Chapter Text
“I have to announce that soon we’ll be leaving this place, you unpolished gems.” Slender fingers grab a coffee.
That’s Ego Jinpachi, the head of the football club of Blue Lock’s Tokyo University. He’s a pretty specific type of mentor. Many of his ways are questionable but the team has significantly improved since they started following his lead.
“A striker carries all of the responsibility on his back. A striker is one who keeps attacking until the very last second. Yoichi Isagi, who chose to challenge those better than him… And Meguru Bachira, with the initiative to aim for the strongest player… are perfect examples of strikers who, rather than doing what was best for the team, had the tenacity and the courage to pursue their own will… That is exactly the “egoism” that I’m looking for.”
Isagi doesn’t get mentioned by the coach as much as Bachira. He cherishes those moments, excited to step up his game until he meets Bachira’s level.
For the second year they’re playing in the same team and he can tell Bachira helps him exceed his past self. Not necessarily only football-wise.
“You’re free for now,” Ego sends them off.
The players of the football club have to leave home for Tokyo. They were told to pack their things and wait for the bus outside.
Isagi and Bachira happen to sit under a tree next to the entrance, hands full of bags. Yokohama is beautiful. It’s a pretty autumn surrounding them: everything around is painted in the shades of sunset, symbolically portraying the culmination of the year, which is… Isagi’s favourite season, actually. People around are wearing cute wooly scarfs and sweaters, the temperature is neither hot nor cold.
That’s pretty nice, Isagi thinks to himself.
There’s Bachira's head laying on his lap and blue hands that play with his hair while the boy talks some nonsense. It feels like they could chat like this forever.
Isagi runs his finger on the bridge of his nose, drawing the line slowly, making Bachira feel sleepier even if he keeps blabbing. The same autumn echoes in Bachira’s yellow eyes as they replicate the golden citrine like the leaves beside them on the grass.
Ego has been calling them unpolished gems for a while now, making Isagi wonder why and which gem they would be. Citrine is what came first to his mind when he tried to assign Bachira a stone. Trite, but makes sense–it’s one of the most sought-after yellow-to-orange gemstones in the world. It’s valued for its sunny color, same as Bachira’s aura (…and under layers).
The citrine color is totally him, Isagi nods to himself, examining Bachira’s yellow streaks.
Bachira had told him before that his eyes are cobalt blue. That’s not a kind of gem but gems can be that color, right? Like… lapis lazuli? He guesses.
Bachira spends a lot of time watching his eyes. Isagi used to feel awkward about it but one way or another Bachira made him more immune to eye contact, loving to compete in peepers. And if Isagi isn’t up for a contest, consider him dead.
That being said, Isagi realizes he’s been staring for a while now, forgetting to look away. He got distracted from their conversation, eyes looking for the same shade in Meguru’s highlights that the branch above their heads carries on its continuations.
Although not only the colors around were what brought his gaze to Bachira. A few days ago their friend Chigiri made a joke about them looking the same which practically made sense since they accidentally matched their outfits that day, but still seemed like nonsense to Isagi. He’s been pretty attentive towards his friend since, trying to prove himself Chigiri’s wrong (or maybe using that as an excuse to shamelessly eye his friend).
Bachira has big eyes and a big smile with zero wariness. Both his flyaway hair and straight-cut bangs make him look more innocent than ever.
Isagi couldn’t help but notice how Bachira’s nose was a bit pointier than his, eyes a bit rounder, eyebrows shorter and skin shinier, even though Bachira is far from a proper skincare. Isagi would often put a moisturising lotion on his face when he’s too sleepy to exist before bed, almost falling asleep on the bathroom stall while they’re at it. He puts just a little and Bachira squirms his face from the cold and wet texture, but goes silent when Isagi starts to rub it into his cheeks, carefully carrying his hands across his face. Isagi doesn’t realize he smiles when he does that. He’s too fond of that dumbass.
They’re truly far from looking the same. Bachira’s cheeks are a bit puffier which adds cuteness to his already adorable face. Soft and shiny hair, gentle waves on them. Like a sunwave. His lashes are pretty and long, almost like they’re curled, and the undertone of his skin resembles honey, but he’s still pale nevertheless. His skin is warm, while Isagi appears to have a colder color palette to his natural looks. And Bachira’s lips… seem to be softer than Isagi’s. That’s how they look. He looks really good, actually. Perfect.
But they do have almost the same height and a similar build. Except maybe Bachira’s waist is more defined, and his legs are a bit more… and his shirt is always not buttoned up all the way up like his own—
“…Did you?” A honey-like voice breaks through his thinking process.
“Oh, what?”
“This city, I’ve been telling you for forever what I liked here! Were you not listening?”
“Ah, sorry, Bachira. I got distracted…” he sighs guiltily.
Bachira smiles at how cute and disoriented Isagi looks.
“Did you sleep well?” A smile distracts Isagi again.
Small pause, collecting himself before he answers. “Ah? Yes… yes, I’m good. Don’t worry.”
“I also loved the food here! Do you think we can run to the buffet one last time?” A giggle is framed in the same sentence.
Isagi is overwhelmed in laughter and affection to anything he says, his friend being ridiculously funny thanks to his cheeky, playful energy and the chemistry that’s born between their personalities. Isagi feels his insides flutter love song melodies at that smile. He doesn’t know what that means yet, like he’s yet to learn how to hear.
“Hey lovebirds, don’t miss the bus,” Chigiri notes, walking up to it.
“They’re leaving already?”
“Well, duh. Hurry up!”
They pack their things in bags and get up when Isagi stands still as if he can’t take the next step. Something tickles his hands, as if they should have something in them that they don’t. Did he lose something? Is he forgetting about anything?
Isagi feels his heart stop for a second. Weird, but that’s… it’s okay. What could he possibly forget? They definitely didn’t leave anything in their rooms because he specifically checked them after Bachira, lacking trust for his attentiveness. Mind rehearses every step: phone, charger, clothes, their uniforms… It’s all in the bags, he’s sure of that.
Isagi starts rummaging through the pockets of his jeans–nothing. His jacket–empty. He opens his backpack and throws each thing out, searching. What the hell is it? Something on the tip of his tongue, brain feeling itchy at the uncomfortable sensation of being unable to reach for something that’s right in front of him.
He notices his breathing become less even and heart pumps feel heavier. Is it beating too fast? Yes. He tries to calm himself down. It’s okay. It’s probably in my bag…
No, it’s not. It’s not. There is nothing that satisfies him while going through all of the stuff inside. Nothing that he’s looking for.
“I can’t find..?” Isagi lands an unfinished question in the air, hoping Bachira would catch it.
He looks at Bachira’s confused face, an eyebrow raised at the urgency of his actions. Bachira also knows there isn’t anything they could possibly forget.
“Something’s lost?” Isagi asks as if Bachira would know better.
“You checked only my room twice. I bet you checked yours more, are you sure something’s lost?”
Isagi’s eyes burn at eye contact. He knows Bachira isn’t judging but his anxiety voiceovers every expression in the most ridiculous way. Is he slowing everyone down? Making people wait? Makes Bachira wait? Does he look stupid? Did he lose something?
“Yeah? …I don’t know?” Isagi can’t even make sense with his answers, thoughts completely mushed together.
He must’ve gotten himself in trouble… This is his first trip with the rest of the soccer club, he can’t leave such a bad impression on Ego-san… Will he be banned from later trips? Shit, shit, shit, this is the worst possible scenario!
Isagi knows he should just breathe and think. Breathe and think again. The earth is round, whatever that is he can find it. Breathe in, breathe out…
The bus is waiting for them, about to depart back to their college. Pressure slowly creeps in Isagi’s hands that start shaking slightly, it feels like Isagi is about to collapse under its weight, getting closed in a box of growing panic.
The yard’s sides seem to close on him, squeezing the breath out of his throat. The tree above him starts looking weird, growing larger in size… or he starts feeling smaller. His eyes get fastly unfocused, head gets intoxicated with dizziness as if he’s smoking it in.
Breathing doesn’t help. Heart racing only faster, it gets worse and worse and, and it’s like rapidly increasing, and. His hands are shaking and eyes, eyes feel, they go wide, he looks around as if he’s expecting to face a danger.
“Where is it?” the boy asks on top of all of Isagi’s questions.
Bachira… If I knew I wouldn’t be freaking out.
His hands are wet with sweat, getting sweaty, heavy head, chest so heavy like, like his head became ironed, anxiety filled it like water fills a sponge or like. It’s too much, it’s too much, hard to think, breath completely left him.
Isagi’s ears pop, he swallows but it doesn’t unplug them. All of the thoughts run at once like many songs playing on the same radio wave.
What will happen to me? I won’t make it home with everyone? We’re about to leave, but what will happen to me? I won’t go home?
What if I lost something important? It had to be important or I wouldn’t be so worried. I lost something important. I can’t find it! I don’t even know what I fucking lost!
Isagi feels like his thoughts are placed in a jar and shaken violently. Dizzy, tight chest, nausea. The soles of his sneakers get glued into the ground under it. Body waves at its place, unable to go up to everyone that’s waiting. They’re the last people still outside.
Panic causes the logic systems of his brain to shut down, adrenaline going overdrive and flooding his blood with it. In reality there’s nothing to be afraid of, whatever he thinks went wrong won’t be a life or death situation, but his brain is convinced otherwise.
Fuck… I’m in trouble… I wanna go home… I need to get on the bus. I can’t… I can’t until I find it, goddamn it… I- I should’ve been more careful. How? How did I lose something? If I don’t find it, will it be left in this city? I won’t ever get it back? This is so bad…
Cold sweat covers his forehead, cheeks become reddish at increased intensity of his exhales. His hands go numb like he just laid them off in his sleep and legs go wobbly.
“Do you have your phone? Uniform? ID?” Bachira makes a few guesses until Isagi meets his gaze and starts nodding eagerly.
ID. His student ID.
Isagi finally figured out the loss but it’s still, in fact, missing. And it’s a very important document. He feels the anxiety go through the roof, its grip on his shoulders leaving his shirt crumpled, forcing him down to squat after making steps back to where they were originally sitting.
Sight becomes some sort of tunnel vision as his entire focus is on his papers laid in front of him, rumbling through other ones he brought with himself. Breathe. Isagi has trouble hearing everything that isn’t associated with the problem. Breathe properly. He grabs his chest slightly on the left side, where the heart is, as he feels his ribs compress onto it. Breathe properly! Every heart beat makes the organ heavier, getting so full of blood he feels like he can’t keep it in anymore. Breathe, god, what is your problem?! He just holds a few papers in his hands and freezes.
Isagi’s brain doesn’t take time to think the issue through, pouring all the energy into an immediate reaction and blocking thinking processes. That’s a survival strategy, except he’s not in danger but his mind is completely fogged to think things straight to find an actual solution. His hands and body try to figure it out but they can’t without access to the brain.
He breathes so heavily he feels like his eyes could pop out of his eyelids from stress. Isagi loses balance, the world around starts spinning and his body begins to fall behind, making his ankles shake. He’s searching for grounding.
Isagi feels like he forgot how to breathe, that skill becoming completely foreign and unnatural to him now. His eyes get covered with a black pitch for a moment before he reaches the peak of his weakness. The next second he finds himself on the floor, barely recognizing the pain from the fall as he’s totally out of it. Sheets fall to his feet, leaving hands empty. He clenched his fists, trying to come back to reality by bringing back his senses through them but it doesn’t work even if he tries to press the nails hard. His eyes can’t focus on one thing and run from one corner to another until a familiar touch catches his attention.
“Hey, Isagi,” Bachira’s voice is muffled as Isagi can’t hear anything through the panic. He sits down in front of him, his hand reaching to Isagi’s shoulder to hold him, “You okay?”
No, I’m not, but the reply doesn’t leave Isagi’s mouth. He can’t bring a single sound out of himself, quivering his lips and opening his eyes even wider, as if by that he could let Bachira know how serious this is.
“Okay, stop!” Bachira gets genuinely concerned about Isagi. He knows what’s happening. “Breathe, Isagi, look at me!” he says, slightly shaking his shoulders.
Blue one just does random things such as moving forward and back, like he drank too many energy drinks and is continuously hit with adrenaline. He tried to grab Bachira’s shoulder but missed it and didn’t try again, trying to do something real enough to cut through the panic but inefficiently. His breath comes in a weird build, hyperventilating, hyperventilating and not getting enough of oxygen at the same time. Air is being punched out of his lungs like there’s something, like something is in the way of it. He grasps the air with an open mouth as if it’s his, his last. Something terrible is about to happen to him, this is the message his body translates and prepares itself for.
The head feels so heavy, barely keeping itself on his neck, wanting to clutch in a ball or run away, or do both at the same time. So many distinct signals are being sent into different parts of his body at the same time. He feels like he’s going to die in this yard. He has to get out of panic now.
Bachira grabs Isagi’s face with both of his hands and tries to make him focus so he calms down only for the latter to misread the situation.
“Let’s breathe together, okay? 1, 2, 3, exhale!” Bachira coaches.
His thumb is caressing somewhere near Isagi’s eyelid, checking if he’s about to lose his consciousness. Bachira’s breath is also heavy as he feels some of the worry transcend to him too, but solely because of how much he cares for his friend.
Bachira moves a bit forward to take a better look not knowing what that move just provoked in Isagi. That happens to cast a spell. Physical reassurance becomes misread intimacy, safety.
Isagi’s brain shortcuts and gets the wrong idea from Bachira cupping his face. His eyes finally focus on one thing, the tunnel vision finding its light in its end. He subconsciously wants to grab on the shirt of the one in front of him or to lean closer, like everything else is so unstable but here, his lighthouse stands.
He could swear those autumn leaves started to spin around them like in movies, lighting Bachira’s face in warmest colors. Holding him, helping him breathe, steadying… it felt like not only physically but mentally Bachira entered the trance he was in and found him.
Someone that embodies all the good in the world, all the good that Isagi can have. His beautiful face, specifically his lips that are saying something, asking, but he can’t hear it. Even like that they look like the most peaceful place right now. In desperation for comfort, Isagi doesn’t realize how in the next second he’s reflexively urging forward to soothe his overloaded heart.
For a bare instant his mind goes silent.
Midnight storm meets sunrise that calms it once the horizon of water absorbs its brightness.
It may not reach the ocean’s bottom, but the rays still sneak between the waves to return the glitter shaken by the tempest.
Isagi was pulled out of his panic attack like he stuck his face in cold water. Except that doesn’t mean a new issue hasn’t just occurred. Bachira’s hands were so warm and… He got to feel some comfort in this continuous stress and, well. Moved on feeling, he might’ve taken advantage of his kind touch. The brief, startled touch is immediately followed up by confusion on both ends.
Isagi pulls away, noticing Bachira’s surprised upside down smile and raised eyebrows to his very hairline. Emotional overflow resulted in an impulsive “kiss”, making them both freeze out unexpectedly.
It’s not… romantic at all.
Since everyone’s in the bus, the moment belonged to them. It feels strange to be left all alone with unknown feelings brought up out of nowhere.
Isagi wishes he actually died in this yard, willingly now and sooner if possible. He averts his gaze before Bachira explodes in a smile. Every next breath stabs Isagi’s chest and he stutters before he even gets to say anything, immediately trying to get up, escape, but he forgets there’s a tree behind his head that smacks him right back. “Ow!”
“Hey, what if you faint? Sit down for a second!”
Another attempt to stand up but Bachira forcefully holds him down, looking all confused now but his touch being just as convincing and strong.
“Bachira, I’m fine! I’m good! Let me go!”
Isagi’s desperate to leave, now. He throws off soft arms that wrapped him in a hug and fixes his shirt as he runs towards the longwaiting bus. This is all terrible. He forgot whatever was the reason for his panic as he experiences another type of it, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s about to get killed (at least not by outer means).
It takes him a second to realize he forgot his backpack.
He could actually end it right now. It can’t get any more embarrassing than this.
Isagi returns and takes his bag, quickly filling it back with whatever that was on the ground, messing their things with Bachira together, the goal of his mission: just to be gone. Isagi sprints to the bus, again, stumbling on his way but making it to its doors. Little does he know Bachira will sit next to him anyway, so it’s no use to run away from him.
He’s actually the one who always asks Bachira to sit next to him so he can’t be mad at anyone else. Just how unlucky can he be to experience both such overwhelming things like his first panic attack and first kiss at the same damn time.
What is wrong with that guy… Did I just share my first kiss with him?
Yellow-eyed smiles at the thought but can’t believe that that just happened so out of the blue. He barely closed his eyes during it, no time to process whatever that was!
Bachira decides on his own that Isagi owes him a proper kiss.
See you, Yoichi-kun.
Bachira grabs all the things that were left on the ground (many of which are Isagi’s, didn’t he just freak out about losing something?). He giggles under his nose and makes it to the transport as the last student, but unlike Isagi he doesn’t really care if he made them wait.
Jumping his way to the bus, he enters, enjoying the day more than he already did. Isagi’s eyes are darted to the window when he sits down and it’s not hard to tell he feels awkward, but Bachira’s sure that’s temporary.
“Isagi,” he starts.
“…Hm?” Isagi tries so bad to stay nonchalant but his red cheeks from the catastrophe that just happened give him out.
He prays he doesn’t comment on the kiss. Please. Don’t. Don’t say anything, not right now.
“I think Ego-san took our student IDs so we wouldn’t lose them.”
Oh.
Oh.
…Makes sense.
“You said… “you think”?” Isagi shows all of his teeth but it’s not a smile, the epitome of embarrassment expressed on his face.
“I realized mine isn’t on me either. To be fair, I didn’t even remember we had them before you had…” his pointer finger makes a lasso on Isagi’s messed up hair and the popped capillaries in his eyes, circling something that is seen without extra highlighting, “…this.”
Isagi sighs at the comment. “…I look like an idiot, right?” he says, hiding his face in his hands.
He nearly died over something so dumb but what’s worse is yet to come. Imagining for how long Bachira will clown him for today makes him want to jump out of that window.
“It just felt so real… Felt like danger. Like it was so close to me, even though it wasn’t dangerous or real at all.”
“I understand, Isagi. I’ve had panic attacks before,” Bachira confesses.
Panic attack. So that’s what it was. Isagi had felt panic and anxiety before but this felt like a collapse of his system. It’s so stupid how the reason wasn’t even anything serious… yet it captured him whole like a nightmare.
“Really?” Isagi looks up at him, shame slowly leaving his chest.
It’s surprising there’s still something about his best friend that he hasn’t known yet but he would never refuse to know more.
“Yeah, you know, it feels like you can’t breathe or, or you’re about to die, or both! Brrr, terrifying!” Bachira makes a grimace that gets a laugh out of Yoichi.
His gaze softens when he sees Bachira’s smile. That unswayed mood infects him. Nothing bad happened in the end. Now he has an experience like this, so if panic attacks again he’ll be less scared (maybe). Hopefully that just doesn’t reoccur.
The ride takes about two hours, both of which they spent listening to their shared playlist, left headphone in Bachira’s ear and the right singing the same songs to Isagi’s, attached at the hip they are. They’re sacrificing Yoichi’s phone’s battery but he’s used to it. He loves those little things, something so ordinary but special just because he gets to do it with Bachira. Whatever that awkward kiss was, he knows it won’t change their friendship and it keeps his heart at peace.
Little does he know the head that’s resting on his shoulder is filled with hundred ways of how to make it mean something.
First kiss is something special. That's how it’s usually described… This one might’ve been scrapped, but it seems like Isagi was the right person for it. Just wrong circumstances. Still, it happened, Bachira thinks he can count it. He feels happy to know he got to experience it with his best friend. There really couldn’t have been a better person to try loving with.
Isagi’s heart got caught and confused in the moment, but you don’t have to hide it anymore. It feels so real because it’s so easy.
Somebody like you, somebody like me… I think we got something special.
Such a rush, Bachira’s already losing his mind. What’s being done to him? This type of excitement is new.
Even if it’s not something someone else can see and that image exists within Bachira alone for now, it’s not a matter of making the right choice. He’ll make it so the path he chooses is the right one.
So what Bachira trusts the most isn’t logic, it’s instinct. That’s what clashed them, right?
I think I’ve found another passion.