Chapter Text
One snowy winter afternoon near the Blue Lock facility, an outdoor pitch served as the arena for a high-stakes practice match. The boys pushed themselves through relentless drills, determined to sharpen their edge for the upcoming international matches just weeks away.
As dusk began to settle and the day grew darker, the match intensified. Heavy frost clung to the turf, and the biting cold breeze carried a thick, suffocating tension across the pitch. No one watching such a desperate, hard-fought scrimmage could have anticipated the disaster waiting in the penalty box—an incident so severe that the JFA’s plans would be thrown into complete disarray.
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Rin and Isagi clashed shoulder-to-shoulder, getting dangerously physical just to claim possession. Neither was willing to yield; losing meant facing Ego's harsh punishments.
He’s overextending on that left pivot, Isagi realized, his spatial vision tracking the subtle imbalance in Rin's stride. Now!
Exploiting the split-second misstep, Isagi executed a sharp tackle, instantly mapping out the open field in his mind. He fired a crisp pass to Chigiri and sprinted ahead to join the attack.
"You aren't winning that fast, bean-headed sprout!" a voice boomed across the field as Chigiri whipped a swift cross back into Isagi's path.
In one explosive motion, Rin closed the gap. Flanked by Bachira and Reo, the three of them drove down the field toward the opposing goal in a rapid counter-attack.
"Shoot it, Rin! We need to win before practice is over!" Reo shouted over the wind, Bachira echoing him with a sharp burst of agreement.
Rin shifted his weight, winding up for a lethal strike. But as his stud caught the frozen, slick turf, a brutal, sickening tear ripped through his knee. His flow state shattered instantly, replaced by a wave of blinding agony and deep, consuming dread. He collapsed heavily into the penalty box, clutching his leg as the ball trickled harmlessly out of bounds.
"Rin?!"
"Rin!? Are you okay?"
That sound... that wasn't a muscle pull, Isagi’s heart slammed against his ribs as a cold streak of horror shot down his spine.
"Get back! Give him air!" Isagi shouted, skidding on his knees beside Rin as the rest of the team rushed in.
Rin gritted his teeth until his jaw throbbed, white plumes of steam escaping his lips in shallow, ragged gasps against the freezing turf. He tried to force himself up on one elbow, his pride refusing to let him lie flat, but his leg buckled instantly under the pain.
"Don't move," Isagi said softly, placing a firm, steady hand on Rin's shoulder to keep him anchored. "Reo's already calling the medical staff."
His eyes... Isagi stared at Rin's pale face. He's not just in pain. He's terrified.
For the first time since they had met, Rin didn't fight Isagi's hand off. He just lay back against the cold ground, staring blankly up at the darkening winter sky as a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the pitch.
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The sharp, metallic bite of winter air was replaced by the sterile, clinical smell of antiseptic.
Inside the quiet hospital room, the only sounds were the steady, rhythmic hum of the heart monitor and the faint scrape of Isagi’s sneakers against the linoleum floor. He sat in a low plastic chair beside the bed, his hands resting tightly on his knees. Fluorescent light cast a stark glow over the heavy brace bound firmly around Rin's knee.
This can't be happening, Isagi thought, his stomach churning as he stared at the still figure on the bed. Not now. Not right before the international stage.
Rin hadn't spoken a word since the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance, his dark eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling tiles above.
The quiet click of the door handle broke the heavy silence. A doctor in a pale blue lab coat stepped inside, holding a digital tablet under one arm.
"Glad to see you're awake, Mr. Itoshi," the doctor began, pulling a small stool over to the side of the bed. He tapped the screen on his tablet, displaying a high-resolution MRI scan of Rin's knee joint. "I just finished reviewing the scans with the orthopedic team."
Rin didn't move an inch, but his knuckles turned white as he gripped the hospital bedsheets. "Just tell me when I can play."
The doctor sighed softly, adjusting his glasses. "The injury is severe, Itoshi. The sudden pivot on the frozen turf caused a complete tear of your Anterior Cruciate Ligament—your ACL. There is also minor damage to the surrounding meniscus."
Isagi leaned forward, a cold weight sinking straight into his gut. An ACL tear? No... please no. "What does that mean for him? The international matches are in a few weeks..."
"He won't be playing in the tournament," the doctor said flatly, looking directly at Rin. "An ACL tear requires reconstructive surgery, followed by a strict six to nine months of intensive rehabilitation. You are completely off the pitch for the rest of the year."
The room went dead silent. Six to nine months meant Rin wasn't just missing the group stage—he was missing the entire international campaign they had been destroying themselves on the field to reach.
Rin’s breath hitched, a dark, suffocating shadow falling over his face. "Six months? You're out of your mind. Tape it up. Give me a brace. I'll play."
"If you attempt to run or cut on a torn ACL, Itoshi, your knee will collapse completely," the doctor warned, his voice sharp and unyielding. "You risk permanent, career-ending damage to the joint. Surgery is non-negotiable if you ever want to play professional football again."
The weight of those words hung heavy in the sterile air. The doctor stood up, placing a file on the bedside table. "We're scheduling the reconstruction for early next week to let the swelling go down. The physical therapist will be in tomorrow to fit you for crutches. Get some rest."
As the door clicked shut behind the doctor, the silence that returned was suffocating. Rin turned his head toward the wall, his jaw clenched so tight a vein throbbed against his temple.
"Rin..." Isagi started softly.
"Get out," Rin whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of venom and total devastation. "Isagi. Get the hell out."
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If I leave now, he'll do something reckless, Isagi thought, planting his feet firmly on the floor. I know him. He'd try to walk out of this hospital on a torn knee just to prove he can.
Isagi didn’t move.
"I said leave, Isagi."
"I heard you," Isagi said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere. You can be as mad as you want, Rin. But your knee is locked in a brace, you can't walk, and the nurses aren't going to sit here all night watching you try to pull off your own IV out of spite."
Rin shut his eyes, his jaw working as if chewing on broken glass. He didn't argue again.
As the hours crept past midnight, the hospital settled into a heavy, artificial quiet. Around 2:00 AM, Rin shifted, a low, choked gasp tearing from his throat as he struggled to lean over the side of the bed for a plastic water pitcher out of reach. The movement tugged at his locked leg brace, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his hip.
Without a word, Isagi got up, poured the water into a cup, and gently held it out. Rin snatched it, his knuckles brushing Isagi’s warm fingers, and drained it in one swallow. Isagi refilled it, setting it well within Rin’s reach, before adjusting the heavy blanket over Rin’s bare shoulder.
"The doctor said the surgery will fix it," Isagi murmured softly into the dark. "It’s going to take months, Rin. You’re going to need help, whether you like it or not."
"I don't need your help," Rin whispered, his voice cracked and hollow.
"Too bad," Isagi said, stepping back toward his chair. Because I'm not letting you sink into the dark alone. "You're getting it."
That freezing winter night became the blueprint for everything that followed. In the weeks after the reconstruction surgery, as the reality of an empty calendar set in, Isagi simply adapted his entire life around Rin’s recovery. He learned the exact rhythm of Rin’s medication, stood in the doorway of the bathroom to steady Rin’s waist on slick tile, and patiently handled every sharp, bitter snarl Rin threw at him whenever the frustration got too heavy to bear.
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Now, weeks later, the quiet routine of recovery was about to be shattered by a single announcement from Ego Jinpachi.
Inside the Blue Lock main auditorium, the neon screen flickered to life. Ego stood center stage, tapping his monitor with a slender finger, his dark eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
"Listen up, unpolished gems," Ego’s rasp echoed through the speakers. "Your little break is officially over. In four weeks, you will face the Real Madrid Youth squad in a televised exhibition match right here on home turf."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Whispers broke out instantly, but Isagi’s mind immediately short-circuited.
Real Madrid Youth? Isagi stared at the screen, his chest tightening. Sae Itoshi... he's coming here. And Rin is stuck in a recovery room.
While the rest of the players crowded together to discuss strategy, Isagi quietly slipped out of the auditorium and headed down the long, dimly lit hallway toward the medical wing.
When Isagi pushed the door open, Rin was sitting on the edge of his bed, his heavy knee brace locked in place, meticulously wrapping a compression band around his quad. He didn't look up.
"You're late," Rin muttered. "Where were you?"
Isagi closed the door softly, leaning his back against it. "Ego just announced our next match. Real Madrid Youth is flying in for an exhibition match in four weeks. Sae is leading their midfield."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Rin’s fingers clenched tightly around the bandage, his knuckles turning stark white. Four weeks. A match against the brother he despised and desperately wanted to destroy, and he was stuck sitting on a medical bed.
"Four weeks..." Rin whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and frustration. He suddenly slammed his fist hard against the nightstand, sending his water cup crashing onto the floor. "Four weeks?!"
He grabbed his crutches, aggressively trying to force himself to stand. "Give me my cleats. I'm going to the field."
"Rin, stop!" Isagi rushed forward, grabbing Rin by both shoulders before he could put weight on his injured leg. "You can't walk without a brace, let alone play against Sae in a month! You'll ruin your knee forever!"
"Let go of me, Isagi!" Rin snarled, shoving against Isagi’s chest with frantic strength. "I don't care about the knee! I'm not sitting in the stands while he plays on my pitch!"
"You're not going anywhere!" Isagi shouted back, refusing to let go, his hands firmly anchored on Rin's shoulders as he forced Rin to meet his gaze. "Look at me, Rin! You aren't ready! But I'm going to be on that pitch, and I'm not going to let Sae walk all over us!"
I won't let Sae look down on Blue Lock—or on Rin, Isagi vowed silently, his grip tightening. If Rin can't run, I have to run twice as hard.
Rin froze, his chest heaving with shallow, furious breaths as he stared into Isagi's determined eyes. Slowly, the frantic strength drained out of Rin’s arms. The crutch fell from his grip, clattering loud against the floorboards. Rin looked away, his teeth grinding together as he forcibly reined in his breathing.
"I’m not sitting here watching you play like an idiot," Rin growled, shoving Isagi’s hands off his shoulders. His dark eyes burned with a cold, desperate intensity. "If my body can't be on that pitch, your brain is going to be mine. Fetch the projector and the film on Real Madrid Youth. Now."
Isagi let out a quiet breath, a faint nod breaking through his tense expression. "Already downloaded on my tablet."
For the next four hours, the medical room transformed into a war room. The blue light of the screen cast sharp shadows across the walls as Rin picked apart Real Madrid’s structure with ruthless precision. He pointed out Sae's habit of luring defenders into a false sense of security before executing a blind-spot pass, and dissected Leonardo Luna's explosive first step. Whenever Isagi missed a subtle shift, Rin snapped at him, forcing Isagi to rewind and re-analyze until the tactical vision was burned into his mind.
He sees the game on a completely different level, Isagi thought in awe, watching Rin's eyes track the pixels on the screen. Even bound to a bed, his mind is still the deadliest weapon in Blue Lock. Wait no, what in the world am I even thinking? Rin’s supposed to be a rival to me.
By 2:00 AM, the film finally cut to black. The only light left in the room was the pale moonlight filtering through the window, catching the edge of Rin's locked knee brace.
Isagi set the tablet on the nightstand and stood up, stretching his sore back. Rin sat on the edge of the mattress, staring blankly at the dark screen, his hands resting heavily on his thighs.
"I'm going to bed," Isagi said softly, turning toward the door.
"Don't screw this up, Isagi," Rin whispered into the quiet room. He didn't look up, but his knuckles were white against his shorts. "If you lose to him while using my eyes, I'll never forgive you."
Isagi paused at the door. He turned back, looking at Rin sitting alone in the dim moonlight—a genius grounded by fate, entrusting his vision to the one rival he promised to crush.
He's trusting me, Isagi realized, a sudden warmth cutting through the chill in his chest. In his own twisted, bitter way... he's entrusting his ego to me.
"I won't lose," Isagi said, his voice quiet, steady, and absolute. He met Rin's dark gaze, his expression softening just a fraction. "I'm carrying everything you gave me tonight onto that pitch, Rin. I'll make sure Sae feels it."
Rin's breath hitched slightly, his jaw tightening as he searched Isagi's face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he quickly looked away toward the wall to mask the subtle shift in his expression.
"Just get out, lukewarm hero," Rin muttered, his tone low.
Isagi offered a faint, tired smile, knowing the message had landed. "Get some rest, Rin. We've got practice tomorrow."
And just like that, Isagi had known exactly what he wanted to do at that match, right then and there.