Chapter Text

𝟐𝟓:𝟎𝟎 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐖𝐍

   Distorted notes rang while it slowed the spinning of the handle. It came to an abrupt stop before completely shattering.  A flash of blue never left his eyes, a deep violet still remaining.  The ticking of the clock slowed down while it remained at 25 o’clock.^[1] The hands never stopped, but it had always been one──because the music box^[2] dared to stay, because he treasured it.

Ping! 

   It will never move, not until the night ends.  Not until morning^[3] comes and he accepts it with open arms instead of forcing another non-existent number upon time.  It is 1 AM. It is not 25 PM.  But it will continue to be 25.  Not until Mikage Reo disappears.  Not until Asahina Mafuyu is back.  And he's been writing. 

Ping! 

Log: Those stupid Discord notifications should stop. 

Music Box

...that doesn't exist

Ping! 

   He never really cared about inanimate objects that served no purpose in his life.  If it does not benefit his studies or his survival, he does not need it.  Or, atleast that's what his mother would always say.  Hence, he threw something of his.  His stuffed toy.^[4]  It served as comfort and joy as a child; he is no longer a child needing to be pampered every now and then.  He no longer needs something as superficial as a stupid plush toy.  It was cute.  Purple like his hair──purple, purple, purple.  Purple, violet, amethyst.  Synonyms wouldn't give it enough credit, as much as he despised using words (which is the only thing he was actually good at.)  So much as that he put a pedestal upon something so...  weird.  Unique, even.  But he had always knew that there was something wrong with him ever since he was a child.  That stupid purple went along with every other colour he knew, and it just happened to be royal blue, indigo, and the sky.  That had always been the only colours he knew.  Juxtaposition had been funny enough, for fate had tricked his own life.  How could he, only knowing the cold of colours, ever present to someone the colour of the twilight?  Stupid, isn't it?  Laugh.  Something as warm as the sun cannot be someone like him and yet he felt it: the moon wanting recognition, the earth needing his light, the other stars watching him.  It was surreal.  He only felt... an emotion he couldn't quite place.  Like that doll, he was placed on a high pedestal, on something that he cannot comprehend.

   The feeling of being worshipped.

   And he had no problems with that.  God?  Then let him show you the cruelty of what it means to be someone else's universe.  What it means to be someone else's God.  But he wasn't cruel.  He wasn't any of that.  He was not flawless like how people see God as.  Yet those colours knew that, but he was the only warmth near the ice.  The rain, acid, to the iceberg they wanted to break.  Yet he felt nothing.  Not like he ever did in the first place.  There was a time of such warmth, such sunset.  But he forgot.  Like he erased every trace of it from his mind (and he did, because it hurt more thinking about the person who gave him his dreams, just to be the one to break it.  However, was it really his dream?)  Maybe he wanted to forget the warmth, or the pain.  Because before he felt nothing, he felt everything.  And after giving colour to someone──a colour he didn't know, he discovered something. 

   A colour, perhaps?  Something... cold.  But also warm. 

   It was white at first.  But bit by bit, then he realized: it was black. 

   And it wasn't even a colour.  (Yet he wanted to paint it, make it.)

   Because he already knew that it was something he grew up with.  And that coldness was something he desperately chased.  Something we wanted to show the light like how he unintentionally did to all those other colours. 

   Because then he would be saved.  Because then, he knows he has a chance.  Maybe that gaping hole of guilt can be filled with the justification that he saved someone while being saved.  Because he felt that he mistreated someone for not being able to heal like them.  Because maybe he can save someone like him too.  Because he felt everything, like how he felt nothing.  And maybe, just maybe, dragging him to a dream that wasn't even true would make things better.  Like how he did.  Like how he inspired others through his pain, he can do the same to his "passion."  (And yet he left him, for someone with true passion, someone with a true dream, someone who played football like how he had always wanted to play.)  But only bonded pain will his connections grow.  Only something as "obsession to light" can make him be someone worth noticing, worth appreciating.  Someone worth loving. 

   So, like his talent, he started writing. 

Log: He's still here. 

Ping!  (He kept ignoring it.)

   So he got angry, he got mad.  Because this feeling, this betrayal, made him see colours the way they are.  The one thing he had always wanted to see.  And his glasses were made out of pain.  And that further proved his theory: his pain is someone else's light.  Another one. 

Log: I am the light in the pain. 

   He wanted to think it started innocently.  Though it seems like there is no prospect of recovery anymore.  They will never say goodbye to the quiet bond that they share, to the peaceful life that we weaved throughout those 6 months.  Did he pray?  To him?  That this bond will change like a blooming flower──though when will the chance be given by fate above if recovery seems like a distant dream?  Care, joy, and kindness. Those he has given to him.  He surrendered everything to give him a choice of help, and happiness for his own self that he couldn’t give him.  Perhaps he wanted to realize how plain the story he weaved through the passion for the future he made just for him.   And him, his first reason, will be his future.   The sloth didn’t have the courage to leave the warm feeling he gave.  Like the snow under the space. Purple will take the falling snow as if it was lava pouring down if it meant he could feel warmer than the coldness he had gotten used to.   He'll take the storm if it is warmer than the snow.  Like the snowflakes he gave that stupid sloth.  Because that was the only thing he have ever needed.  Death face's cold embrace, warmer than his mother’s.   And through the harsh reality of the string of poems he had created, an albino brought it through life with the tugging feeling he had brought a certain violet.  (Because maybe he was the reason why he felt empty.  He had been doing well, or so he thinks.)

Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  (It was so annoying.)

   (Someone make it stop.  It was getting ridiculous.  This is some type of obsessive behavior from K.  He does not like it.  Why would he even care?) 

   (It sounds like music.)

   Ha.  (Getting all dramatic with a fucking Discord notification ruining his moment.)

   Haha.  (Spam the skull emojis everybody!!!)

   He needs that darkness again.

   He needs to regain his reality. 

   And a certain white brought him to reality, to the life he wanted, yet that was when he muttered the words: “I want to die.” 

   No, he couldn’t care less.  He could plead to the stars shining in the night, that he said something wrong──but he were met with the reflection of his own eyes inside their light.  Because he is God.  And that was his second glimpse of sadness, and happiness.  “Who will I be after you?”  He muttered.  This reality that caves in his lungs, with the loneliness that God (himself) gave his own pathetic being.  And that was his second reason. 

Log: I am cruel. 

   “I couldn’t tell what I felt.”  It was something that he would have said, if he didn't know frustration, if he wasn't aware from the beginning that he never intended to be saved at all.  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  In the end, rationality and loneliness──he didn’t have to hate them, they don’t mean anything.  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  It was the reality of his own desire that he had to hate.  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  That’s why he couldn’t get what he wants the most.  Death.  He cannot allow himself to die.  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  Because he never thought of himself as someone to be saved, but someone that needs to save others.  Ping!  Ping!  Ping!  And he hated that part the most.  He'll always have that part, haunting his own memory, haunting his own Discord account, haunting his notifications.  Multitude of messages everyday.  Depicting words he should have been the one saying.

Log: People like to demonize God. 

@[K] 25:00: We have to live, whether both of us want it.

   Sent.

@[K] 25:00: Maybe it was just me.  But I couldn’t put my finger on it.  This feeling of cowardness, that you'll go somewhere I don’t exist.  And that place will never come true, because you have to let me live.  I’m not dumb.  But it was my wish for your cold embrace.  I, who did not want to be saved, and you, who wanted to be saved.  How much longer should you try to save me?   How far will I be able to do this?  If I “don’t know yet,” well then, what’s keeping me from knowing?  I couldn’t figure you out.

@[K] 25:00: How will I save you?  You, who is my savior?

@[K] 25:00: Should we be fated to part, should we be fated to lose one another, I pray we may be reunited each and every time such a thing happens.  If you’d just do me the honor of staying, staying and never to part, then I’ll get to remain the only one who knows how to save you.

@[K] 25:01: Because it’s not your first time muttering the words “I want to live.”  You can’t even hang yourself, you can’t even get mad at me who didn’t want to be saved.  I knew that. you didn’t want to save me.  You'll let me die in the end.  The one who you wanted to save──who was it again?

@[K] 25:01: Who do you want to save? It wasn’t me. But it was not you either. It was... 

@[K] 25:01: I hate you. It was so hard trying to save you.  It wasn’t even you.  It was never you.  I know the reason.   I knew it was never me.  It was guilt.  But I took it.  Like a freezing man finding water.  I, who couldn’t find the flame. 

   And it was guilt all over again.  He needs to write. 

Log: Is this another prayer or is this blasphemy? 

“I’m sorry I deceived you.”^[5]  

Log: Then pray we may be able to run away from guilt each and every time.  So we may protect our hearts, so they may never be stolen away.  Let’s entrust them to one another──put your trust in me.

   “I wonder how much this will last.” and Reo whispers once again.  Deceit he gave him, he shall repay him the same. The purple haired boy wondered how much he'll think back on the day “K” stops deceiving him.  He wouldn’t stop.  Though he admitted it, he'll never stop.  He knows Mafuyu will let him keep on doing it.   He can’t get angry at Kurona anymore.  He engraved himself into Mafuyu's mind, as if K wanted him to be unable to live without him. 

“Forget me not.”

Log: Even if we were to part, your voice lingers.  If we were to be fated to lose one another, I pray we get to meet again in a situation you are honest to me. You don’t have to be kind.  If you'll let me in on your honest feelings, if you'll let me in your guilt── then please, as I live on with this feeling nobody else has yet to feel, look at my existence itself, and tell me it’s right for me to exist beside you, who you lied to.

   And another. 

Log: “I want to stay alive,” “I don’t want to stay alive.”  Those words don’t mean anything anymore, because we have to live.  

Log: And with your guilt, you have done enough.  You don’t have to trick me anymore.   I just don’t think you'll let me stand by your side if I wasn’t like this.  You admitted it yourself.  

Log: I want to live. You saved me long ago. unsent.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”^[6]

Log: And even if I confronted you, it is quite saddening to see that you don't care.  But our suffering is the only bond we share.

   One last stupid unsent message.  He's done. 

   He didn't need “K” anymore. 

   He didn't need his treasure anymore. 

   He didn't need that stupid toy.

   He needed the warmth of being given something.

   He wasn't used to being given something.

   He always gave.

   He wasn't anything to them if he didn't give something──anything, to them.

   He was nothing to their dreams.

   He was nothing to their nightmares.

   He was nothing to the field.

   He was nothing like a rival.

   He was not even a friend.

   Yet that meant something.  Because that meant everything. 

Log: I am God.

   It was that day when Chigiri Hyouma found the heir: during the second selection. Hunched up, close to crying, full on mental breakdown. Walking up close to the purple haired figure with a hero behind him, he knelt down. “Hey, wanna join us?” All he received is an expression that conveys nothing. 

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:

𝐀 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

JULY 16, 2025

   Mikage Reo does not know how to deal with whatever this is.  

   Recalling: disparaging words had entered his ears, said by the very same person who he’d thought of as someone akin to a partner. Abandoned, again. Staring down at the two familiar figures that seemed to have that air of comfort. That deja vu. But it seemed the opposite in the past. And yet he was still the same: still weak, still pretending, still hurt. Thin glass breaks easily especially with a voice that screams as high as someone called Mikage Reo. Recall: Mikage Reo was viewed as someone born from gold and raised with diamonds. Everything got handed to him with a golden platter. What he wants, he gets. And, by his last name, he’s a Mikage. Mikage of the Mikage corporations; he’s bound to inherit billions from his father’s (uncle’s) company. Good at (almost) everything and is a so-called genius. Good at communicating, sweet-talker, convincing tone. It came to the point where he’s──quite literally──being praised left and right with a cult, centered around a lavender-haired “God.” Perfect little boy (?)──or well, girl. Although, contrary to popular belief, he is not. He is brash, shy, insecure, and──start rolling the karen Tweets──more the negative comments. He considers himself as emotional, as someone who doesn’t know how to keep emotions in check. At this point, everybody probably knows that. (If, hypothetically, the rumours were to spread everywhere around Blue Lock. Which probably already did.) He crashed out during the team V versus team Z match that led to them losing. He was super pissed, but nevertheless, he thought: at least Nagi was there! (Will he stay?──is the question.)  

   Then second selection (AKA this moment) came and GOD FORBID that he gets a fucking break. And now, the ever perfect Mikage Reo, has to deal with what you may call heartbreak. 

   No, he isn’t brooding. Like the blue that seems to flicker every now and then, his emotions were the same. Something such as affection... it was not for him. Creatures, a being like him──(no. Shut up. Everybody should just disappear──) He felt numb, and yet he felt everything all at the same time. And that was everything he ever needed. But, no──he simply cannot find it in himself to exert his distress. 

   It’s not as if it matters. He knows the reality that they will die someday… and everything he went through will be for naught. What happens if he dies tomorrow? No matter the happiness they have gathered all throughout their entire life it wouldn’t be enough to be remembered. This sadness he’s feeling? It doesn't exist. He said it, and what he said is a fact. 

   Eyes still trying to piece the minds of two individuals, he stood up, looking. To answer the question that was brought to mind just seconds ago, no, Nagi did in fact, not stay. Well, fuck you, Nagi Seishirou (Reo thinks it was never Nagi’s fault, but was his.) Context: Nagi left him for someone named Isagi Yoichi──who’s quite hot by the way──and now he’s close to crying. Why? He doesn’t know. Like he ever knows something about himself. It’s not as if he’s completely numb; he has feelings yet it’s quite hard to convey them through normal means… and so there goes his spontaneous and extravagant ways. Full on breakdown in front of two interesting individuals who seem to want him to be part of their team. Eyes locked, the cold of the floor envelops every nerve in his body, freezing. Eyebrows twitching, glistening eyes with a smile formed by his lips. Despite the smile that seemed to reach his teary eyes, something felt off. He knew, though; they cannot, for the life of them, analyze and comprehend his own expression. There’s a certain blue in his purple eyes that dared to remain. (Because the music box dared to stay, because he treasured it) He felt his brow twitch, a curve on his face. The light in his eyes──only a reflection of the bulbs above him. (And perhaps the feeling of being chosen formed something as akin as warmth like how he felt that day) Murmurs slowly fading away as he heard a line, his heartbeat stopped. It’s a sound too silent to cover the voice that talked to him. (Like the memory of a deep, playful voice nagging him.) 

   There was a secret distance between the two, despite the fact they are a foot away from each other. 

   Ha. Haha. Smile. There was that warmth in his eyes and the coldness that stayed by his side. (Was it true?) 

   Ha. (He wishes to laugh at his own pathetic figure.)

   Again. (He can’t dare to say the truth.)

   Ha. (Another laugh that took away his lifespan.)

   Ha… (And he grew tired of it.)

   Smile! (He has to.)

   No. (But he can’t.)

   Doesn’t fit. (Everything was supposed to be fine. He just had to act and everything will be fine.)

   Nagi left. He left him. (And Reo knows it’s his own fault.)

   He’s supposed to be sad. (But it feels relieving somehow. He can be free. He can die.)

   He is. (Because it felt like that music box shattered again.)

   His eyes don’t show. The warmth stayed yet the blue of his eyes went away, along with the one who took his dream. (And yet it had always been that stuffed toy, that bunny.) But it didn’t matter because it was his, not Nagi’s. (And that bunny did not leave him just yet. Even if the music box were to shatter again, that stuffed toy would still never break.)

   And the warmth fully left him, but not his expression. A hint of pain is still evident. (Was he in pain?) 

   “Why?” He questioned, with eyes staring directly towards the redhead. Deadpanning as if finding the question as absolute bullshit. He looked as if he was judging whether or not the duo was mentally ill or just dumb. (They just needed another member. That’s all. What was he expecting?) 

   “Because you're──”

   “Because you're──”

   “──cool.”

   “──talented.”

   Hats off to the romantic. Silence. Cue the crickets everybody. Awkwardness. What to say? Reo doesn’t know (does he?) Smooth talker amirite? Recall: “although contrary to popular belief, he is not.” ──Mikage Reo, 2025. What an heir. He’s tired, so striking a conversation with his usual cheerful tone, or perhaps a sad solemn tone befitting the incident just earlier? Not the moment. A simple “okay” should suffice, but Reo──Yuki, was not in the mood. No, it wasn’t their problem he got abandoned, but he has the need to spout everything he ever wanted to say, as if Nagi was his last and final thread to pull for his exterior to crack. 

   “Alright.”

   (He’d rather keep everything to himself, try to pick up the pieces he left.)

   With that, he watched Chigiri slowly getting off the ground to stand up, looking his way. Yuki merely walked towards the doors that will reveal the next stage in the second selection, glancing towards the duo from team Z.  

   The scene left him… jealous. Despite being a competitive player, they still seemed to have a moment full of warmth. As if they were friends. The redhead, however, noticed his eyes. 

   “Eh, erm… You already know us, right? Y’know──Chigiri Hyouma.” The red head told him his name, then gestured towards the taller ginger. “He’s Kunigami Rensuke.” The boy revealed as Kunigami (although he already knew since he would always analyze the plays of other teams before going straight to the field) simply gave a small wave. Yuki simply gave a nod, “Reo.” He seemed to be very anti-social at the moment and yes, although that is true, he has an image to maintain. And despite that, he does not give a fuck. God isn’t giving him breaks so he’s making it his parents’ problem once rumours spread around him. This array of complex emotions will be the end of him (quite literally) and he will do anything to stop this, even go as far as to be the person he was back then. At least he was prettier back when he felt absolutely nothing. Less emotion equals face card, he guesses. Ugh. His footsteps felt heavier. Nevertheless, they arrived on the other side of the room where people with teams of three are currently staying. Following the whole 24 hour-rule, they just had to wait and scout for a while. And while Reo felt all sticky, Yuki did not mind. Well, it’s still his body, so whatever. “I’m taking a look at our room,” was all the context he gave to the two, before they decided they wanted to scout teams. Okay, fine, whatever. This is dragging on. 

   And for a brief moment of weakness, his smile reached his eyes (but blue was no longer there), “okay, go.” (Reo reached out for the broken music box, but a soccer ball was what caught his hands.) “We can’t stall, we have to find a team to battle against. I’ll join you later on.”

   Whiplash hit the duo, and Reo, ever the perceptive person, let his smile be crooked, be noticeably fake. “Hmm?” A sickening tone, still a hint of warmth, surged through his throat to deliver a message that seemed forced. Happy, happy, happy. Woo. Haha. How funny. Woo. Be happy. Smile! 

   “Ah… yeah, sure, let’s catch on later. We'll probably try to find Isagi. I──we──need to get revenge on him. He didn’t bother waiting for us!” Chigiri exclaimed while looking slightly pissed. Of course it was Isagi. Kunigami just had a determined look on his face, something he should've had. What if he were also a little more enthusiastic about this whole situation? Did Nagi expect him to? Not knowing what to do, he just forced a smile. They made a little wave to Reo before the redhead gave a playful push on the hero’s back. A nod, indicating they were about to leave. A twist to their bodies and they turned their backs against him. The ginger made a remark to Chigiri, although Yuki couldn’t hear, it was slightly familiar. Chigiri nudged the other, laughing. 

   Ah. What is this feeling? He needs an apple. 

   He walked towards their designated room, thinking about the amount of goals he has. Five──for that stupid damn bed… he has one left. He needs two more. Wait, he spent it on that steak for Nagi. Three… Shit. Shit, shit, SHIT. Nagi wasn’t here for the silence that he partly needed, so who──or what──no… If Nagi wasn’t here then what about Sekai──and that wasn’t even accessible to him either. No… NO, NO──HE NEEDS TO──calm. Maybe he’s just imagining it. Maybe nothing ever really mattered anymore. But all he could do was run. He couldn’t confront it anymore, he couldn’t do anything about it. Calm. Calm, he is calm. Calm. Yes, calm. How calm! Yes, yes, calm. Just… hum. Hum that song. NO. No. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Wait, no. 

 . 

 . 

   He stared at the ceiling just right by the doorframe of their room. Shaky breathing filled the silence that seemed to unnerve him. “Hah…” He doesn’t have his phone here. K was here. K is here. K will always be here. K, K, K. K is still here. Now he feels like K is going to pop out of nowhere. K. Black. Kuro. Kurona. Ranze. Kurona Ranze. 

 . 

   He hates it. 

   A hand enveloping the handle, the coldness of the metal seeped, freezing his nerves. How annoying. A push, a small step. He’s here. In an unfamiliar room. A place where he'll be sleeping. A place where he’d spend his nights. Ugh. (Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.) 

  No one’s talking. 

  What a hassle. 

   He’s bound to be rooming with other players that he didn’t personally know. It’s not like anyone here are friends. Blue Lock is a competition among players, not some sleepover among friends. Hell, does he even have friends anymore? (He does. He’s the one who left.)  

   Was Nagi his friend?  

   He sat down on the bed after closing the door. It was comfortable──the silence, he means. The silence only he knows. “Ah…” a slight glint in his eyes dared to show──again──that he was sad. Yes, he is sad.  

   Although that was a fact he should have considered true the moment a freezing sensation dared to crack his heart, he seemed to be in denial for a moment. He seemed to forget that this is the present, the future where he can feel everything, not like before. 

   It seems as though his efforts to forget his “sadness” were for naught, for God also cries. He thinks. But it was a fact, too.  

   He really needs to get this over with. It’s not as if the thought of being something akin to being human bothered him──it was imperfection. Like everyone else, he, too, had problems that he’d rather keep to himself. The contradiction to the fear he felt was a laughable fact that dared to mock him. What is fear? Being afraid of being human, is a kind of human in its own way. But what is he really afraid of? Imperfection knows no bounds because the idea of perfection is something that is entirely subjective, and that can be imperfect too. Mayhaps the panorama that his perspective had also failed him, as well as his mind for thinking that his idea was foolproof. To his consternation, he came to the agonizing fact that maybe even he was imperfect. That perhaps God did exist, and it was not him. 

   That mockery that dared to endure the pity that inflicted the heart; well those passions read of pride, raised high the mountains──a stump of a tree grew to be the result. It bloomed, flowers akin to, and he felt full. 

   So despite the hate he feels, he can never really blame reality for it. Even God was bound to that reality, especially if they reside in the human world.  

   But what is divinity if all you can ever afford is the taste of sand? What would worship ever do to the inevitable fate that he is living amongst humans? What can a God ever do against beings that were not his creation?  

   Thinking was too much, even for him. He merely laid down on the bottom bunk of the bed before his eyes felt heavy, and as well as his body. Splayed across the white sheets were his purple locks that seemed to have grown oily, despite the fragrance it holds. It cascaded stiffly, despite looking silky and straight. Perhaps that was the problem in the first place: his hair had never been that straight. It may have been slightly silky, and perhaps smooth, but it had slight curls toward the ends. Was it because he cut his hair before becoming a Mikage? But it definitely had been stiff even before that, and it grew abnormally oily and clumpy. It was just the length. Nothing else. 

   It felt uncomfortable. His short hair, disgustingly still, didn’t even feel like his. Maybe he should try applying gel… although he never really looked good with slicked back hair. Perhaps he should let it grow longer, like it had been before. But it would look just as disgusting as it is right now. 

   He rose up from the bed and sat up straight. Half-lidded eyes gazed toward the drawers, trying to spot a comb; none. 

   He gritted his teeth through a smile, clenching his fist upon the sheets. He grew unfocused with everything else, standing up, wobbling. His legs started to work, and his hand reached out for the door handle, shakily grasping it with pale hands. A foot forward, a slightly wobbly step. All his weight pressing down his foot that was in front. He twisted the knob, pushed, and dashed. 

   No, no──fuck. Why was he running? Why was he trying so hard? It didn’t matter anymore, perhaps. Maybe he didn’t need to care anymore after everything. He needs to antithesize “need” and “want” in this stupid hell hole. The fuck is ego for? The fuck is Ego for? Even as he was running, he still had that lingering sense of loathing that wanted him to hurt despite being unable to stand pain. Being unable to adapt to pain and hurt himself over and over. 

   Maybe he just wanted someone to tell him that. He keeps giving the advice of freedom, of joy. ‘If it’s for your sake, then I think it’s fine to want to run away sometimes.’ Fucking bullshit. He knows that Nagi is a kind person, that he’s a genius who can──even a little bit──understand him. But being able to understand someone does not mean that he’s able to accept him without guilt, without some pathetic sympathy and continue being his friend. 

   Just like back then──with Hio──shut up. 

   Would pity be enough for the hate that embodied the very same person that he wanted to love? Yet who was he trying to allot his effort to? Disgusting. Disgusting. 

   Then he felt it: water (?) dampening his own cheeks. Tears, what they are. Salty. Why is he crying? Why the fuck is he getting all emotional? He can’t even understand himself. Is it because he’s so dirty? Was it because he can’t handle the thought that maybe K was just another imagination? Or maybe because he was abandoned with the same look that his own imagination saw under the sunset? 

   Or perhaps, it wasn’t any of that. It was just himself.  

   Because he once thought Nagi Seishiro and him were alike: easy to drag around, unmotivated, dreamless. 

   But Nagi Seishiro gained a dream; Mikage Reo forced a dream upon himself to feel human. 

   Because dreams are what we live for. 

   Ah, he needs a bath. That’s what he needs. Yes. It was just the dirt. Remove it all away and he'll be fine. 

   He had always been fine. 

 Blue Lock, additional time! 

   Isagi Yoichi tried to calm down the two egoists beside him. Barou, being the fussy one, complained about Nagi being lazy. Then, Nagi, being the lazy one, kept yapping about how Reo was the one doing it for him. For God’s sake, how much did Reo spoil this man?  

   Picking up a goddamn sock is a hassle? He was so close to telling him, kill yourself──no. No. 

   He regretted teaming up with Nagi. Although for the most part, he found out things about Nagi! 

   Recount: Nagi Seishiro was someone who was born alone. His parents, part of the military, were doing their best serving the country while taking care of him. Best wasn’t enough, at least in Isagi’s opinion. 

   Although his parents tried to raise Nagi properly, Nagi never cared for such affection that comes along. People come and go; he didn’t need such fleeting emotions. He had his games, they'll never lie. Then, Reo came up and dragged him to play football with him. Then Nagi went up and left. 

   And although he felt bad for Reo, it was needed. This is a competition after all. Things such as friendship can exist off the field, but on the field? Nope! And Isagi can somewhat understand Reo's perspective, although it was a sign of codependency. The two needs to split up before being able to play together again. And what he noticed? Reo needs more of the emotional training much more than physical training. Nagi did need some practice with social interactions and emotions too, but Reo seemed slightly off, even in comparison to the other players he met here. 

   But this is pissing him off so bad… Nagi, swimming in the public bath? He’s going to drown him, he has to, at this point. 

   But luckily, Kunigami and Chigiri joined him, along with a pissy Barou. 

   “So… Nagi asked you to join him?” Chigiri questioned the dark haired man first, his long red hair cascading down his shoulders. Kunigami sat next to him, intently listening. Isagi cleared his throat before responding, “yeah. Nagi asked me to join him and Reo, but I wanted to team up with Bachira, so Nagi joined us. We lost to Itoshi Rin’s team and they took Bachira, so we went and battled with Barou and Naruhaya. We picked Barou in the end.”

   “And here I thought you didn’t team up with Bachira!” The so-called hero laughed out loud with a big smile, flashing it towards Isagi. “But, anyway, do you have any problems with finding a team?”

   Isagi looked shocked by the sudden question, but answered either way. “Eh? Why? Well, yeah, I guess…”

   “Battle us.” It was Chigiri’s time to step in. “We'll beat you, and then we'll take you, Isagi.”

   “Uh… okay… WAIT WHAT!?” Sudden outburst, sure, yeah, awkward. Nagi hummed in reply, while Barou asked the real question: “where’s your third?”

   Chigiri smirked, and then looked at… Nagi? “Oh, yeah. We forgot to mention him. Hey, Nagi, you don’t mind us taking Reo, ey?” The mentioned sloth blinked, eyes sparkling like in a fucking Shoujo anime. “Reo…? Reo!” He tried sitting in a pool. A POOL. Well, public bathtub, but who cares? Well, this was the first time Isagi saw him actually act properly, and considering Nagi pulled his hair just to tell him that he should have chosen Reo and spit out some trashtalk at him? Yeah, he needs to get his shit together. So Reo being here? Or, I mean, close? Might put the mutt on a leash. 

   “Uh, yeah, err… he’s in the room. But he might have gone out to take a walk or something. I’m not sure.”

   “Can I visit?”

   “Uh… erm, sure I guess?”

   That was weird, because Isagi was sure that somehow, Nagi’s indifferent eyes turned slightly brighter than before. If that was even possible. 

   “Later?”

   Chigiri stared at him dumbfoundedly, “this dude… Okay, fine, later.”

   Nagi hummed in response, again, and went back to dilly-dallying in the public bath. This earned him another one of Barou’s pissy speeches about cleanliness. Well, Nagi did need that after all. 

   Nagi, in the same fashion as earlier when he heard Reo’s name, straightened his back and went out the public bathtub, almost sprinting. 

   “Hey, princess.”

   “What?”

   “What room?”

   “The room to the left, second to the last.”

   “Okay, thanks.”

   Goddamnit. All Isagi had to do was bring up his owner to give him motivation, huh?