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Itoshi Sae is observant. Anyone who pays attention can tell, his eyes sharply analysing every little detail presented in the world before he cherry picks the best course of action. Not very many can keep up with that train of thought, and often it’s led to frustration. He doesn’t particularly care, though. If they can’t keep up with him, then they don’t need to be paid any mind. He’ll deal with the ones who are on the same level as him.
So imagine his surprise, when his eye catches on someone he never thought he would have paused at. Flashes of pink, the consuming energy of his plays drawing him in like a moth drawn to a flame.
How amusing.
“I’ll play on the U20 team- on one condition.”
=====
Ryusei Shidou was not one to stick around people. He liked the sporadic movement, so long as he could score and play the way he wished, he doesn’t care for the others on the field. It’s how it has always been. He was never the analysing type, but his instincts made up for his plays, guiding him to the best possible games, the most entertaining movements. If people can’t keep up with him, that doesn’t matter, because he’ll make up for whatever they lack anyway.
So imagine his surprise, when this midfielder who looks exactly like a competitor of his own, manages to keep up with his demon instinct and follow his plays perfectly. (Or is he following the others’ plays? Shidou doesn’t think it matters, frankly, because it feels incredible to play together anyway.)
“Itoshi Sae- I want to play football with you forever!”
=====
Of course, Shidou’s words would fall hollow, for the world is never as kind as to give people whatever they ask for. But through the course of the years, he has played both with and
against Itoshi Sae, and nobody quite gives him feel the thrill of life and game as much as he does.
He has this revelation in the middle of a World Cup game, the plot twist of Sae joining the U20 team for Japan’s side perhaps the biggest headlines at the moment. He wipes the sweat off of his face, eyes alit in joy as he shoots a sharp shot right into the goal, turning to the midfielder with a proud smirk on his face.
“You owe me a dinner date now, Sae-chan,” he says in a playful tone, draping himself over the midfielder in lieu of a goal celebration. Sae, of course, merely scoffs at his antics, yet never pushing him away.
(He can feel the other Itoshi glaring daggers into his back as he rages. He doesn’t care though, he has the better Itoshi by his side. He doesn’t think he wants that to change.)
“For one goal? I’m not nearly that cheap. Make it three, and I’ll consider it,” Sae replies with a flat tone, but Shidou catches the challenge beneath it as he laughs heartily.
He pries himself away from Sae, returning to his position for the next play off as he calls out,
“Five- and I get to stay the night!”
Sae wonders what he did to have such a demon clinging onto him, and yet he finds himself unable to pull away as he turns over the offer in his head momentarily. On any other day, he wouldn’t have even considered it- but when it was Shidou asking, in the middle of a match as thrilling as this one- he ponders.
Then he does what he always does, shaking his head to clear it, not acknowledging the statement as he walks to his own position.
(Beside him, his brother is jogging up to the front, eyes watching the two of them like a hawk. For all of Itoshi Sae’s observational skills, he missed his brother following his movements like he had always been. If anyone could keep up with his mind, it had always been Itoshi Rin.)
(And Rin thinks- hearing Shidou’s comment, and Sae’s hesitant ignorance of it, and he wonders. Then he does what he always does, shaking his head to clear the thought. He learned from the best.)
===
Shidou doesn’t manage another goal that match, Isagi and Rin having grabbed one each of their own. Sae takes him up on the dinner offer anyway, but Shidou declines.
“I’ll earn it one day- and I’ll get that dinner date with you for sure!”
Sae scoffs, saying nothing, but Shidou’s giddy smile proves to be a lot more contagious than he recalls it being.
They won that match. That world cup.
Itoshi Sae retired two seasons after.
Shidou returned to his roots after that, and he wonders why the field changes the way it does. He thinks, and thinks, in a way Ryusei Shidou never has, about what changed. But he doesn’t let himself answer it.
The dinner date stays hanging, as their on-field connection becomes a thing of the past.
===
But Itoshi Sae is still a fool, he supposes, because a year later, he seeks out the flame like he always had. His scarf is wrapped around him tightly as he strides into the stadium, turning into the locker rooms with his pass to meet an unfortunate relative.
It’s been a while since he watched a match, and his mother had been prodding him to check on Rin, afraid he was overworking himself again. Sae, of course, had barely held in a comment about how he probably needed the overworking, but decides to watch the match anyway.
If it was also in part because a certain demon kept spamming his messages with a request to come- nobody needed to know. Sae would bury those feelings deep inside in his chest and shove them away never to see the light of day.
(The only time they had been exposed was when he was right next to him- his smile wide and full of joy every time Sae said anything remotely complimentary. A moth drawn to a flame, indeed. He wonders if Shidou plays like that anymore. It’s been a while.)
Rin comes out to greet him, but he seems more confident today. His eyebrow raises questioningly.
“Why are you here?”
Ah, so direct. He wonders when Rin got this tall. He feels old, all of a sudden.
“To check on you, idiot. Mother has been exceptionally worried about you and your overworking tendencies,” he says, tone deadpan and direct.
He expects Rin to shuffle guiltily, and pull out his phone to talk to their mother immediately. Instead, Rin crosses his arms, tapping his arm impatiently, as though waiting for Sae to continue.
“And?”
Sae gets it. He knows what Rin is trying to do. He is not about to fall for it.
“And nothing else. Call mother,” he says bluntly, turning to head into the stadium.
Thankfully, his little brother doesn’t stop him. Their relationship may be better but he still thinks his brother is a frustrating menace to society. He’s suddenly thankful Rin can read him well, so he doesn’t need to say anything awkward or damning.
But then Rin calls out to him as he leaves, and he immediately wipes any compliments he thought about the younger, replacing them with insults and grumbles.
“I’ll send the bug your way after we win- you better stick around, or else I’m leaking your childhood photos,” he says.
Sae regrets ever letting his father lay a hand on technology. Even greater is his regret of ever letting him text Rin. Clearly this disaster would not be a possibility otherwise.
===
For the first time, and definitely not the last, Sae cannot explain his own actions. He tells himself it’s because of Rin’s blackmail material, but he knows that isn’t it.
And yet here he is, waiting outside the stadium after PxG’s successful match. Waiting, to catch sight of the same pink flame that had drawn him so strongly. He watches Rin walk out, an acknowledging nod shared as the younger calls up his mother (finally, Sae thinks, he’s free of his older brother responsibilities for now).
And Shidou strolls out, the same giddy smile as ever on his lips as he calls out to Sae. He thinks if he was any more vulnerable, Shidou would have stolen his breath away. The happiness on his face at the joy of winning a match was something Sae had never seen on anyone else.
It was official, Sae groaned internally. He’s doomed.
“Sae-chan~ It’s been so long! I was going to pop in and say hello when we fly to Japan next week, but Rinrin said you were here, and, well,” he cuts himself off, his eyes staring into Sae’s soul.
“You’re rambling again, demon,” he says, but the small smile on his face is something Shidou thinks is the rarest sight in the world.
And he laughs, light and airy, feeling the same exhilarating surge of joy course through him, that he thought had been lost two years ago. Finally, Shidou thinks, he can let himself answer the question that had prodded at him for so long. It had never been the field that gave him this particular exhilaration- the joy of scoring a goal, and the joy of hanging around Itoshi Sae were two completely different emotions entirely.
He shoots his shot, one last time. He thinks it’ll land a goal this time.
“You know, I did score two more goals this match- and I’ve definitely scored more goals across the two years since the world cup~” he begins lightly, catching Sae’s eye. He knows that the other has caught on, too.
“You think that dinner date offer is still up?”
Sae realises with a start that, this offer is the same as every other. Not that the others weren’t genuine, but something about this time felt more inviting than ever. He wonders if he’s the one who changed over the years, or if it had been Shidou who had. But then he decides with finality that, he doesn’t think he minds it either way.
He thinks the change is for the better.
“I suppose it is. I have a plane tomorrow back to Japan though, so-“
Shidou laughs, grabbing Sae’s arm as he drags him out onto the street, calling out the name of a restaurant nearby that sounds too French for Sae to even begin to compute. But he thinks he’ll have a good time anyway. A moth drawn to a flame, and he thinks he’s finally ready to reach out and touch it.
He jogs, keeping up with Shidou, reciprocrating for the first time, but definitely not the last.