24. Superache

After waking up to the strange absence of a person's presence in the morning, Y/n held his head in his hands. He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes with the lower half of his hand. He looked around, and then at his own vacant bed. It didn't register in his mind for a good few seconds that he wasn't in his bed, and simply thought Rin had just gotten up extremely early.

He was half correct, however.

"Wait," he said to himself, "this isn't my bed—"

"It's mine," Rin interrupted coolly. "You took my bed and I didn't want to sleep in yours so I slept with you."

Y/n's eyes went a little wide, the surprise ultimately waking him up just a bit more. He tilted his head to the side a little, not really believing Rin. Nonetheless, he huffed slightly, yawning and lying back down. He didn't want to wake up yet, and he felt exhausted.

"Get up," Rin demanded, walking over to his bed and grabbing Y/n by the arm, yanking him off the mattress and onto the floor with a thump.

"Ow!" He shouted, feeling rather inconvenienced by Rin's sudden action. He propped himself up on his elbow and grit his teeth.

He looked up at a now departing Rin, huffing angrily as he stood up and rubbed his side. Y/n stretched his body and sat back on the bed, laying down on it again and staring at the ceiling like he used to do before he got ready for school.

"Y/n, dear," his mother would call. "Get up, silly. You have school today."

Rolling over on his bed in his dim room, Y/n would complain, "But I don't want to..."

His mother turned the light on and started to chuckle when her son would groan and use his hands to cover his eyes. He would squint and shut his eyes completely, whining about having to learn. His mom had a day off, so why couldn't he?

"You need to," his mother stated calmly. "Get dressed please."

"But you have the day off so why can't I?" Y/n asked as he sat up, his body hunched over. His eyes were big and puppy-like, so how could she say no?

"I guess so," she chuckled, her expression soft.

He relished in the memory as he sat back up to officially start his day. He participated in the normal morning activities of getting ready, even if he found himself too tired to be completely conscious when brushing his teeth. He kept falling asleep while standing up, half the toothbrush bristles hanging out of his mouth as people entered and exited the room.

He got plenty of weird looks for being shirtless with a towel around his neck and falling asleep over the sink, but he couldn't care less. He stared groggily at his reflection and hummed. He slowly took the toothbrush out of his mouth and spat out the toothpaste. He rinsed his toothbrush off and turned on the water making sure it was cold.

The clear liquid pooled in his hands, chilling every inch of his skin it touched. He splashed it on his face and shook his head. One more time. He splashed his face again, slapping his hands against it this time. Another. He was just a bit more awake. He switched to hot water, hoping the rapid change in temperature would wake him up more. He was right. Though the heat burned his hands, he shook it off.

He looked at the healing ointment he was given that he set off to the side of the faucet and grabbed it. He popped the cap open and squeezed some out onto his hand and applied the cold lotion-like material to the gashes on his back. He sighed. No one was in here, so he guessed it be best if he just get it out here and now. Let what out exactly? He wasn't sure.

He sniffled, thinking back to the field. How scratchy his throat was, how he threw up his own saliva, how he dry-heaved. He grit his teeth and tears pricked at his eyes. His throat tightened and grew hot as he delved deeper into the realm of his emotions. He coughed once. Twice. Thrice. Before he knew it, tears poured out of his eyes. His chest heaved as he hunched over. He took his hand off his back. The new, unnatural silence of the room gave way to his mind traveling to worse places.

He wasn't used to being weaponized. Reo was weaponizing him to win, Rin was doing the same, everyone wanted to do the same. He hadn't noticed until now because he just kept winning and thought nothing of it. He brought his hands up to his neck and wrapped his chilly fingers around it. Blood rushed to his head as he coughed, tears pouring right into the sink. He squeezed harder. The sensation caused him to stop thinking about being a weapon and focus solely on the lack of oxygen he was getting.

He let go and heaved, built-up spit pouring like a waterfall out of his open mouth. He grit his teeth and looked at himself. He gazed into his own teary eyes. His brows furrowed as he slammed his head into his hands. He had no idea something he was unaware of would build up so many years of pain. So many tears to cry. He coughed again. He gripped at his hair as he stared at the blank white of the sink again.

He needed to hurt someone or at least destroy something. He didn't care who or what. The anguish and fury he had unconsciously hidden was surging through his body. He dug his nails into his scalp, gritting his teeth until his jaws hurt. He took his hands off of his head and covered his mouth. He sobbed, muffling his voice with his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed what he was going through was just only a dream. It wasn't. He felt the pain of the suppressed sobs stab his throat, he felt his body shake, he felt his legs almost give out. He slammed a fist on the counter, one hand still on his mouth praying that if he pressed harder he'd stop crying.

"God dammit," he choked out.

He bit his lip until it bled. He grabbed the faucet, pulling at it. Anything within arm's reach would do. He felt it grow slightly loose. He let go and opted for something else. Anything else. But he couldn't find anything else. He just cried, leaning over the sink and accepting his sudden outburst.

He opted for choking himself again, but he just grabbed his bare shoulders and squeezed. His breath hitched through his gritted teeth, and he tried to breathe calmly. In and out. In and out... Just like his mother taught him. She was there, wasn't she? She was. She was right there with him, rubbing circles on his back as he sobbed. She was telling him how much she loved him. She was. He knew she was. He wanted to know she was, but he couldn't hear her.

He just wanted his mother. He wanted to feel her hug him again. He wanted to taste the sweets she made him again. He wanted to tell her all about soccer again. He wanted to feel her love again. The nights they sat on the couch watching movies in winter while they held tea cautiously on their laps, the nights they did things a family would... He missed it all so badly. He didn't want his life to possibly get thrown away in some stupid soccer prison. He wanted his mother back. He wanted her hugs back. He wanted her to come tell him it'd be alright. To tell him he'll be okay.

His shoulders shook and his knuckles went white. His elbows touched the cold surface of the counter and provided him some balance. He choked out barely coherent words, wishing for his mother's embrace and wishing she would come and take him away from the selfishness that lay inside Blue Lock.

"I just want my mother," he coughed out to himself. "I want my mom. I want my mom..." He repeated it like a mantra, as if it were a chant he was required to say. He coughed and choked on his own words, stopping after he realized speaking would make it worse.

He thought of her kindness, her calm nature, her soft voice. He missed hearing her voice. He missed it so badly. He missed her cheers when he was playing soccer, he missed her praises and congratulations... He loved her, and he loved that she was proud of him.

His tears of anguish slowly became tears of joy with each warm memory. The nights of when she would sing him to sleep when he was younger, when he would crawl into bed with her because he had a bad dream. He still did that. He knew how childish it was, but he loved her warmth. He felt that same warmth last night.

He was coaxed out of a bad dream last night, his shoulder rubbed tenderly by a gentle hand. He had almost forgotten who that hand belonged to, too. But that didn't matter to him. It felt like his mother's hand, his mother's touch, his mother's love. It was so similar. He brought himself to crack a small smile, feeling his anger wash away slowly. The thoughts of being just a weapon subsided and he let go of his shoulders. He wiped his bleeding lip with his tongue and got up, sniffling.

He had taken some time to calm down, and got himself ready for the day. He breathed in and out slowly after he had gotten dressed in the tight bodysuit, trying to keep a level head. He wiped the small smile he had off of his face and walked out and into the maze that awaited him. He stared at the walls, making his way to the cafeteria. It was deserted. Perfect. Everyone was either practicing or playing in matches to proceed.

He got his food, ranks playing no role in meals anymore. He eyed his food, nothing like the stuff he'd had prior to the second selection and definitely nothing like his mother made. Oh how he missed her cooking... He sighed and ate quietly, hiccupping a couple times as he was eating too fast.

After disposing of the dirty plate, cup, and utensils, he left the cafeteria to try and find a vacant a field, but only found a giddy Bachira and uninterested Rin whom of which looked like he was completely done with the buzzing bee's shenanigans. Y/n stood in the open doorway, watching as Bachira tried to keep up with Rin's footwork.

Rin dragged the ball to the left and drove it through Bachira's legs, seamlessly avoiding unnecessary movements while on the ball. Bachira turned to take the ball only to have it flung over his head in a matter of seconds. Resuming his position of his foot on the ball, Rin sighed.

"You're not exciting," he stated blankly, turning his head to look at Bachira.

"Oh, come on, you're just not giving it time!" Bachira protested, a grin on his face.

Y/n stared at Rin and rolled his eyes. Rin stared back. Y/n knew that Rin wouldn't ask him to join, so he took it upon himself to show Rin who was boss, but he really couldn't with how Rin was packing it up and leaving. Bachira's eyes had locked onto Y/n, and he beckoned the boy to come over.

"You gotta train with me," Bachira said, taking a ball and shoving it against Y/n's chest.

Y/n stumbled back in surprise, taking the ball into his own hands. He looked at the ball and then at Bachira, and he nodded. He set the ball down and stepped on it, feeling the firmness with his foot. He nodded again, but this time to himself. Bachira smiled at Y/n. Y/n looked at Bachira's smile, and he, too, smiled, except inwardly. His face remained bland.

Y/n rolled the ball off to the side, only to launch himself at it. Bachira followed suit. Y/n pushed the ball behind himself and successfully turned around and drove the ball right past Bachira, leaving him behind. Feeling the joy unable to be contained by Meguru was a breath of fresh air from all this "strength" talk. Bachira just really wanted someone to play soccer with since he didn't have Isagi with him anymore.

Y/n let Bachira steal the ball and chased after him as if they had been friends for years. Bachira laughed, Y/n chuckled, and they were having fun. Y/n never thought he'd laugh while playing soccer with someone other than Gagamaru, but here he was. He was having fun with someone that he didn't even know that well.

"Grab it."

Y/n paused and the smile was wiped off his face.

"Take the ball or you'll lose everything you've worked so hard for."

He felt his head grow fuzzy, a cocoon of instinct taking over his body. He took a detour and stole the ball from Bachira, his wide, lifeless eyes locking with equally as wide yellow ones. He turned and ran off with the ball. Bachira just stood there, watching as Y/n slowed to a stop. The latter's body shivered.

"Megs," Y/n started.

"Yeah?" Bachira answered.

"I think I'm done for now," Y/n said, picking the ball up nervously.

"Okay." Bachira nodded, following Y/n to the exit. "So what was that?"

"Not sure," Y/n lied. "I'll figure it out later."

As the walked through the doors, a familiar face greeted them. He wasn't dressed at all yet, and it looked as if he had woken up half an hour ago.

"Yo, Bachira. I've been looking for you." Isagi stood up off the wall he was leaning on.

"Isagi.." Bachira's eyes went wide.

"As promised, I've come to get you back." Isagi stared into Y/n's eyes. "I challenge you again, Y/n. I'll win this time."

Y/n smirked. "Sure you will."