Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was over.
The Neo Egoist League was over.

They'd won.

Isagi could barely process it. His lungs burned, his body ached, but none of it mattered. The final goal still played in his mind — crisp, perfect, his. The stadium roared, his teammates swarmed him, the weight of months lifted all at once.

This was everything he worked for.
Everything he gave up for.
Everything that proved he was right.

And yet—
His eyes drifted.
Without thinking. Without meaning to.

Kaiser.

Walking away from the pitch, shoulders tight with the bitterness of loss. The blue streaks in his hair caught the floodlights as he moved — too quickly, like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer.

Ness was right behind him.
Of course he was.

Isagi’s stare lingered for a moment too long.

There was a flicker in his chest — sharp, sour — but he shoved it down before it could name itself. He didn’t have time for that.
What are they doing? he thought, as Hiori and Kurona tackled him from both sides, their laughter shaking him out of it.
What do I care?”

He forced his focus back to the people around him. The teammates that mattered. The future that was his.

He’d won.
That was all that counted.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about someone who didn’t?

The bus ride to the gala was quiet, steeped in a tired kind of anticipation. They’d won. The NEL was over. And now came the part Isagi hated most — pretending he belonged anywhere but the pitch.

His tuxedo felt like a costume someone else had picked out. The collar pinched. The fabric itched like it resented his skin. The cuffs clung to his wrists like manacles. Every stitch whispered: this isn’t you. Even his reflection back at the hotel had looked wrong — too clean, too polished. Like someone had wrapped a desperate kid in silk and told him to smile.

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable in more ways than one.

Beside him, Bachira slept with his cheek squished against Isagi’s shoulder, breath warm and even. Isagi didn’t mind. He never did. Bachira wasn’t noise. He was gravity — one of the few people who made him feel real. Not like some machine stuck in drive.

Across the aisle, Reo slouched against the window, glaring at the passing dark like it owed him something. The loss of Nagi had gutted him, though he’d never say it out loud. But that was Blue Lock. It carved you open. If you didn’t evolve, you vanished — genius or not. Starving was part of the design.

Isagi sighed and pulled out his phone. Pressure burned under his ribs, looking for an exit. He opened Instagram without thinking — just needing his brain to go quiet.

Highlights. Edits. Transfer rumors. Slow-mo clips of the final already circulating. He scrolled without seeing, letting muscle memory guide him. A shot of Rin mid-air. A video of Charles threading a pass through traffic. Like. Save. Swipe. Thoughtless.

Then — a flick of his thumb. A pause.

Curiosity slipped in like a knife between ribs.

He didn’t mean to search for Kaiser.

But he did.

The profile appeared instantly. Verified. Smirking. Effortlessly arrogant. The kind of face Isagi wanted to punch. But his finger hovered anyway.

He tapped Kaiser’s story.

A photo from the airport. Tousled hair. Tilted head. Chaos perfectly staged. One hand on his phone. The other resting lightly on Ness’s shoulder like he owned the air between them. Like Ness was furniture in his palace.

They looked... close. Relaxed. Untouched by fracture.

Isagi’s stomach turned.

Just scouting, he told himself. Like watching rival footage. Data.

But then he was on Kaiser’s profile.

Scrolling.

The bitterness was immediate — sharp in his throat.

Kaiser was annoyingly good-looking. Not just pretty — cinematic. The camera adored him. Every photo looked like someone had caught a god stretching between miracles. One shot had him laughing mid-interview, head thrown back like gravity didn’t apply.

Isagi hated him.

He hated how easy it looked.

He hated the twist in his own stomach with every scroll.

Why am I still looking?

He made sure not to double tap. That would be... creepy. Even on his private account, liking something from months ago would scream desperate.

I’m not desperate. I’m just… conducting rival analysis. Yeah. Tactical observation. That’s all this is.

Then he saw it.

A photo at the Blue Lock gates. Kaiser walking away, one hand lifted in a lazy wave. Backlit by gold. Captioned in German.

Isagi didn’t bother translating. He knew it would piss him off.

But still, he stared.

The shot felt final. Like Kaiser had conquered something and left a flag behind.

Isagi stared too long.

Then — against better judgment — he double-tapped.

The red heart bloomed.

And with it, shame.

He closed the app immediately. Reopened it seconds later. The like was still there. His thumb hovered, caught between erasing it and pretending it never happened.

God, why did I do that? I’m so embarrassing

His chest knotted. He hated Kaiser. He hated that he couldn’t stop looking. That every second on that profile pulled him deeper into something raw and self-destructive.

He scrolled once more.

Just one more.

A black-and-white candid. Kaiser mid-turn, hair falling in front of one eye. Hands in his coat pockets. Not even posing — just existing, stupidly magnetic.

That coil in Isagi’s gut tightened. He could feel it twisting up his spine — something nameless and uninvited.

He hated that he was still there.

He hated how easy it would be to slip.

He hated how it felt like drowning.

And he couldn’t stop.

He stared at the screen like it had answers.

It didn’t.

No. Nope. This can’t be happening. I am not stalking his Instagram. There’s just no way. Someone definitely hexed me. Like—this has witchcraft written all over it. I don’t even like his stupid aesthetic, so why am I twenty posts deep and zooming in on his smile? No, seriously—someone cursed me. Burn some sage. Call a priest. I’m under a spell and I want out.

Isagi pressed the phone to his chest and leaned against the window. His reflection stared back — pale, tense, shaken.

Just a scroll, he told himself. Just a mistake.

But his finger moved before he could stop it.

Follow.

A breath.

Then — What the hell did I just do?

Panic surged through him.

He locked the phone like it was on fire, like it might explode.

Focus. Focus.

He wrenched his thoughts away, desperate for a distraction. Hiori had mentioned some anime last week — mystery, horror, too much blood. He didn’t care. He needed noise.

He hit play.

Music started.

For a moment, the world dulled.

He took a deep breath. Calm down. It’s not the end of the world, he told himself. After sharing the number one spot with Rin, after scoring the winning goal against PxG, he owed himself this—one more mistake, one regret. That was all he’d give himself.

Then his phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Then — Buzz. BuzzBuzzBuzz. Buzz.

Isagi blinked, heart skipping. The screen lit up, unread notifications pouring in like a tidal wave.

Notifications (44): Twitter

🔥 Yoichi Isagi just followed Michael Kaiser on Instagram.

He hesitated. Then tapped.

@bluelockfanclub
NAH THIS AIN’T REAL LIFE. ISAGI?? FOLLOWED?? KAISER???
🔁 25.2K Reposts | 💬 14.1K Comments | ❤️ 48.7K Likes

His chest tightened.

I didn’t mean to—

He tapped Twitter.

Big mistake.

@Footupdates
BREAKING: @yoichibluelock11 follows @kaisermichael on Instagram.
Could this be the most iconic football duo since Messi & Neymar?

Top Comments
➤ @bluelocknation Kaiser + Isagi = future of football. Save this tweet.
➤ @egoistdreamer I KNEEL. THE KING AND THE EMPEROR TS TUFF 🔥🔥
➤ @rinspissed so now he’s friends with Kaiser too??? y’all are fake 😐

He scrolled down. It got worse.

@bedroomtalk
This ain’t a rivalry anymore. This is a team-up. The world ain’t ready.

➤ @startplayer123
no offense but if they pass to each other on field imma start boycotting
➤ @yourmomspreader
Y’all acting like this ain’t just business. Calm down before someone writes fanfic
➤ @kaiserhisleftballsack
“They hate each other” my ass. One follow and y’all are rewriting history

@daddycr7
no bc why did this feel like watching a k-drama arc. enemies to lovers SPEEDRUN 😭 we lost nagireo but gained kaisagi #countyourblessings 🙏😋

➤ @star_pixeling_your_mom
I’m shipping this so hard. Peak rivalry tension. Angst. Mutual respect. I demand 3 seasons each 12 episodes someone take one for the team 😭🥺

@himsagi
ISAGI BRO DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW. GO ON ALT. ERASE YOURSELF.
FROM MAN TO MAN TRUST ME ON THIS ONE GOAT 🙏😤

@football_has_died
Disappointing. This is what happens when players get soft. Rivals used to hate each other.

➤@dilf_eater
Isagi out here liking fashion posts instead of crushing his enemies. Weak mentality.
➤@NamesOx
Bro this is BLUE LOCK not boy love. Unfollow him RIGHT NOW.

Isagi felt a pit open in his stomach.

He slammed Twitter shut and pulled up Instagram.

@yoichibluelock11 — Professional account.

Not his alt. Not his stalk-safe zone.

He searched:

First result:

@kaisermichael ✔️
Michael Kaiser ⚜️
🇩🇪 / Bastard München No.10 / emperor
📍 Munich, Germany
💙 3.1M followers
✅ Followed by @yoichibluelock11

His pulse roared in his ears.

Then a new post popped up.

@kaisermichael
[📷 New Post]

They always hate until they follow.
👑 #follower #myfootsteps #clown

❤️ 511,103 likes | 💬 20.1K comments | 🔁 Shared 63.8K times

💬 Top comments
➤ @Stroking_my_dick_to_kaiser: he’s already dunking on him 😭
➤ @kaisagishipper: sneak diss??? this is KAISAGI foreplay I fear😖😫
➤ @goatlock: Petty king energy. This is why you’re our leader king 😈🙏
➤ @goatsagi_glazer: you wish you were on my goat his level #keepdreaming

Isagi dropped his head to the cold window. He could hear Hiori chatting a few rows behind him. The world was still spinning normally. Only his was falling apart.

Then — another ping.

He stared at the notification like it was a death sentence.

@kaisermichael followed you

His name now tangled with Kaiser's. Verified. Mutual. Permanent.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

Unfollow. Just unfollow. It’s not too late—

Except it was. The tweets were wildfire. The stories were up. The memes were being born.

He shut off his phone, holding it against his chest.

"...I'm cursed," he whispered. "Someone hexed me."

The silence in Isagi’s family living room felt heavier than usual.

The clock ticked steadily, a reminder of the time they had—two whole weeks free from Blue Lock’s suffocating grind before World Cup prep kicked in. Yet, Isagi couldn’t relax. Couldn’t breathe properly.

His parents chatted quietly, careful not to press too much, sensing their son’s storm behind the calm. Isagi sat slouched on the couch, phone face down on his lap, pretending to scroll but avoiding the one app he’d sworn off: Instagram.

The gala was a disaster. The noise, the flashing cameras, the forced smiles—he’d been a wreck from start to finish. But the worst was what came after. The tweets. The memes. The screenshots of his follow on Kaiser’s page, the endless fan speculation, the shipping, the hate. And of course, the entire squad knew. That merciless bastard Hiori had gleefully shared every last tweet and screenshot with everyone. Isagi’s teammates hadn’t let him forget it for a second. Every message, every joke at his expense cut a little deeper.

He’d retreated into a shell.

Ignoring Instagram was the easy part. Replying to messages was a chore he barely managed; SMS was the only safe zone. But even then, his friends’ teasing only made things worse.

He could barely meet his own reflection these days. Embarrassment had him locked down so tight, he could swear he’d never recover.

Three days. That’s how long since the incident. Three days of avoiding every mention, every tweet, every call.

He ignored the calls from Ego—he knew the higher ups would force Ego to turn this into a circus, a money-making show. No thanks.

Ignored Anri, ignored the others.

Except Bachira.

Bachira’s calls and texts were different.

“You idiot, just laugh it off 😊🤩”

“Seriously, man, it’s not that deep 🙈”

He even laughed at Bachira’s relentless teasing.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as the others’ jeers. Would never be as bad as the others’ teasing.

Tonight, after another long day of silence, Isagi’s fingers trembled as he picked up his phone.

Maybe it’s time to check.

His thumb hovered, heart pounding.

He opened Instagram.

A flood of unread messages.

And then—there it was.

The unread message from that goddamn bastard.

Michael Kaiser.

His heart slammed against his ribs, throat tightening.

”Not even a week and you already miss me, huh?”

Isagi stared at the text, breath caught in his chest.

His thumb hovered again.

No.

He left it on read.

Silence returned.

But it was a silence thick with something more dangerous than embarrassment.

Isagi had no idea what was wrong with Kaiser. No idea why the guy felt the need to keep messaging him— though calling it “messaging” was generous.

Kaiser was basically treating their DMs like a personal notes app. Isagi never responded. He didn’t need to. He just left him on read. Not that Kaiser ever seemed to care. None of the things he sent ever really needed an answer.

[12-02-2019, 08:00 GER]

Photoshoot at 16:00. Don’t forget.
Can’t send a substitute :(

read

[21-02-2019, 14:55 GER]

Dentist at 10:30 tomorrow.
Not exactly a dream date, but gotta keep these teeth sharp.

read

[05-03-2019, 09:03 GER]

Remember: New cleats release. (Try not to break them like last time.)

read

[12-03-2019, 22:45 GER]

Massage appointment.
My legs deserve a medal. I doubt you’d relate ;)

read

[20-03-2019, 07:30 GER]

Meeting with agent.
Pray he doesn’t pitch another ridiculous and plain stupid endorsement.

read

[25-03-2019, 15:00 GER]

Don’t forget the team dinner tonight + buy new suit!!!

read

[01-04-2019, 10:22 GER]

Need groceries.
Also, Ness's birthday present → IMPORTANT

read

[18-04-2019, 07:03 GER]

Saw some fanart of us on my FYP.
They were debating who’d top and who’d bottom between us.
What a stupid question — obviously me.

[18-04-2019, 14:51 JPN]

Kaiser, wtf 💀
Don’t even joke about that.

[19-04-2019, 01:22 GER]

Oh?
So that’s all it took to get a reply?
I’m honored. Should I start charging for my charm?

[19-04-2019, 03:45 JPN]

Charm?
Is that what you’re calling it?

[19-04-2019, 04:07 GER]

Well, I could call it divine magnetism, but I figured I’d dumb it down for you. You’re welcome.

[19-04-2019, 04:39 JPN]

You're so full of yourself it’s amazing you haven’t floated off into space yet.

[19-04-2019, 05:10 GER]

Gravity’s got nothing on me no go on from here keeping this dynamic

[19-04-2019, 05:38 JPN]

Bold of you to assume the universe wants to keep you around.

[19-04-2019, 06:12 GER]

Correction: the universe revolves around me.
You're just in orbit, Yoichi.

[19-04-2019, 06:45 JPN]

Stop calling me that.
And don’t flatter yourself
I’ve seen less delusion in conspiracy forums.

[19-04-2019, 07:03 GER]

Come on now.
You liked my story, liked my latest post and followed me first.
You really gonna act brand new when the name on the contract’s yours?

[19-04-2019, 07:14 JPN]

read

[19-04-2019, 07:29 GER]

Wow.
Left on read?
Coward move, Yoichi.
You’re a coward

read

It was the Champions League semi-final.

Isagi Yoichi had finally made it. Not just as a stand-in, not as a prospect — as an official starter for Bastard München. And now, for the first time in his life, he stood on the precipice of the biggest stage in European football. The Champions League. He could hardly believe it. They’d made it to the semi-finals.

Tomorrow, they’d face Real AI.

Tomorrow, he’d face Kaiser.

The match would be held in the Allianz Arena — shining, massive, electric — right here in Munich. The stadium lights would flare, the cameras would roll, and every eye would be on them. But that was still hours away. Right now, it was the middle of the night. And Isagi couldn’t sleep.

Munich didn’t sleep either — not really. Even past midnight, the city hummed with its own rhythm. Cars still passed on the main roads in the distance, the occasional buzz of laughter and conversation floated up from a nearby bar, and somewhere down the block, someone’s dog barked. Even in its quietest hours, Munich was alive — not loud, but breathing. Constant.

Isagi had slipped out in track pants and a hoodie, his cleats exchanged for worn sneakers, pounding pavement under streetlights that flickered and hummed. He wasn’t running for training. He was running because he didn’t know what else to do with the sheer pressure lodged under his skin — all this fire, all this nervous energy coiling tight in his chest. Every time he thought about tomorrow, his legs moved faster.

After nearly an hour, he slowed and sat on a public bench in a less trafficked part of town. The breeze rolled through, cool and soft, tousling his hair and chilling the sweat clinging to the back of his neck. He pulled his hood back and took a long sip from his water bottle. His throat was dry and raw, like he’d swallowed glass.

Then — the air shifted.

He felt it before he saw it. A presence beside him. He didn’t even need to look. A trace of cologne — clean, sharp, expensive — teased the edge of his senses, something that stuck with him even hours after practice.

Kaiser.

He sat down beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he belonged next to Isagi, even in the quiet dark of Munich’s witching hour.

“What are you doing out so late?” Kaiser asked. His voice was low, almost lazy — but laced with that teasing lilt that made Isagi’s blood itch.

Isagi turned his head slightly, already scowling. “Could ask you the same.”

“Yes, but I asked first,” Kaiser said, like it was checkmate.

“You’re a pain,” Isagi muttered, looking away — not because he was flustered, but because if he looked at Kaiser too long, he might throw something. Or throw up.

Especially when Kaiser looked at him like that — with that gleam in his eyes, that faint twinkle like he was always two steps ahead and enjoying the hell out of it. It was like Kaiserknew every time he got under Isagi’s skin, and relished it.

It made Isagi sick. Like actually, physically nauseous.

Every time those eyes locked onto him with that lazy, wolfish amusement — like he was just some interesting little toy to poke and prod — Isagi felt his stomach twist. His day could be perfectly fine, but one of those looks from Kaiser, and it was like the world soured. Food stopped tasting good. The air felt heavier. And nothing he did could wipe that smug look out of his head.

“Just cooling off,” Isagi said, voice tighter than he meant it to be. “What about you?”

“Hm.” Kaiser leaned back a little, stretching out his legs, as if he were lounging on a throne. “I could tell you. But I don’t really feel like sharing.”

There it was again. That tone. That deliberately infuriating, unreadable voice.

Isagi clenched his jaw. He hated that. He was good at reading people. He knew how to analyze an opponent’s tells, read their habits, predict the play. But Kaiser? Kaiser was a fog. A maze. Nothing he said ever meant what it seemed to. And every word felt like bait.

“Have I ever told you you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met?” Isagi snapped.

Kaiser didn’t miss a beat. “Many times. But you’ve got terrible taste, so I don’t take it personally.”

Isagi groaned, leaning back and rubbing his temples. “God, you’re so frustrating.”

“Mhm.” Kaiser smiled, and Isagi didn’t have to look to know exactly what expression he was wearing — that smug little smirk, sharp enough to cut.

And yet, Isagi didn’t move. He stayed there, letting the night breeze cool the sweat on his skin and the city hum beneath their silence. As much as Kaiser made his skin crawl — there was something about his presence that was just as electric as the match they were about to play.

He hated that.
He hated him.
And tomorrow, he was going to prove it on the field.

They sat in silence for a minute, maybe more. The sounds of Munich carried on around them — distant music from a club down the street, the low rumble of a tram a few blocks away, a breeze whistling between buildings. It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. It was a city alive, breathing around them.

Kaiser let out a breath, stretching his arms over his head with a lazy sigh, like he was truly relaxed. That pissed Isagi off even more — how he could be so nonchalant with the biggest game of their lives less than twenty-four hours away.

“You know,” Kaiser said suddenly, like he’d just remembered something mildly amusing. “You should get some sleep soon.”

Isagi raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Worried about me?”

Kaiser turned to him with a crooked grin. The gleam in his eye caught the light from the nearby streetlamp — infuriatingly dazzling. “Not at all. I just figured you’ll need the rest. Recovery is important when you're about to be publicly humiliated. Wouldn’t want you to collapse from shame after I wipe the floor with you.”

Isagi scoffed and pushed to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the weight of the night. “Cute. Real cute. But you should probably save the post-match quotes for after you’ve actually beaten me.”

Kaiser stood too — slower, smoother — dusting off the sleeves of his jacket like he had all the time in the world. “I don’t need a speech. My plays do the talking.” His eyes narrowed, sharp with intent. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Isagi’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “I know you talk a lot for someone who’s still figuring out how to keep up.”

That got a quiet laugh out of Kaiser. Not mocking — amused. “Bold. Delusional, but bold.”

He stepped in closer, just a breath away, like always — not threatening, not dramatic — just enough to feel the tension flicker and pull taut between them.

“Just make sure you don’t choke when it’s your turn to lead,” Kaiser murmured, voice low and steady. “Because I don’t plan on stepping aside.”

Isagi didn’t move. If anything, he leaned in just a touch, his eyes locked and unblinking. “Good. Wouldn’t be worth it if you did.”

For a second, the city noise faded beneath the weight of their silence — Munich alive behind them, the distant hum of nightlife still burning past midnight. But right here, right now, it was just the two of them, circling the same fire.

No fear. No backing down.

Just two players at the top of their game, ready to tear each other apart to prove who burned hotter.

The air between them crackled — not with hatred, but with challenge. A spark they never let die. Always escalating, always pressing closer to the edge.

“I’ll break through you tomorrow,” Isagi said, voice cold and certain. “Doesn’t matter how many tricks you’ve got.”

Kaiser tilted his head, as if that amused him. His eyes flashed with something bright — sharp, knowing. “Then get some sleep, Yoichi. You’ll need the energy — I plan to leave you in the dust by halftime.”

Isagi gave a short, dry laugh. “In your dreams.”

Kaiser turned without another word, lifting a hand in a lazy wave. “I don’t dream. I dominate.”

And then he walked away — slow, deliberate, maddeningly unbothered — disappearing into the dark arteries of the city like he owned every streetlamp that lit his path. The soft echo of his footsteps blended into Munich’s endless hum.

Isagi didn’t follow. He stood there, jaw tight, arms crossed, pulse hammering in his throat.

His chest ached — not in a way he could place. Just pressure. A simmer.

The air still smelled like Kaiser — that same clean, faint cologne he always wore, like confidence bottled and sprayed with a smirk. And it was stupid how he noticed it. How familiar it had become. How easy it was to pick out the sound of Kaiser’s voice in a room full of noise. How his eyes sometimes found him before he realized they were searching.

He hated that.

Not Kaiser — though that was easy enough, most days. He hated that he noticed. That he’d picked up on the smallest details, like the way Kaiser always brushed his hair back with the same hand, or how his smile didn’t reach his eyes when he was holding something back. Hated that those things stuck with him.

It didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t—

Isagi exhaled sharply, like he could burn the thoughts out of his head.

He wasn’t like that. He had nothing against guys who were, but that wasn’t him. Was never gonna be. He knew what he wanted — the game, the glory, the win. That was the whole point of Blue Lock. Not this. Not weird distractions or stray thoughts that made his stomach twist the wrong way.

This was rivalry. Pure and simple.

Obsession with beating Kaiser. That’s what it had to be. That’s all it could be.

He was training to surpass the best — and right now, that was Kaiser. That pressure in his chest wasn’t anything else. Just drive. Just focus.

He braced his arms on the edge of the railing and stared out at the city.

They weren’t afraid of each other.

They were compelled — drawn to the battlefield they made between them. Not just to fight, but to win. To out-think, out-last, out-score.

That was the game.

Push. Pull. Claw. Dig.

No surrender. No retreat. Just two players trying to rip open the gap between them and come out standing on top.

Because at the center of it all wasn’t love. Or longing.

It was need.

The need to conquer, to stand over the other and finally say, I was better.

I am better.

Isagi clung to that. He had to.

Because the alternative — whatever it was — didn’t exist. Not for him.

And if it ever tried to exist, he’d crush it under his cleats before it got the chance