FOUND ୨୧ BLUE LOCK

15 SWEET TASTE

The walk to the cafeteria isn't too far—and it's not too long until you three make it there and fill up water bottles with mild conversation and Bachira cracking lame jokes, per usual. After filling up a few more than a dozen, you all stand in front of them, accomplished with your labour. Bachira stands beside Isagi, and on the other side of the jet-black-haired boy, is you.

"Do you think we have enough?" Bachira looks at both you and Isagi, tilting his head down and his bangs falling over his eyes. You hum—a hand resting on your chin and the other on your hip, while Isagi smiles a wide, toothy grin that sparkles in the dark.

"Should be plenty." He raises his head, and it darts to Bachira, who looks at him confused, but regardless, stares right back. Isagi has a verbal smile in his voice as he talks, "Oh, that's right. Thanks for that last pass, Bachira. You basically won us the game."

Bachira screws another lid atop a water bottle methodically, a brow raised and a giggle escaping his lips, "What are you talking about? I wasn't the one who made an awesome play." Isagi lets out a noise of confusion, so Bachira continues, "You did. Fact-I know you Isagi. You've learned something new, right?"

"I saw it too," you say, voice low and your eyes almost completely focused on closing up the water bottle in your hands. "You were a different person right before you made that last goal. It's like you came out of a new shell, like a caterpillar."

Bachira laughs, holding his stomach and pointing at you with a grin, "You have the weirdest analogies, you know!"

Isagi breaks the eye contact to look down at a water bottle he's holding, eyes focused on the ripples in the clear liquid, "Yeah. So, I think I understand what my weapon is. And specifically... where my talent lies. Even if I predict a situation using my spatial awareness, it doesn't matter. When I trap the ball, it gives the opponent time to respond, and I lose my advantage. So, then I started thinking back to my other goals."

A sudden flash of memory plays through your mind, and you think of that goal he made back in the game against Team Y—which won the entire thing for you all.

Isagi—seemingly unconsciously—smiles, eyes crinkled in adoration as he speaks, "That's when I realised... All the points I've made have been direct shots. I took what I've done intuitively, and turned it into a formula I understand. I feel like... my lifetime as a genuine striker is really beginning!" He balls up his fist and pumps it up, a wicked grin on his lips.

When both you and Bachira don't respond, Isagi stops, and his cheeks flush pink. He places down the bottle and fiddles with the end of his pyjama shirt, voice meek, "Eh... I'm sorry. I got kinda carried away..."

You snicker, and Bachira smiles and talks for the both of you—a hand on your shoulder while the other rests on his hip, "That's a great look for you! Very egoistic."

Isagi scratches his cheek and looks to the side, "You think so?"

"You sure do get our blood pumping," Bachira lets out a dreamy sigh, eyes fluttering closed as he smiles brightly, raising his hand, "Now put it here, you egoist."

Isagi also raises his hand, and is about to high-five Bachira, "Sure! Right back at you—!!!" When Bachira smacks him in the face instead, causing Isagi to stumble backwards and groan in pain. Bachira cackles, cheeks flushing pink and laughter filling the room.

Isagi, with a strained voice and forced smile, says, "Thanks for that... Real mature..."

You pat him on the back rhythmically but abruptly stop when loud sobbing fills your ears, a stark contrast to how brightly Bachira was laughing a few moments ago. You three watch in agonising silence at how people flood the previously abandoned hallways, walking towards the exit with tears in their eyes and curses flying from their lips.