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"And so," Isagi continues, ignoring the glare pointed his way. "That's how I passed Saitama's tryouts." He adjusts the blanket around Kaiser's form absentmindedly, ignoring the blonde's glare. Isagi hasn't had much opportunity to do so in the past couple of years, but he'd been nicknamed Nurse for the countless times he's pulled out a first-aid kit right when he was needed, to the astonishment of his teammates.
Taking care of Kaiser is difficult. Mainly because sometimes (only sometimes), Isagi forgets that he hates the bastard. There's not much to hate, is there? Not with Kaiser's voice being shot and him barely able to move an inch, despite the blonde's many efforts.
Like a defanged lion, maybe. An emperor without his throne. A naked emperor, Isagi's brain reminds him.
Kaiser picks up a notepad and pen, graciously provided by Isagi as an alternate form of communication and scrawls a message. I despise you. He underlines the word 'despise' no less than four times. Sadly, Isagi is used to death threats from his teammates by now, and is unaffected.
"That's unfortunate for you, isn't it?" Isagi has to bite back a bitter laugh. "Since I'm taking care of you, and all that." What he means: Since Noa decided to fuck us both over in this act for the press.
Kaiser picks up the pen once again, and draws a -
Well. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to give Kaiser paper, if his only artistic talent seems to lie in drawing root vegetables (sprouted vegetables, Isagi reminds himself), with stupid smiles on their faces and devil's horns. If there was a blue crayon, Isagi predicts that the vegetables would have matching blue hair and eyes.
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If Kaiser could go back in time, he would go back to five days earlier.
Five days earlier, the president was not assassinated. Five days earlier, the world did not end, Blue Lock was not besieged by a plague of locusts, and no one died. It might've been nice if Kaiser had, but oh well.
No, five days ago, Kaiser got sick.
It's really nothing, he told Noa. Really nothing at all, Noa - not even worth noting. And because Noa could care less about his players' condition, all he responded with was a note to visit the doctor's office at some point and a hushed, Keep it off the field, Kaiser.
You're better than this.
It has to be Noa jinxing him, somehow, because Kaiser passes out in Isagi's arms a day later in some perverse deja vu of the Manshine City game. Even though the NEL has finished over a year ago, Isagi had tagged along on Bastard München and carved out a spot for himself beside Kaiser. As an equal; as one half of a duo, and once again, it's all Noa's fault for letting Isagi motherfucking Yoichi on the team.
The fact that none of this is Kaiser's fault is not a comfort, however. Not when he's too sick to speak or move, and Isagi is looming over him like some goddamn guardian angel with that shiteating grin on his face.
"Open up, Kaiser - " Isagi can't hide his wince. "A middle finger, really?"
Kaiser sticks his finger up even higher in the air. Fuck you.
Isagi just sighs, pressing the spoon against Kaiser's clamped lips. "Do you want to pass out in my arms again? Is this some elaborate ploy for me to catch you?"
Kaiser shakes his head and opens his mouth to curse - forgetting that his voice is gone; has been gone for the past five days and four hours. But in the half-second before Kaiser can shut up, Isagi slips the spoon between his lips. Kaiser bites down, hard, and the crunch of the cheap metal utensils under his teeth is almost as satisfying as flipping Isagi off.
Almost.
Isagi sighs once more, picking up a spoon from a jar full of them. Crumpled metal litters the ground beside Kaiser's bed. "Is spiting me worth breaking every spoon we have?" It hangs in the air like a question between them. I thought you were better than this?
Kaiser responds with a tight, efficient nod. I'm not. Are you surprised?
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It's idiotic, really, how everyone seems to be expecting something of Kaiser. Noa with his cold gaze, constantly reminding Kaiser that he is an investment, no more and no less - and it would be a shame if he was a waste of money. And Ness, with those wide puppy eyes that follow Kaiser around with adoration. Kaiser! Kaiser! It'd be pathetic if Kaiser didn't sorely need Ness's specific brand of encouragement sometimes.
And then there's the press. The press, who is always so eager to stalk Kaiser with their legions of photographers and reporters.
The press doesn't just want photos of him, though. Photos are fine with Kaiser. But they swarm like flies outside of his window, begging for dating rumors and confirmation of fake relationships. Kaiser, sir - Michael Kaiser - New Gen 11, Michael Kaiser - and like flies, their words buzz right past him. In one ear, out the other.
After Japan's win against Germany in the World Cup (and Isagi's subsequent joining of Bastard München), they turned rabid. Now, it's How do you feel about Blue Lock, sir? How do you feel about the Japan team winning the World Cup?
How do you feel about Isagi Yoichi? That - that causes him to pause.
"I - " The reporters; the reporters with their pleading, pathetic stares. They remind him of the kids on his street, begging for Kaiser's empty cans for the coin deposit. Kaiser's, because his father wasn't sober enough to pay the bills, let alone go outside.
"I - " They look up at him, and Kaiser has the sudden, sinking realization that he could say anything right now, and they'd eat it up. Even if what he says is incendiary enough, they'd blow it up for the papers.
The wind must be sharper than he'd thought, because there's moisture prickling at Kaiser's eyes. "I don't - "
Yoichi is the only one who doesn't see him through a lens of blind admiration, he thinks. There's only hatred in those blue eyes, and something else, maybe. He notices Kaiser, in the most honest sense. Yoichi will witness him at the highest of his highs, and the lowest of his lows.
The lowest of his lows?
And it's easy, then, for Kaiser to decide what he wants to say.
"I fucking hate Isagi Yoichi."
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The press eats it up, just like he'd thought they would. The tentative truce that had been established between him and Isagi as the famous twin aces of the team was broken the day after the article came out.
But that's what Kaiser had been aiming for, anyways. He doesn't have to look Isagi in the eyes anymore (in those searching, calculating eyes), and even if Noa complains near everyday about the two of them 'falling off,' it's not Kaiser's problem. There's still half a year left on his contract, and then it's goodbye to Bastard and Noa and fucking Yoichi.
Re Al would be more than happy enough to give Kaiser an offer, even if little Rin Itoshi threatens to burn down the club building. Because while Rin Itoshi is the 'beast of Blue Lock,' Kaiser is Michael Kaiser, New Gen 11, master of the Kaiser impact.
So really, he should be happy for this upcoming change. It's only half a year. Half a year and counting until Kaiser no longer has to face Isagi in the locker room before and after practices; half a year until he can get rid of that putrid, congealing feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freezing over.
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It's only half a year, and the time ticks by slowly. Day by day, as if matching the pace of Kaiser's heartbeat. The game days are the simultaneously the best and worst ones; when Kaiser's heart is pumping fast, and blood is in his ears and damn near bursting through his blood vessels, and Isagi is moving at his pace.
Those days fly by, and Kaiser can almost forget why he wanted to leave in the first place when there's only one place he can experience this specific high.
But then the game ends, and like every high he's been on, Kaiser comes crashing down back to earth. Isagi's piercingly blue, accusing eyes on him. Fortunately, Kaiser's skilled at compartmentalizing. So he stamps that feeling down inside of his chest and builds up the little hurts in between his bones; fortifying his heart instead of exposing it.
Because it's second nature by now, and Kaiser's had one too many chances to explain himself to Isagi to ask for another.
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He didn't have to ask for another chance. Isagi is sitting by his bedside like the self-sacrificial type of protagonist that he must be, knowing that Kaiser is liable to bite the hand that feeds him at any moment now.
Kaiser's eyes are shut. If he looks up, he'll surely see Isagi staring down at him. Apparently, Isagi must think he's asleep - because he pokes Kaiser. Once, twice, three times, and Kaiser doesn't budge. Jesus fucking Christ. If Isagi wants to sit on the bed, he'll have to shove Kaiser to make space, and Kaiser doesn't want to give the boy even more openings than he already has. What if he stabs Kaiser with a pen?
Isagi wouldn't do that, though, because he's the heart of Blue Lock. He still hasn't poisoned Kaiser for giving that quote to the magazines.
But just because Isagi won't sabotage Kaiser, that doesn't mean he'll surrender. The blue-haired boy pushes and wiggles and prods Kaiser to the point that if Kaiser was actually sleeping, he would've woken up by now.
Isagi finally makes room for himself on the bed, and the frame creaks with his weight. Kaiser lets his body go fully limp; completely vulnerable. He is asleep he is asleep he is -
Ticklish, suddenly. There's something plasticky, almost surgical about the pen ghosting across his cheeks. He could grab the pen out of Isagi's hand and stab the both of them with his eyes closed. He could throw every single spoon in that jar, all twenty of them, at Isagi and watch those cerulean eyes grow wide.
He could - he can't. He won't.
Kaiser stays still as Isagi draws triangles on his face, faint little dots and streaks leading from his nose to his cheekbones. Like whiskers, Kaiser thinks tentatively, and then with dread. Like whiskers.
Isagi is drawing cat ears and whiskers on him.
It'd be more than embarrassing to 'wake up' now. The smart solution is to wait until Isagi leaves, and then wipe the marker off before anyone else comes in.
Behind his eyelids, Kaiser tries to imagine the boy's face right now. His nose is probably scrunched in focus. He's probably not a good artist, but endlessly creative in his mind. As much as Kaiser doesn't want to admit it, Isagi's plays are beautiful. Puzzle pieces with jagged edges that shouldn't make sense together, but still do anyways.
Isagi's breaths are rhythmic. A longer exhale than an inhale; how athletes are taught to breathe for maximum oxygen intake. How very like Yoichi that is; to take Noa's advice even while graffitiing his teammate in the sick bay.
The marker lifts up, and Kaiser can't help the sharp inhale that escapes his mouth. Thankfully, Isagi doesn't seem to notice. His fingers graze Kaiser's face; trace the lines of still-drying ink.
"Cute," Isagi whispers. "You're really cute when you're asleep, Kaiser."
And it's only because Isagi has tricked himself into thinking that Kaiser's a normal person; not one who constantly belittles and tricks him at every turn, that he places a soft kiss on Kaiser's forehead. "Cute."
Kaiser's eyes fly open, but there's a split second of satisfaction when he notices that Isagi's pupils are blown out; black, surrounded by a ring of deep, drowning blue.