Chapter Text
Rin hadn’t been expecting much. He hadn’t been expecting a celebration, sudden reconciliation, or anything beyond a mere sentence of acknowledgement—or, at the very least, basic human-greeting—but, it seemed he had really underestimated the hatred and utter-detachment that Sae harbored towards him.
He hadn’t spared a single glance in Rin’s vague direction even once until the match had finished… but, that wasn’t even close to the worst-part; the true worst-part had been the way Rin’s heart had foolishly swelled with hope and childlike-excitement when his older-brother had walked over to stand beside him, the way he could feel his eyes practically twinkling with vulnerable hope as he sat there, exhausted and pushed past his limit, hoping and ignorantly believing that Sae would say something to him… anything.
And, in a surprising turn-of-events, he had actually taken the time to speak to Rin… but, he would never forget the crushing weight of sorrow and humiliation when, rather than even vaguely acknowledge him in any way-shape-or-form, the name that Sae had reserved praise for had been the last that he’d ever imagined that he’d hear:
‘The one who drew out your instincts… and who will change Japanese football… is Isagi Yoichi.’
…
Isagi Yoichi; The lukewarm little NPC that Rin hadn’t even registered as a threat during his entire time in Bluelock and just another worthless obstacle in a faceless-crowd of people that had to climb-over and mercilessly-crush to reach the pinnacle of his dream… but, as it turned out, that mentality had been a grave mistake on his part… and, now, he didn’t quite know how to cope with that fact.
Rin had worked so hard; He had sacrificed everything… any unrelated-to-football hobbies that he found enjoyment in, possible friendship, the pursuit of academics… all of it. He had sacrificed anything and everything for the sake of the almost-primal desire and dream to crush Itoshi Sae beneath his foot and consequently force the other to acknowledge the progress and growth that he’d made…
But in the end, he had failed.
Isagi Yoichi, the player who had barely been lukewarm-enough to reserve a spot on Rin’s threat-radar, had stolen both the spotlight and had managed to capture and hold Sae’s attention enough to become the newfound object of praise and attention… and what made it that much, much worse, was the fact that Isagi most-likely didn’t even know it.
Who was Itoshi Sae to Isagi? A genius, world-class football player, perhaps? Anyone with a genuine passion or even just mild-interest for football would surely hold The Itoshi Sae’s praise in extremely high-regard… but to Rin, Sae was much more than that; He was his Ni-Chan- or, at least he had been until his real Ni-Chan had left to Spain all those years ago, only to never return and leave nothing but the cold, heartless bastard that was current-Itoshi Sae behind in his wake.
He honestly wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but, as Rin perfectly-still lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in a sort of blank-trance, he could practically feel the devastating suffocation and anguish of both his heart and mind alike collapsing-inward with disappointment and dissatisfaction. He grit his teeth as his fingernails dug into the bed sheets. “Isagi Yoichi…” he hissed out with bitter-jealousy, gnawing the soft, sensitive inside of his cheek so harshly that the taste of disgusting, metallic-copper flooded his mouth; blood.
A relentless, raging storm of emotion crashed through and over him as he laid there, his mostly-blank face appearing to be almost calm to anyone who might be watching from the outside. Waves of pure, overwhelming hatred surged and piqued before crashing through his mind and body, the sheer agonizing force they thrashed him with strong-enough to make his body physically lurch and reel against each one; despite clawing and protesting against the metaphorical-sea with every last strength reservoir that he had to give, he was still ultimately helpless in the face of such sheer, overwhelming power.
He felt rage; hatred and rage so powerful for both Isagi and his br- for… Sae, that he found himself struggling to think straight. Blood roared and pounded through his ear-drums and he felt the sudden, violent urge to break something—anything—consume his every-desire without warning… but, almost as soon as the rage festered to just-about boiling-point, it suddenly dissipated and faded-away as quickly as it had appeared, immediately replaced by something a hundred-times worse than any rage; it was something that Rin, on the regular, tried so hard to forget and just plain-out ignore in its entirety…
Sorrow.
Sorrow that, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he tore-down, criticized, rebuilt, and just pushed himself beyond the limits in general, Rin didn’t ever seem to be exceptional, good, or even just noteworthy-enough for anyone. He wasn’t good enough for Sae or even his parents—who, mind you, couldn’t even be bothered or concerned-enough to make or reserve any time to come home with intent to visit him; though, that wasn’t a surprise… they might have never said it directly or out-loud, but Rin wasn’t stupid enough to miss that fact that Sae had been, and always would be their favorite golden-child, and that he was just the son they took care of out of obligation.
Rin wasn’t good enough for anyone.
Without warning, that same twisted, ever-present shadow of a question that had formed and taken-root within him ever since that fateful, traumatizing night in the snow decided to rear its hideous head, taking full advantage of his weak-vulnerability… and that question was simply: ‘Why’?
“Why?” He repeated aloud, a little startled by the sound of his own ragged, hoarse voice sounding through the otherwise silent and empty room; he hadn't intended to speak out-loud… but, for whatever strange and inexplicable reason, the gesture of having physically-asked the question sent him spiraling down a deep, twisting rabbit-hole of no return.
Why was Rin not good enough?
Why did it feel that, despite pouring every ounce of his heart, soul, passion, and dedication into football, he still felt like an undeserving, unloveable fraud?
Why was it that, no matter how much he fine-tuned his skill-level and talent, it felt as if nobody ever saw him or even bothered to try?
…
Really, it was utterly pathetic. He shouldn’t be wasting minutes fretting over such useless, trivial matters when he could instead be making productive-use of his time; Rin should be spending every waking-second honing his football-skills to the level-of-perfection required to crush Itoshi Sae to the point of forcing the other to acknowledge him. “Tch…” He clicked his tongue with a mixture of self-disgust and exasperation—With hindsight, it was no wonder that Sae refused to even look at him after the U-20 match; Rin was so laughably-pathetic that even he himself couldn’t help but scoff at his own shortcoming.
Rin had never been as mentally strong as his br- as Sae; He had never had the capacity or level-of-apathy required to separate and isolate himself from the constant cacophony of emotions that regularly-plagued at his heart, regardless of how much effort he put in to outwardly convince others that he could… but he wouldn’t cry—only lukewarm NPCs allowed themselves to succumb to something as trivial as emotional-weakness, and Rin was not one of them!
So what if Sae couldn’t even be bothered to look or see him… so fucking what if he had acknowledged Isagi Yoichi instead of him? He shouldn’t be wasting time sulking and mindlessly-repeating over trivial, time-wasting things such as this; He had two full weeks off from Bluelock, which meant he would have more than adequate enough time to improve! “Fucking lukewarm… get a hold of yourself.” Rin hissed at himself without reservation, all of the rage and emotion from earlier returning with passionate-invigoration… but, this time, it was directed inward, pointed at himself. “You’ll never amount to anything if you keep fucking moping like this you pathetic little shit…” he practically snarled at the ceiling, basking in the way the sharp, mercilessly-cutting words—although his own—stung and twisted at his already-aching heart with an a pain that he dared label as refreshing.
Plagued and obscured by a moment of regrettable, shameful weakness, Rin had almost managed to forget the most important rule he’d set for himself as a guid-line after Sae had broken his heart:
Don't suppress or attempt to escape from the anger… use it; he had to bathe and fully-submerge himself within the pain until it became so agonizing that it either forced growth and evolution, promptly aiding him with his endeavor, or became too much—those he couldn’t handle the pain died; they were the forgotten and useless.
Gritting his teeth with a newfound passion and motivation, Rin managed to yank himself up from the bed that had felt like something similar to that of a prison the last few hours, scoffing when, after checking the time, he realized just how much precious time he’d wasted fretting and concerning himself with such a pointless thing.
Deciding that he would not be wasting any more time, Rin leapt up and off the bed onto his slightly-shaky feet, grabbed and unrolled the yoga mat stashed beneath the bedframe, and began his routine stretch and meditation flow. It had actually been working decently-well to soothe his overcrowded heart and lift his spirit a little bit… until he heard his phone dinging and was promptly met with a text from the last person he’d ever wanted to hear from again, that was:
From: NPC 1(Isagi Yoichi)
“Hey Rin!”
What a fucking dumbass- and, for clarification, Rin was referring to both Isagi and whoever’s stupid idea it was to force all the members of Bluelock to exchange numbers and join a group chat so they could ‘connect over the break’; he had tried to refuse at first—obviously—but he could hardly escape when Ego Jinpachi himself concluded it would be a ‘good idea’ and practically threatened all of them to join and participate.
What the hell could Isagi possibly be texting him about? Rin had made it extremely clear on literally every occasion possible that he did not give two fucks about friendship or anybody within Bluelock other than himself… so, why couldnt this idiotic bastard just take a hint already? Was it possible that he thought that they were somehow friends?
Scoffing with agitation, Rin snatched his phone up from its resting-spot on the bed, his anger-fueled thumbs flying and tapping at the screen with a furious amount of heated-passion as he proceeded to respond with the most bitter, scalding, and dismissive response that he could muster:
To: NPC 1(Isagi Yoichi)
“Fuck off you stupid lukewarm bastard. We’re not friends so don’t ever fucking text me again.”
That should be more than sufficient and straightforward-enough to keep the damned NPC far away from him… or, at least, that’s what he thought would happen when he threw his phone back down and attempted to continue his yoga-session. Almost immediately, he had once again been interrupted by the sound of his phone dinging with a responding text-message; apparently Isagi really could not take a hint—or, in this case, a direct declaration of unreserved hatred.
From: NPC 1(Isagi Yoichi)
“What do you mean we’re not friends? :(”
Disgusting… Rin could practically feel the innocence and naivety radiating through the screen as if to mock and purposefully-agitate him—seriously, how could he have ever let an idiot as clueless and rage-inducingly innocent as Isagi Yoichi beat him during the U-20?
To: NPC 1(Isagi Yoichi)
“It means we’re not fucking friends. I hate you and I don’t want you to text me, so fuck off.”
Okay… that had to have been enough-
From: NPC 1(Isagi Yoichi)
“Aww you don’t mean that! ;P”
What the actual hell was this guy's problem? Rin had finally managed to escape from his depressive, time-wasting stupor and re-find motivation to fall back into routine when this clueless idiot had decided to interrupt and mess up the flow!
To: NPC 1(Isagi Yoichi)
“I do. I fucking hate you. I’m silencing my phone. Don’t ever text me again, lukewarm bastard.”
Rin didn’t even bother to read the following, probably ridiculously-positive text that he just knew Isagi had tried to send in response. “Stupid… fucking stupid.” He cursed out to the audience in the silent, empty bedroom, his blood running hot with mild-agitation and exasperation… Though, for some strange, inexplicable reason, it almost seemed that the lukewarm bastard’s unwarranted text-messages had actually managed to ‘cheer him up’, in an odd-sense; despite having been a distraction from more productive, meaningful uses of time, it had felt strangely good to take-out and direct his bottled-up anger onto Isagi, even if it had been via digital means. “At the very least, he’s a good punching bag.” Rin hummed with genuine-amusement, almost-immediately shaking and scolding himself silently when he realized he’d been dangerously close to smirking—what the hell?
Sighing and rolling up his yoga mat, Rin grabbed his phone—he still continued to ignore the periodic text-alerts; how the actually fuck could Isagi still be attempting to chat with him?—and went about organizing and tidying the bed before deeming it good-enough and deciding to head downstairs—How strange, it almost felt as if something inside of him was somehow a little bit… lighter? It was undoubtedly odd and something worth further-contemplation… but, for now, he couldn’t afford to waste anymore daylight pondering over unrelated subjects.
He had training to do.
Closing his bedroom-door and making his way down the staircase, Rin didn't really think much of what he would find downstair—why would he?—but, when he found himself halfway down, he froze dead mid-step, finding himself met with an unexpected, inexplicable sight that sent a fresh wave of stabbing-agony through his heart; Somehow, just when he thought it impossible, the towering, metaphorical waves of crashing emotion almost seemed to double with height.
Standing in the hallway with a suitcase at his side and looking as if he didn’t have a singular care in the world—that, or maybe he was just a long-dead, emotionless and apathetic bastard with the social capacity of a corpse—was Itoshi Sae.
…
Itoshi fucking Sae.