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Nagi Seishiro woke up, unfortunately.
The sun filtered lightly through his blinds, highlighting the surmounting piles of dust in his room. He stared at it, hoping that it would go away on its own.
It was piling up, but it was too much of a pain to dust everything off.
His books, his jersey, his uniform. It lay still in his room, gathering dust, waiting for the next time someone with greater motivation than he to use it again.
The bed was warm. His blanket felt softer than usual. It was these days when he wished more than anything to melt inside his bed, becoming not a person anymore, maybe something of a higher state like a god, to rest in peace and have anything he wished for come to life. Or did that thought mean that he was something lesser than a human, because humans fight for their will, their life. He didn’t have that. He would rather just float in endless comfort, a sea of nothingness. Because doing nothing was easier than doing something.
Nagi shifted in his bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. Ahh, that felt good. Maybe he would try to melt in the bed. He could be famous for that, rather than winning a World Cup.
First person ever to fuse with an inanimate object. The thought, albeit depressing, entertained him enough to drift back to sleep.
Nagi didn’t really care for school anymore. For what did he even have to go to school for? He was a lazy excuse of a person. Unable to do what normal people could. Sure, he was smart enough to pass, been called a “genius” by one too many people, but school was just another unnecessary thing to exert himself over, just to get scolded by his teacher or whispered about by his classmates.
Soccer now didn’t have its spark anymore. It did nothing to awaken the fire that Nagi so desperately tried to chase in Blue Lock. It was amazing he even made it that far.
And soccer was always so tiring, too, without that fire to motivate him. Why did he decide to play soccer again?
Oh, that’s right.
Nagi opened his eyes, meeting the side of his wall. Dust still floated aimlessly in the air.
It was because of Reo.
His alarm rang. Nagi ignored it.
Reo Mikage woke up empty and cold.
It had been around two weeks since Nagi had been locked off. And there was nothing to do with his hands anymore.
The space on his side became too empty, suffocating even though it had technically given him more room.
All his thoughts were on him. He didn’t know what else there was to think.
He had grown so used to taking care of him, feeding him, and being by his side that it had become almost habitual to lean a little on his left. Because that’s where Nagi would’ve been.
Still, during meals, he would accidentally take a little extra, because that little extra is what he would’ve fed Nagi. He would still think things like, “Ah, Nagi hasn’t been eating many vegetables lately. I should get more for him.” And sometimes, when he wasn’t thinking too much, he would still call out his name in the empty space behind him. “Nagi, give me your laundry. I’ll do it for you.” But now, he would catch himself halfway before saying his name.
The sleepless nights were getting more and more regular, and Reo had all reason to panic. The World Cup was coming up, the World Cup! The one dream he and Nagi worked so hard for, and if he couldn’t keep a good sleep schedule, he’d surely be benched.
It took some time for Reo to start thinking of himself purely, to let his ego manifest for a Reo Mikage and not for a Nagi Seishiro. It was hard, really. Every time his brain brought up his stupid name, his heart would break a little, his stomach dropping, as if the feeling he felt when Nagi got locked off had been permanently etched into his body.
Gradually, gradually. Slowly but surely, he had begun living life on his own. Talked to different people, laughed with different people. But, if you looked deep inside his heart, you would see a space that was achingly empty, waiting for someone to show up and fill that space. But there was no one that Reo would let in again, save for his treasure. And he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. So he buried it, smothered it, and squeezed it as far down as he could. And that meant removing any thought of Nagi entirely if he wanted to win.
And even if pressing the block button was harder than any match he had, any pass or assist, or any goal he ever scored, he still forced himself to do it. It felt like the right step to remove himself from any dependency or weakness he had. This was the way to win, he told himself. Soccer was the only thing he’d ever wanted, he recalled. He just so happened to pick up Nagi along the way.
So why did his tears flow mercilessly into his pillow that night?
To be fair, Nagi was never scared of the dark. But if the dark kept on whispering things about how he could’ve done better, how he failed himself and Reo’s dream, he might just have to turn his blindingly bright lights on forever, even if it caused a migraine. The dark didn’t spare any pity for him, haunting his shadow and eating away at his mind. Nighttime was the worst, when there was nothing he could distract himself with as the black screamed at him for retribution, scolding him for being too selfish about Reo. It yelled at him and scratched and gnawed in every waking moment.
And the worst part was, the dark was right. He didn’t want to admit that to himself.
So, he drowned out the noise with the glow of his phone or music and video game gunshots blasting into his ears. That kept the dark at bay, at least.
Now, Nagi didn’t bother to leave his room anymore. It didn’t matter. Now, his room looked like a shell of a former person. Empty instant noodle cups and energy drinks littered each table, and it was beginning to invade his floor. Every time Nagi sat up or tried walking, his back would ache from all the hours he spent lying down.
A short clip of him in Blue Lock resurfaced. It landed in his feed against his will, but despite the memories the video dredged up, Nagi couldn’t tear his eyes off of it.
It was the genius goal he had created in his match against Bastard Munchen. Now, looking back on it from a 3rd-person view, it really was a supernatural goal. Looking back on it now, it was foolish of him to even think that he could reproduce that goal on a regular basis. And that’s why he got locked off.
His vision suddenly got blurry, ears ringing. Nagi dropped his phone, realizing just how tired he was. His eyes burned with hours unslept; his body, once in peak physique, now lagged behind his thoughts; his fingers, calloused and twitching, were cold, but his palm was still warm from the heat his phone had produced.
What was he even doing?
Reo would’ve hated me if he saw me like this.
But there was no Reo anymore, was there? They were done. Reo had blocked him. Officially said that he didn’t need him anymore, dropped him like he was just trash piling up for months now. Like the promises they made together meant nothing to him.
How pathetic, the dark chanted. There’s no use clinging onto someone who’s still out there living his dream. And wasn’t it your dream too, at one point? Look at you now.
Why couldn’t you have tried harder?
The familiar sting of tears and regret burned his nose. “Why couldn’t I have tried harder…” Nagi’s voice cracked.
Before Reo, Nagi was nobody. He was a talent left undiscovered, drifting aimlessly through life. After Reo, Nagi found something to live for. Soccer was a byproduct. Reo gave him a purpose, pulled him out of the slump he once called “easy living.” Because of Reo, he got into Blue Lock, where his thoughts became a dream and his dreams became a reality. Where he found new feelings, felt new sensations, and fully, truly, lived. Lived as a human and even lived like a god.
Now, without soccer, without Blue Lock, and without Reo, he’s now less than nobody.
He can’t help the restlessness in his bones every time he sees a soccer ball or the green expanse of a field. As much as Nagi’d hate to admit it, with Reo, with Blue Lock, he’s changed. Nagi thought he could just return to living like a nobody again. But the apathy he tried to dredge out of him again did nothing to alleviate the misery he felt.
And now, weeks later, with tears clouding his vision, he finally admits it to himself in a whole, ugly feeling.
I really miss Reo.