Chapter Text
Reo hates the spring.
He rarely shows it. It’s the sort of thing that would mar his otherwise perfect record of being the Mikage heir, so he hides this idiosyncrasy. He covers it up with his wide smile and bright laugh, and when the cold finally breaks, he talks about the weather in the same relieved tone as everyone else: Finally, some sun! I can’t wait to go outside again. The flowers are so beautiful this time of year. Only Nagi knows better.
Reo doesn’t intend to reveal this part of himself to anyone, but Nagi catches it in the subtlest of ways. There’s a day when Nagi waves a branch heavy with blossoms over Reo’s head, casting petals in the air like magic. Nagi expects Reo to laugh it off (and he does), but there's an unfamiliar strain in his voice— a nervousness to his laughter that catches Nagi off guard. He drops the branch and brushes the petals off Reo, and the tension in his shoulders eases away.
Nagi notices other things, too. In the spring, Reo avoids the cascades of petals that fall with each breeze. If he’s not paying attention, he'll almost teeter off the the curb, and Nagi has to pull him back before he trips onto the road. Then, Reo will snap back into his surroundings with slight surprise, and he'll thank Nagi with a smile that leaves hearts stuttering in its wake.
(Or a heart— one in particular).
Nagi doesn’t think too much about it. Everyone has their own strange preferences, and even Reo— the star student, the football captain, the precious young heir to the Mikage corporation— even he must have some unexplainable eccentricities. Maybe something tragic happened to Reo during this season, or maybe there’s some other banal reason for his dislike. It doesn’t matter. Nagi chooses not to call attention to it.
A classmate asks Nagi and Reo if they’re free to go to the cherry blossom festival that weekend, but before Reo can answer, Nagi lies. He says they already have plans, and Reo glances at him in surprise, but he goes along with it.
Later, Reo asks Nagi about it, and Nagi makes up an excuse: There’s too many bugs outside, the ground is still damp from the recent rain, and he’d rather play games at Reo’s house. They spend the weekend doing exactly that. Nagi rests his head in Reo’s lap as he completely dominates the game. Frustrated, Reo pauses it mid-play, and Nagi thinks the scowl on Reo's face might turn into physical retribution (a swat of his ear, a pinch of his cheek). Instead, Reo takes another look at Nagi, and he loses the frown. Reo runs his fingers through Nagi’s hair, and Nagi can acutely feel the thrum of his own heart.
“This is fun,” Reo says, finally laughing at how miserably he’s losing against Nagi.
Nagi nods before starting the game up again (feigning like he didn't lose his breath for a moment), and Reo sighs when he loses another round.
◇-◈-◇
Reo doesn’t get close to other people, but he gets close to Nagi.
Nagi’s not quite sure what to make of his attention. He planned on living a very quiet school life by himself, just like he always had— sneaking underneath the gazes of the rich at this elite school, making a friend or two that would inevitably forget him upon graduation, and then moving on. He doesn’t care for the wild aspirations his classmates have. He’s okay with keeping to himself, as he’s always done.
That’s interrupted when a billionaire boy accidentally stumbles into him.
Reo trips into him, Nagi almost loses his phone, he doesn't, and after he catches that same phone, Reo asks him to play football. It sounds like a pain, really— not just playing a sport, but also associating himself with the intense gravitas of this guy. Nagi doesn't pay too close attention to the social workings of this school, but even he knows that Reo is above and beyond all others.
It'd be annoying to say yes, but Reo’s eyes are sparking with electric delight, and it seems like he won't take no for an answer. Nagi decides if he’s going to follow this rich kid’s whim, he might as well get something out of it.
So it begins. Nagi plays football, and Reo gives him some pocket money each week, and life is still pretty uneventful. Sure, he goes to practice daily and is shuttled from prefecture to prefecture for weekend matches, but life is still pretty easy. Reo, true to his word, doesn’t demand too much out of him, and Nagi lives just as usual (though with a handful of extra cash).
But sometimes on the field after Nagi scores a goal, he catches Reo’s gaze overflowing with admiration and excitement. Sometimes they make eye contact, and Reo flusters for a moment before covering it up with his usual friendly smile. No one else looks at Nagi this way.
Impulsively, when Reo hands over the expected weekly payment, Nagi tells him to keep it. He never really needed the money, and football’s almost kind of enjoyable (though most of the fun is in seeing how Reo’s eyes light up when they win).
Reo's quiet for a moment before he asks, “Are you thinking of quitting?”
Quitting? Nagi breaks away from his phone screen, and he sees how Reo’s face has gone grave, which is exactly the opposite of what Nagi wants. “What?” Nagi says. “No. I just don’t need the money anymore.”
All the tension in Reo vanishes, and something twists in Nagi’s stomach. Reo nudges the envelope over again, urging Nagi to take it. But Nagi doesn't want that anymore. Instead, he says, “You can just buy me lunch or something.”
And there’s another still moment of hesitation, like Reo has no choice but to weigh the stakes of such an offer. It’s just lunch, right? Nagi hadn’t expected to be rejected (especially with how Reo looks at him sometimes), but as the silence draws on, Nagi braces himself for Reo’s refusal.
It doesn’t come. Reo smiles and says, “Okay. Sure.”
It takes Nagi a while for him to realize how significant that agreement is.
Here’s the thing; Reo’s constantly surrounded by people. He’s on the student council, and he’s the captain of the football team, and he’s the best student in the grade, and on top of that, he’s a freaking billionaire. Of course there’d be a million people flocking to him, calling for his attention at all times.
So it makes sense that even surrounded by people, Reo keeps a certain distance from everyone. He’s friendly and sociable, but he keeps his smile tight and closed off. At least once a week, a girl will confess to him behind the school building, and Reo kindly but thoroughly rejects every invitation to a date. He even rejects most of the platonic ones out.
Nagi’s different. He’s heard Reo say it jokingly on the field before, that he thinks Nagi is a treasure, but it's strange for Nagi to think of himself that way. He tries to remember the last time a person treated him like this. Nothing comes to mind.
Nagi decides he likes it.
He takes thorough advantage of Reo’s favor, trying to monopolize Reo’s time when he can. They go to the arcade together, and Nagi spares no mercy in beating Reo at every game possible (but he makes up for it by handing Reo the plushies he wins at the claw machine). Reo returns the favor by dragging Nagi to football matches with some of the best seats in the stadium. Reo meets Nagi’s parents, and Nagi does the same (though Reo’s parents seem wary at best; Reo’s father in particular gives Nagi a hard look). Sometimes, when Reo’s forced to go to some uppity social function, he drags Nagi along, and Nagi spends all his time gorging himself on little gourmet appetizers when he’s not actively scandalizing rich old folks.
Getting a glimpse into Reo’s world is fascinating, but the best part of being with Reo are the little moments: catching Reo's gaze and seeing Reo fluster before smiling back. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder and watching how the tips of Reo's ears tinge pink.
There’s a day when Reo asks Nagi to stay after school (Reo's being forced to go to a charity gala, and he's forcing Nagi to tag along as miserable company). Nagi waits in their usual spot, but Reo doesn't show up. After a few minutes and an unanswered text, Nagi goes hunting for his friend. It doesn't take long to hear Reo behind the school building, his voice carrying over a corner with another person's.
“I like you,” the other person says. Nagi briefly wonders if he should leave, but this isn’t the first confession he’s accidentally overheard, so he decides to stay put. The only thing interesting about this confession is that another boy is giving it.
“Thanks,” Reo says in a practiced response. “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested in dating right now.”
The other boy gets impatient, and his voice goes harsh. “Seriously? Why do you reject literally everyone who asks you out? Do you think you’re better than everyone else? Or is it something else?”
Reo tries to speak, but the other boy interrupts. “Maybe it’s that guy you always hang around. Are you using him as a fuck toy?” Then, the other boy laughs. "Or maybe he's so broke, he has to whore himself out to you. How else could he get into this school?"
Ah. Maybe Nagi shouldn’t have stuck around.
Reo’s voice hardens. “Don’t talk about Nagi like that.”
“Oh, a Mikage defending trash. How novel.”
Then, the sound of some scuffling, and Nagi freezes, unsure if he should break up what seems inches away from a fight. He reconsiders. It'd be a funny image, the Mikage heir going to a charity gala with a split lip and a black eye. If they're lucky, Reo's father will take one look at his son's battered face and allow them to skip altogether.
After the sound of a few light shoves, Reo declares, “Nagi’s not trash, you idiot. He’s a treasure.”
And Nagi thinks, Oh.
The other boy scoffs, but he doesn’t escalate the tension, and after a moment, there's the sound of footsteps getting more and more distant. Reo sighs and leaves the scene as well, and as he turns the corner, he sees where Nagi's been hiding.
“Um. Did you hear everything?”
“Yeah.”
Reo rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “Don’t think too much about what that other guy said. He’s just jealous.”
And Nagi wonders if that jealousy is warranted— if there’s something growing between them that they just haven't named yet. But he thinks better of asking it aloud. He already knows the answer.
◇-◈-◇
Reo doesn’t like watching romances.
It’s a shame because Nagi loves them— if only because there’s something interesting about all these things he doesn’t understand. The swooping, grand gestures of love, the tearful confessions; it all feels so foreign to Nagi. He can’t stop watching.
He pulls Reo into watching these shows, often cuddled up into Reo’s side, lingering in the heat of his body as Nagi drapes a blanket over their legs. Reo, for the most part, is disinterested. Occasionally, he’ll bite out a sharp, disillusioned comment, but he lets Nagi use him as a pillow, and they can spend hours like that, cradled into each other while mindless entertainment plays on.
Nagi knows Reo has had bad experiences with love. As the heir to the Mikage fortune, how could he not? Reo laughs when he tells Nagi about the first time someone confessed to him; a kindergarten teacher who was probably only after his money. He tells the story off-handedly, expecting Nagi to be just as amused, but it grates on Nagi. How many times has this been repeated in Reo’s life? A false confession? A pretense of love?
Nagi thinks he could end it.
He’s not blind; he can see how Reo looks at him. It used to be full of admiration and excitement every time Nagi ran down the field, but it changed around the time Nagi wedged himself into Reo’s life. Reo’s eyes become softer around Nagi; his smiles become lighter. There are times when Nagi accidentally catches Reo indulging himself in Nagi’s image— just staring at him, and completely content with only doing that.
So Nagi could confess to him, and maybe Reo would take it as yet another disingenuous grab for money, but maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe all those things that happen in romance movies would no longer be strange and alien to Nagi’s life. Maybe they could learn something new together.
But there’s something that always stops Nagi, and it’s the same something that closes Reo off to other people.
They watch a drama once, and it’s the same as usual— Nagi nestling into Reo as the melodramatic climax hits. On the screen, the female lead stumbles backwards as she catches her ex with a new woman (no doubt some sort of misunderstanding at play— they’re still desperately in love with each other), and Reo tenses. The actress coughs into her hand as the music heightens, but Nagi doesn't focus on the show anymore. Nagi can hear Reo’s heartbeat thudding under the score, and Reo's body has gone as stiff as iron.
Without another thought, Nagi suddenly reaches out with his foot, slamming it down on the keyboard, managing to stop the show mid-scene. Reo relaxes (subconciously; he probably doesn't even know it), but he asks, “What—”
“It’s boring,” Nagi answers. “I don’t wanna watch anymore. Let’s go eat.”
Reo doesn’t ask any more questions, but for the rest of his day, his smile is proper, closed-mouthed, and perfunctory, and Nagi keenly feels the distance between them. Not yet, Nagi thinks. He doesn’t know when Reo might be ready for an honest confession, but he’s willing to wait.
◇-◈-◇
It takes Nagi a while to understand what football means to Reo.
Reo hides this differently than his aversion to spring or his discomfort with romance movies: for one, it seems like Reo doesn’t hide it at all. He tells everyone he knows that his dream is to win the World Cup and that he and Nagi’ll become the best strikers in the world. And if someone brings up the school’s football team, Reo can go on and on about nationals, the other teams, tactics, and his teammates.
So everyone at the school rightfully acknowledges his enthusiasm for the sport, and though the prevailing opinion is that Reo will do the sensible thing and lead the Mikage corporation like his father before him, it’s also clear that Reo loves football.
Reo doesn’t try to dissuade this opinion either. He remains firmly rooted in the business world; Nagi often sees Reo whipping his phone out to trade stocks during lull periods in class, or on the occasions they study together (study being a loose word for Nagi), Reo is as likely to have budget reports out as he is their chemistry homework.
Sometimes, Nagi questions Reo about this. “You always do so much. Aren’t you tired?” he’ll ask. Sometimes, even day-to-day living exhausts Nagi, but Reo carries so much more on his shoulders.
Reo laughs a little and says, “This is normal for me. Don’t worry about it,” before returning to the task at hand.
One day after practice, Nagi forgets his water bottle in the locker room. He goes back to fetch it, and on his way out, he hears someone still punting on the field. Strange, he thinks— practice ended over 30 minutes ago; Nagi’s only loitering at the school because he suddenly realized there was a timed event in one of the many games he plays, so he stuck around until it finished.
Nagi glances at the field and sees a familiar purple ponytail bobbing up and down. It looks like Reo’s practicing penalty kicks, but maybe not; the way Reo drives his foot into the ball seems almost too forceful. More like he’s trying to exorcise demons rather than practice his kicks.
Nagi watches as Reo slams his foot into the ball over and over again, the ball arcing into the corner of the net, falling into the goal more often than not. Nagi wonders how often Reo stays after practice like this— he knew Reo was always one of the last ones to head out, mostly because he helps to clean up the field equipment after practice. So does that mean every time? He can imagine it easily, every day after practice, Reo staying just a little longer to keep training.
Reo sinks to the turf, panting as he tries to catch his breath like he does after especially grueling matches. Nagi sneaks up behind him, and once he’s just a few feet away, he tackles Reo to the ground, and Reo shouts in surprise before recognizing Nagi.
“What? Why are you here, Nagi?”
“Forgot my water bottle.” Nagi passes said bottle to Reo, and Reo gratefully takes a long drink from it. “You shouldn’t practice so much. You’ll burn yourself out.”
Reo swallows the drink and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Professionals practice 5 hours a day,” he says.
Nagi gives him a deadpan look that clearly says, 1) You’re a full-time student, 2) You’re a part-time manager for the Mikage corporation, 3) You’re also a student council member and captain of this team, so 4) There’s no way you have the time to train like a professional footballer.
“I know,” Reo says after draining the last of the water from the bottle. “I don’t do this often. Just wanted to relieve some stress today.”
“What about?”
And Nagi watches as Reo’s eyes shift and his lips press flat into a frown. He eventually says, “I got in a fight with my dad.”
Nagi stays silent, unsure if he should encourage Reo to share more or if doing so would leave Reo feeling overexposed. Reo sighs and says, “Typical stuff. It’s whatever.”
But of course it’s not. Reo tugs at the grass and stares at the ground in deep contemplation while Nagi keeps quiet. He gets it— they’re friends (and maybe they could be more), but Reo keeps walls up that even Nagi is unable to scale.
Then, Reo flickers his gaze towards Nagi, and just for a moment, the walls come tumbling down. “Do you think I can do it?” Reo asks quietly.
“Do what?”
Reo pauses for a long moment before shaking his head, trying to wave his question away, and the walls are back up. “It doesn’t matter,” Reo says, and Nagi’s heart strains in an unfamiliar way. Reo moves to stand up, but before he can, Nagi reaches out to grab Reo’s hand.
“You can,” Nagi answers. “Whatever it is, you can.”
The purple in Reo’s eyes goes deep and wavering, like the quiet of a lake at midnight. Then, Reo smiles, and Nagi’s heart skips a beat.
◇-◈-◇
They receive an invitation to a suspicious program called ‘Blue Lock’. Nagi immediately tosses the letter into his bag, willing to let it be crumpled at the bottom along with all his other forgotten homeworks. Reo, on the other hand, studies the letter extensively.
After a minute, Reo declares, “It’s not a scam, but they’re probably doing some shady shit.”
Nagi hums in response, already uninterested. Reo slips the letter into his bag and ends the conversation there.
The next day, Reo doesn’t stop by Nagi’s desk during their lunch break. It’s not that strange— though Reo likes to have lunch with Nagi, he’s also a busy person, so he sometimes has to do work in this free period. That being said, Reo usually texts Nagi if he can’t make it to lunch, and today, Nagi’s phone is uncomfortably silent. Nagi texts Reo, but when he doesn't get a response, he sets out to find his friend.
He searches his usual hiding spots— the rooftop, the courtyard, the stairwell where he first met Reo. Then, he searches places Reo might lurk around— the student council room, the library— Nagi even pops his head into the teacher’s lounge. Reo’s not there.
Finally, Nagi makes his way to the football field, and sure enough, Reo is punting balls into the net. Not in the same way as last time; these kicks seem soft and almost absent-minded, and Reo looks equally dazed. Nagi calls out from across the field, and Reo turns his head. Blinks once, twice, and finally recognizes who called his name.
Nagi jogs up to Reo while Reo stares at him dumbfoundedly. Once he’s within earshot, Nagi asks, “Relieving stress again?”
Reo shakes his head but then reconsiders. “You know that letter we got yesterday? The one for Blue Lock?” Nagi nods. “I’m gonna go.”
“Really? I thought you said it was sus.”
“It definitely is, but I wanted to do it.”
“How’d you convince your parents?”
And as soon as Nagi asks the question, he regrets it. Reo’s eyes go cold, and his mouth twists into an acidic smile. “I didn’t,” he answers, and he crosses his arms in front of him. “They signed the papers because they don’t think I can do it. If you fail in Blue Lock, you get blacklisted from the national team.” He gives off a sharp laugh and says, “They want me to fail.”
Nagi’s mouth goes dry. “What? Why'd you even agree to go?”
Reo looks at him earnestly. "I want to be the best striker in the world. Isn't Blue Lock the best place to learn how to do that?"
"But if you fail..." Nagi hesitates to complete the sentence. If Reo fails, he'll never make it to the World Cup. He'll have to give up his dream.
“Yeah,” Reo says quietly. “I can’t fail.”
Reo’s gone rigid and tight and mournful, and his face is cast in shadow, like the veil a widow might wear at a funeral. But he turns to Nagi again and puts on an easy smile that belies the gravity of this conversation. He says, “You should come too, Nagi.”
“Why? Won’t we be competitors then?” And honestly, Nagi doesn’t want to go. It sounds annoying, and it seems like he’d be worked to the bone within the program. It’d be easier to stay out of it altogether.
“Maybe.” Reo concedes. “Maybe they’ll let both of us win. I told you before, we can be the best strikers in the world. I want you there with me.”
“Will you go?” Reo asks.
Here’s the thing: Reo doesn’t ask for anything from other people. It’s the age-old question of ‘what could you possibly give someone who can afford literally anything he wants?’ Most of the time, the answer to that is something personalized and intimate, but Reo eschews those types of bonds. He’s courteous, kind— even friendly— but his relationships never evolve into anything more than that. So what could someone possibly give him? There's nothing anyone can offer him, material or immaterial.
Nagi’s different. From the very start, Reo asked him to play football together, and after that, he asked for other things in a million little ways. Most of them are small, wordless requests, like the way Reo’s hand hovers above Nagi’s head before Nagi moves into the touch, letting Reo thread his fingers through Nagi's platinum locks. Or when Reo gets close to Nagi for some reason or another, and his body is stiff and unsure about the proximity, Nagi decides to press their bodies together— lets his leg fall onto Reo’s lap. Wraps his arm around Reo’s shoulder. Reo goes soft every time.
When Reo asks, Will you go?, there’s something aching and vulnerable in his voice, and the doors Reo keeps tightly shut open just a crack. Reo’s ready to close them— Nagi can see it in the stiffness of his stance, in the way his lips are just about to pull up in a dismissive laugh and say something like— Never mind. It’d be annoying for you. I'll go alone, but Reo allows those doors open for just a moment, and Nagi doesn’t quite understand why Reo treats him so differently from everyone else, but he likes it.
So Nagi says, “Sure,” and Reo responds with a smile Nagi could stare at for a long, long time.
◇-◈-◇
They go to Blue Lock, and everything goes smoothly for the first few weeks. Reo tags out some poor, unwitting kid in the very first game they take part in, and they watch him go home. After that is a series of boring matches against other players. Reo quickly takes on the same role he does during their high school matches— tactician, captain, playmaker— and they trounce every opposing team under Reo’s direction.
The novelty of Blue Lock quickly wears off. They transition from high school students to pre-professional players, and the amount of training Nagi undergoes increases, much to his dismay. The matches aren’t anything different from playing in prefecture tournaments (in fact, they’re worse because some of these strikers don’t know a solitary thing about defense), and when Nagi and Reo easily score goals against these unorganized teams, they almost seem to collapse within themselves.
One day, a desperate player tries to cheat his way into the next round, but even that bores Nagi. He can barely understand why someone would go to such lengths just to win a game. What’s the point of playing if you have to resort to such measures? Football isn’t nearly interesting enough to merit the effort.
The next day, Nagi changes his mind.
Nagi quickly scores a few goals, and Team Z looks utterly exhausted, much like how the other matches went. But one of the players seems to have life in him still, and Reo smiles from the challenge. Soon enough, that player scores a goal, and that’s followed by another goal from a different player, and then another, and Reo’s smile wears off.
Nagi watches Reo get boxed off by the other team, and Reo goes stiff with the ball at his feet. His brow furrows, and he bites his lip, and he looks utterly trapped in a way Nagi’s never seen before. There’s something to his expression that makes Nagi lift his feet, and when Reo sees Nagi moving, his eyes go wide.
Reo passes the ball, and when it lands at Nagi’s feet, he’s driven by an overwhelming urge to just move. He and Zantetsu push upfield, and the other players struggle to contain Nagi while this strange feeling surges through him. It’s so foreign, but it feels good — like something’s been stuck in his chest forever, and the ball passed to him dislodged it, and Nagi can finally breathe.
He strikes the ball into the net, and the whole field goes quiet with astonishment. It explodes after just a second when Nagi’s teammates fall onto him in celebration, but before that happens, Nagi turns to Reo and says—
“Hey, Reo. Football is interesting, huh?”
They end up losing the game, but the loss barely registers in Nagi. Nagi wants more — more of this strange sensation after losing, more of the frustration of defeat dogging his heels, and more of a want to win. Something awakens in Nagi, and when he looks at Reo, Reo has the same awe-stricken expression as he did when they first met.
◇-◈-◇
Nagi contemplates this new sensation through the next tasks Ego puts them through. There’s intensive conditioning (even worse than the sessions Nagi sometimes skipped before), and if Nagi’s interest in football hadn’t been sparked, he might’ve dropped out from how bothersome it all is.
Reo seems equally excited by Nagi’s newfound interest in football. When they first met, Reo would gush about football every opportunity he got, but he eventually eased off— only recounting things necessary for Nagi to play. That excitement is back with a vengeance. Reo dreams up future scenarios for them when they finally play professionally. Every scene Reo pictures always has them together.
Ego sends them through a second stage where they have to beat a holographic goalkeeper, and it takes a while for Nagi to find his rhythm, but he eventually succeeds. Nagi waits for Reo to finish up the second stage so they can form their three-person team, and he doesn’t have to wait long. Reo smiles when he sees Nagi already among the players milling about.
After hearing the rules for the tournament-styled selection, Reo asks, “Who do you think we should choose?”
“I have someone in mind.”
“Zantetsu?”
Nagi shakes his head; Zantetsu would be a safe choice, but after the game they played with Team Z, there’s someone else who would be much more exciting.
“Then who?” Reo asks. Nagi’s about to answer when his attention is distracted by the dribbler from Team Z, Bachira. The light in Bachira’s eyes seems to dance as he scans the room, but he doesn’t make a move to talk to any of the players already there.
“Him?” Reo asks. “Bachira was pretty good against us. He’d be a good choice.”
Nagi shakes his head again just as Isagi enters the room.
Isagi immediately spots Bachira, and the two of them celebrate making it through another grueling round of Blue Lock. Nagi finds himself drifting towards the pair, and he hears Reo call out behind him, saying, “Wait,” but Nagi’s too distracted to notice.
“Hey, Isagi,” Nagi says. “Won’t you team up with us?”
Isagi turns away from Bachira in surprise. “Huh?”
“Come to our team,” Nagi repeats.
From behind, he hears Reo ask, “I know you said you wanted to team up with someone… but this guy?”
“Yeah. He was the most amazing in the match, after all. I wanna try playing football with him.”
“No way,” Isagi says. It looks like he’s glued to the dribbler’s side. “I’m teaming up with Bachira. Sorry Nagi, but I won’t go there alone.”
Nagi doesn’t have to think it over too deeply. During their match, something that can never be undone was ignited within him— a chemical reaction; combustible and irreversible. He wants to clutch onto that sensation again, and he thinks Isagi might be key to it. So he says, “Okay. Then I’ll join your team, Isagi. That’d be fine, right?”
Nagi's resolution is returned with confused stares all around, and from behind, Reo asks, “What? What are you thinking, Nagi? Weren’t we going to team up together?” There’s heat in Reo’s voice, and he looks more annoyed by this impulsive decision than anything else.
Nagi turns back. “But we lost,” Nagi says, and the annoyance in Reo’s face shifts into something colder. “We weren’t the strongest. This is the first time I’ve felt this frustration, and I want to understand it. I want to play football with this guy.”
Nagi says, “I want to put in some effort.”
And Nagi thinks explaining himself should make things better, should let Reo understand why he’s doing what he does, but each word seems to do the opposite. The annoyance turns to restlessness, and that turns to distraught.
Reo opens his mouth like he wants to protest this decision, but after a moment, he just shakes his head and says, “Just do what you want.”
It makes Nagi uneasy. Reo looks away while Isagi agrees to this sudden match-up, and Nagi can see Reo closing himself off. He wants to say something, but the screen suddenly dings as he, Bachira, and Isagi are registered as a team, and they're instructed to go into the next room.
There's not much time to say anything, but Nagi gives his best attempt at reassurance. “See ya, Reo. I’ll be waiting ahead.”
Reo doesn’t answer.
◇-◈-◇
It’s only later that Nagi realizes he might’ve fucked up.
He sees Reo in the bath, and he doesn’t think twice about reaching out. Nagi’s not a talkative person, but words well up inside of him at the sight of his friend. There's so much that happened in the time they were apart; the match against Rin, this narcissistic egoist named Barou, all the little things he's learned about football. Nagi thinks Reo might laugh if he describes Aryu's obsession over style, and he's missed that laugh (more than he might admit).
So Nagi reaches out, and the only sound he hears is the hard smack of skin against skin accompanied with a sharp sting at the back of Nagi’s hand. His hand flushes pink where Reo slapped him away. Nagi loses all his words when he finally takes a good look at Reo— the dark circles under his eyes, the tight frown on his lips. Reo gives him a cold look.
It’s so different from all the other times Nagi reached out.
◇-◈-◇
The two teams schedule a match, and Reo says they’re rivals now, and Nagi doesn’t get a chance to respond before they stand against each other on the field, the walls between them higher than ever.
The game is gripping— exhilarating even, in line with all the games Nagi’s played ever since that match with Team Z. Nagi thinks that Barou might implode their playing, but somehow, Isagi works through it, and they manage to barely scrape a victory from Reo’s team.
They end up winning, and Nagi immediately thinks of choosing Reo. Nagi’s always been able to rely on Reo’s passes, and he saw it again during this match. Nagi had to gamble in the last play; he had to believe in Reo making an impossible pass (and Reo did), and Nagi thinks if they had that ability on their team, they could open up new possibilities.
Isagi disagrees. His blue eyes go bright and fierce, and it’s this exact look that lured Nagi away from the comfortable position of playing next to Reo. He names Chigiri as the only person who might spark some new, terrifying chemical reactions within their team, and Nagi finds his curiosity provoked again. He wants to see this happen, so he goes along with the decision, and the boy with the fastest legs in Blue Lock joins their side.
Nagi’s not stupid; he knows Reo must be disappointed in both losing and not being picked, so he goes up to Reo and says, “Reo, that was seriously a close one. You’re amazing after all… I’m going on ahead, but we can still—”
Reo cuts him off before he can say anything else, saying, “Then pick me.”
Something within Nagi stops.
(His heart? His breath? He’s not quite sure).
“Or just say it clearly,” Reo says, and his voice has gone hard and unyielding. “That you don’t care about me anymore.”
Nagi can’t speak.
“You’ve changed,” Reo says, “To a person who’s forgotten our promise of being the best in the world together. If you’re abandoning me, abandon me properly, you shit.”
There’s a low buzzing sound in Nagi’s ears, and his blood flushes hot, and every wall within his heart suddenly feels an imploding pressure because what the fuck? Abandonment? How could he accuse Nagi of abandonment when it’s always Nagi who has to break down the walls Reo keeps up in the first place?
Nagi’s finally done what Reo wanted— he’s finally found life in the sport Reo’s obsessed over. If it was before Blue Lock, there’d be no chance of the two of them becoming the best football players in the world. Football doesn’t need any half-hearted players. Now, Nagi’s atoms have been rearranged to almost vibrate with excitement at the threat of loss or the sweet taste of victory.
“Really?” Nagi asks with a bite in his voice. “You’d be satisfied if I chose you? Playing together, even if it’s not exciting… is football really that simple?”
He says, “You’re the one who forgot our promise.”
The cold fury Reo had on his face just a second ago is wiped away with shock. Nagi can only imagine how he looks right now— his rage swirling about him like a deathly storm in the broken space between them. Nagi doesn’t want to hold onto this anger, but he also can’t tamp it down. He lets it fly loose in its destructive path.
Nagi says, “Whatever. I’ve had enough already. You’re a pain in the ass, Reo.”
And as he turns back, he finishes it off with, “I don’t care anymore.”
Isagi says something else, but Nagi doesn’t hear it. He’s simmering with so much anger that his vision has become narrow and red. He needs to get out of here. He needs to cool off, forget everything that was said on the field, and just focus on football.
He doesn't realize, though, how he misses a few things after he turns away from Reo. He doesn’t see how Reo’s face collapses with regret. He doesn’t see how Reo swallows like he wants to say something, but he then stifles those words down. He doesn’t see the way Reo clutches at his chest like he’s been afflicted with a sudden pain. Grief? Something worse? Nagi doesn’t see, so he doesn’t know.
Afterward, after the anger that once stirred his blood settles like a stone in his gut, Nagi starts to doubt his reaction. Maybe he shouldn’t have said everything he said. Sure, Reo started it first, but Nagi didn’t have to lash out. Reo said, “Just say it clearly, that you don’t care about me anymore,” and Nagi replied, “Whatever. I’ve had enough already… I don’t care anymore.”
Nagi goes to Chigiri and sheepishly asks about Reo. How has he been the past few days? Did Chigiri notice anything when they were teammates? Chigiri gives Nagi a pained look and answers, “You should talk to Reo if you get the chance.”
◇-◈-◇
If you get the chance.
Nagi shouldn’t even question it; if it’s Reo, of course he’ll make it through the second selection, and that means they can reconcile sooner. Nagi waits in nervous anticipation as all the teams walk through the gate, but player after player comes through, and none of them are Reo. That can’t be right. Nagi scans the crowd over once, then twice because his eyes must be deceiving him. Reo has to have made it through, even if only because Nagi can’t imagine anything else.
But none of the players are him, and Nagi’s heartbeat ratchets up a level when Ego announces that this is the last team coming through. How can Reo not be here yet? Nagi doesn’t want to think about this possibility, but he thinks, What if ? What if Reo got eliminated, and Nagi will have to wait months before they can talk again, and the misunderstandings between them only widen from neglect brought through time? What if that was the last time they talked to each other, period?
That doubt is erased when Nagi finally spots a familiar set of midnight eyes.
“Reo,” he calls out hopefully, wondering if Reo’s anger has subsided since the last time they talked. Reo’s eyes dart in Nagi’s direction, and for a split second, there’s an electrifying moment of eye contact, but then Reo’s gaze slips away. Looks beyond Nagi as if he isn’t actually there.
Nagi smarts from the avoidance. He’s both surprised and not, and he tries brushing off the hurt, but it stings like nettles pricking his skin.
Chigiri said he should try talking to Reo as soon as he can, but Reo makes that an impossible task. Nagi had once thought Reo was equipped with some sort of radar, somehow always finding Nagi whenever he was hiding away at school, skipping class for one reason or another. The next few days seem to confirm this theory, except now, Reo uses that very same radar to avoid Nagi at every turn. At first, the guilt Nagi feels stabs at his conscience, but after a while, he gets annoyed. Really? Reo’s going to give him the cold shoulder so bluntly? It's weird because Reo's not one to resort to immature behaviors, but he does this time.
Nagi finally manages to sneak up on Reo. He’s not sure what he’ll say, but anything would be better than all this distance Reo forces between them. Nagi taps Reo on the shoulder, and Reo turns from the person he’s currently talking to with a trace of a smile still on his lips, but that smile is erased in an instant.
Reo goes pale when he sees Nagi. “Reo,” Nagi says, but Reo’s mouth presses into a thin line, and he swallows hard. And— what? This reaction is so much more different than Nagi had expected; Nagi can read how every inch of Reo’s body wants to escape, as if Nagi’s some sort of predator that’s backed Reo into a corner.
It was only a couple of days. How did it become like this?
“Not now,” Reo says, his voice sounding a little choked up, and before Nagi can say anything else, Reo turns on his heel and leaves.
'Not now' turns into seemingly never. After that encounter, Reo avoids Nagi like his life depends on it.
So when Nagi learns that Reo chose to play with him for the U-20 match tryouts, Nagi’s completely taken aback. But even with that decision, Reo avoids Nagi every minute up until the match begins. Then, just as the game’s about to start, he says, “Nagi, you’d better watch me closely.”
As if Nagi’s attention hadn’t been cleaved to Reo already.
“Sure,” he answers, and they get into their playing positions.
It’s a tough game, and they don’t win, but some spectacular things happen during it— before Nagi’s very eyes, Reo hones a new weapon on the field. He copies Yukimiya’s gyro shot to score a goal, and he even smiles while doing so. Reo plays fiercely (he doesn’t know any other way), until his legs almost give out, and after the match, he sits on the field while trying to catch his breath.
Nagi makes his way up to Reo at that moment, fully intending on complimenting him and that goal, but just as he approaches, Reo staggers up on unsteady legs and leaves the field, hurrying past Nagi without a word.
And why? Why even bother playing with Nagi if Reo’s just going to ignore him afterward? It doesn’t make sense. Nagi wishes he could stop himself from looking at Reo’s receding back, at the sight of Reo fleeing him, but Reo asked him to watch, and so he does.
◇-◈-◇
Things don’t get better.
Nagi’s watched a lot of dramas, but he has no idea how to handle this. It’s easy to scoff at dumb characters in a plot, saying, just talk to each other already! — but it’s not quite the same in real life. After all, talking to someone is really fucking hard when the other person runs away every chance they get.
Nagi doesn’t understand; was it really that bad? Obviously, he knew Reo would be hurt when he initially chose to play with Isagi, and sure, after the three-person match, he said some things he would now take back if he could. (Things he would apologize for if Reo would just fucking let him!) But does any of it justify the yawning distance Reo forces between the two of them?
It doesn’t! Reo’s acting like a spoiled brat, and Nagi finds himself irritable and snappish more and more. Maybe Nagi would’ve apologized sincerely right after the second selection, but with each day that drags on where Nagi only sees Reo’s fleeing back, Nagi thinks it’s more and more likely they’ll end up in an all-out brawl.
Reo’s luck eventually runs out. Nagi stumbles upon Reo in the bathroom, and it’s just the two of them alone. When Reo notices, his jaw goes tight and he ducks his head, ready to walk past Nagi without another word, but Nagi blocks his way.
“Reo, stop! Just let me talk to you for a minute— a minute!” Nagi pleads as he moves closer to Reo, and Reo goes paler with every step he takes. Nagi reaches out to grab his arm, to hold him down; anything to stop him from running away again.
In the baths, Reo slapped Nagi’s hand away. This time, when Nagi reaches out, Reo flinches.
Nagi’s throat goes dry.
Reo’s not in any better condition; his face has gone as pale as a ghost’s, and he looks like he might hurl at any minute. How? They used to be best friends; Reo used to thread his fingers through Nagi’s hair, and Nagi used to take naps on Reo’s lap, and they used to be together all the time. But something between them has changed in a way that makes no sense at all.
If Reo were angry and bitter like he was on the field when Nagi’s team chose Chigiri, Nagi could understand. This is different; Reo’s gripped with something visceral that forces him to shrink back every time Nagi comes close, like Nagi’s a monster or something. And Nagi’s head spins as he tries to reconcile this monstrous image with himself.
“I don’t get it,” Nagi says. “I know you’re upset I chose to play with Isagi, but... I told you we could play together again later. I meant it. So, why—”
“Don’t,” Reo says, and his voice sounds strange, like he’s choked up or something.
“Just talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong! I can’t—” Nagi bites his lip. “I hate this.”
But Reo shakes his head fiercely and refuses to say anything else while he keeps his back pressed against the bathroom wall, his whole body wracked with tension. This isn’t working. And Nagi thinks for the first time since he left Reo’s side at Blue Lock, maybe it never will. Maybe this is it for them.
“Fine,” Nagi says, using an edge in his voice that he’s unaccustomed to. “You were the one who told me to watch you, but whatever. What am I supposed to do if you’re gonna be like this?”
And he sees Reo’s mouth tighten into a sharp frown, but Reo’s lips are still shut. He won’t answer. Nagi scoffs and leaves.
◇-◈-◇
Things are worse after that failed attempt at conversation, and everyone is sick of the two of them. Chigiri has gone from slight ribbing to sharp reprimands, telling Nagi to “Fix your shit, now,” and he tells Chigiri, “I can’t. I tried!” but Chigiri gives him no slack. Ryuusei makes a smart remark to Reo that no one dares repeat to Nagi, but apparently, Reo gets so angry, he tries punching Ryuusei in the throat, and Zantetsu (of all people) has to break up the fight.
The pressure is only increased by the looming U-20 match. Even Rin (Rin, who only cares about football, beating his brother, and himself) tells them to cut it out. Reo was chosen as an alternate, and if he’s told to play, Blue Lock can’t risk their personal animosity destroying the game.
“Fuck off,” Reo snarks back. “You saw how we played already. We can play together just fine.”
Everyone does not fuck off.
Nagi should’ve known beforehand— the day is suspiciously quiet, and Nagi swears there are glances being sneaked around his back. Nagi tries to ask Isagi what’s up, but Isagi laughs it off, telling him he’s imagining things (though Isagi’s shifty eyes indicate otherwise). Nagi goes to Chigiri next, and Chigiri gives him a blank look before muttering, “You should’ve listened to me.”
Then, Nagi hears some muffled shouting, and he knows Reo well enough to know it’s him. Nagi stands up, caught between wanting to see what’s provoking his former friend and hesitating because Reo surely won’t want him there, but someone suddenly grabs his arms.
Nagi twists back to see Ryuusei grinning widely. “This should be interesting,” Ryuusei says, and when Nagi glances at Chigiri, Chigiri sends him a pitying look.
Nagi gets thrown into a closet.
A few seconds later, Reo is thrown in as well (writhing all the way— two people have to carry him in). The door is slammed shut and locked up tight just as Reo throws his shoulder against it, surely leaving a nasty bruise for tomorrow. Even with the door firmly shut, Reo doesn’t give up; he kicks at the hinges and screams to be let out.
Trapped in a closet together. Nagi sighs forlornly at the cliché. How could they think this would possibly work?
Reo keeps shouting and pounding at the door, and Nagi’s about to tell him to just calm down and wait it out. Obviously, Reo still can’t stand to be in the same space as him, but the more he acts up, the less likely they’ll be in opening up this damn door.
Just as Nagi opens his mouth, Reo’s voice takes on a desperate keen that makes Nagi's blood run cold. “Let me out!” Reo shouts, and anyone could hear how his voice borders on begging. Nagi’s stomach sinks. “Letmeout, letmeout!” Reo screams as he throws his shoulder against the door; so fiercely, the frame shakes— so violently, he might bruise his bone— and Nagi would try stopping him, but he’s afraid Reo might do something worse.
Something’s wrong. Yes, their friendship had gotten all sorts of fucked up, but that doesn’t explain the way Reo claws at the door like an animal desperate to escape from a trap. Doesn’t explain the way he flinched in the bathroom. Nagi can’t see in the pitch black of this closet, but he can hear how Reo almost hyperventilates in between his shouts filled with terror. And Nagi reaches out to Reo, to try and calm him down, but the second Nagi’s fingers brush against Reo’s arm, Reo shoves him backwards, hard enough to jar Nagi’s spine as he hits the closet wall.
But before Reo pushed him back, Nagi could feel him trembling.
It doesn’t take long for someone to respond outside. Chigiri opens the door, his eyes wide at the desperation found in Reo’s wailing, and Reo bolts out the closet, roughly shoving everyone out the way, telling everyone, don’t fucking follow me! They’re all too stunned by his actions to even try.
It’s the same, Nagi thinks. Reo’s fleeing now in the same urgent, rushed way he did after their match together. And at the time, Nagi had thought it was simple avoidance— he thought after everything, Reo could only tolerate him in small doses on the field, but there’s something animalistic in how Reo runs. It’s rushed. It’s desperate. It’s like he’s scrambling for survival.
Everyone else stands back in stunned confusion, but Nagi’s not stunned; he’s scared. He’s scared of whatever Reo’s scared of, and he can’t keep standing back quietly anymore. Something’s wrong with his best friend, and Nagi hates himself for not even noticing. He leaps out of the closet, and he hears Chigiri ask, “What the fuck? What happened?” but Nagi wastes no time in answering.
Nagi follows as Reo runs into the bathroom, and Reo’s so frantic, he doesn’t even notice Nagi chasing behind. Reo wrenches the door wide, letting it swing open and shut behind him, and when Nagi broaches that same door, he pauses. There’s something looming behind this barrier that Reo has hidden from everyone else. Another secret that Reo keeps tucked away in his person, but this time, Nagi couldn't figure it out. Nagi stands in fear behind that door, suddenly unsure of everything.
But then he hears a violent noise from behind that door, and that fear is erased with an even larger one: Nagi’s afraid that this whole time, Reo’s been struggling with something enormous and terrifying completely alone. Nagi pushes the door open and steps through the entrance, immediately hearing the thick sounds of someone gagging over a sink. For a moment, he can’t help but feel indignant. Is Reo really that disgusted with him? Just a moment alone in his company and Reo’s revolted body needs to purge itself?
Then, he looks closer at Reo’s figure hunched over the sink, a thin line of spit hanging from his lips as he hacks into the basin. It’s red, Nagi thinks, though he’s not sure what he’s referring to— the sheen of saliva glossy on Reo’ lips, the trickle of blood in that dribble of spit, or the specks of that same blood against the white ceramic sink.
And even though it’s Reo who’s coughing over the sink, Nagi feels like it’s his own throat that's been mangled. Reo’s still hacking and gasping, and Nagi sees stains of that bright color against the white of the sink, and Nagi’s lungs are suddenly clotted with jagged, sharp fear.
No, he thinks. His body has always had a knack for just moving— somehow instinctively knowing how to fly down a pitch, as reflexive as a bird cutting through the wind, but this time, he wants to resist the quivering step his body takes. He doesn’t. He inches closer and closer to Reo, and though part of him already knows the truth, he needs to bear terrible witness to it.
Reo’s shoulders tremble as he hunches over the sink with a claw-like grip. He doesn’t say anything; just heaves one breath after another as if even breathing is a chore. And Nagi tip-toes closer and closer until he’s close enough to peer into the bottom of the sink. Then, he sees it.
Flower petals tinged with blood.
Author’s Note: Surprise, bitch, it’s a Hanahaki AU.
I wish I was a stranger to my own fic. The first read of this chapter would be fun, and the second read would be even better.
I’ve been working on an angsty NagiReo longfic for months, and the end is in sight (it’s at 100k words rn!)… I can’t wait to start posting it!! (And did I use this side fic as a distraction? Yes.)