𝓇𝒾𝓃 𝓂ℯℯ𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓰 𝓈𝒶ℯ'𝓈 𝓰𝒾𝓇𝓁𝒻𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒹 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ
The elevator ride to the penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of machinery. Rin watched the floor numbers climb on the digital display, his reflection caught in the polished chrome of the doors. He looked the same as he always did, sharp, severe, a bit too tense, but the air in his lungs felt thin.
Sae had reached out. That was the anomaly. A text message, devoid of any pleasantries, providing an address and a time. “I’m in Tokyo for the week. Come by at seven.”
It wasn't an olive branch; it was a summons. But for Rin, it was the closest thing to a conversation they’d had that didn't involve a pitch and a ball. He told himself he was going there to gauge the gap between them, to see if the prodigy of Spain had grown soft in his old age. He didn't admit, even to the silence of the elevator, that he’d actually checked the time every ten minutes since six o'clock.
The doors chimed and slid open.
The hallway was quiet, carpeted in a deep charcoal that muffled his footsteps. When he reached the door, he didn’t knock. He wasn't a guest; he was blood. He pressed his thumb to the scanner, Sae must have registered his prints beforehand, and the lock clicked with a heavy, expensive sound.
The apartment was exactly what he expected of his brother. Minimalist, expensive, and cold. High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering sprawl of the Minato skyline, and furniture that looked more like sculptures than things meant for sitting.
“You’re late,” Sae’s voice drifted from the kitchen area. He was leaning against the marble island, a glass of water in his hand. He looked casual in a way that felt like a provocation, black cashmere sweater, hair slightly mussed, the usual bored expression fixed firmly in place.
“Traffic was lukewarm,” Rin replied, shutting the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes, lining them up with habitual precision. “And you’re the one who chose a place in the middle of the city.”
Sae didn't offer a rebuttal. He just tilted his head toward the living room. “Sit down. I’m finishing some calls.”
Rin rolled his eyes, crossing the expanse of the hardwood floor. He was ready to find a spot on the rigid designer sofa and wait in a brooding silence until Sae decided he was worthy of attention.
He stopped short at the edge of the rug.
There was someone on the couch.
A girl was curled up at the far end of the long sectional, a thick knit blanket draped over her legs and a tablet propped up against her knees. She didn't look up immediately, her thumb scrolling through what looked like a digital manuscript or a textbook. Beside her sat a mug that smelled faintly of cinnamon and expensive roast.
Rin stood frozen. The air in the room shifted. He felt a surge of immediate, reflexive hostility, the kind he reserved for anything that disrupted his focus.
“Sae,” Rin said, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a sharp, questioning edge.
Sae walked over from the kitchen, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “What?”
Rin gestured vaguely, his hand rigid. “Who is this?”
The girl looked up then. She didn't jump, didn't stammer, and didn't look even remotely intimidated by the six-foot-plus professional athlete standing in the middle of the room with a murderous scowl. Instead, she offered a small, easy smile.
“Oh, you’re here,” she said. Her voice was calm, settling into the room like it belonged there. “We were wondering if the rain would hold you up.”
Rin’s eyes snapped back to Sae, who was now standing next to the couch. Without a word, Sae reached down and moved the girl’s feet so he could sit on the edge of the cushion. It was a casual, tactile gesture, one that spoke of a thousand shared afternoons.
“My girlfriend,” Sae said. The words were flat, delivered with the same weight he might use to describe the weather or a tactical formation. “Don't stand there like a statue. You’re blocking the view.”
Rin felt like he’d been hit with a blindside tackle. 'Girlfriend.' The word didn't fit in his vocabulary when it came to Sae. Sae was a machine. Sae was a midfielder who saw the world in lines of efficiency and cold logic. Sae didn't have 'people'. He had subordinates, rivals, and a brother he delighted in tormenting.
“Since when do you have a girlfriend?” Rin demanded, though he kept his voice controlled. He wouldn't give Sae the satisfaction of seeing him lose his cool in front of a stranger.
“Since before I came back to Japan this time,” Sae said vaguely, waving a hand.
The girl set her tablet down on the coffee table. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Rin. Sae’s mentioned you’re a bit of a handful, but he didn't mention you were so tall.” She stood up, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders for a moment before letting it drop onto the sofa. She moved through the space with an effortless familiarity, heading toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I was going to order something, but Sae insisted on making something light since you’re in training.”
Rin didn't answer. He couldn't. He watched her walk into the kitchen and reach for a specific cupboard, the one where the high-protein pasta was kept. She didn't ask where things were. She didn't fumble with the complicated European stovetop. She moved around Sae’s space as if she’d designed it herself.
“Sit, Rin,” Sae repeated, his voice taking on that familiar, impatient bite. “You’re giving off a pathetic aura. It’s annoying.”
Rin sat. He chose the armchair furthest from the couch, his back straight, his eyes tracking every movement in the kitchen.
The next hour was one of the most surreal experiences of Rin’s life.
He had come here expecting a psychological war, a battle of wills where they would trade barbs about their respective seasons in Europe and the state of the national team. Instead, he was watching a domestic tableau that felt like a glitch in the matrix.
The girl, Rin still hadn't quite processed her name, his brain filtering it out in his initial shock,bwas hummed a low tune as she moved between the island and the fridge.
“Sae, the salt is low,” she called out.
“Bottom drawer, behind the espresso pods,” Sae replied without looking up from his tablet.
“Found it. Do you want the usual roast for later, or are you trying to actually sleep tonight?”
“The usual. We have a film to watch.”
She made a soft sound of disapproval. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer. Rin, does he always work this hard when he’s home, or is he just showing off for you?”
Rin stiffened as the question was directed at him. He looked at her, searching for any sign of mockery, any hint of the sycophantic behavior people usually displayed around the Itoshi brothers. He found none. Her eyes were bright, curious, and genuinely relaxed.
“He’s always been obsessed,” Rin said stiffly. “It’s the only thing he’s good for.”
She laughed. It wasn't a loud sound, just a soft, melodic huff of amusement. “Fair enough. At least he’s consistent.”
She brought over a tray of water and a bowl of sliced fruit, setting it on the coffee table between them. As she leaned over, Sae reached out, almost subconsciously, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Rin’s grip tightened on the armrest of his chair.
He’d seen Sae be many things. He’d seen him be cruel, arrogant, brilliant, and dismissive. But he had never seen him be 'gentle'. The way Sae’s fingers lingered for a fraction of a second against her temple, the way his sharp, teal eyes softened just a fraction when she looked at him, it was nauseating. It was fascinating.
“You’re staring, Rin,” Sae said, his gaze shifting to his brother. “It’s creepy.”
“I’m not staring,” Rin snapped. “I’m wondering why you brought a civilian into this.”
“She’s not a ‘civilian,’” Sae said, his voice cooling. “She’s the only person in this country who doesn't talk to me about football the second I wake up. Which makes her significantly more valuable than you.”
The girl poked Sae in the ribs with the back of her hand. “Be nice. He’s your brother.”
“He’s a brat,” Sae countered, but he didn't pull away from her touch. In fact, he leaned slightly into her space.
As the evening progressed, the evidence of their longevity only piled up. She knew that Sae hated the sound of the ice maker, so she’d turned it off before they sat down. She knew exactly how much honey he liked in his tea when he had a slight cough, which Rin realized now, hearing Sae’s faint rasp, that Sae actually had. She even knew where Sae kept the spare charging cables for the specific model of tablet Rin used.
“Here,” she said, handing Rin a cable. “Your battery light is red. It’ll die before you leave.”
Rin took it, his fingers brushing hers. She felt warm. Real. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She smiled at him again, and for a second, Rin saw what Sae saw. There was a groundedness to her. She wasn't a fan, and she wasn't an athlete. She was a tether.
By nine o'clock, the girl stood up and stretched, her oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder. “I’m going to head into the office for a bit to finish that project. You two should talk. Try not to break anything.”
She leaned down, and to Rin’s horror, she pressed a quick, casual kiss to the corner of Sae’s mouth.
“Don't stay up too late,” she murmured.
She waved at Rin. “It was nice meeting you, Rin. Don't let him bully you too much.”
Rin just nodded, paralyzed. He waited until he heard the door to the far room, the one Sae used as a home office, click shut.
The silence that followed was heavy. Sae picked up his water, taking a slow sip, looking entirely too unbothered.
“What the hell was that?” Rin hissed, leaning forward.
Sae raised an eyebrow. “A conversation. Food. You’ve seen humans interact before, haven't you? Or did Blue Lock turn you into a complete animal?”
“Don't mess with me,” Rin said, his voice vibrating with suppressed indignation. “Who is she? Really?”
“I told you. My girlfriend.”
“How long?” Rin demanded. “How long has she been living here? How long has she been... in your life?”
Sae set the glass down. He looked at the closed office door for a moment, his expression unreadable, before looking back at Rin. “About a year. Give or take.”
Rin felt a physical jolt of offense. “A year?”
“We played in the Champions League qualifiers six months ago,” Rin said, his voice rising despite himself. “We were in the same city for three days. You didn't say a word. You didn't even hint that you weren't alone.”
“Why would I?” Sae asked, his voice maddeningly calm. “It wasn't relevant to the match.”
“It’s relevant to 'everything'!” Rin stood up, pacing the small space between the chair and the sofa. “You’ve spent the last three years telling me that I’m too emotional, that I’m too tied to people, that my football is lukewarm because I can't stand alone. And all this time, you’ve had... 'that'? You’ve been playing the part of the solitary genius while someone else is making your coffee and knowing your habits?”
Sae watched him, his gaze cool and analytical. He didn't get angry. He didn't get defensive. He just waited for Rin to stop vibrating with rage.
“You’re missing the point, as usual,” Sae said quietly. “She isn't a crutch, Rin. She’s a choice.”
“A choice you kept from me.”
“I keep a lot of things from you. You’re obsessed with me. If I’d told you a year ago, you would have spent every match trying to figure out how she changed my center of gravity or how she affected my vision. You would have made it about football.” Sae stood up, walking toward the window. The lights of Tokyo reflected in his teal eyes. “She has nothing to do with the pitch. That’s why she’s there.”
Rin stopped pacing. The anger was still there, simmering, but it was being overtaken by a strange, hollow realization. He had spent his entire life studying Sae, trying to dismantle him, trying to understand the clockwork of his brother’s mind so he could eventually break it.
And yet, he hadn't known this. He hadn't known that Sae liked cinnamon in his kitchen, or that he allowed someone to see him when he was tired, or that he was capable of holding a relationship together for an entire year without destroying it with his arrogance.
“Does she know?” Rin asked suddenly.
“What you’re really like. How much of a bastard you are.”
Sae turned back, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “She knows better than you do, Rin. She’s seen me lose. She’s seen me when I can’t sleep because my ankle is acting up. She doesn't care about the New Generation XI. She thinks the lower eyelashes are a genetic quirk, not a brand.”
Rin looked at the office door again. He felt a weird, prickly sensation in his chest. It wasn't the hatred he was used to. It was something else, a realization that the brother he was chasing wasn't just a goalpost to be reached. He was a person with a life that Rin wasn't the center of.
“She’s too good for you,” Rin muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
Sae actually let out a short, dry chuckle. It was the most human sound Rin had heard from him in years.
“I know,” Sae said. “Now sit down. If you’re going to be offended, do it while we look at these set-piece VODs. You’re still telegraphing your inside curves.”
Rin grumbled, but he sat back down. The tension in the room had changed. It wasn't gone, it would never be gone between them, but the sharp, jagged edges had been buffed down by the presence of the girl in the other room.
A few minutes later, the office door opened slightly, and she poked her head out.
“Sae, I can't find the blue folder. Did you move it?”
Sae didn't even look up from the screen he was holding. “Second shelf, under the anatomy textbook.”
Rin looked at Sae, who was already highlighting a defensive lapse on the video. Sae looked calm. He looked settled.
For the first time in a decade, Rin didn't feel like he had to break his brother to understand him; he just had to accept that there were parts of Sae Itoshi that didn't belong to football, and they certainly didn't belong to Rin.
“Your positioning here is trash,” Sae said, pointing at the screen.
“Shut up,” Rin replied, but his voice lacked its usual venom. He leaned in, peering at the screen, as the smell of coffee began to waft from the kitchen once more.
The world was still cold, and the rivalry was still there, but in the quiet of the apartment, the ice had begun, very slowly, to melt.
Rin realized then that for all his talk of destroying Sae, he was glad there was someone there to pick up the pieces when the game was over.
(a/n: should I make another part?)
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