Chapter Text
“You’re ripe for the plucking, Yoichi.”
The fierce thudding of his heart crescendos in his ears. Adrenaline fills him as a fervor begins to overtake him, pulsing hot in his veins. His eyes stare at the large display of monitors in front of him: Isagi’s receive from the Manshine City game, his physical and mental stats, his ball control and play view and positioning and trapping-
His metallic-blue eyes, sharp and piercing and beautiful. Dark hair fluttering around him as he sprinted across the field. Sweat beading down soft, supple skin, flushed from exertion-
Kaiser grins. Teeth bared and gritted.
“I’ll hunt you. And pluck you. And kill you!”
***
There’s a week until the next game against Italy’s Ubers.
Kaiser’s eyes track Isagi as he moves around the gym, surrounded by his gaggle of irrelevant Blue Lock commoners. They’re chatting about “evolutions” and ways to up their skill levels before the next game -- not that it’ll help any of them much. So far, the only thing worth his time since coming to Blue Lock has been Isagi Yoichi. He’s grown beyond all of his expectations.
He wonders what Isagi will try next -- all his futile attempts to take his throne. No matter what he does, Isagi continues to oppose him, standing before him with resolve in his eyes. He’s broken his spirit countless times, and yet, he keeps getting back up to face each wall like a new puzzle to solve.
Kaiser smirks to himself. It’ll be so sweet when he finally crushes those dreams in the palms of his hands.
Oh, the look of absolute despair on Isagi’s face will be like honey on his tongue.
He can see Isagi’s own gaze stray towards him. His eyes narrow, shooting him a severe glare, before he looks away with a huff.
It makes satisfaction curl in his stomach -- all the reactions he can pull from Isagi so easily.
Isagi’s already sweating, bangs sticking to his forehead, as he finishes up his weight training. All the Blue Lock players look exhausted, guzzling down water and half-heartedly wiping away sweat with their towels. Isagi’s physical abilities are pathetic. It’s honestly a miracle he’s able to do what he can do on the field.
Kaiser is contemplating between continuing to observe from afar and approaching Isagi to mock him when it happens.
It’s a freak accident. And it happens in slow motion before Kaiser’s eyes.
Someone tosses a sweaty towel on the ground just as Isagi steps forward. Someone flails around in all the commotion. Someone forgets to clamp their plates down on the bar they were using to do squats. Someone pushes against it, sending the setup careening into the ground.
And what’s about to occur plays out before his eyes like seeing flashes of a film strip.
Blood pooling around dark hair. Nimble fingers, twitching and then going still. Yoichi’s glassy eyes.
Something stutters in his chest. For a single, startling second, with the pressure rattling through his ribcage, it feels as though he can’t breathe. Like a riptide dragging him down into murky waters or a bag caught tight around his head. Or his own rough hands like a noose around his neck.
Kaiser isn’t even sure how it happens. It’s as though he’d blinked and suddenly, he was right beside Isagi.
His muscles strain as he catches the plate out of the air before it hits him. But there’s not enough time to reach out and catch Isagi too.
Kaiser’s stomach plummets to the ground as Isagi's head hits the floor with a sickening crack. His fingers turn white as his grip tightens around the plate.
The silence in the gym is overwhelming. The Blue Lock players all stare at each other, eyes impossibly wide. And then it hits them.
“Woah! So strong.”
“What- how’d you get over here so fast?! You were on the other side of the room!”
“Man, that is some crazy grip strength.”
“That plate weighs like 45 pounds!”
Kaiser scowls, quickly setting the plate down safely on the nearest bench. “Shut the fuck up, you shits. You morons almost killed Yoichi.”
A pause. And then it hits them again.
“Ah, Isagi! Are you alright?”
“Nice going, Igaguri. You just had to toss your towel on the ground.”
“Hey! I’m not the one who left their weights unclamped.”
“Isagi, uh- you good?”
Kaiser’s scowl deepens as he crouches down next to Isagi. “You’re all fucking idiots. He’s knocked out.”
Kurona turns towards the door, already beginning to run as he calls out, “I’m going to get Anri! She’ll be able to help. Help!”
Yukimiya looks through the cabinets on the wall, quickly finding a first aid kit. They all crouch down beside Kaiser as they huddle around Isagi’s unmoving body.
He’s clearly breathing, which is a good start. But he’s got a terrible-looking cut going across the side of his head, mostly obscured by his hair which is sticky with blood.
Hiori grabs a clean cloth from the kit and applies pressure to the wound.
Isagi is just so… motionless. It’s strange. Unsettling.
He’s used to him running around the field, glaring at him with fire in his eyes, shouting with fury etched in every word. Now, he seems fragile, almost. Long eyelashes casting a shadow against his cheeks, lips open ever so slightly, neck delicate and slender.
Kaiser taps his cheek. Isagi’s skin is soft and warm beneath his touch.
It doesn’t wake him. Yukimiya raises an eyebrow at him as Isagi’s head lolls slightly to the side.
“Isagi’s going to be fine, right?!” Raichi shouts as he grips Hiori’s shoulder, shaking him slightly.
There’s quite a few spots of blood on the ground. It’s not as much as Kaiser had imagined, but he still doesn’t like it.
“Head wounds tend to bleed a lot,” Hiori explains, continuing to press down on the cut on Isagi’s head. “He should be okay, but we really won’t know more until he wakes up.”
“If he wakes up,” Kiyora mutters bluntly.
“What?!”
Gagamaru stares at him. “Okay. Unhelpful, man.”
“Let’s wait until a doctor takes a look at him until we start catastrophizing,” Yukimiya adds.
Kaiser leans forward, practically looming over Isagi’s still form, taking in the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the quiet breaths he has trouble hearing over the annoying conversation the Blue Lock players are having. And he taps him again.
Raichi’s fists curl before he raises a hand and points his finger at Kaiser. “Yeah, for some reason, I don’t think that’s fucking helping! Why don’t you-”
A soft, pained moan cuts him off. Everyone’s eyes turn back to the boy laying on the ground.
Kaiser leans even further forward. “Yoichi?”
“Are you awake? How are you feeling, Isagi?” Hiori asks next.
Igarashi lets out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, he’s alive. That’s good! Everything is okay then. No need to worry!”
Gagamaru raises an eyebrow. “Of course he’s alive. You’re being way too nonchalant about this, Igaguri.”
“If he’s alive, he can still play soccer! That’s good enough for me-”
Another pained sound leaves Isagi’s lips. His face scrunches up slightly before his eyes begin to flutter open.
Kaiser catches the first glimpses of dark blue as Isagi forces his eyes open. And in return, his face is the first thing that Isagi’s eyes catch as they adjust back to the bright lights of the gym. For a moment, his eyes look confused. Disoriented. Wondering. Almost as though they’re looking straight through him.
And then they widen almost imperceptibly. And it’s like the fire that Kaiser has always seen in Isagi returns to him.
Kaiser returns his gaze, still looming over him. Something about it feels different, somehow. There’s still heat from the fire burning through Isagi, but the way he’s looking at him isn’t scorching; it’s warm. A nice, comforting warmth.
He shifts back, his nerves on edge. Suddenly, he wants to get far, far away from that look.
Instead, Kaiser says, “Yoichi, I just saved you from getting your head bashed in after the Manshine City game. Are you really so hopeless without me?”
“Uh- I really hope not. I’m sorry for making you worry,” Isagi apologizes sheepishly, wincing as Hiori continues to put pressure on his wound. It makes no sense why Isagi would be apologizing to him of all people; or anyone for that matter. If this had happened to Kaiser -- which, it wouldn’t --, he would have picked up a weight and thrown it at these idiots. “What just happened?”
“You took a fall. Knocked your head pretty bad,” Yukimiya answers, giving him a once over. “You haven’t been out that long; maybe ten minutes. How are you feeling?”
“And don’t say you feel like you're about to die!” Raichi growls before Isagi can answer.
Isagi’s eyebrows furrow. His gaze shifts back to Kaiser, confused, almost as though he’s looking to him for answers. That also makes no sense; honestly, Kaiser’s surprised that Isagi hasn’t glared at him and warned him to back off yet. Before he can even begin to analyze it, Isagi looks back at Yukimiya and Raichi. “My head is killing me. I swear, it feels like I’ve got run over by a train, but I don’t think I’m about to die. At least, I hope not.”
“It’s a good thing Kaiser stopped that plate from hitting you,” Kiyora adds. “The situation would have been much worse.”
Hiori nods, humming to himself. “You may have a concussion, Isagi.”
Gagamaru’s mouth drops open. “Oh, those can be pretty bad, right?”
That thought pisses Kaiser off. That Isagi’s potentially addled brain might get in the way of their competition during the upcoming Uber’s game. His anger must show on his face because Isagi immediately turns back to him and asks, “What’s wrong?”
Kaiser’s eyes narrow. “What’s wrong? Your shitty brain almost became splatter paint on the ground, Yoichi.”
Isagi’s expression goes soft in understanding. He reaches out, entangling his fingers between Kaiser’s own. “I’m sorry for making you worry, Mihya. I promise, I’ll be okay,” he says reassuringly, giving his hand a light squeeze as he smiles sweetly.
It feels as though Kaiser's burning. Like every point of contact is a space Isagi has set on fire. An unfamiliar itch goes through him, traveling from his hand, up his arm and through his whole body.
Isagi Yoichi is holding his hand-
He wants to squeeze so tight that all the little bones in Isagi’s hand crack, crushed beneath the pressure of his unrelenting grip. He wants to caress every inch of skin that his fingers can touch. He wants to press his nails against Isagi’s hand until drops of red pool against his fingertips. He doesn’t want to let go.
He needs to-
… Mihya?
Is that what Isagi just called him?
“Yoichi-” he cuts himself off with a cough, throat constricting; it feels like the air has been ripped from his lungs.
Raichi balks. “What the actual fuck-”
“In here! In here!” There’s a shout right outside the gym a moment before Kurona hurries in, followed by Anri and someone who must be a doctor.
The Blue Lock players move to give them some space, but Isagi is still holding Kaiser’s hand and why is he doing that-
Kaiser finally rips his hand away. He can still feel the phantom pressure of his touch scorched onto his skin. Isagi shoots him a confused, pouty look like he’s the one being unreasonable.
The doctor starts performing his check-up as Anri frets over Isagi, putting in all the doctor’s notes into her tablet. “Let’s get you sitting up,” the doctor says, motioning for Isagi to sit on a nearby bench. Isagi’s holding the towel against his head as the doctor checks over the rest of him: flashing a light in his eyes, accounting for any other potential cuts or breaks, taking his vitals. Finally, he pulls back the towel and checks over the wound on Isagi’s head. “You’ll need stitches for that. And based on how you fell and the symptoms you’ve reported feeling, like nausea and confusion, it looks like you have a concussion.”
“Will Isagi be able to play at our next game?” Kurona asks.
Raichi adds, “Yeah, what about practice? Is Isagi going to be sitting on his ass for the rest of the week?”
“This young man should focus on resting as much as possible and getting better,” the doctor advises. “We can return to whether or not he can play at a later date.”
Isagi perks up. “Oh, so we’re all on the same soccer team?”
Everyone blanches, a chorus of affirmations sounding throughout the room as Anri begins to panic. “Isagi, when you said you were a little confused earlier, what did you mean by that? Do you know your name? And where you are?”
“Of course, I’m Isagi Yoichi and I’m in Blue Lock,” he replies, offering a smile filled with chagrin. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m just a little fuzzy on some of the smaller details.”
“Forgetting we’re on the same team is not a small detail, dumbass! Are you completely delusional?” Raichi shouts, waving his fist.
Isagi puts the hand that isn’t holding the towel up in surrender. “I know I’ve been a part of the Blue Lock Project, but my memories around it are kind of hazy, you know? Like I know I’ve been playing soccer, but ask me about some of the previous games… it’s all just a blur.”
“Some confusion and amnesia comes with the territory, but we can certainly look into this more,” the doctor says as he scribbles notes on Anri’s tablet. “Your memories should clear up and come back to you with time.”
“Do you remember who we are?” Hiori asks uneasily.
Isagi’s expression turns pensive as his gaze analyzes all the Blue Lock players. “You all look familiar. Like I know that I know you… but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” And after a moment, he adds, turning towards him, “And I remember Mihya, obviously.”
An uncomfortable quiet washes over the room.
That name again. Kaiser’s heart thumps wildly in his chest.
Yukimiya’s voice is the first to break through the tense atmosphere that has washed over the gym. “So- Isagi, when you say Mihya, do you mean him?” He asks, pointing his finger at Kaiser. “You still remember Kaiser of all people?”
“Of course,” Isagi smiles sweetly. “What kind of a wife would I be if I forgot my own husband?”