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Itoshi Rin didn’t get sick.
That’s what he told himself, at least. Sickness was an inconvenience, a weakness. Something that got in the way of training. Something that made you fall behind.
And Rin refused to fall behind.
Which is why he ignored the first signs. The slight dizziness in the morning, the scratchy feeling in his throat, the way his body felt heavier than usual. He chalked it up to fatigue, nothing more.
A good warm-up would shake it off. He just needed to keep moving.
The Blue Lock facility was as lively as ever, filled with players getting ready for the upcoming U-20 match. The intensity of their training had only increased. Rin thrived in that kind of pressure—thrived in proving he was the best.
So when Ego announced an internal practice match, Rin was the first one to step onto the field.
But something felt... off.
The ball was at his feet, and yet his touch felt sluggish. He went in for a quick sprint, but his legs weren’t reacting the way they should. His vision blurred slightly as he pivoted past Isagi, and he barely managed to keep the ball in control.
“Rin, you good?” Isagi’s voice came from somewhere behind him.
“Tch. Mind your own business,” Rin snapped, pushing forward. He was fine. He had to be.
Bachira stole the ball from him effortlessly. That never happened. Bachira always had to fight for it, always had to weave through at least one challenge before he could break free. But this time, Rin’s reaction was slow, just a fraction of a second too late. It cost him the possession.
“That was kinda weak, Rin-chan~” Bachira teased, dribbling past. “You feeling okay?”
“I said I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine. His breathing was starting to feel too shallow, and his heart pounded in his ears—not from exertion, but from something deeper, something wrong. His hands felt clammy. His skin was too hot under the long sleeves of his training uniform. But he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.
He forced himself to keep going. He needed to focus. The game wasn’t over yet.
He chased after the ball, closing in on Nagi, who barely seemed interested in the match. A simple tackle. That was all he needed. Just one solid—
The world spun.
Rin’s foot caught the turf wrong, his balance tilting at an angle he couldn’t correct in time. His vision wavered, and before he could stop himself, his body collapsed onto the field.
A sharp gasp rippled through the players around him.
“Oi, Rin?!” Isagi was the first to run over, dropping to a knee beside him. “What the hell—”
Rin tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled beneath him. His breath was uneven. His skin burned. The sound of his own heartbeat drowned out everything else.
“Yo, this isn’t normal,” Chigiri muttered, kneeling on his other side. “He looks pale as hell.”
“Should we call Ego?” Reo asked, arms crossed but concern flickering in his eyes.
“Maybe he’s just dying of embarrassment.” Shidou’s voice cut through the tension, grinning down at him. “Pathetic, Itoshi. You finally reached your limit?”
“Shut... up,” Rin forced out, but even his voice felt weak. That alone pissed him off more than anything.
He hated this.
Hated the way everyone was hovering over him like he was fragile.
Hated the way his body refused to cooperate. Hated the way his eyelids felt heavier with every passing second.
“Rin, you need to rest,” Isagi said firmly.
“I don’t—”
His body betrayed him before he could finish. His vision blacked out completely, and the last thing he heard was the distant sound of Bachira’s voice calling his name before everything faded away.
Rin drifted between consciousness and sleep, feverish and disoriented. His mind was a haze of jumbled thoughts, and before he could stop himself, he mumbled something barely audible.
“Nii-chan…”
Silence.
The entire room collectively froze. Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, and the others exchanged looks of absolute shock. Rin Itoshi—the cold, merciless, permanently scowling striker—just called for his brother in his sleep?
Bachira’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Did Rin-chan just—?”
“Oh my god,” Reo muttered. “He’s actually a baby brother.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Isagi held up a hand, trying to process the information. “Does this mean… we need Sae here?”
“I always knew there was a soft side under all that glaring,” Bachira giggled. “This is amazing.”
By the time Rin stirred awake, he was too drained to react to their staring. His usual sharp glares were replaced with tired, unfocused blinks. His fever left him sluggish, and his body felt too heavy to move properly. When Isagi handed him a water bottle, he accepted it without protest.
“Drink,” Isagi ordered.
Rin took slow sips, not even arguing. That alone was enough to unnerve everyone.
“You’re kinda cute when you’re not scowling,” Bachira mused, resting his chin in his hands. “Like a grumpy kitten that lost a fight with a blanket.”
Rin just blinked at him slowly, too tired to fire back an insult.
Nagi, having observed everything in silence, plopped down next to Rin without a care. “Might as well nap here too,” he murmured, already settling in.
Isagi sighed. “This is weird. But… at least he’s resting.”
The team, still slightly shaken by the discovery that Rin wasn’t just an angry robot, watched over him in amusement as he drifted off again—this time, with no fight left in him.
When Rin came to, he was no longer on the field.
His body felt lighter, yet somehow weighed down at the same time. A soft, sterile scent lingered in the air. The infirmary.
He scowled, shifting under the covers, only to feel a dull ache spreading through his limbs. A fever, then. Great.
Before he could push himself up, a voice cut through the silence. “Oh, look who finally decided to wake up.”
Rin turned his head sluggishly, only to find Isagi sitting beside him, arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression. “What the hell…” Rin’s voice came out hoarse, weaker than he wanted. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you don’t try to throw yourself back onto the field like an idiot.” Isagi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You scared everyone, you know?”
Rin scoffed, though it lacked his usual bite. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, sure.” Isagi leaned back. “That’s exactly what someone fine says before collapsing mid-game.”
Before Rin could argue, the door opened, and Bachira strolled in with a grin. “Rin-chan~! You’re awake! That means I can mess with you again.”
“Go away.”
Bachira ignored him, dropping onto the chair next to Isagi. “You know, you talk in your sleep.”
Rin tensed. “…What?”
“Oh yeah.” Bachira smirked. “Something about ‘Nii-chan’?”
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
Isagi’s eyebrows shot up. “Sae?”
Rin gritted his teeth. His fever-warmed face burned hotter. “Shut up.”
Bachira wiggled his eyebrows. “Aww, does little Rin-chan miss his big bro?”
He would’ve kicked him if his body wasn’t betraying him at that moment. Instead, he settled for glaring. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you.”
Isagi, though he was still watching with quiet curiosity, sighed. “Alright, enough, Bachira. The guy’s sick.”
“But it’s so cute.”
Before Rin could lunge at him (or, realistically, fail to), the door swung open again.
And in walked someone he never expected to see here.
Sae Itoshi.
Rin froze. Bachira let out a low whistle. “Well. That just got interesting.”
He felt his stomach drop. His fever had to be making him hallucinate. Because there was no way Sae was here. No way in hell.
The unexpected arrival of a certain red-haired midfielder changed everything.
Word had somehow reached Sae. Maybe Ego had called him. Maybe Anri, knowing their history, had contacted him out of concern.
Either way, the elder Itoshi brother had arrived at Bluelock.
The sound of footsteps entering the room, followed by an all-too-familiar voice. “…You look like crap.”
His eyes snapped open, barely able to lift his head. His body still felt sluggish, but the moment he registered who was standing there, irritation flickered to life.
“…Go away,” he muttered, turning his head away. “I don’t need you here.”
Sae simply crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Yeah? Then why were you crying for me in your sleep?”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Rin’s entire body tensed. His fever-hazed brain barely processed the words before they fully sank in.
He wanted to disappear.
The Blue Lock guys were mentally taking notes for future teasing material. Bachira was grinning like he had just discovered the world’s greatest joke. Isagi looked away, awkwardly sipping his own water as if he hadn’t just witnessed Rin’s soul leave his body.
Rin groaned, pulling the blanket over his face.
He was never going to live this down.
Sae sighed, walking over to the side of Rin’s bed, ignoring the snickering team members. "You really let yourself get like this?"
"Tch," Rin scoffed weakly, still facing away. "Not like I planned it."
Sae rolled his eyes, placing a hand on Rin’s forehead briefly before clicking his tongue. "Idiot. You’re burning up."
There was no sharp retort from Rin. Just a tired exhale.
That silence alone made Sae’s expression soften—just a little.
Rin groaned and tried to burrow deeper into his blanket, but it was no use—Sae was still there. And worse, he wasn’t leaving.
“Are you awake now, little brother?” Sae’s voice was too calm, too smug.
Rin refused to answer. If he ignored him long enough, maybe—just maybe—Sae would get bored and leave.
Unfortunately, Sae never did what Rin wanted.
A sharp flick landed on his forehead.
“Ugh—! What the hell?!” Rin’s eyes shot open, his already aching head pulsing in protest.
Sae, looking as indifferent as ever, leaned back in his chair. “Took you long enough.”
Rin groaned and rubbed his forehead. “You’re so annoying.”
“Right back at you.”
The room was dead silent except for the muffled snickers of their teammates. Rin could feel them watching, waiting for whatever was about to happen.
Sae crossed his arms. “You look like death.”
“Thanks,” Rin muttered. “I feel great.”
Sae sighed, reaching out before Rin could react. His palm pressed against Rin’s forehead—cool and steady, the same way it had been when they were kids.
Rin tensed but didn’t move.
After a moment, Sae frowned. “You’re really burning up.”
“No shit.”
“You need rest.”
Rin scowled. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”
Sae ignored him and glanced at the others. “Has he eaten anything?”
Bachira grinned. “Nope. We offered, but Rin-chan was too busy being unconscious.”
Sae exhaled sharply through his nose. “Idiot.”
Rin clenched his fists under the blanket. “If you’re just here to lecture me, you can—”
“Shut up.” Sae stood, brushing invisible dust off his pants. “I’ll get you something.”
Rin blinked. “…What?”
Sae gave him an unimpressed look. “You heard me.”
And just like that, he walked toward the door.
The room stayed silent until he was gone. Then—
“Did Sae just—”
“Is he—caring?”
“Are we in the right timeline?”
Bachira wiggled his eyebrows. “Rin-chan, is this what they call brotherly love ?”
Rin groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.
He was never going to hear the end of this.
Sae returned not long after, carrying a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. The moment the scent hit Rin’s nose, his stomach twisted with both hunger and humiliation.
His favorite porridge. The one Sae used to make for him when they were younger, back when getting sick meant curling up in bed while his brother took care of everything.
Rin sat up slightly, frowning. “Where did you even get that?”
The older Itoshi set the bowl down on the small bedside table, ignoring the question. “Eat.”
Rin narrowed his eyes. “I can feed myself.”
Sae sighed dramatically. “Can you?”
“Obviously—”
Before Rin could even reach for the spoon, Sae grabbed it himself, scooped up some porridge, and held it out toward Rin’s face.
Rin recoiled. “What the hell are you doing?”
Sae raised an eyebrow. “Feeding you.”
“I don’t need you to—”
“Really?” Sae drawled, unimpressed. “Because I remember a time when you’d throw a fit until I did.”
Rin stiffened. “That was when I was, like, five.”
Sae smirked. “And now you look five, all weak and pathetic.”
“I hate you,” Rin muttered.
Sae twirled the spoon lazily. “Sure you do. Now open up.”
Rin glared at him, debating if pure stubbornness was enough to make Sae give up. But the way Sae just sat there, completely unfazed, told Rin that his brother would wait all night if he had to.
Grumbling under his breath, Rin hesitantly opened his mouth.
Sae fed him like it was the most natural thing in the world. No teasing smirk, no sarcasm in his voice—just quiet efficiency, like this was just another chore to get through.
The porridge was warm, soft, perfectly made. Just like Rin remembered.
He swallowed, avoiding eye contact. “…It’s fine.”
Sae snorted. “It’s great. You’re welcome.”
Rin didn’t dignify that with a response, but he also didn’t fight when Sae continued feeding him.
The others had been silent, watching the entire exchange like it was the most entertaining thing they’d ever seen. But the moment Rin realized it, Bachira ruined everything.
“Aww, Rin-chan, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Rin choked on his next bite. “Shut up!”
Bachira grinned. “You should get sick more often!”
Sae sighed, setting the spoon down. “I already have one idiot little brother. Do I really need to deal with more?”
He groaned and shoved the blanket over his head. He’d take the fever over this humiliation any day.
Sae set the empty bowl aside with a quiet clink before standing up and turning to the others. “You’re all done here. Leave.”
Bachira blinked. “Huh? But we were having fun—”
“I said, leave.”
Something in Sae’s tone made even Bachira stop messing around. Isagi and Reo exchanged glances, but neither argued.
“We’ll check on you later, Rin,” Isagi said as he stood up.
Reo nodded. “Try not to die before we come back.”
“Gee, thanks,” Rin muttered, voice muffled by the blanket still half covering his face.
Bachira was the last to go, grinning like he was leaving behind the best soap opera of his life. “Have fun with big bro~”
The door shut behind them, leaving only Rin and Sae in the room.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Rin flinched. He knew it was coming, but it still caught him off guard. Slowly, he peeked out from under the blanket. Sae stood there, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes narrowed in that way that made Rin feel like a kid again.
“Going out in the freezing rain like an idiot,” Sae continued, voice cold. “Training when you were already sick. You think you’re invincible?”
Rin scowled. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“You can barely sit up without looking like you’ll pass out.”
“I’m fine.”
Sae scoffed. “Yeah? You were fine when you collapsed on the field, too?”
Rin clenched his jaw, refusing to look at him. He hated this. Hated being scolded like some reckless child. Hated that Sae cared enough to do it.
Sae sighed, rubbing his temple. “You’re the dumbest person I know.”
“I got sick. So what? It’ll pass.”
“That’s not the point, Rin,” Sae snapped, frustration leaking through. “You never know when to stop. You push yourself until you break, and then what? What happens when you actually can’t get back up next time?”
Rin stiffened. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Oh, really?” Sae’s voice dropped, dangerously quiet. “Because it almost did today.”
Rin had nothing to say to that.
For a long moment, Sae just stared at him, unreadable. Then he sighed again, softer this time. “You don’t have to kill yourself trying to prove something.”
Rin looked away. “I’m not.”
Sae didn’t argue, but he didn’t believe him either. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on Rin’s forehead.
Rin froze.
The touch was brief, just long enough for Sae to check his temperature, but it was enough to make Rin’s chest tighten in a way he hated.
Sae pulled away. “You’re still burning up. Go to sleep.”
Rin muttered something under his breath but didn’t fight when Sae adjusted the blanket over him. He turned on his side, facing away, hoping Sae would just drop it.
And for once, he did.
But just as the room fell into silence again, Sae spoke.
“Don’t scare me like that again, dumbass.”
Rin’s breath hitched, but before he could say anything, Sae stood up and walked to the door.
“Get some rest.”
Then he was gone, leaving Rin alone with nothing but the warmth of the blanket and the echo of his brother’s words.
Rin stirred awake, his head still heavy with fever. The room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the table lamp. His throat felt dry, his body weak, and—
There was no one.
He blinked, trying to adjust his blurry vision. The blanket was still tucked around him, the air held the faint scent of the porridge Sae had fed him earlier, but the room was empty.
Everyone had left.
His breath hitched.
He knew it was stupid. He wasn’t a kid. He didn’t need someone hovering over him. But for some reason—maybe it was the fever messing with his head, maybe it was exhaustion—his chest ached in a way he couldn’t control.
It felt too much like before.
Like the nights when Sae had already left for Spain, and he’d woken up sick, alone in a cold room with no one there to tell him it was fine. No one to nag him about resting, no one to pull the blanket over his shoulder when he was too weak to move.
Rin swallowed hard, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. It was dumb. He was fine.
But then—
The mattress dipped beside him.
A warm hand ruffled his hair.
“Crying again?” Sae’s voice was quiet, but not mocking. Just… knowing.
Rin inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open. “I’m not—” His voice cracked, betraying him.
Sae sighed, the sound more tired than annoyed. “You always get like this when you’re sick.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, gripping the blanket tightly. “You weren’t here.”
Sae didn’t answer right away. Then, after a pause, he simply said, “I never left.”
Rin blinked, turning his head slightly. And sure enough, Sae was still in his hoodie, sitting on the chair beside the bed, now leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees.
He must’ve been there the whole time.
Rin felt stupid. But the lump in his throat didn’t go away.
His brother didn’t say anything else. Sae just sat there, close enough for Rin to hear his steady breathing, close enough that the warmth of his presence was unmistakable.
Rin let out a shaky breath. He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to admit how much this meant.
But he shifted slightly, curling deeper into the blanket. “…Stay?”
Sae huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, yeah.”
Rin sniffled, trying to wipe his face quickly before Sae could say anything. But of course, Sae noticed. He always did.
“Tch,” Sae clicked his tongue. “You’re such a pain when you’re sick.”
Rin scowled weakly, his voice hoarse. “Then leave.”
Sae flicked his forehead, not too hard, just enough to make Rin glare up at him. “Didn’t you just ask me to stay?”
He clenched his jaw, but another sniff betrayed him. He turned his head away, trying to bury himself into the blanket.
His brother sighed and reached for the tissue box on the nightstand. He shoved one against Rin’s face. “Blow your nose, idiot.”
Rin groaned but took it, dabbing at his eyes first. His hands were weak, sluggish. Sae didn’t comment, just leaned back against the chair, watching.
After a moment, Rin muttered, barely above a whisper, “Thought you left.”
Sae exhaled sharply through his nose. “You really think I’d leave you alone like this?”
Rin didn’t answer.
“You always get like this when you’re sick.” Sae shook his head.
Rin’s voice wavered, frustration creeping in. “I told you to go.”
“And yet you’re crying because you thought I did.”
His breath hitched. His grip on the blanket tightened.
Sae ran a hand through his hair, sighing again, but softer this time. “Idiot. I never left.”
Rin squeezed his eyes shut, his body betraying him as another tear slipped down his cheek. He hated this. Hated being sick, hated feeling like a kid, hated how easy it was for Sae to see right through him.
Sae didn’t tease him, didn’t call him dramatic. Instead, he shifted, reaching out to ruffle Rin’s already messy hair.
“You were out cold for hours,” Sae murmured, his voice lower now. “I just stepped away for a second.”
Rin’s throat felt tight. “Liar.”
Sae huffed. “Fine. Maybe it was a few minutes.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by Rin’s occasional sniffles.
Then, after a long pause, Rin muttered, almost too quietly to hear—
“…Stay?”
Sae leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah.”
Rin finally let himself close his eyes again, his breaths evening out. And this time, he wasn’t scared of waking up alone.
The locker room was buzzing with energy as players finished changing, ready for training. Rin, now fully recovered, tied his shoelaces with practiced ease. It was routine, familiar. Yet, something still felt… off.
Maybe it was because Sae had already left.
Not that Rin cared. Definitely not.
As he stood, stretching his arms, Bachira sidled up to him, grinning. “Soooo, how’s the little patient doing?”
Rin sighed. “I’m fine.”
Bachira gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “No way! You answered normally. No threats? No insults? Who are you, and what did you do to Rin-chan?”
“Bachira,” Rin deadpanned.
“Aha! There it is,” Bachira teased, nudging him. “For real though, you gave us a scare.”
Isagi, standing nearby, crossed his arms. “Yeah. We thought you’d be out longer with how bad you looked.”
Rin scoffed. “You act like I was dying.”
“You were,” Chigiri cut in from his locker. “You looked like a ghost.”
“I did not,” Rin muttered, grabbing his jersey.
Bachira snickered. “You totally did. Oh! Oh! And your brother was so serious about it. Like, mega overprotective. You should’ve seen his face.”
Rin froze mid-motion. “Sae?”
Isagi nodded. “He barely let anyone near you. Looked ready to murder someone if they breathed wrong.”
Bachira leaned closer. “Did he, y’know, take care of you?”
Rin hesitated.
He remembered Sae’s hand pressing a cold towel to his forehead, the warmth of his voice as he muttered complaints but still stayed. He remembered falling asleep to the sound of Sae quietly sighing, like he actually cared .
“…Kinda,” Rin admitted, voice low.
Bachira’s eyes widened. “No way. Wait—he did feed you tho?”
Rin immediately scowled. “Shut up.”
That was answer enough.
Chigiri looked amused. “Wow. Must’ve been nice.”
Rin turned away, stuffing his jersey into his bag. “It was not nice. He was annoying.”
“Riiight,” Isagi said, clearly not believing him.
Then, before Rin could escape the conversation, an arm hooked around his neck, yanking him down.
“Yo, sick boy,” Shidou’s familiar voice rang out. “You alive?”
“You antenna freak, get the hell off me.”
Shidou ignored him, grinning. “Man, I should’ve visited. Bet you were all soft and emotional.”
Rin stiffened. “I was not .”
“Oh?” Shidou smirked. “So you didn’t cry?”
Rin’s entire body locked up. “You roach—”
Isagi and Chigiri both turned to him with interest.
Bachira gasped. “Oh my god. You did cry.”
Rin’s ears burned. “Shut. Up.”
Shidou cackled, shaking him slightly. “I knew it. Your brother totally wiped your tears, huh?”
He shoved him off with more force than necessary, scowling. “I hate all of you.”
Bachira slung an arm over his shoulder, beaming. “Aww, don’t be mad, Rin-chan. You’re just so cute when you’re sick.”
Isagi snorted. “Never thought I’d hear those words together.”
Chigiri smirked. “Rin. Cute. Hilarious .”
Shidou draped himself dramatically over a bench. “Man, wish I saw it. Imagine Sae wiping Rin’s tears. Iconic .”
Rin groaned, grabbing his bag. “I’m leaving.”
“Wait for meee~” Bachira laughed, jogging after him. Isagi and Chigiri exchanged amused glances before following.
Shidou stretched, still grinning. “He totally cried.”
No one disagreed.