Chapter Text
After the U-20 match, Rin finally found himself free from the so-called hellish prison of Blue Lock .
Not that it was truly hell. Sure, it was crowded with boys who were too loud, too tepid, and lukewarm in their ambitions—at least compared to his. But there was something about the constant chaos that contrasted with the cold silence of his supposed home. Though he’d never admit it, not even to himself, Rin kind of missed that noise.
Usually, his parents would be home. But as if the universe loved to toy with him, their business trip had to coincide perfectly with his rare two-week break.
He wasn’t sure whether to call it bad luck or good luck. He loved being away from people, but it was different when it came to his parents. They were the only ones he felt comfortable enough around to let his guard down—even enough to indulge in small, unconscious habits like drooling when he was to immerse in, something he’d been hyper-aware of during his time at Blue Lock .
And then there was his brother. The brother he swore he’d disowned—not the other way around. If anyone was doing the abandoning, it would be Rin, not Sae.
Still, as Rin stepped into the solitude of his house, his gaze landed on a note stuck to the top of the shelf.
“Mom and Dad will be out for a while. Sorry, dear. Take care! ❤”
He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
After tossing his bag aside, his muscle memory carried him to his room. When he opened the door, he found it spotless. “Mom must’ve cleaned it before they left,” he murmured.
It was still morning, and Rin fell into his usual routine. He opened the window, did some light stretches, and followed up with yoga. No way was he letting himself slack just because he was on break.
By evening, boredom pushed him to take a walk. He bought himself a popsicle and wandered toward the shore. The red hues of the setting sun painted the water, and for a brief moment, Rin felt calm. The loneliness was still there, but it wasn’t suffocating—it was almost peaceful.
When the sky darkened and the stars began to scatter, Rin made his way home. After a quick shower and rummaging through the fridge for snacks, he found himself sitting in the living room with an old CD of Sae’s matches playing on the TV.
As the game unfolded, Rin’s annoyance simmered. He hated watching Sae, hated how effortlessly brilliant his brother was. Yet, no matter how much resentment burned in him, Rin couldn’t help but feel mesmerized, proud even.
“Nii-chan is awesome,” he thought, and immediately scowled at himself. He’d never say it out loud. Part of him still burned to destroy Sae—on the pitch, of course.
To shake off the conflicting emotions, Rin retreated upstairs to his room. It had been a while since he’d indulged in one of his favorite pastimes. Horror games.
Switching on his computer, Rin connected his Bluetooth headphones, adjusted his gaming chair, and logged into the game. He cranked up the volume, letting the intense sound design surround him.
The thrill of horror wasn’t just entertainment for Rin—it was catharsis. The pounding of his heart, the moments of tension, and the fleeting adrenaline rush gave him something he couldn’t find in the stillness of his empty house.
It reminded him, faintly, of the intensity he’d felt on the field during the match. For a while, it filled the void, giving him a sense of belonging—even if it was only for a few hours.
Despite his steady exterior, most people wouldn’t think Rin’s immersion in horror games benefitted him much. After all, he played them with a straight face, barely reacting even when ghosts jumped out on screen. Sure, his heart raced at times, but he had enough control to keep any sign of fear hidden—even with no one around to judge him. That was just who he was.
Sometimes, when he got too absorbed, he’d even start drooling. Not that it bothered him. If anything, it meant he was fully engrossed, lost in the adrenaline rush that made him forget the hollow feeling inside.
The eerie sound design of the game filled his ears through his headphones, drawing him deeper into the experience. But then, another sound broke through—a faint noise that didn’t belong.
Rin frowned, pausing the game and lifting the right side of his headphones. His gaze flicked to his bedroom door. Silence. After a couple of seconds, he shrugged and resumed playing, chalking it up to his imagination.
But then he heard it again.
This time, it sounded like footsteps. His heart skipped, but he repeated the same gesture—headphones off, ears straining—and again, silence.
The third time, though, the noise was louder, more distinct. It wasn’t coming from the game. Rin’s lips pressed into a thin line as his curiosity began to outweigh his growing unease. He paused the game entirely and stood, his chair creaking softly in the quiet room.
The sound came again, just as he moved to the door. It was faint but unmistakable—the metallic clatter of something in the kitchen. Pans? His first thought was his mom, but he quickly dismissed it, recalling the note. His parents weren’t due back for two weeks.
His chest tightened.
If it wasn’t them...
Rin wasn’t the type to believe in ghosts. If anything, the thought of a break-in seemed more plausible—and infinitely more dangerous. The idea of someone targeting his home because of his connection to Sae made his stomach churn. The thought alone made the back of his neck prickle with cold fear.
Swallowing hard, Rin steeled himself and moved cautiously toward the stairs, each step deliberate and soundless. The closer he got to the kitchen, the louder the noises became. A clinking of metal, the scrape of something shifting on the counter.
His palms felt clammy as he approached the last few steps. The kitchen light was on, spilling a faint glow into the otherwise dark hallway. He hesitated, debating whether to call out, but fear rooted his voice in his throat.
Instead, he crept forward, peeking around the corner into the kitchen.
What he saw made his heart stop.
Sae was standing at the stove, casually flipping takoyaki with a pair of chopsticks. Rin’s gaze zeroed in on the little spheres of dough, one of which had a piece of octopus clearly poking out, almost taunting him.
He froze in place, his mind grinding to a halt.
What...
The sight was so absurd, so utterly out of place, that all he could do was gape. His body straightened on autopilot, mouth slightly open as his brain struggled to process the scene before him.
It took a few seconds—too many, probably—but eventually, Sae looked up. His calm, indifferent gaze landed on Rin, and his eyebrows rose, just a fraction. Then, as if nothing about this was remotely strange, he returned to his takoyaki, flipping another piece with the same deliberate precision.
Rin blinked.
Once. Twice.
Nope, still there.
This wasn’t a dream, was it?
A million questions raced through Rin’s mind, colliding with each other in a chaotic jumble.
Why was Sae here?
Wasn’t he supposed to be in Spain, being the overachieving star he loved bragging about?
What was he even doing? Cooking takoyaki at nearly midnight like it was the most normal thing in the world?
What kind of lukewarm nonsense was this?
His brain refused to cooperate, leaving him rooted to the spot, utterly baffled.
“How long are you going to stand there?” Sae’s voice finally broke the silence, cool and detached as always.
It wasn’t even a real question. Just a statement, laced with that infuriating Sae-like apathy that made Rin’s blood boil.
Rin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he scrambled to find words. “W-What the hell are you doing here?” he finally managed, his voice coming out sharper than he intended.
Sae didn’t even glance up this time. “Cooking,” he replied simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
“That’s not—” Rin stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re supposed to be in Spain, you idiot!”
Sae shrugged, unfazed. “I canceled my flight..”
“What? And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, tell me?”
“Why would I?” Sae turned off the heat and started plating the takoyaki. “I knew you’d find out eventually.”
Rin’s jaw clenched, his earlier confusion giving way to simmering irritation. “You’re unbelievable.”
Sae finally turned to face him, holding the plate of takoyaki in one hand. “And you’re loud. Want one?”
The sheer audacity of it left Rin speechless.
Okay, let’s recap.
Rin had been expecting a quiet, peaceful night at home. Alone. Maybe some gaming, maybe some snacks. What he hadn't expected was his brother—his strict diet freak of a brother—cooking takoyaki in their kitchen at nearly midnight. Sae, who once turned down French fries on principle.
“Help me cut the onion leaves,” Sae said casually, as though this whole situation was perfectly normal.
“Why should I?” Rin snapped. But somehow, his body betrayed him, his muscles automatically moving to obey like they always had. Before he even processed it, he was holding a cutting board and helping with the toppings and sauce.
“I thought you were strict about your diet,” Rin grumbled as he rolled his eyes, slicing the green onions with more force than necessary. “This doesn’t look very strict to me.”
“It’s hard to stop some habits when you’re back home,” Sae replied simply, his tone as unreadable as ever.
Oh.
Rin had forgotten about that.
There was one thing about Sae that few people knew: he had a weird habit of cooking random meals close to midnight. It wasn’t logical, and it didn’t fit the image people had of him, but it was one of the rare quirks Sae allowed himself to have. Rin used to help him with it all the time, back before everything got so complicated.
He didn’t think Sae still did this.
The realization hit Rin like a soft, nostalgic wave. It was... strangely warm. It almost felt like the Sae he remembered—the one from before—was sitting right there with him.
“Why takoyaki, though?” Rin asked, his curiosity slipping through despite himself.
But before Sae could answer, he shoved a freshly cooked takoyaki into Rin’s mouth. Rin barely had time to protest before the juicy, savory flavor hit his tongue. His eyes widened in surprise, then sparkled with delight as he chewed.
“This is so good!” he blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Wahh, nii-chan, you’re still amazing at this!”
It was an unfiltered reaction, one that reminded Rin of his younger self, and the realization made him cringe internally.
Sae didn’t say anything in response, but he turned away, a subtle smile tugging at his lips—one Rin couldn’t see.
When Rin finally calmed down and remembered himself, he quickly washed his hands, ready to retreat back to his room.
But before he could leave, Sae’s voice stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
“Huh?” Rin blinked, caught off guard.
“Come eat with me,” Sae said, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.
Rin frowned. Who does he think he is? They weren’t kids anymore. They weren’t even close anymore. But before Rin could argue, Sae cut through his thoughts, grabbing his hand and pressing a plate of takoyaki into it.
“Find a movie you like,” Sae added, already turning back to clean up the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Rin stood there for a moment, conflicted. He could’ve just ignored him, gone back to his room, and left Sae to his weird late-night antics. But... something inside him didn’t want to.
So, against his better judgment, Rin found himself in front of the TV, scrolling through the options. Eventually, he settled on the second part of a horror movie series he’d been watching. Whether Sae had seen the first part or not didn’t really matter—he doubted Sae cared about horror anyway.
A few minutes later, Sae joined him, holding his own plate of takoyaki. He sat beside Rin on the couch, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them.
Rin felt awkward, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected moment. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable either.
It was just... there.
Rin glanced at Sae out of the corner of his eye. His brother seemed completely at ease, calmly eating his takoyaki while keeping his gaze fixed on the TV. Meanwhile, Rin’s thoughts were spinning.
He wanted to say something—anything. Maybe ask why Sae was back, or how long he was planning to stay. But every time he opened his mouth, the words caught in his throat. Sae’s nonchalant demeanor wasn’t helping either. It was as if he didn’t care whether Rin spoke or not, like his presence alone was enough.
Rin felt a pang of frustration. How can he be so calm?
“Do you even like horror movies?” Rin finally muttered, trying to break the silence.
Sae didn’t even glance at him. “They’re fine.”
That was it. No follow-up, no interest in continuing the conversation. Rin frowned and looked back at the screen. He tried again a few minutes later, this time asking, “Have you seen the first part of this?”
“No,” Sae said simply, not even bothering to elaborate.
Rin clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to snap. Fine. If Sae didn’t want to talk, then Rin wouldn’t either.
He gave up and tried to focus on the movie instead.
The next hour passed in near silence, the only sounds coming from the movie and the occasional clink of chopsticks on plates. By the time the credits rolled, Rin had almost forgotten what it felt like to speak.
Still, the takoyaki was good. Too good, honestly.
When the movie ended, Sae stood up without a word, gathering his plate. Rin hesitated, then quickly got to his feet as well.
“I’ll wash the dishes,” Rin said, surprising himself with the offer.
Sae quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t argue, handing over his plate. “Suit yourself.”
Rin watched as Sae turned to leave, his footsteps calm and measured. Just before his brother disappeared into the hallway, Rin couldn’t stop himself.
“Thank you, nii-chan,” he whispered, so quietly he wasn’t sure Sae would hear.
But Sae paused, his back still to Rin. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips—one that was soft and rare, a smile that was only ever meant for Rin.
“No problem,” Sae said simply before walking away.
Rin stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway. That small smile lingered in his mind, warming something deep in his chest that he hadn’t realized was cold.
He let out a breath and turned to the sink, his lips curling into the tiniest smile as he started washing the dishes.