Ch.1 Battle of Egos

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The ball skidded across the turf, a blur of white and black cutting through the field. Isagi's eyes locked onto it, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. He charged forward, weaving through defenders with a precision he had honed over months of grueling training.

But then, as if from nowhere, Rin appeared—faster, sharper. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Isagi's pulse quickened. Of course, it had to be him.

"Move," Rin's voice was low, cold, almost dismissive as if he wasn't even considering Isagi a threat. His eyes flashed with that familiar arrogance that made Isagi's blood boil.

"Not a chance," Isagi shot back, planting his foot and cutting Rin off before he could intercept the pass. Their shoulders brushed—just for a second—and Isagi felt the heat of Rin's presence, both suffocating and exhilarating. It wasn't just competition. It never was with Rin.

Rin's eyes narrowed, a spark of something darker igniting between them. "Then try to keep up."

With that, he was off, and the chase began.

Isagi's legs burned as he sprinted after Rin, refusing to let him out of sight. Each time Rin moved, it was like watching the perfect blueprint of a player unfold before him—calculated, powerful, seamless. For anyone else, it might have been awe-inspiring. But for Isagi, it was infuriating.

How does he make it look so damn easy?

The ball ricocheted between their teammates, and Isagi's instincts kicked in. He darted to the left, reading the pass a second before making it. Rin noticed, of course. He always did. Their eyes met across the pitch, and for a split second, Isagi saw something in Rin's gaze—an acknowledgment, a flicker of something more than contempt. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by that icy indifference.

Isagi gritted his teeth, his heart pounding not just from the exertion, but from the weight of Rin's presence. No matter how many times he faced him, it felt the same—like running headfirst into a brick wall, over and over, without making a dent.

But this time, something was different. This time, the anger was laced with something more dangerous: admiration. He hated it, but it was there. He could see Rin's brilliance, feel it every time they collided on the field, and it gnawed at him from the inside.

Why him? Why does it always have to be Rin?

Rin, effortlessly gliding past a defender, had the ball again. Isagi's feet moved on their own, cutting across the field, determined to intercept. His pulse thundered in his ears, his entire focus narrowing to one thought—I'll beat him this time.

But just as he closed in, Rin flicked the ball forward, slipping past him with maddening ease. Isagi's breath caught. Rin didn't even look back, but Isagi could feel his smirk, that irritating confidence radiating off him in waves. It was like Rin knew he'd win. Like he always knew.

"Too slow," Rin called out over his shoulder, his voice carrying across the field with a sharp edge that cut right through Isagi's resolve.

Isagi clenched his fists, heat rising in his chest. Not this time.

Isagi pushed forward, refusing to let Rin out of his sight. His muscles screamed, but the fire in his chest kept him going. He wasn't going to let Rin dominate this match, not again. Every time they clashed, it felt like he was being tested—not just as a player, but as a person. Rin had a way of drawing out the best and worst in him all at once.

With another burst of speed, Isagi lunged at the ball, timing it perfectly to cut off Rin's next move. The moment their feet connected with the ground, the ball shot loose, spinning erratically between them. They collided again, shoulder to shoulder, neither willing to back down.

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