Chapter Text
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
ONE DAY EARLIER—
“YOICHI YOU WILL NEVER MAKE IT AS AN IDOL WITH SUCH A SHI—“
SLAM
The doors shut behind Isagi before Kira could finish the sentence.
He didn’t bother sticking around to celebrate his success, so he got the hell outta there with a cheeky strut down the hallways of his newly settled school—BLUE LOCK University.
The place was spotless. Almost unreal.
Framed photographs of former students lined the walls—graduates who’d gone on to become massive idols. Perfect hair. Perfect smiles. Perfect teeth.
Kira should be here, Isagi thought.
Ryosuke Kira.
Of all people, he was the first to snap.
Isagi still couldn’t quite believe it. The so-called Jewel of Japan, the golden boy everyone adored, had completely lost his composure over the initial selection.
“Man... I passed by pure luck,” he muttered. “Kira.. well.. just didn’t.”
It wasn’t like Isagi had sabotaged him or anything. Kira tripped over his own nerves during the performance—and somehow, that became Isagi’s fault.
Isagi wasn’t cocky enough to think he deserved special treatment. He knew where he stood.
Average trainee.
Slightly awkward vocals.
Decent footwork—on a good day.
But the fact that someone like Kira got that heated over him?
Well, it was kind of funny.
Isagi smirked to himself as he kept walking.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
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CHAPTER ONE : RIN IMPACT
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TAP TAP TAP
The rapid sound of sneakers against marble echoed through the hallway.
Isagi was late.
Again.
He’d checked the campus map countless times the night before–yet still managed to oversleep.. and somehow start a one-sided brawl with his toothbrush while getting ready.
Great start. Just perfect.
He cut through a glass-lined walkway, the walls so clean they reflected his messy appearance: chest heaving as he struggled for breath, sweat clinging to his forehead, his blue hair a total mess from the lack of time he had getting ready.
Anyone who saw him could immediately tell—
This guy just rolled out of bed.
Still by the glass walls, his eyes fixated on the world outside the university. Students in immaculate uniforms strolled calmly around the field–some humming warmups, reviewing scripts, and others practicing dance steps so perfectly Isagi regarded them as even students at this school.
This academy sure is on another level…
Focused on the world outside, along with his growing worries that he’d be late for the lecture, he turned the corner without slowing—
BAM!
“S-sorry I couldn’t see you around the corner,”
Isagi staggered back, nearly losing his balance.
When he looked up, he froze.
The guy standing in front of him was tall, composed, and striking in a way that made Isagi’s brain lag.
He had teal slim eyes along with distinct bottom lashes that made him–well, kind of pretty.
Isagi stared.
Too long.
Way too long.
Before he could properly apologize, the stranger stepped past him.
“Hey..! Hold up!”
The guy didn’t turn around.
He only muttered one word, voice low and dismissive.
“...Lukewarm.”
Isagi blinked.
The hell did he just call me?
By the time Isagi processed it, the guy was already gone, disappearing down the hallway like nothing had happened.
“…What’s his problem?” Isagi muttered, shaking his head as he resumed walking toward his classroom.
He sighed.
“Hope I don’t see that guy again..”
—-
Isagi shook his head, forcing the encounter out of his mind as he picked up his pace.
Whatever. Just another stuck-up prodigy, he told himself. This place is probably full of them.
The closer he got to the classroom wing, the louder the noise became. Voices overlapped through the walls—laughter, shouting, someone practicing scales far too loudly for this early in the morning. It was chaotic. Alive. Overwhelming.
Isagi slowed to a stop in front of the door marked Class 103A
He inhaled.
Okay. New start. Don’t mess this up.
Sliding the door open, he was immediately hit with noise.
The room was packed—far more people than he expected. Students were scattered everywhere: leaning against desks, stretching, talking over one another, humming melodies, tapping rhythms on tabletops. Some dark curly headed in the back was doing handstands for reasons Isagi didn’t want to question.
At the front of the room, the chalkboard displayed a seating chart along with a hastily written message:
“WILL ARRIVE SOON.
SIT IN ASSIGNED SEATS.”
“…Right,” Isagi muttered.
He scanned the chart, tracing his finger until he found his name.
Yoichi Isagi.
Middle row.
He weaved his way through the mess of personalities until a voice suddenly called out—
“Hey there! You look lost!”
Isagi turned.
A boy with yellow bright eyes and an easy grin waved him over enthusiastically.
“I’m guessing you’re Yoichi, right?” the boy said, tilting his head. “You look nervous, my monster can feel it.”
Monster? I don’t even wanna know…
Isagi laughed nervously. “Is it that obvious?”
“Totally,” the boy said cheerfully. “I’m Bachira! Meguru Bachira. You’re sitting next to me Yoichi!”
Something about Bachira’s presence instantly eased the tension in Isagi’s chest. He slid into the seat beside him, grateful for the friendly face.
“I’m Isagi. Yoichi Isagi.”
“Oooh, Isagi,” Bachira repeated, smiling like he’d just found something interesting. “Nice name.”
Isagi scratched the back of his neck, cheeks warming. “Thanks.”
As he settled in, Isagi let his gaze drift around the room again—taking in unfamiliar faces, unique styles. There was a redhead, whose clothes brought out his natural feminine futures. A green strand white haired boy who seemed light on his feet, and an intelligent spikey haired guy who fit perfectly next to the green.
There was an overwhelming feeling that everyone here belonged… except maybe him.
The classroom door slid open.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But somehow, the air shifted.
Isagi felt it before he saw him.
The same tall figure from the hallway stepped inside.
Teal eyes.
Cold expression.
Perfect posture.
…You’ve got to be kidding me.
The boy—Rin (last name seemed to be ripped off), Isagi read distantly on his name tag—didn’t spare the class a glance as he walked in. He moved with quiet confidence, as if the noise simply didn’t apply to him.
Until his eyes passed over the middle row.
And paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Isagi stiffened.
Bachira leaned closer, whispering excitedly, “Whoa. That guy’s intense.”
“…You don’t know the half of it,” Isagi muttered.
Rin broke eye contact first, heading toward a seat near the back corner of the room. The chaos resumed, but something lingered in the air—an unspoken tension that made Isagi’s heartbeat refuse to slow.
Of all people…
He sank lower in his seat.
Behind him, Rin sat down, eyes forward, expression unreadable.
And neither of them realized it yet—
but that accidental collision in the hallway had already bound their paths together.