𝙂𝙊𝘼𝙇𝙎 | blue lock

𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗿𝗼

three weeks later

You pulled on your shoes in the foyer of your team's housing complex, opening the door out into the crisp morning breeze. You turned over your wrist to check the time on your watch, "Shit!"

Trying your best to recall the directions you'd tried to memorize the night prior, you broke out into a sprint toward the local sport's bar. The sidewalks were narrow and it was difficult to dodge the rats scampering between gutters, but you were eventually able to make it to the spot's entrance.

Out of breath, you walked in and plopped yourself down on a stool. You watched the flatscreen in anticipation, knowing the match would have to start any minute now.

As much as you wished you could have been there in person to watch from the stands like you'd planned, viewing from behind a TV halfway across the world would have to suffice. You had to say, America had been okay. After you got the news from your coach that you'd been invited to their country's women's U-20 team, they put you on a flight the next day. First-class, obviously. Your new team greeted you at the airport and Rin's half-assed English lessons were able to hold you over relatively well.

Considering the fact you had to stay in the staff room until you left Blue Lock—a bunch of confidentially bs from being **#exposed [gasp] with receipts!!**—you never really got to say a proper goodbye. And right now, Blue Lock'll have to take the support they get.

The screen faded to black, slowly turning back to reveal the Blue Lock Eleven walking onto the field to meet their opponents. You cheered as everyone else in the bar watched on in silence, ignoring the weird stares you felt on your back. No one there was particularly zealous, since the game wasn't really an American affair, but you held no shame in your fanaticism.

The ball was kicked off and you frowned slightly at the pang of longing that hit your gut as you watched the guys run in a frenzy across the field.

Maybe you would end up missing that place.

three years later

You pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket, pulling off your gloves to check the time. 11:18. He said he'd pick me up at 11... The airport was already crowded enough and the temperature being below zero was not brightening the experience at all.

Tucking your hands back into the warm comfort of your pockets, you watched the individual snowflakes touch down on the ground as the cabs rushed by on the asphalt, everyone rushing to get home, exhausted from lengthy travels. The airport sucked. And you were stuck here for whoever knows how much longer.

You were about to text him for the fifth time to question his whereabouts before the same bright yellow antique car he had described in your message conversations pulled up right in front of you.

Bachira rolled down his driver-side window, sticking his head out of the car, "[Surname]! Get in, they're all waiting already!" he shouted. It took a moment to fully process it was even him, the only identifiable features on him being the ever-present yellow highlights under his black hair and his round yellow eyes.

Your own hair had reverted back to the way it was back before Blue Lock, no longer having to keep up the facade of a boy. In three years, you didn't think things would have changed that drastically, but that idea was shot down with a quick glance.

Not wanting to stall any longer in your shock, you haphazardly grabbed your luggage and rushed over to his car, throwing your bags in the trunk before sliding into the back seat. You looked up from buckling your seatbelt to see both Bachira and a guy with messy black hair and dark blue eyes staring back at you with grins on their faces. "Isagi?"