Chapter Text
The training grounds of Blue Lock’s German stratum facility were empty at this hour, the floodlights casting long, harsh shadows across the artificial pitch. Most of the players had retreated to the dorms, nursing bruised egos and exhausted bodies.
But two figures remained.
Michael Kaiser stood at the center circle, spinning a ball on the tip of his finger with effortless arrogance. His blonde hair gleamed under the lights, the rose tattoo on his arm vivid even from a distance.
Across from him, Itoshi Rin leaned against a goalpost, arms crossed, teal eyes narrowed in perpetual disdain.
“You’re still here, Emperor?” Rin’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
“I thought you’d be busy polishing your trophies.”
Kaiser caught the ball mid-spin and smirked, that infuriating, theatrical curl of his lips.
“And miss the chance to watch you brood in the dark, little prodigy? Never.”
Rin pushed off the post and walked forward, each step deliberate.
The air between them crackled—the same tension that had defined every match they’d played against each other. Bastard München versus whatever team Rin happened to be leading that week. Kaiser’s Kaiser Impact versus Rin’s perfect shots. Ego against ego.
“I don’t brood,” Rin said flatly. “I analyze.
There’s a difference.”
“Semantics.” Kaiser dropped the ball and trapped it under his foot. “You analyze because you can’t stand that I’m better. That my talent is transcendent while yours is merely… exceptional.”
Rin’s eyes flashed.
In one fluid motion, he closed the distance and kicked the ball out from under Kaiser’s foot, sending it rolling toward the goal. “Exceptional enough to make you sweat.”
Kaiser laughed—a low, genuine sound that surprised even himself. He lunged after the ball, but Rin was already there, shoulder-checking him just hard enough to disrupt his balance. They collided, neither willing to yield an inch. Kaiser’s hand shot out, grabbing Rin’s jersey at the collar. Rin’s fingers dug into Kaiser’s arm in return.
For a moment, they were frozen like that—faces inches apart, breathing hard, eyes locked in a battle older than this pitch.
“You’re obsessed with me,” Kaiser murmured, voice dropping. “Admit it. Every goal you score, every drill you run… it’s because you want to surpass me.”
Rin’s grip tightened.
“You talk too much.”
“And you talk too little.” Kaiser’s smirk softened into something sharper, hungrier. “Yet here we are. Again.”
The ball had rolled to a stop near the net. Neither of them cared anymore.
Rin shoved him back first, but there was no real force behind it. Kaiser let himself be moved, only to step right back into Rin’s space. Their foreheads nearly touched.
“I hate you,” Rin said, the words quiet but burning.
“Good,” Kaiser replied. “Use it. Channel it. Next time we face each other on the field, I want you at your absolute worst—because that’s when you’re most beautiful.”
Rin’s breath hitched. He wasn’t sure if it was fury or something else. The line between the two had blurred months ago.
Without warning, Rin grabbed Kaiser by the back of the neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It was teeth and frustration and months of unresolved tension exploding all at once.
Kaiser responded instantly, one hand fisting in Rin’s dark hair, the other gripping his waist like he owned it.
When they broke apart, both were breathing raggedly.
Kaiser’s eyes gleamed with triumph and something deeper. “See? You are obsessed.”
“Shut up.” Rin’s voice was hoarse. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but his eyes never left Kaiser’s. “Next match. I’m ending you.”
“Can’t wait.” Kaiser grinned, wild and bright.
“Try not to miss me too much until then, Rin.”
He turned and walked off the pitch, leaving Rin standing there under the lights, heart pounding harder than after any sprint.
Rin picked up the forgotten ball, stared at it for a long second, then hurled it into the top corner of the net with vicious precision.
Next time, he thought.And for once, the thought didn’t feel quite like hatred. though it wasn't fondness well that's what rin told himself