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Time One
Ten seconds left.
Legs pumping as hard as they can, Isagi sprints down the practice field. Bachira is on the outside wing, outpacing and outplaying Igaguri with ease. As always, his footwork is phenomenal, tight and precise like a dancer or a gymnast. Isagi doesn’t let himself get too distracted. That gleam in Bachira’s eye—wild and bright—tells him everything he needs to know.
It doesn’t matter it’s a practice game, and it doesn’t matter they’re playing with only half the usual amount on the field; the monster doesn’t care about such details.
Five seconds left.
Isagi takes a sharp right, opening up space between himself and Kunigami. The moment he switches direction, a wide grin splits Bachira’s face and he kicks the ball.
It arcs across the field, a beautiful example of a cross. Isagi doesn’t need to look to know exactly where he needs to be.
One second.
Taking a few more steps further, he eyes the goal and plants his foot, tossing his other back. The moment it swings forward his foot makes contact with the ball and it rockets toward the upper ninety.
A fierce inferno rages through Isagi’s system at the harsh ‘swoosh’ of the net that confirms their win. Nothing could ever compare to how sweet that sounds.
Something hard hits Isagi’s back and he’s nearly knocked forward, but he just barely catches himself as he stumbles. Familiar, strong legs wrap around his waist.
“Isagi!” Bachira yells, elongating his name. Arms tighten around Isagi’s shoulders. “I knew you’d get it.”
Gripping Bachira’s forearms where they cross his chest, Isagi finds his balance. “Great pass.”
With a satisfied hum, Bachira rests his chin on Isagi’s shoulder. He carries him over to the center of the field where the rest of Team Z starts to gather. It’s something he’s gotten used to—not even batting an eye anymore when Bachira latches on to him. It didn’t take long to get used to, considering he did the same to Kunigami damn near the second they met. And with the amount of goals Isagi has been able to score, especially when the two team up, it’s become the running joke of Team Z that Bachira is Isagi’s own personal backpack.
“Not bad, Isagi. Was that the direct shot you’ve been working on?” Chigiri asks.
“Yeah. Bachira and I have been practicing.”
“Have you now?” Kunigami raises a brow just before he lifts his shirt to wipe it clear of sweat.
“You can join too if you want. It’s usually when you’re lifting extra weights, though.”
Igaguri smirks as he grabs Bachira’s shoulder to shake them both. “I dunno. You know what they say about three being a crowd.”
“There’s plenty of room. I don’t see why that’s an issue” Isagi responds, brows knitted together.
Chigiri, hair tie in his mouth, just scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Stop flirting and get in the fucking showers already. Your asses stink!” Raichi yells from across the practice field before dipping through the doorway.
The rest of the team, despite their grumbling, takes the hint and grabs their things on the way to the showers. Isagi readjusts his grip to carry Bachira. His hands rest on the underside of Bachira’s thighs, and Bachira wraps his arms tighter around Isagi’s shoulders. It feels natural, in a way, and grounding. Plus, Bachira is light enough he doesn’t really mind.
When they get to the doorway, Bachira taps on Isagi’s shoulder—the universal sign to put him down. Isagi stops, but before Bachira lets go, there’s a dull pain on Isagi’s shoulder.
“Did you just bite me?”
Free of Isagi’s back, Bachira just tilts his head to the side and smiles. “What?”
“You just bit me,” Isagi repeats, this time a statement of fact rather than a question. “What was that for?”
Bachira shrugs. “Oh, nothing.” He replies in his typical sing-songy voice, the one that lets Isagi know he’s up to mischief.
As Bachira bounds away, Isagi stops, processing their interaction. “I don’t get it,” he whispers to himself.
A strong hand squeezes his shoulder, and Isagi turns to see Kunigami. “And here I thought you were a genius.”
More confused than before, Isagi just stares as his teammate walks away.
Time Two
“Isagi~!”
There’s not even enough time for Isagi to look up before Bachira is plopping down into a chair next to him and scooting close. Their legs brush, and Bachira is damn near in his lap, but Isagi doesn’t have it in him to push him away. Especially not when he sets down a steaming hot steak, still sizzling from wherever in Blue Lock their food comes from.
As Isagi inhales its scent, his mouth waters and his eyes flutter closed.
“Want some?”
Isagi’s eyes snap open. Bachira is looking at him with those bright, golden eyes and his head tilted to the side—more of a curious cat than a bee like his name might suggest.
“Really? But… this is for your goal.”
“Yeah,” Bachira says, brows knit together like Isagi is speaking a completely different language. “And you helped. So you get some, right?
Isagi supposes that works; it’s what he did with Kunigami after all. But with Bachira, for some reason it feels… different.
“Here.” Bachira has already cut up pieces of his steak and is holding one out to Isagi, determined to share his meal regardless of what Isagi may say. “Open wide!”
“No, really, Bachira it’s fine—”
“Here comes the pass!” Bachira thrusts the bite of meat forward and, knowing Bachira isn’t one to relent, Isagi opens his mouth, letting Bachira feed him the piece.
“Mm.” Isagi doesn’t have time to reprimand him, not when the steak melts in his mouth and the perfectly seasoned juices grace his tongue. “This is good.”
“See. That's why I wanted to share!” Bachira takes a bite for himself, chewing happily with a smile on his face.
Fortunately, the next time he offers a piece to Isagi, Bachira hands over the chopsticks instead. He’s not sure why they share, considering there are plenty of pairs to go around, but he supposes it’s just one of the many little concessions he makes for Bachira. It’s so easy to follow his lead, to be enthralled by him; whether they’re on or off the field doesn’t make a difference.
Isagi looks over to his friend just as Bachira takes another bite and sets down his chopsticks. In the corner of Bachira’s mouth is a little bit of sauce, clinging to his lip. Isagi reaches forward and cups Bachira’s jaw, then swipes the stray food with his thumb.
Bachira stiffens under his touch and his eyes widen.
“S-Sorry!” Isagi goes to pull his hand away but he’s stopped as Bachira turns his head to the side and bites down on Isagi’s thumb. As he does, his lips wrap around the tip and his tongue darts out to grab the leftover sauce.
“Ow! What was that for?” It didn’t actually hurt, his response is more of a reflex, but concern washes over his features anyway.
“I— I just—” Bachira stumbles over his words and a pink flush graces his cheeks. Isagi thinks it may be the first time he’s seen Bachira flustered. “I really love that sauce. So I had to nom it.”
“You love the sauce… so you nommed my finger?” Isagi questions.
“Yep!” Bachira sits tall in his seat and gives Isagi a wide smile.
Isagi sighs, accepting his defeat. He knows better than to try to completely understand Bachira. Even though he thinks he might want to.
“Let’s just… finish this up and hit the showers, okay?”
Bachira nods and digs back into his meal, while Isagi simmers in his own thoughts, wondering why he can’t get the image of him cradling Bachira’s cheek and the soft, almost hopeful expression on his face.
Time Three
“Bachira. Bachira, wake up.” Isagi gently shakes his teammate. He knows better—it’ll take much more than just a gentle shake or two to get Bachira to wake up—but he always does it anyway, too afraid of accidentally startling him.
“Hey. Bachira,” he whispers, trying again. The others have all left the room and made their way to the dining hall, getting their share of breakfast before hitting the weight room.
This time, Isagi shakes a little harder. “Bachira!”
“Nng—” Bachira mumbles, rolling over to face Isagi. His eyes don’t open, and instead he reaches out, grabbing Isagi by the shoulders.
Before Isagi can do anything, Bachira pulls him onto his futon and wraps his arms around Isagi. He mumbles something under his breath, his words stifled as he nuzzles into Isagi’s chest, and wraps a leg around Isagi’s, trapping him.
“Bachira,” Isagi hisses. “Come on. We’re gonna be late.”
“Then let us be late. ‘S fine.”
Isagi sighs and relaxes into Bachira’s hold. There’s no sense in fighting him. Things are generally more likely to go Isagi’s way if he indulges Bachira at least a little. “Fine. Two more minutes.”
“Mm,” Bachira hums happily. “‘Kay.”
Bachira’s breathing is slow and even, and he snores softly with each inhale. His hair falls in front of his face, bangs covering his eyes, so with the free hand that isn’t trapped by Bachira’s iron grip, he pushes it to the side and tucks it behind Bachira’s ear.
He looks peaceful like this. Sleepy and innocent, he looks almost cute. Heat rushes to Isagi’s face.
Cute?
“Isagi?”
“Hm?”
Bachira turns his head just slightly and Isagi finds himself cradling Bachira’s face again. This time, instead of glomping onto his thumb, Bachira nips at Isagi’s wrist.
“Nom.” Eyes the color of sunflowers snap open, bright and fiery, wholly unlike the sleepy visage from just a few moments earlier.
“What was it for this time?”
Bachira just shrugs, then releases Isagi from his hold.
Despite no longer being restrained, Isagi doesn’t move, and neither does Bachira. They stay there next to each other as if time itself suspended just for them.
Right. Time.
“Your two minutes are up,” Isagi says, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Bachira opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but instead he lunges forward and lightly chomps on Isagi’s arm.
“Hey!”
Popping up from his futon like he wasn’t about to doze off just a second ago, Bachira runs toward the door. “I’ll have to ask for more next time.”
Bachira sticks out his tongue and winks before turning down the hallway and disappearing from Isagi’s sight.
Time Four
Jitters crawl beneath Isagi’s skin and wings flutter in his stomach. Isagi doesn’t even get this nervous before playing a game. So why? Why is it that standing across from a practice room, knowing he’s about to see Bachira for the first time since… since everything… has him falling apart?
As the door slides open, Isagi’s stomach hollows out and drops to the floor. He forces himself to swallow, and to find a way to breathe, just as Bachira exits the practice room with Rin.
He opens his mouth to speak but stops, too choked up for words. An unexpected emotion gets stuck in his throat, settling there and wrapping around him like vines, slowly creeping along and strangling all they can manage to touch. It’s poison in his veins burning hot and bright.
Bachira should be with him , not someone like Itoshi Rin.
He collects himself enough to speak just as Bachira looks up and notices him leaning against the wall. “Yo, Bachira. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Isagi…” Bachira breathes.
When he says his name, it sends a shiver down Isagi’s spine. His eyes are wide, bright and hopeful, perhaps wanting. Until this moment, Isagi hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed seeing them every morning. He missed seeing long lashes flutter against soft, flushed cheeks. He missed the sing-songy tone as he spurred Isagi on, always pushing him to his limits. He has missed so much about Bachira, and the emotions come flooding to the surface all at once.
“Like we promised,” Isagi says, looking Rin straight in the eyes—a warning. “I’ve come to steal you back.”
A smile graces Bachira’s features, and relief washes down some of the sour taste in Isagi’s mouth as he watches Rin gaze back and forth between the two of them. It’s like he’s sizing them up, analyzing them the same way he analyzes everything else on the field. It’s cold and calculating. Another stark reminder that someone like Bachira, someone so bright and fun and genuine, doesn’t belong with someone like Rin.
Steeling his resolve and pushing himself off the wall, Isagi takes a step toward the other two. He looks deep into Rin’s indifferent stare. “Let’s play, Rin.”
It’s a challenge, that much is clear. But Isagi means more than just soccer. Yes, he wants to play, and he wants to win —he wants to crush Rin and prove his worth, prove his ability as a striker and an egoist—but there’s so much more there too. Rin took Bachira from him. And Isagi grew, sure, and for that he is grateful. But it’s time Bachira returned to whom he belongs.
Rin just scoffs, muttering “sure” as he walks away.
Once his back is turned, Isagi immediately turns to find Bachira, feeling the fire burning bright behind his eyes. When he meets Bachira’s gaze he sees it in his too, the matching flame that ignites them both, that drives them further and drives them together.
Despite the monster rearing its ugly head, Isagi has no words. There’s so much he had wanted to say to Bachira, but it all just falls short. Clearing his throat, Isagi nods, then turns to head toward his dorm in the opposite direction.
Of course, Bachira is the one to close the distance between them. Slender arms wrap around Isagi’s waist and keep him in place. Isagi stills as Bachira pulls them close and the warmth of Bachira’s sweaty, post-practice body presses against him.
“Hey, Isagi?” Bachira whispers. The now-familiar prick of teeth against skin graces Isagi’s nape. It sends a chill down his spine and heat to his belly. “Steal me back, then.”
For as quickly as it happened, Bachira releases him from his hold just as quickly and bounds down the hallway after Rin. He stops and turns to look back at Isagi, winking, just before he walks out of sight. Isagi touches the spot Bachira just marked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I will, Bachira. Don’t worry.”
Time Five
Isagi squeezes his eyes shut, enjoying the brief reprieve before returning to the wall of monitors in front of him.
“Think yer almost done?” Nanase asks.
“Yeah.” Hiori leans his head against Nanase’s shoulder and links their arms together. “We’ve been at this fer hours. Ain’t it time for bed, Isagi?”
“Not quite,” he says, grabbing the remote and rewinding one of the videos.
He needs to understand. If he’s going to be the best striker, he needs to be able to recreate his luck, his goals, his vision. He needs to get better.
“C’mon, ya can’t do this so much ya get worn out. Gotta take care a yerself too!” Hiori bats his large doe eyes in his direction, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks.
“Yeah, what would Bachira say?”
“What do you mean?” Isagi asks, finally pulling his attention away from the screens. “What does he have anything to do with this?”
Brushing his bangs away from his face, Hiori looks at Isagi like he’s grown a second head. “He’d want you to be in top shape, right? He wouldn’t want ya noddin’ off durin’ the next match or nothin’. You gotta pace yourself with things like this.”
“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Isagi runs his hand through his hair. He’s felt something different about his relationship with Bachira ever since the second selection. No matter how much he’s wracked his brain or tried to put the pieces together, he just can’t do it. But if Nanase and Hiori can help, just like they did in the match… “But I still don’t know why you brought up Bachira? Why not Chigiri? Or even Rin?”
Nanase and Hiori look at each other, speaking silently with just their expressions, before returning their gazes to Isagi.
“I thought you two were—” Nanase starts, but Hiori interrupts him.
“Speak of the devil.”.
Before Isagi has a chance to turn around, something solid gloms onto his back and a pair of strong legs are wrapped around his waist. “Oh,” Isagi huffs, the breath momentarily pushed from his lungs.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Going over footage of the games,” he answers. “I’m trying to learn as much as I can from everyone’s matches.”
“But what about me, Isagi?”
“What do you mean?” His eyes glance over to Nanase and Hiori, narrowing his stare as they both clearly hold back their laughter, barely containing it.
“I haven’t seen you all day . Come on! Who else is gonna cut my dinner for me? I almost starved when you weren’t there, Isagi,” Bachira pouts. “Rin wouldn’t do it for me.”
Isagi turns his face just enough to see Bachira puff out his cheeks like a frustrated chipmunk. He wants to keep watching, there’s still so much footage to cover, but if there’s one skill Isagi still hasn’t mastered, it’s saying no to Bachira. “Alright, fine. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Make it two!”
“Four,” Isagi bargains.
“Three,” Bachira counters.
Isagi sighs, acting annoyed, but really it’s just another one of those things he enjoys about how easy it is to be around Bachira. “It’s a deal.”
“Great.” Bachira leans in, and for a moment, Isagi freezes. An image flashes in his mind of Bachira’s lips on his, and something stirs in his gut, something telling him that yes, he wants that.
Isagi goes to turn his head, lips parting, but before he can do so, a set of teeth are digging into the skin of his cheek.
“See you soon,” Bachira calls as he lets go of Isagi and hurries out of the room.
The sinking feeling in Isagi’s stomach is a total surprise. He… wanted Bachira to kiss him? Or maybe he wanted to kiss Bachira? But that's absurd, right? There’s no way Bachira would want to do something like that. Biting is one thing but kissing?
“Well you two sure are cute,” Hiori comments.
“Huh?”
“Isagi,” Nanase starts, leaning forward to show his seriousness, “Are you and Bachira…?” His sentence trails off, leaving Isagi to fill in the pieces.
“Are we… what, together? Like, together ?”
Nanase shrugs.
“No. I mean… no. We’ve just been together since day one. So… we’re close.” Isagi isn’t sure why he feels the need to defend himself, or why the answer feels so unsatisfactory.
The other two leer at him again, then turn to each other, having another silent conversation between them. Isagi wishes he could read their minds. Is he missing something?
“You mean…” Nanase sighs and shakes his head. “I thought your weapon was good seein’ and understandin’!”
“It’s alright. You’ll figure it out.” Hiori puts a hand on Isagi’s shoulder. It feels a little patronizing. “Just know that you two are pretty close. Like, me and Nanase close.”
“But you two are…”
“Yep!” Nanase stands and pulls Hiori with him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Anyway, better not keep Bachira waiting. We’ll watch again in the morning.”
The other two leave the viewing room hand in hand, going the opposite direction of the cafeteria, probably to the showers or back to the dorms. Isagi pulls himself from his stupor. As he heads to his destination, brows furrowed in concentration, he thinks over their words.
But… they’re dating. So does that mean…?
Isagi doesn’t have much time to contemplate before Bachira is grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a table where two servings of their dinner await. He’ll just have to think it over another time.
Time Six
They’ve been so busy at Blue Lock, Isagi has hardly had time to think any further about Hiori and Nanase’s words. He does think about it a little, of course, just at the most inconvenient times, like in the shower—where his thoughts sometimes wander in a very different direction, which is another strange development—or as he’s trying to fall asleep.
Now, on their first break from Blue Lock, and sitting side-by-side with Bachira on his bedroom floor, he can do nothing else but think.
His mind works in overdrive as he thinks about the day, and the way he seems to be drawn toward Bachira, always thrust into his orbit and never able to stray too far. He thinks about the warmth of Bachira’s body as he carries Bachira around, much like Reo does for Nagi. It doesn’t escape him that, once again, it reminds him of something reserved between two lovers.
“This is my favorite shot, Isagi! Watch!”
Bachira directs his attention to the TV and the near-decade old recording of the world cup match. As much as Isagi wants to pay attention, all he can focus on is the way their knees brush and how he can still feel the heat of Bachira’s body. The light reflecting off Bachira’s beautiful, golden eyes shining like jewels is far too distracting, and the light, flowery scent of Bachira’s shampoo wafting in the air as he lets his head fall onto Isagi’s shoulder, is intoxicating.
With the way they’re sitting, Bachira’s hand is right next to Isagi’s. He’s compelled to reach to the side, just a little further, fingers hesitating over the back of Bachira's hand. He wants to hold it, he wants to grasp their fingers together, but he withdraws, unsure.
Is this…
“Isagi?” Bachira whines, lifting his head to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lies through his teeth.
Tilting his head, Bachira looks him over, thinking. The soft expression on his face has something warm wrapping around Isagi’s chest. Then, when Bachira smiles, all the pieces—all the components of the formula—fall into place.
I like him. I… I’m in love with him.
And then suddenly everything makes sense. It’s as natural as breathing. It’s an indisputable truth, just as much as the fact that Isagi loves soccer, and he’s going to be the world’s best striker. It’s just another part of Isagi that may just as well have always been there.
Even more, he’s pretty sure that his feelings are returned. All the affection, the cuddles, the biting. It’s not just a close friendship, a fierce rivalry, it’s a deep-seeded love that Isagi has been too fucking wrapped up in his own bullshit to notice—too focused on the ball to see the field as a whole. He understands what the others have said now, and he agrees with them: he’s been an idiot.
Bachira loves me. He has this whole time.
Isagi wants to say something, but how can he even express anything close to what he’s feeling? Words are not Isagi’s strong suit; he’s more a man of action. Taking his time, inching forward, Isagi leans in. Bachira’s eyes go wide and those plush lips part. Isagi’s do as well as the space closes between them. Long lashes flutter against Bachira’s cheeks, eyes closing in preparation. At the last second, Isagi turns his head just enough so that his teeth can carefully bite down on the skin of Bachira’s cheek.
Heat rushing to his face, Isagi pulls away.
“W-What was that for?” Bachira asks, his stare not meeting Isagi’s eyes for once.
“You should know,” he responds, trying to keep a straight face, but failing to hide a slight smirk. “What else could a ‘nom’ mean?”
It takes a beat for Bachira to understand, but when he does, he smiles wide.
Isagi is knocked onto his back with an ‘oof’, hitting the floor hard. Bachira is on top of him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and then their lips are meeting. The kiss is warm and soft, but sends chills down Isagi’s spine. Bachira’s touch, though over his clothes, is searing.
Hunger stirs in his belly, along with a deep sense of satisfaction. It’s better than he could’ve imagined; it’s better than a goal.
Neither can stop at just one. They kiss again, then again, smiling into more as they move to kiss each other’s cheeks and chins and noses. When they finally pull away, they’re giggling and breathless. Bachira’s entire bodyweight is on top of him, hands on Isagi’s chest, and Isagi grabs his waist and holds him close.
“Bachira,” he whispers, nipping at his ear and taking the lobe between his teeth. “I like you.”
He feels the rumble of Bachira’s low hum. “Took you long enough.” Then, in true Bachira fashion, teeth sink into the meat of Isagi’s cheek. “I like you too.”