𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

"This sucks."

"Because you're not doing anything."

"'Because you're not doing anything,'" you mocked Rin in an exaggerated tone of voice. Of course you were doing something. Standing stationary on the field, pushing a ball around lazily with your foot was something.

You just simply hadn't lost your mind enough to be doing drills an hour after you woke up like Rin. The real question was why you followed him out to the practice field in the first place. And there is—drum roll please—no logical answer for that.

He was barely out of breath after repeatedly kicking the balls he had lined up into the goal. You could only watch on and yearn to have the ability to breathe like that...so freely...a dream. To think he doesn't even appreciate what he has.

"Why are you even here if you're not going to practice?" he snarked while getting more balls off the rack.

"I was possessed to come here."

"Good. Maybe that fucking ghost will finally get rid of you."

You rolled your eyes. The young are so troubled these days, even taking it out on others. "Rude, man. I'm wounded."

"Bleed out."

"Okaaaaay. Anyway," you shrugged off, opting to change the subject, "...Do you think you'll win?" You honestly couldn't tell if the 'Blue Lock Eleven' would be able to pull through against Japan's National team. Even though the announcement for the lineup wasn't four a few hours, you had enough common sense to know Rin would be on it.

"Obviously. We have to crush them," he said, uninterestedly. The real question was whether he was really that confident, or he just didn't want to talk about anything remotely regarding his brother. "Actually—You're not going to play, right?"

"Wow," you deadpanned. "You don't have to sound so damn eager."

"I want to beat him alone."

Hmm, maybe he wasn't so opposed to talking about him. On the flip side, you could understand his point. With you there, you'd (obviously) do all the work and win (easily). Clearly.

You sighed, looking down at the ball by your feet as you rolled it over. "I get it. And, no, I'm not playing."

He nodded firmly, "O-"

"Ah, ah, ah. I'm cutting you off right there. Because if you start celebrating I swear to-"

You paused your slight threat, as you heard the speaker system crackle on, the faint sounds of rustling being sent throughout the facility. "Give me the mic, old man."

"I'm not old—whatever, take it. I don't care."

You couldn't have spoken another word even if you had wanted to, your voice unwillingly died in your throat the moment the first voice sounded. Even though it was faint from the distance the mic was picking it up from, you knew who it belonged to clear as day.

Looking over to your counterpart, it seemed he did as well. You would laugh at how humorous this situation was to the joint meeting the other day, but you couldn't see whatever was to come out of this as being funny.

The person at the microphone cleared their throat, "Oh, it was on. Right—[Surname][Name], come to Ego's office. Now, preferably."

You could barely even form a coherent thought. Your entire body was frozen like a deer caught in headlights, the same confusion and shock of a fawn stuck in traffic present on your face. You rigidly turned to face your right, "Rin..."

"What?" he bit back. "Why are you still here, huh? He asked for you, didn't he? Go on."

Is he really going to start right now? "But-"

"Just leave."

You bitterly shook your head and sighed heavily, turning on your heel to slam the practice field door shut behind you. It was probably better he unpacked all that by himself, anyway. Although, maybe his idea on what the fuck was going on would have been nice before you had to drag yourself through the building.

As you neared closer and closer to the lodging area, which was brilliantly placed on the way to your dreaded destination, you could hear the chatter of all the boys awakened by the untimely call over the speaker system grow louder.

You tucked your chin to your chest as you meekly scrambled past the open doors, hoping none of them would see you and raise any questions. God, he's such an inconsiderate prick—'Oh yeah! Let me call out for [Name] over the fucking speakers! While she's supposed to be disguised!' Yeah, what a genius the asshole is.

You were knocked out of your mutter of curses with the pleasant greeting from reality of your body slamming into that of another. You blinked at the person in front of you for a moment before you fully oriented yourself with your surroundings. You're kidding me.

"Oi! I found him!" Chigiri yelled over his shoulder from in front of you. You vaguely felt like you had been a criminal on the run who just got caught in their escape. Luckily, you couldn't really recall doing anything in the past few days to warrant an arrest—and also the fact Chigiri was not a police officer. Minor details, minor details.

He turned his head back around to face you, eyeing you up and down for a second before shaking his head out. "Did you hear that announc-"

"Kazuma!"

He didn't have the chance to finish his question before Bachira and Isagi simultaneously blew past him, grabbing your shoulders with frantic expressions. "There you are!" Bachira shouted.

You were just as dumbfounded as Chigiri while the pair pulled you away from him, back down the hall. At least the enactment was progressing, and your criminal persona now resembled being dragged back to jail. Justice!

"Okay, okay." You swatted them off you and straightened out your manhandled uniform. "What do you need from me? I'm sure you're aware I have places to go, people to see."

They pulled you into an impromptu huddle in the middle of the hallway—athletes—and Isagi started in a hushed tone, "Exactly! Why—What—Who would call you, like you-you, over the speakers?"

Bachira nodded aggressively, punctuating his agreement, "Uh-huh! Isn't that like illegal?"

"No, dumbass," you sighed. "I have a pretty good idea who it is. Why? No clue. But, either way, this will probably be the worst visit to Ego's office I've had yet. And that's a high fucking bar." How do football players in movies manage to hold their posture like this for so long? Your back already hurt like hell. This has got to be one of the epic lows of high school football.

Isagi pursed his lips, "Alright...We were pretty worried, though. What if they were kicking you out?"

"Yeah! And we didn't get to say goodbye!" Bachira added.

You slipped yourself out of their holds, stretching your back out a bit. Sweet relief. "That possibility hasn't been ruled out yet, but one can hope, I guess. Seeing sunlight does sound nice—Anyway, I should probably finish my walk of shame. Pray that I'll catch you later."

You quickly turned to walk off, faintly hearing them call out a 'good luck!' behind you. You could actually be thankful you'd spent so much damned time in these halls because you were able to use the layout ingrained into your head to narrowly avoid mostly everyone on your path.

The final stretch before his door was before you. Your pace slowed down, stalling whatever time you had left before your condemnation for nothing you deserved in particular. The soles of your sneakers hit lightly against the linoleum, the rhythm of your footfalls bouncing off the blank walls. The beat was all you could hear above your rapidly increasing heartbeat as the door drew closer with each step.

The metal of the handle was cold when your palm made contact with it, squeaking quietly as you slowly turned it down. The lock clicked opened and the hinges of the door steadily widened, revealing the even icier room. You kept your eyes on the ground while you stepped inside, wanting anything else but to greet the sight you knew would be waiting before you.

"Hello, [Name]."

__________________________

🙎‍♀️