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An overly loud air conditioner and an iPad blasting the bright illuminated screen sensitized Isagi's senses. The Neo Egoist League and the break were over, and in a couple of hours, the remaining twenty-three players would board a plane. A "mystery country," whatever that means.
The champion was grateful for the isolation that the rest respected.
Any more false and half-arced replies would've sent Isagi to oblivion. The countless teases, multiple "as expected of my rival!" declarations, or discussing the diverse club offers laid out for all seemed far from the wider picture in Isagi's perspective. His presence grew hollow, a shell of a champion who wasn't truly there and would only appear when the topic was football.
"You're...too much like Rin, lately," he was constantly reminded of.
Rin distanced himself from others, obviously, without concern for or empathy for others. It was what made his manner distinct from Isagi's despite following similar objectives. Isagi merely stood with them, and Rin stood afar. Watching, listening.
How could Rin do it? The first few days of selective isolation were calm, but anything after was simply maddening. Emotions and expressions soared into the abyssal shell he had unintentionally captured them in. The accumulated rage Itoshi Rin held and released on the field to taunt and torment began to become somewhat understandable to Isagi.
Understanding the borders of Rin's true impulsive nature wasn't desirable. The coldness and its animalistic rawness seemed constellations away from Isagi's own comprehension, yet they seemed closer tonight than the day before. Silence can't be the sole thing to an uprising calamity; it simply can't. Itoshi Rin was proof of that.
Years, years, and years of Rin utilizing and abusing football to release tension, and Isagi couldn't handle the bottled-up swell for a few days. Rin isn't sane or stable, let alone anyone involved in the Blue Lock project, but he covered up well enough. Whatever technique Rin used to appear normal outside of a football field concealed his rabid characteristics spectacularly, and Isagi wanted to know how.
Tolerating the epitome of loneliness. Boredom. False fluttering. It was all gruesome. Rin had the answer.
Rin, the sole person of understanding and achieving a fabricated calm ocean, was far. The striker would always be far, and that was truly the bitter reality of their relationship. Whatever emotions Rin harbored for Isagi only collided with his own on the field, but off the field, Rin felt like a void. Hollow and nothing, but bold and disturbingly noticeable to Isagi.
Such disturbance and loud quietness elicited the answer with a simple one-on-one game. The answer Isagi had been fretting over was simple to request, merely a couple of hallways down, probably, but he couldn't find it within himself to unlock the door. Would Rin allow him to once again enter the epitome of his world? Forget Rin and asking for permission, would Isagi allow himself to go through with sharing his existence with someone who gazed at him with numerous intentions again?
It was dangerous. Wild, unpredictable, feral. That's the way it always followed with Rin: an open-ended declaration from him. The first time was picking Isagi. The second, a rival declaration. Third, a stab threat, although it wasn't at all genuine (probably). Fourth, Isagi wasn't even there, but Rin knew he was watching. His thousand-death threat, right after a hat-trick against Man City.
The list was never-ending, but the most recent affirmation was loud— Bold even, since it wasn't simply for Isagi, intentional or not. Rin's ignorance and lack of privacy announced to the public their standpoint on the relationship. His words were live and broadcast to the world, streamed, subtitled, translated into different languages, and probably replayed the way Isagi had been doing for the past hour on his iPad. "The world wants to make us rivals."
"That's fire."
That's fire? What the hell did that mean? Was he warning Isagi of a potential arsonist threat later on?
Sighing, he tossed the iPad on the bed and stood up. His fingers twitched and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he paced around, conjuring alternatives to avoid Rin, but they all ended up with an uneventful meeting. Varying from awkward, animalistic, irrational, or all three, there was no plausible exchange that was peaceful and quiet, even amid his own delusions.
Damn it. Taking a peek at the provocative black screen, with a lack of a notification from an unknown number that just so happened to invite him to a sudden one-on-one or a yoga session, he quickly snatched up the device.
Isagi's fingers twitched as they hovered over the locked screen. With a simple swipe, it would unlock, but that ultimately meant having to confront the keypad. He didn't want to hear Rin's voice at the other end of the line; Isagi didn't need Rin for personal struggles, yet he acted impulsively for the answers.
He opened his contact list before he was conventionally brought to an end. The previous mental blocks Isagi struggled with were all deemed as useless the longer he dully stared at the names on his phone without a sliver of progression. There were no recipients under the letters "R" or "I" that correlated to the desirable player. Isagi never exchanged phone numbers with Rin, and he doubted Rin had done so with anyone else in the facility. No one was informed or given the mysterious number.
Well, it wasn't as if a phone call was the only way to contact Rin, but it was the easiest. Rin's isolationism ultimately cut off the simplest and most avoidable way to not see his grace for the sake of everyone's sanity. The inconvenience was gruesome and taunting for all the wrong reasons.
Setting the device down on his bed, he paced around his room again to release the tension in his muscles from the nervousness. Isagi tried chugging the water from his half-empty water bottle on his nightstand, but the unease in his stomach was unavoidable to ignore. It was like his body was strongly going for the "Meeting up with Rin" option when his mind had already opposed the casualty.
The phone call didn't seem daunting as before, but losing the option and having limited time left until their departure, facing Rin was the only coherent answer.
Isagi found himself reluctantly in front of metal doors at the end of a dim hallway barefoot, leading to the field he had conquered and triumphed over previously. The game that solidified his worth in the clubs and his ranking amongst the hierarchy: the Bastard Munchen VS PXG match. He knew Rin was inside. Whatever significance Rin had over the field wasn't relevant— he chose this place because of the PXG loss.
The door was slid shut. For once, he thanked Ego for not adding locks to any of the field doors and raised his finger to press the button allowing his intrusion. What he was doing felt improper and... inappropriate, but as appalling as it sounds, Isagi didn't feel regretful or bothered to care for Rin's frustration directed towards him. Rin said it himself; they were rivals, not each other's condolences.
The entire field was already tarnished in Rin's training, with numerous discarded balls littered across the field without any logical sense. A ball, sitting still by the door, stopped Isagi from stepping further inside.
Humming, Isagi raised his head and glanced at every corner of the walls. The camera lenses should have normally zoomed in on both players separately as it recorded the scene, but seeing there was no small light emitting from any, it confirmed they were alone. Truly alone, secluded from any outsiders and Ego.
In the middle of the field, chest rising faintly, arm resting over his head and covering the terrifying teals, and showered in sweat, lay Itoshi Rin. It was evident he had finished his personal practice and was done for the night, but Rin's resting position concerned Isagi. His abrupt rest didn't seem purposeful either; it seemed like a careless accident or a sudden bunt out mid-workout.
Isagi cautiously stepped foot into the field. The plastic grass hurt his feet as it dug and spiked his skin, but it all felt frivolous in comparison to reaching Rin. His walk wasn't far considering it was half the perimeter, but every dragging step his feet would subconsciously take seemed dire, almost like a warning.
It seemed like years had passed when Isagi finally reached Rin. He stared down at the body before slowly kneeling down next to him, careful to remain quiet. Resting his cheek on his knee, Isagi traced Rin's features with his eyes curiously about the unseen sight.
Amid his own rest, Rin didn't seem peaceful. He seemed more stressed and bothered than he did on a normal routine, which was quite impressive. The scarlet blush of sweat on his skin engraved deeper the longer Isagi evaluated his sleeping state, but he could see easily it wasn't anything to ridicule. The tension in Rin's body, the trails of sweat dripping down every curve and arc on his face, and his concerning panting supported that he was struggling with frustration.
Could he be battling through a nightmare? Maybe, but what would this grand of a striker consider a bad dream? Thinking back on any possible slip-ups of personal information, the only rational person to wreak havoc of a nightmare to such a powerful striker was... the hope of Japan, Itoshi Sae. His older brother.
Itoshi Sae, Sae Itoshi. It would always correlate back to the prodigy, whether it concerned him or not. Most of the time, it never did. Nothing ever bothered the midfielder, and Rin probably loathed the fact that it should have.
How melancholy, but Isagi didn't want to offer concern.
Pitying someone was the equivalent of looking down on one, and Isagi knew Rin would certainly despise having such an emotion directed towards him, and from a rival, of all people. He would surely kill Isagi if he discovered a small twinge of sorrow for him had crossed Isagi's mind before, but he wouldn't allow Rin to find out. Whatever frustrations or dire breaks Rin would take out that would coincidentally catch Isagi's eye would never be mentioned for his own sake.
If Isagi had to admit, rivaling Rin was tiring. He didn't know to what extent Rin's obsession with him was, but he was sure Rin felt exhausted with dealing with him as well. The twistedness between the two was bitter and attractive all the while, but on occasion, Isagi missed the calm. The yoga sessions, the snarky remarks that actually helped. Their duo.
It all broke.
Rin got off on playing against him; there was no denying when the feelings were mutual. Everything was reciprocated. Isagi would use Rin, take advantage of him for his own purposes, and Rin does the same. The objectives were vastly different, but the approaches were too similar. Call him a hypocrite, but whenever Isagi recognized Rin's pattern when it came to purposely disrupting and toying with him, he felt repulsed by it.
Disgusted by his own habits being shown by another, in his own rival, practiced and used against him, was difficult. Committing selfish acts against others for his own advantage was a necessity, but Rin using it on him was... mean and ugly, if anything. The purpose of killing and eradicating was different compared to Isagi's absolute tyrannical dominance on the field, and they both exploited it against one another.
"How dare he?" Isagi would momentarily think, before biting his tongue and ignoring his hypocrisy. Feelings of betrayal in a dysfunctional relationship shouldn't be possible; that was insensitive. Such an emotion was too pitiful even to ridicule when they both would abuse the advantageous plays and the exhilaration of adrenaline from each other. They weren't friends; they might have never been, and he simply lived the days during the training camp before the U-20 match in a blissful delusion, but something would always tighten.
His heart, his stomach, or his core, the vulgarity of Itoshi Rin would either excite or scare him. The unfamiliarity kept Isagi at bay, uneased and unprotected, but left to go against the unpredictable player on his own for the victorious regime.
The striving for the title, the position, the captaincy, and the euphoric thrill of being a champion was far from greed—it was gluttonous, and Rin was no different. Beneath the rage for his brother, deeply hidden and masked, lay Rin's desire for the sport. "A striker at heart"; if such a thing truly exists, Rin was the benediction, the embodiment that such a player can exist.
Isagi doubted Rin knew or at least realized it. There could have been an end to the fixation on his brother, a midfielder, and a focus on the other strikers instead. An absolute fixation and obsession on Isagi, more importantly, not for him, but for the benefits of their relationship.
The striker rose from his knee and stared at the light. A blinding white illuminated down on the field where Rin had practiced earlier and now hit his unconscious body and Isagi while blinding him for a sense of clarity, when he suddenly heard it. A small, gentle murmur, slipping past Rin's lips with ease. "Isagi Yoichi."
We have a sleep talker.
Eyes widening wider than they were before when he was staring the light down, Isagi instinctively kneeled down again. Nothing about Rin had changed, except for the slightly parted mouth, but aside from the lingering words, he remained asleep. Oblivious and ignorant of Isagi's loss of maturity.
His heart was at the tip of his tongue, pounding and pounding with an incredible amount of determination. "I'm here."
As if he heard, Rin's body noticeably tensed. Isagi never knew a person could keep scowling, even amid slumber. "Yoichi."
Isagi's shoulder tensed. His body hardened as the name lingered loosely, hauntingly around the two strikers. 'Yoichi,' muttered loosely and calmly, left his unconscious rival's lips without any mockery, agitation, or malice in his tone. His voice was stern, velvety, and sincere, as if he were truly addressing Isagi in whatever dream he rested in. Had he ever talked to Isagi in such a tone before? Isagi doubted the plausibility, but why would a dream be different?
Would asking for that calm gentleness be considered...too much? Would it push boundaries and cause more discomfort than there already is? Did Isagi genuinely care for using Rin again, if it meant staying on the continuous track to redefine Japanese football?
He didn't care for utilizing others as pawns, and Rin was undoubtedly the same. "Two hearts beating as one," as Barou described them. Whether the commentary remained or not, there were uncanny similarities between their ways of play aside from their distinctions. They both acted upon desires and instinctive greed to dominate one another in the hierarchy. Sympathizing after was one thing, but committing the sin in the spur of the moment? Isagi never hesitated if it meant staying euphorically victorious above all.
"Rin," he spoke, but didn't continue.
The fake green grass was vibrant in contrast to Rin's dark evergreen hair. Isagi had never seen it messy, even when rooming with him, but the mess and disorganized style made him seem humane. It was ridiculous how it took unkempt hair to remind Isagi that Rin was a boy—an imperfect, angry, sixteen-year-old younger brother who lives by the ocean. He wasn't a stoic, perfectly crafted, and nihilistic striker, no matter how much he played the part.
There would always be cracks, slivers that proved who Itoshi Rin was—the one who didn't play for the sake of an unsupported dream.
Rin's unexpected sigh shook Isagi. Just when Isagi believed he was close, alike, similar, and standing next to Rin, his awakening distanced them once again. As if the vulnerability of his facade hadn't been unanticipatedly revealed to Isagi through sleep talking, Rin clenched his jaw to refrain from more.
Yes, it was Rin's privacy that had been breached, but Isagi wasn't exploiting him in any way. What occurred truly was a mishap, an accident if anything, but he couldn't help but mourn the openness, once again secluded by Rin's barriers keeping him at bay. The covered-up walls and dull-like attitude return once again for a moment in Rin, before they quickly tumbled with a mere glance at Isagi's eyes.
"...Again," Rin slurred.
Isagi could feel his blood coursing through his veins. He stayed still with an indifferent face, knowing it would only fuel Rin's indignation, and forced Rin's arm off his face. Willingly or not, Rin obliged with Isagi's direction and glared into the ocean blues, spouting countless nonsensical things and nothing at all.
The agitation towards Isagi shone drastically with each of Rin's changed expressions. His eyes would harden and soften, not out of warmth or hospitality, but tiredness; a type of exhaustion Isagi could somewhat understand. "...and again," he whispered. Rin could have been referring to numerous things, none of which made sense to his anger. The tone of his voice and the shining loathsome, gleaming from his sea green teals didn't give Isagi enough context to understand what 'again' meant.
Rin balled his fist into the grass and ripped out a few strands in frustration. "You're here again." His face soured as the words eased past his lips without remorse for himself. The player swung Isagi's hand away from his arm and covered his eyes again with his palm for any form of security from the apathetic champion, keeping him chained under his absolute monarchy.
"Always fucking here when I don't need you."
A king and a tyrant would never get along. Not when they share the same realm or even abide by themselves in different territories. They will always clash and oppose one another; that was simply Rin and Isagi's nature. One way or another, whether partnerships or linkups, while they represent Japan, they would never understand each other; rivals rarely do.
Rin doesn't need him.
Isagi tried his hardest to refrain from a grin. What empty words he was being given; he never took Rin for a liar. If such a ridiculous attempt at a lie Rin fabricated to console himself over Isagi's presence in his life was true, Rin could forget about beating his brother. They detestably weren't part of the inclusion about the stupid saying, "Rivals rarely understand one another." They damnly did. Isagi knew when he was lying; it was on Rin for doing it rarely.
"You don't need me?" Isagi questioned.
He hardly knew anything about Rin and vice versa, but none of that mattered. What mattered was their connection on the field, teammates or foes. Isagi understood him with a ball and all the ludicrous obscenities Rin would spew. Rin would understand Isagi whenever he would craft and articulate miraculous plays from divine intuition.
Rin would always need him, defeated or not. "I do," Isagi confessed flatly.
"I don't."
"You're not a good liar."
The palm covering Rin's eyes defeatedly moved to his side. Beautiful sea green blues remained callous and dismissive of Isagi as they stared directly at the ceiling, searching. "Do you want me to admit it to you, Isagi?"
'Back to last name basis?' Isagi wanted to ask, remaining quiet for the dignity of Rin's pride. "I don't need you to."
He really didn't. He wasn't like Rin, who always needed vocal affirmations. Teal eyes continued to roam across the ceiling, dilating on occasion whenever he would stare long enough into the lights. The longer Isagi studied Rin's manner silently, he began to understand Rin was just as lost.
Isagi originally sought out Rin tonight for his benefit, but seeing the younger without his usual demeanor, Rin wouldn't have been effective either. Rin was instinctively searching for himself while using football as a mechanism. Asking for advice from a player who didn't know of their own identity was the cruelest Isagi could be. If there were any extents of selfishness and inconsiderateness he could reach, this was it.
But he couldn't exploit that weakness in Rin. If a one-sided, half-assed friendship could exist, then... this was it. "Do you know who you are?"
Rin didn't reply right away. "Do you?" he eventually said, eyes finally fixating away from the lucent lights and onto his invader. By then, Isagi was already sitting on the floor rather than kneeling, attentive to Rin's breathing pattern. He wondered if Rin's pulse aligned with his breaths, calmly and composed.
"Of course I do," Isagi muttered wearily. "I'm the number one; I'm a champion." Declaring it as proudly as he could while drowsily slipping into a daze, his head fell on Rin's chest for a pillow.
The rapid rhythm of Rin's heart briefly confused Isagi. Rin's body was still warm under his cheek pressed against him, as if the nap he took remained useless. It had been a while since Rin finished training; there was no way he was still worn out over a workout. "What about you?" Isagi pressed again, determined to lure out any answer. "Who are you, and don't ignore me."
"I'm not. "
"Then respond."
Isagi didn't mean to close his eyes. The hour was already scandalous and based on the ceaseless silence Rin continued to provide, he was sure Rin had no intention of responding. Rin never does.
It was hard to read Rin. He had always had a knack for understanding others' nature by any impression, but Rin was too complicated. Frustratingly, everything about Rin was somewhat ambiguous and directly blunt. Would Rin answer him? Isagi hoped so.
Sighing, Rin closed his eyes too. It was silly to him how they were introducing themselves as if they weren't familiar with one another, but to favor his rival for once, he played into the part. Stroking Isagi's hair once, he rested his hand on the dark blue hair of the sleeping forward on his chest. "I'm a striker."