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The morning sun over the bay had not yet gained the oppressive, asphalt-melting heat that usually drove the residents of coastal towns indoors and under air conditioners. The air was clear, carrying the scent of iodine, sun-warmed wood, and the faint aroma of expensive perfume that Yoichi had applied to his wrists back at the hotel—a silly habit, considering there would be no trace of it left in a couple of hours.
Yoichi Isagi—now, for three years officially an Itoshi, although his surname on sports scoreboards remained simply Isagi—stood by the starboard side of a small but highly maneuverable white speedboat. The wind mercilessly tousled his grown-out hair, throwing short strands across his eyes, but Yoichi merely squinted with pleasure, letting the cool spray hit his face.
“Hey, captain, are we almost there?” he asked with a smile, turning around.
Rin was at the helm. He wore loose cream-colored linen trousers and a thin black t-shirt that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders. Over the three years of their marriage, Rin had become even more imposing, his movements filled with the confident, calm grace of a man who knew his strength and status. He handled the boat smoothly, effortlessly avoiding the sparse waves, as if reading the contours of the water as easily as he once read the trajectory of a ball in Blue Lock.
“Don’t yell right next to my ear, Isagi. We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Rin grumbled without even turning his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. It was his trademark manner: complaining for the sake of order while doing everything possible to make Yoichi feel comfortable.
“How long are you going to keep calling me by my surname when we’re alone?” Yoichi walked up from behind and casually wrapped his arms around Rin’s waist, burying his nose between his shoulder blades. Rin smelled of sunlight, seawater, and the same mint shower gel that Yoichi had bought the previous week. “We’ve been married for forty-two months, Rin-rin.”
“Get off me. You’ll get heatstroke,” Rin tried to move his shoulder, but he did not break the embrace. Instead, he slowed the boat slightly, allowing Yoichi to lean more comfortably against his back. “And don’t call me that. It’s annoying.”
“It’s not annoying. You like it,” Yoichi laughed quietly, feeling the firm muscles of Rin’s stomach shift beneath his hands.
They had managed to escape for this short vacation almost by a miracle. Their training schedules in the European leagues, endless flights, interviews, and sponsorship contracts drained every bit of energy from them. Sometimes it felt as though they saw each other more often on stadium screens than in their own bedroom.
So when their calendars finally opened up with a couple of free days, Rin simply rented a boat, booked a secluded private island in the south, and made Yoichi pack his things in thirty minutes. No phones for the press, no football agents—just the two of them, the sea, and absolute silence.
Rin turned the wheel, and the boat smoothly rounded a rocky cape. Ahead of them appeared a small bay hidden from prying eyes. The water was so clear that they could see the tiny pebbles and schools of little silver fish several meters below the surface. White sand curved along the shore in a crescent, while lush tropical trees grew almost to the water’s edge.
“Wow…” Yoichi pulled away from Rin’s back and breathed out in awe, gripping the railing. “Rin, this is incredible. Is there really no one here?”
“I booked the entire island until the end of the week,” Rin answered calmly as he turned off the engine. “If even one reporter showed up here, I’d personally feed him to the sharks.”
The boat gently rocked on the water, stopping a few dozen meters from shore. Rin dropped the anchor. The dull clank of the chain briefly disturbed the silence before everything became quiet again, replaced only by the soft sound of the waves and the distant cries of seagulls.
Yoichi did not wait for Rin to lower the ladder. He kicked off his flip-flops and, left wearing only his swim trunks, climbed onto the side of the boat.
“Isagi, don’t even think about it. First, we need to—” Rin began, but he did not get to finish.
With a short, playful shout, Yoichi jumped into the water, sending a sparkling fan of droplets into the air. The water was perfect—not freezing cold, but pleasantly refreshing after the humid morning. Yoichi surfaced, breathing loudly and pushing his wet hair back.
“Rin, the water is amazing! Come on, jump in!” he shouted, paddling his arms to stay in place.
Rin stood by the side of the boat with his arms crossed, watching his husband with a mixture of feigned annoyance and deep, hidden affection. His usually cold, sharp eyes reflected the gentle sunlight. He slowly took off his shirt and tossed it onto the passenger seat of the boat. Old scars from football injuries were visible on his pale skin—reminders of the price they had both paid for their place at the top.
Rin entered the water gracefully, almost without making a splash, like a professional diver. When his head emerged above the surface, he was instantly beside Yoichi. After a few powerful strokes, Rin caught Yoichi around the waist underwater and pulled him closer.
“You’re acting like a child,” Rin said quietly, but his arms held Yoichi firmly and securely, helping them both stay afloat.
“I’m just happy, Rin,” Yoichi wrapped his arms around his neck, their foreheads touching. “We’re so rarely alone like this. No tactical analysis, no pressure. Just you and me.”
Rin did not answer. Instead, he simply pressed his lips to Yoichi’s.
The kiss tasted of saltwater and carried a quiet sense of trust between two people who had shared their lives with each other.
They swam toward the shore without rushing. The sand beneath their feet was soft and warm. Yoichi stepped into the shallows, feeling the light foam brush against his ankles. He dropped straight onto the dry, sun-warmed sand and spread his arms out.
“I’m never leaving this place,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Let Real Madrid and Bayern look for other strikers.”
Rin sat beside him, one leg bent at the knee. He looked at Yoichi—wet, with grains of sand on his shoulder and a ridiculously happy smile on his face. Rin reached out and carefully brushed a wet strand of hair away from his husband’s forehead. His fingers were surprisingly warm.
“If you don’t go back to the club, Isagi, I’ll get bored playing,” Rin said quietly. “Who else will get in my way on the field?”
Yoichi opened one eye and looked at him mischievously.
“Oh, so you admit that your life loses its meaning without me? How romantic, Itoshi Rin.”
“Shut up.” Rin lightly tapped him on the nose, but immediately leaned down and kissed his cheek, right where his skin had already begun to turn pink from the sun.
By noon, the sun had grown stronger. Rin, who always treated health and self-care with almost German-like precision, made Yoichi return to the boat and sit beneath the canopy.
“Here. Put this on,” Rin said, lounging on the soft leather sofa at the back of the boat as he handed Yoichi a bottle of sunscreen. “Your skin will burn in half an hour, and then I’ll have to listen to you complain about it tonight.”
“I don’t complain,” Yoichi muttered as he took the bottle. He sat on the floor between Rin’s knees, presenting his back. “Help me? I can’t reach my shoulder blades.”
Rin sighed, took the sunscreen, and squeezed some of the cool white lotion into his palm. His large, strong fingers settled on Yoichi’s shoulders. Rin began rubbing the sunscreen in with slow, massaging movements. His hands, capable of making powerful tackles on the field, now moved with remarkable gentleness. He worked the tension out of Yoichi’s neck, moving lower toward his shoulder blades and making him sigh quietly in relaxation.
“That feels so good…” Yoichi whispered, tilting his head back against Rin’s thigh. “You’re really good at massages, Rin. You should change careers.”
“As if,” Rin scoffed, continuing to gently rub the sunscreen over his husband’s back. “I’m too expensive to be a simple masseur. You couldn’t afford me.”
“I pay with love and loyalty,” Yoichi turned his head and looked into Rin’s face. “Isn’t that enough?”
Rin froze for a second. His gaze softened, becoming warm and deep like the night sea. He leaned closer and quietly said:
“Enough,” he admitted. “More than enough, idiot.”
Yoichi turned in his arms, settling on Rin’s lap and facing him. He cupped his husband’s face in his hands, making him look directly into his eyes. Over three years of marriage, they had learned to understand each other without words, but Yoichi still loved saying it aloud.
It was important to him that Rin heard it.
“I love you, Rin. Every second. Even when you get angry on the field or complain about an unwashed cup.”
Rin looked away, his ears turning slightly pink—he still sometimes became embarrassed by Yoichi’s open and sincere affection. But he did not pull away. Instead, he held Yoichi tighter, resting his chin on top of his head.
“I know,” Rin replied quietly. “I love you too… Isagi.”
“Itoshi,” Yoichi corrected with a smile against his chest.
“Fine. Itoshi.”
They spent about an hour like that, simply rocking with the waves beneath the canopy. Rin lazily ran his fingers through Yoichi’s grown-out hair while Yoichi listened to the steady, soothing beat of his husband’s heart. At some point, Yoichi fell asleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat and the warmth of Rin’s embrace. Rin did not move, afraid of disturbing his selfish but dearly loved idiot.
When Yoichi woke up, the horizon had already begun to glow with soft pink and golden hues. The heat had faded, replaced by a pleasant evening coolness. Rin was sitting nearby, reading something on his tablet, but the moment Yoichi moved, he immediately put the device aside.
“Awake, sleepyhead?” Rin held out a glass of cool water with lemon. “The sun will set soon. We should head back to the hotel before it gets completely dark.”
“Wait. Let’s watch the sunset here,” Yoichi took a few sips and stretched, feeling incredibly refreshed. “Look how beautiful it is.”
They went to the bow of the boat, wrapped together in one large, soft terry towel. Rin stood behind Yoichi, holding him around the shoulders and keeping the towel from being blown away by the wind. The sun slowly descended toward the sea, painting the water in crimson, purple, and amber shades. It looked like a giant canvas onto which someone had spilled the brightest colors.
“You know,” Yoichi said quietly, leaning his back against Rin’s chest, “when we were in Blue Lock, I never imagined we’d end up here. Together. Married. I thought we’d destroy each other on the field.”
Rin remained silent for several seconds, watching the last rays of sunlight gild Yoichi’s profile.
“Although, we really did destroy something,” Isagi said quietly.
“We destroyed who we were separately and created something new. I don’t regret a single second, Isagi. Not even the matches where you beat me.”
Yoichi turned around, looking at his husband with surprise and affection. For Rin, confessions like that were rare, and every one of them was worth its weight in gold.
“You’re becoming too soft, Itoshi Rin,” Yoichi teased him affectionately, rising onto his toes to give him a short, sweet kiss.
“Only with you.” Rin gently held his face in his hands, deepening the kiss as the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving behind only soft twilight and the first faint star in the darkening sky.
The boat smoothly turned, and Rin started the engine. They headed back to the hotel, back to their crazy football lives, training sessions, and flights. But that day on the distant island, hidden from the rest of the world, remained inside them—a steady anchor that would always keep them together, no matter what storms came their way.