( 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 )
𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑
THE BALL SOARS, flying in a perfect arc, and Rin doesn't bother watching it go, already turning to grab the next ball. He hears the faint but familiar sound of the soccer ball hitting net as he sets the new ball down, giving himself a running start, dribbling, before sending it with the same trajectory as the previous one.
Fifty goals untouched by Blue Lock Man. Not enough, but he's earned himself a break.
He drops down by the cart filled with balls that he's claimed as his own, downing half his water in one go.
It's hovering around dinnertime, meaning the field he usually uses will start clearing out. It'll be once again bustling come 9 PM or so, before clearing by 11. He doesn't remember most of the names, but he recognizes faces by their plays. There's the guy with glasses that he faced off against in the second selection, practicing 1v1's with some other player. Some kid with a pink braid - who Rin's always thought should give up being a striker for a center position - playing with Hiori, working on gyro-shots.
Isagi and Bachira stand in the middle of the field, practicing dribbling, of all things. It's fucking embarrassing how a player like Isagi could think he was on the same level as Rin. He couldn't even fucking dribble properly.
A shadow falls over him as someone picks up a ball from the cart Rin is leaning against, and he snaps his gaze harshly toward the offender.
Nagi Seishiro looks as bored as ever, completely unaffected by the glare Rin sends him, barely making eye contact for more than a second before shifting his concentration to spinning the soccer ball on his pinkie. "Practicing half-court goals? Seriously?"
"Mid-field," Rin corrects without thinking. He isn't spoken to much at Blue Lock, not unless it's by someone who thinks they're on the same level as him. Nagi had talent, he'd give him that, but it was completely wasted on someone like him. "The fuck do you want?"
A shrug. "Bored."
"Then fucking practice like the rest of us."
Another shrug.
A laugh resounds from across the field, Rin glancing over to see Bachira hunched over, clutching his stomach, and Isagi looking far too pleased with himself.
"He looks like a fucking clown."
The words are muttered, but Nagi hears them anyway, following his gaze. "Who, Isagi?" He drops the ball, trapping it. "I dunno. He's kind of hot."
Rin blinked. "What?"
Nagi shrugged. "In a stupid kind of way," he amended. Sure enough, Isagi attempted a simple flick-up while on the move and ended up stepping on the ball, losing his balance, and just barely catching himself in time. Bachira laughed, the sound grating his ears from all the way across the field.
Rin opens his mouth to retort, when Isagi dramatically sighs, pulling his jersey up to wipe his face, exposing everyone in the vicinity to an eyeful of Isagi Yoichi. Rin swallowed.
"Your boyfriend lets you talk like that?" he eventually asks.
"Not my boyfriend," Nagi shrugged. "So not an issue. Yet, at least. Dinner?"
What the fuck were they even talking about?
Rin doesn't give him a response, but stands up anyway.
———
He doesn't return to any of the fields after dinner. There are only three days until the U-20 match. His endurance is excellent, his shots are looking as flawless as ever. Rin isn't expecting much change to come out of the next three days of practice. He's been at Blue Lock long enough to know that practice isn't where players evolve. The games are.
When Itoshi Rin evolves, though, he wants to be ready.
He lays down on one of the weightlifting benches, positioning himself under the bar and picking it up.
The door opens intermittently, sensors going off with each player that passes by on their way to their dorms, but Rin doesn't pay them much mind. It's that fact that startles him when he notices Isagi Yoichi leaning against the doorframe, keeping it open. Rin shoots him a glare, not bothering to interrupt his reps, and Isagi pushes off the door and steps into the room.
"You shouldn't be pushing yourself without a spotter."
Rin snorts as Isagi positions himself by Rin's head, looking at him upside down. He sets the weight back on the bar before speaking. "I bench more than you. You'd be useless."
Isagi shrugs. "Water."
Once again, Isagi holds his own water bottle, holding the other out for Rin to take. He does. He sits up, regarding Isagi, but he takes it nonetheless. Again.
He doesn't want to think about why Isagi brought two water bottles in the first place.
Rin takes a few sips before setting it down and sliding underneath the weight once again. He doesn't pick it up, resting for a minute. Isagi rests his forearms on the bar, looking down at him and practically begging him to pick a fight about how he's draping himself all over Rin's gym equipment, but he doesn't. The room feels hotter, for whatever reason, and he runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sweat.
Isagi's eyes trace the motion. "Your hair's getting long."
"Yeah." Rin's noticed it as well. "Need to cut it soon," he adds curtly.
Isagi shrugs, drumming his fingers against the bar. "You don't need to. It looks good. Just gel it back or something for games."
Rin scoffs. "I'd look like fucking Sae."
"You two don't look all that similar. It's really just the eyes."
"Thank god for that."
Isagi huffs out a laugh, and Rin looks away, biting the inside of his cheek. "You could always just wait until it's long enough to tie back. That's what Bachira's doing."
The mention of the dribbler makes Rin frown. "Bachira's been teaching you to dribble for the past four days and you still can't pick it up. Fucking embarassing."
Isagi's mouth quirks into a grin. "You've been watching what I've been doing for the past--" he cuts himself off, frowning. "Wait. It's not that bad."
Familiar territory. Unconsciously, Rin lets out an exhale. "It's fucking atrocious is what it is. One-on-one training with the best dribbler in Blue Lock and you can't pick up shit from him. You'd expect at least something to rub off."
Isagi's eyes narrow. "Wow. The great Itoshi Rin admitting that someone's better than him at something. Thought the day would never come."
"I've always admitted when people were better than me." Rin smirks, already knowing the outcome of his next words. "The only reason you've never heard it is because you'll never be better than me."
Blue absolutely blazes before his eyes. "Yeah, fuck off. Wait until this match." Neither of them seem to care that they're on the same team. "You'll fucking see."
"Your entire existence on the Blue Lock Eleven is to assist me." Partially true. "You'd be nothing without me."
He doesn't take the bait again, unfortunately, and Isagi pushes off the bar, rolling his eyes as he takes a few steps back. "God, I don't even know why I try."
"Good fucking question. Don't try, next time, and maybe I'll actually get something done." He adjusts his grip on the bar, still warm from where Isagi was holding on to it.
Isagi snaps his fingers. "Right. I remember why, now..." It's almost comical how easily he can tell Isagi itches for a response, another lobby in their weird form of banter. Rin refuses to answer, but doesn't pick up the bar either. He isn't giving Isagi the upper hand.
After almost a minute, Isagi sighs. "Fucking fine. I figured you'd like to know your brother is in Blue Lock right now."
Rin sat up, twisting to look Isagi in the eyes in one fluid movement. "What?"
Isagi grinned. "Just wanted you to know."
He grit his teeth. "Explain."
"You're being a little rude there, Rin. Try asking a little nicer."
"Isagi," he bit out.
Isagi didn't look particularly intimidated by Rin's glare, but he toned down his responses anyway. "It wouldn't make sense for the U-20 team to fly in on the day of and be expected to play a full 90-minutes while facing jetlag. So they flew them in earlier, I guess. They're in the wing I was in back during the first selection. We aren't supposed to know about it."
Rin blinked. His brother was here. Just a few hallways away, his brother was here.
Isagi tilted his head. "I can get you in if you want? My old ID card still works."
He swallowed, throat dry. "Ego..." Rin began, his voice quiet.
"Ego doesn't care enough to say anything. And if he did, it would be a warning at worst." Rin looks down, tugging at his hair. Above him, Isagi continues, quiet, "You don't have to, Rin. It's your choice."
"It's not like he wants to see me anyways." He stands up. "This is fucking stupid. I'll play him in the match anyway."
Isagi takes a swig from his water bottle, a droplet of water sliding down his neck. He has a thin sheen of sweat on him, the fruits of his post-dinner workout. "I'm not gonna fucking convince you or anything. Come with if you'd like."
Rin frowns. Sae hasn't been in the country in years. But he hasn't given Rin the time of day since before he left for Spain, and there's no way he'll change now. There's nothing to be gained by seeing him early, and Rin likely won't be able to sleep tonight if harsh words are passed.
"Okay," Rin finally responds, voice strained. "I'll come."
If Isagi was surprised at his choice, he doesn't show it. The doors open automatically as he approaches them, and Rin follows him, falling into step.
"Why do you want to see him anyways?"
Isagi shrugs. "He's a future opponent. As well as one of the best youth players in the world right now. Of course I wanna catch a glimpse of him playing."
They make it to the doors, only accessible by key-card. Without missing a beat, Isagi pulls out a card, white, like the card Rin had in the first selection. He threw his away after receiving the new one, as ordered, and he's loath to admit Isagi thought further into the future than he did.
Isagi leads him up a flight of stairs he had never seen before and into a narrow room, with glass lining a singular wall that looks out onto one of the fields, all the while muttering something about where Anri-san would sit to watch the games if she wanted to in person.
He places faces to names easily, noting the players he recognizes. Sae isn't there, but he won't miss the chance to watch the U-20 team practice.
"Thought I smelled the stench of rats." The voice is grating, and Rin can already feel his hackles rise. Sure enough, Shidou Ryuusei stands in the open doorway, wearing lounge clothes and holding some sports drink in one hand. Sae steps beside him, quirking his head. Shidou's free hand immediately throws itself over Sae's shoulder's, getting pushed off just as fast, but other than that, Sae doesn't move in the slightest.
He hasn't seen Rin in years-- years, and there isn't a flicker of emotion on his face. Coming here was a mistake.
Isagi cracks his neck, as if he's expecting things to get physical. Knowing him and Shidou, it will. "You've trained with us. You know all of our play styles. We're just getting equal footing."
Shidou doesn't even give him the time of day. "You looking for me to break your nose this time?"
"Nah," Rin bites, stepping closer. "Thinking about returning the favor, actually."
A hand comes down on his shoulder, squeezing. "Let's finish this on the field," Isagi says calmly. "We'll beat you then."
Shidou snorts. "You and Isagi here ain't shit, Rinrin. There's a reason Sae picked me, instead of you."
Isagi's hand digs into his shoulder in warning. For once, Rin listens to him, not planning on risking an injury this close to the match. He isn't losing his cool because of that fucking freak. "We're leaving," he says. "Move."
Shidou, predictably, doesn't. Instead, his eyes dance between the two, fingers snapping. "What, he's got you on a collar now, Rin? He just tells you what to do now? Didn't know you were a little bitch."
"Move, Shidou," Isagi says. His tone is calm, but Rin doesn't have to turn to know his eyes are blazing, itching to fight it out on the field.
He moves, holding his hands up in a mockery of a placating gesture. Sae rolls his eyes, muttering something about his immaturity as they pass.
Isagi's hand is still on Rin's shoulder, and he feels him shoulder-check Shidou on the way out, unable to tell if it was on purpose.
Always one to have the last word, Shidou turns around and dumps his drink all over Isagi's back, the orange liquid staining the white jersey.
Rin whirls around, eyes blazing, arms poised to shove Shidou through the fucking glass before he's yanked backwards by Isagi. "Watch it, you fucking antennaed-freak," he spits out anyway.
Isagi grumbles some shit about devouring them as they walk back the way they came, uncomfortably pulling at his jersey to keep it from sticking to his back all the while. "This is definitely gonna stain. I guess I should be glad they're waterproof."
Rin fishes out his keycard from his pocket. "My room's here. You can grab an extra shirt."
Isagi mutters his thanks as they walk in, unsubtly looking around the room. Rin has switched rooms quite a few times since entering Blue Lock, but the past two weeks have been the only time he's had a single room. He digs into one of his drawers and grabs a shirt, tossing it backwards.
"Is this supposed to be a power play or something?"
Rin turns around. Isagi's holding the shirt out with a slight look of confusion on his face, squinting for a moment before turning it around for Rin to see.
Right there, blazed across the back of the shirt, says Itoshi Rin.