tripping, and cheeks burning, Isagi flounders to steer this encounter towards safer waters, “Nothing? Has the day come for the great King to put his stubbornness away?”
Kaiser blinks and the moment is broken. Catching himself, as a sneer forms on his face “I could’ve done that myself, but good to see you know your place Yoichi.” (My place is next to you, he thinks) That thought remains unsaid like so many others, he becomes weary.
The frigid cold chips away at his patience, the wall he had been trying so hard to keep.
It makes Isagi want. It makes him want to be honest. The nipping wind feels like icy splinters against his bare hand, oppressive and weighing.
They begin to return once more to the safety of their cat-and-mouse game. A niggling itch stops him from settling in fully. Unable to bring himself to return to his superficial skin.
Steam lifts from Kaiser’s breath, dissipating into the air as he speaks. Flying away to a place where Isagi can’t capture it, store it in a jar, in hopes of preserving the simple uptick of his face.
The warmth of his face reminds Isagi of their (previously) conjoined hands. Melts away at the part of his brain that tells him to just stop.
Melts away all his reservations, all the complications, all the ‘we cants’ until they drip with unspoken hopes, faraway and sweet.
Until their simple stroll, side-by-side back to Kaiser’s apartment, collapses back into a need to link their hands once more. An impossible dream of something more.
Their mindless bickering reaches a lull as they reach the entryway of the apartment.
“Just keep it shitty Yoichi. I would have likely burned it anyway, now that you’ve stained it with your touch.” Kaiser laughs, pleased at his own jibe.
Isagi shakes his head fondly, a grin tugging at his face. “Alright you shitty Emperor. I guess I need to save you again, so that you don’t accidentally burn down your house.”
Their conversation settles as Isagi takes this as his cue to turn around, getting ready to leave before Kaiser calls out to him in a rare instance.
As they often tend to do, their eyes inevitably lock once more. A storm seems to whip inside Kaiser’s dark eyes, and for a minute, Isagi dares to hope that the tide between them will recede and give in to something more.
“Yoichi, do you know why I loved winter?” Isagi knew it was his favorite season (the things you research about your rival…) but why now?
Isagi shakes his head softly, staying silent in fear of startling Kaiser's unusually soft tone.
“I.” Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. “I thought it was because the loneliness suited me.” Isagi feels his eyes widening slightly, the reaction seems to encourage him to keep going because Kaiser continues.
“For the longest time I enjoyed it too.” Kaiser gazes break away, “But I’m starting to see that spring isn’t so bad.”
Isagi smiles softly, the air between them both charged and soft, as he hears the unspoken meaning behind his words.
Kaiser’s darting gaze incrementally settles, snapping up at the sound of his voice.
“I understand. Happy Birthday, Kaiser.”
Now it’s Kaiser’s turn to widen his eyes, his mouth gapes a little. “Goodnight shitty Emperor.” He says before he begins to walk away.
Kaiser opens his mouth to say something, but Isagi rushes out.
He needed to get out of here before Kaiser’s icy eyes or frosty words could dissect the meaning behind those words (Isagi hadn’t even know what they had meant…)
He did not intend to find out what Kaiser would have said. As the apartment’s lobby door clicks open to the street.
“Goodnight Yoichi.” He hears faintly, before a door softly clicks shut in the distance.
Emerging back into the frigid December air, Isagi curses himself as a coward. Even then, he’d been unable to do anything.
Yet again, he is left only with a phantom of what could be. Kaiser’s cashmere coat enveloped him in a bubble of warmth, merely an infantile imitation of its owner's true warmth.
Isagi could only settle for knowledge of his scent, the memory of his warmth, just never the real thing.
Lowering his head he begins to wander down the street, this time alone. Pressing the walkway signal, he watches the red flicker into green before stepping onto the street.
He nearly makes it to the other side of the road before he hears a frantic call, “Yoichi, wait!”
An unexpected voice calling out his name? The familiarity still rang in his ear, it hadn’t even been 5 minutes.
Isagi looks up, knowing without a doubt the eyes he would see. Kaiser’s blue eyes meet his.
He’d never seen this look in them before. Where an ember safe and timid burned previously, was now a spark ready to ignite the forest of uncertainty and doubt.
Michael Kaiser and Isagi Yoichi share a glance for the last time before everything goes dark.
Isagi ends up alone in Japan. Doctors declared it nothing short of a miracle, and discharged him with minimal injuries.
Nothing career-ending, nothing permanent, even all the scars would end up fading away.
As if it were the dregs of a terrible nightmare that would flutter away with every blink.
Too normal. Physically, he would walk away without any long-lasting scars.
His body, in a too ‘perfect’ state ringing in dissonance with the heart, soul and mind that rested within.
Forgetting the nightmare, only to jolt wake up and find a new awaiting.
Because by all outward measures, he still looked frozen in time as a Japanese striker playing for Bastard Munchen.
However, Isagi Yoichi, all of what he was, had transmutated. Someone else was left behind with the mess. Desperately trying to stitch up an unpatchable, gaping hole.
Wound too fresh, too large to stop the oozing of thick black sludge, drip, drip, dripping, onto his dragging feet.
Leaving behind a phantasm, walking dead. Amputated of something without a name, a thing he had just started to comprehend.
His parents had tried. They brought him back to Japan, in hopes that the familiar sights and sounds would ignite happier memories.
Wide arms welcomed him back into his childhood room. Anything better than staying in Germany.
Foolishly sleepwalking through a month of mundane, and empty days. Isagi finally realizes that there is no such thing as a ‘better’ location.
Even over 9000 kilometers away, he is still haunted.
Uprooting himself from the bed, Isagi makes his way padding softly into the living room. A fragile veneer of apathy settling, like dust on a forgotten mantle.
His parents stand behind the kitchen island, whispers and hushed voices being exchanged across the counter. Only after seeing Isagi approaching, do they turn to meet his gaze.
“We have Kintsuba if you would like my Dear.” His mother’s voice soothes, sliding forward a plate.
“We know it’s your favorite Yoichi, why don’t we share some together?” His father adds, as Iyo Isagi rests a hand on her husband's shoulder, eyes rising kindly.
Isagi weakly shakes his head, meeting his fathers gaze with the intention of politely letting him down.
Blue eyes a shade lighter than Issei Isagi’s stare back. He swallows hard, throat spasming around lost words.
“Yoichi, your father and I wanted to revisit our conversation. Would you think of reconsidering?” Her hand slides something over.
The white envelope sticks out sorely on top of the black countertop. Even without opening it, he knew what was inside.
“We think you should attend,” Someone says, “—a ticket to Germany…” Voices swim in and out like tides, as Isagi’s gaze burns a hole through the inconspicuous paper.
“I’ll go” He finds himself saying, his hoarse voice breaking through. The voices pause as his parents look at each other, embracing him.
Compressed between them, Isagi felt the shattered pieces of his heart compress back together.
Grooved edges clacking together imperfectly, forming unfinished pictures. Different than before, and not enough to be whole, but enough to face the funeral.
It feels surreal, being back. Isagi had wandered the streets for hours before the service.
Scattered across Munich, were specters and wisps of his presence. Isagi thought facing them would harden himself for the inevitable blow.
Like calluses that form after repeated exposure, as the body learns to protect itself for the next blow.
But Michael Kaiser was always so much greater than the sum of his parts.
The blow comes softly, a dagger inching its way deeper and deeper into his heart.
The turnout is modest, a handful of people that initially had been a bit of a shock to Isagi, he’d always known that the bastard had a tendency to push people away.
Nevertheless, Isagi spots many familiar faces among the crowd, Ness, Noel Noa, Lorenzo, the Bastard players, Chigiri and a few others from Blue Lock, and oddly enough even Itoshi Sae.
There are no tears, no dramatics when they lower his casket into the ground. Drops of dew and rain patter onto the dark oak surface.
The atmosphere is tense and silent with shock.
His presence burned larger than life, with such passion and vitriol that no one could believe it had been snuffed out.
Death was always tragic, but the silence felt wrong. For the Emperor, the curtain had fallen only half way through the show.
Now in the ground, buried under layers of moist earth was a shell of man that was robbed of the chance to grow.
After the service, Isagi finds himself gravitating towards last living remembrances of Kaiser, to the people who shared the burden of memory.
Unsurprisingly, Ness finds Isagi first. The wind catches on his purple scarf billowing in the wind.
Purple eyes and blue eyes too dark to be his. What could he say that had not already been said?
How does one even begin to soothe such pain and loss? Especially to Ness, who sometimes placed Kaiser on a pedestal so high, that the idea of a fall became inconceivable.
A position so far away that the simple realities of death could not touch. Isagi, too, was guilty of this.
Ness manages to collect himself first, “I’ve always loved magic. In my childhood I chased it, even when my own family scorned me for it.”
“Ness…” Isagi is unsure where he was going with this.
“I never found it. Until I met him.” Ness pauses, “Kaiser’s football on the field was the magic I had been pursuing. Never before had I seen it so I dedicated myself to him.” Tears well in Ness’s eyes, unable to continue.
“And now he’s gone.” Isagi ends.
Ness manages to collect himself, eyes focusing on Isagi as takes him in for the first time.
“That isn’t yours” he states like a fact, eyeing the coat Isagi had mindlessly wrapped around himself.
His only means of warmth in this cold city, one he found buried at the bottom of his suitcase.
He’d almost forgotten.
Isagi could only stare blankly at the borrowed Cashmere coat, as Ness’s fingers traced the lines of the fabric.
“You should keep it. He would want you too.” The unshed tears heavy in his eyes finally fell, hands clutched tightly onto his coat lapels. Isagi begins to protest, Ness interjects.
“I was with him when he bought it. On a weekend trip in Munich. I knew how much he hated bougie pisces like these. Yet he insisted on getting it.” Ness’s bottom lip began to waver.
“It was always small things like these, hidden so well you don’t realize what it meant until it’s gone.” The dam breaks, streams of tears falling from Ness’s face.
“I know. I’m glad he had you though.” (You had him for far longer than I ever did) Isagi can’t help but think bitterly.
Ness hiccups, eyes becoming wistful, “Yeah, I’ll always be grateful for those years by his side. But something changed after he went to Japan. I’m sure of it now.”
“Become more egotistical you mean? I’m sure Blue Lock helped him out there.” Isagi instinctively frowns, unable to bring himself to fall-back into humor.
Ness doesn’t even seem to be listening, instead mumbling under his breath about magic and second chances and animals.
Isagi took that as his sign to leave, heading back to stand before the fresh mound of dirt and headstone, standing at Sae Itoshi’s side.
“He had a complicated past.” He said without turning. Isagi was confused at this line of conversation (the only constant right now).
“If you mean the thing with his father, then yeah, I know.”
“No. You really don’t. You couldn't Isagi, you have a loving family afterall” Sae paused, thinking, “But, I think for you, he was willing to move forward.”
“...What do you mean?”
“You don’t forget about a childhood like that, it lives on in you, in every word you say, in every choice you make.” Sae’s eyes become distant, pondering.
“You think you’re ready to move on, to be better than the ones that hurt you. Prove them wrong.”
Understanding lights up in Isagi.
“And for Kaiser that was soccer.”
“It seems I underestimated you, you do understand somewhat. Yes, I think soccer was Michael’s rebellion against his father.”
“He spited him with his success. But you’re saying that I stopped that somehow?”
“You destroyed him, Isagi Yoichi.”
His words come out as accusing to Isagi, striking a nerve he didn’t even know he had. The feeling bursts as he interjects with a raised voice.
“ —And you’re saying that helped him somehow?! I know we were enemies, Sae but seriously!”
Sae places a hand lightly on his shoulder, an ice pack on a burn, instantly tempering his rage (because aren’t rage and loss hand in hand?).
“You rebuilt him, Isagi. Your defeat of him forced him to confront his reason for playing. You changed it from being about survival, about rage. I think for the first time in a long time, he played to defend his love of soccer.”
In an instant, Isagi’s rage and loss deflate out of him, leaving him hollow and empty.
“What am I supposed to do with that now that he’s gone, Sae? Could I have done something?” His voice comes out pleading, lost.
Sae must see something in his eyes, because his voice softens.
“You did enough Yoichi, you made his life more than about his father, maybe even about soccer. It was a great gift that you shared with him. Continue on. Keep playing like he’s still by your side.”
Isagi has no idea what to do with those words, doesn't know if he can do them.
His insecurity and uncertainty translates into defensiveness. He can’t help but question Sae, a man of notoriously little words, much less kind ones.
“How would you even know all of this? You didn’t even talk to him outside of the New Gen 11.”
Sae’s lips turn up just barely. Isagi distantly realizes he must have been the first person to see the elder Itoshi smile.
Upon closer inspection, the smile is self-depricating and faraway (was he also in Japan).
“Contrary to popular belief, he and I were not so different.”
He realizes this is as much as a confession he will ever get, as much as anyone, including Rin has ever gotten. (Michael Kaiser the man that you are…)
A sudden flash of empathy for the Itoshi brother strikes him.
“Surely Kaiser must be laughing at us. He does have a talent for making us confront the worst parts of ourselves.”
A bark of laughter surprises Isagi.
“Is that right? Is that why everyone seems to hate him? Is that why you ‘hated’ him, Yoichi?”
Isagi has no answer for that, which Sae takes as his sign to continue, shutting out all of his previous vulnerability.
“He was a creature that liked to expose the worst in people. In his eyes, everyone would bite back. Everyone, except Ness, and then you. What made you so special, Isagi?”
Sae meant it as a rhetorical question, as if he already knew the answer and thought it was obvious.
Isagi wants to ask because he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t ever get to know. What made him so special?
The answer has already walked away with Sae, who may have gone off pondering to solve his own glaring issues, but Isagi highly doubts it.
Standing all alone, Isagi realizes where he is still standing. He decides to take one out of Sae’s book and leave as well.
In front of the headstone, his shoes had left deep indents in the dirt.
They flash in his head. He starts walking the streets, anywhere, everywhere to get away from them.
Black dress shoes clack against Munich’s pavements.
He finds himself wandering once more, because deep down, his body knows where it needs to go.
Isagi isn’t surprised that he ended up in front of Kaiser’s (old) apartment. It was where the pain was freshest, the bite of a memory fades into his mind’s eye
He was always a bit of a masochist.
Standing, Isagi finds himself at a loss. He can’t bring himself to enter the premises, doomed to stand forever here instead.
He doesn’t seem to be alone, however. A familiar presence rests on top of the stone steps leading up to the building.
Prinsje raises his head in greeting, stubby tail whacking the floor. Unbidden, Isagi reaches out to scratch his forehead not expecting the stray to accept his touch.
Uncharacteristically, Prinsje accepts his light touch. He simpers up at Isagi with glittering eyes, who is reminded of a fact he heard that dogs can sense the sadness of others.
Maybe Prinsje felt bad for him, maybe he too felt the absence of Kaiser, realizing that the man who usually fed him had been gone far longer than usual.
Done with his touch the dog rises, beginning to sniff at Isagi’s (really Kaiser’s) coat.
He must sense something because his nose bumps into a low hanging pocket. He barks twice in succession and stares up at Isagi expectantly.
Falling for the pressure he fishes around in his pocket, not expecting to touch something cold and metal inside.
Magically in his hands is a ring with two keys attached, conveniently a label is stuck to one of them, it reads ‘Munich apt.’
“You…? How?” he questions, staring in disbelief at the still smiling dog.
Prinsje says nothing, of course. Isagi decides to test his theory and inserts the key into the keyhole. The door clicks open.
A flood of memories rushes into his head, his knees become weak and breaths short. He isn’t sure if he can cross the threshold.
Prinsje has no such reservations, carefreely strutting into the apartment.
Isagi rushes after him, aware the Kaiser’s apartment had a strict no pet policy.
In his haste to stop him he ends up scooping up the pudgy creature, aware his weight is lighter than the last time he held him.
(One day after dragging Isagi after practice, Kaiser had suddenly pushed him into his arms, which admittedly neither Isagi or the dog found amusing)
As much as he hates to admit it, the weight in his arms grounds him and unfreezes his limbs, allowing Isagi to make his way deeper into the building.
Oddly enough Prinsje sits perfectly still in his arms as he continues all the way to the front door.
He rests his hands on the edges of trim, slowly inhaling and exhaling. Prinsje starts wriggling in his arms, whining at Isagi to get his attention.
“I know boy, just give me a moment” He seems to understand, and quiets down.
Isagi and Prinsje stand there quietly, as his ears strain to make out the muffled sounds of the streets.
When he feels slightly more settled, he inserts the key and pushes the door open. A plume of dust greets him, Prinsje sneezes in his arms, head and snout rattling.
The door clicks shut behind him, as Isagi sets Prinsje down.
A glass vase sits on the kitchen counter, the flowers inside have long withered. Dried petals litter the surrounding area, he can barely make out their blue tint.
Unnamed emotions well up inside him. Once upon a time he dyed those flowers for Kaiser, and now they were dead. (Just like him)
The memory of that night hits him with the force of a truck.
…I wanna forget but I’m swallowed in blue
And all I can see through that blue is you
- Hole in the Heart (Rachie)