20. LOSER

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WHEN

Nagi and Isagi had properly gotten up and recovered themselves (really, with a lot of help from you), and you three had all made your way through the loser's gate, into the second selection's 2v2 matchup area. There was significantly less seating than before, and it was only in pairs of two that the seats had been laid out—so clearly, Ego was testing your willpower to stand. You had a lot of willpower.

You stood a little behind the space between Nagi and Isagi's chair, arms folded under your chest and your bag resting at your foot. Take that, Ego.

"So, after you lose a three on three, this is where you end up," Nagi says, and he sounds pointedly exasperated. He breathes out a heaving groan, slumped over in his seat and eyes resting half-lidded—but you can still see him glance over Isagi's way. "It looks like we were the first ones out."

Isagi doesn't reply—silence filling the room overwhelmingly. It almost makes you uncomfortable, with how the only thing filling that empty silence is the sound of breathing, so you speak, "The breakroom is over there. If you two are tired, then you should rest."

Nagi looks up at you from his sitting position and it seems he appreciates your concern because of the way you see his eyes tilt up ever so slightly. "Maybe we should."

"There's no time for relaxing," Isagi hisses with a clenched jaw, and his posture is visibly rigid as he scowls. "We lose this next match, one of us is out." 

Better than Nagi, you assume, you are well-acquainted with Isagi. From all this time—you have never heard him sound so pessimistic. It was always I'll try harder, or, I'll get it next time. But now—it's like he's been defeated without even stepping foot on the field. He's acting well out of character—and it's making you feel uncomfortable.

"We'll win the next one," Nagi says nonchalantly, black-hole-like eyes peering at Isagi with a strange sense of fiery determination. He's also acting out of character, you decide, even though you aren't that close with the boy, you think you have a good grasp of who he is from your little interactions. "Our last opponents were just too strong."

Isagi tenses up, balling his fists so hard his knuckles turn a pale white, and he spits out through grit teeth, "You're missing the entire point. You and I—we're not the same. You... fought back. While I couldn't do anything against them."

"What the heck are you talking about? You scored a goal, remember." Nagi, reasonably so, gives him a confused look, brows raised at Isagi's strange actions. You do the same, your notebook held closer to you under your arm, and eyes squinted at him.

Isagi clutches his face, fingers shaking as they grip his hair. His nails dig into his scalp, and his chest rises and falls unevenly. "So what? That happened because of our team play."

Nagi scrunches up his nose, "Isn't that how soccer works?"

Those words act like a match to gasoline—lighting up a burning fire as Isagi abruptly raises his head and gives Nagi a look that could only be described in one way—totally pissed. "Not here! As soon as we break down as a group, I've got no weapon, and I'm finished. The fact is, I'm not able to trigger a chemical reaction like you and Bachira. And that is all that matters right now."

His shoulders shake, and he looks down at his hands with an empty expression. Sweat beads down his forehead. "If we lose again, then it's all over for me. Nagi... I won't get chosen. If I were in their place... I wouldn't take me either..." His voice cracks and he covers his face with his hands.

You can see the way Nagi's shoulders visibly tense—and with the most emotion you've probably ever seen from him, he gets up out of his chair and walks right over to Isagi. Nagi grabs his front piece of hair and tugs his head upwards so he has no choice but to look Nagi in the eye. "Don't give me that crap. The last thing I need is your negativity. You wanna know why I teamed up with you? Cause I thought it was gonna make me a stronger player. Not because I wanna be a shoulder for you to cry on. So get a grip, ya idiot."

Isagi's face scrunches up in distaste, and he groans when Nagi tugs his hair even harder. "You're just gonna throw it right back at my face? Huh?"

Nagi tugs his hair up so hard that Isagi is forced to stand up and tilt his head higher so his hair doesn't get ripped out. For somebody so lanky—Nagi sure seems strong. "Do better. You'd never catch Reo acting this way."

Isagi growls, teeth bared in a snarl that reminds you of the likes of Raichi, and he grabs onto the front of Nagi's skintight suit, pulling his closer and getting all up in his face in a threatening matter. "Don't let me stop you! Go and team up with him then! But don't compare us or push your ideals on me!"

Things are getting heated—it's clear, even within this humid room, and you should intervene before things get physical (but, you guess they are already). You step forward, shoes clacking against the hard floor and forcibly remove Nagi's big hand from Isagi's hair—and follow the same with Isagi's hand gripping at Nagi's clothes. "I think that's enough—don't let this get physical. You're both being ridiculous. You—"

"Well, what do you expect? It's not like I've ever played soccer with anybody else before." They both seem to promptly ignore you and what you said—but they don't resort to grabbing each other this time, so you don't get too pissed. 

Isagi scoffs at this revelation, glaring daggers into the taller boy, "Huh?! In other words, you're hopeless without Reo telling you what to do!" Nagi doesn't visibly react to this comment, eyes pointedly staring into Isagi without remorse.

"What about your sidekick? Not like you can do much of anything without Bachira." 

Isagi tenses up once again, eyes widening before he lunges forward—but you place your hand on his shoulder and yank him back. This is getting too personal. Nothing good will come out of letting them compare each other to their previous partners. You make sure there is a good amount of distance between them before you speak, "Okay, seriously, quit it. You're both acting stupid. Comparing each other will not do anything—so stop. I think it would be a good idea for you both to cool off."

Your last sentence sounded less like a suggestion—and more like a sugar-coated order. You walk backwards and collect your bag to escape their uncomfortable tension, then take a seat to finally rest yourself (yeah, take that, Ego).

Isagi clenches his fists, shoulders shaking and voice small, "Dammit... I'll prove I have what it takes... that I can hold my own without Bachira," his voice is a low whisper, spit through grit teeth—but it seems to grow more aggressive the more he talked.

Nagi pauses, a small noise of surprise leaving his mouth. He moves forward a little, eyes resting as tired and lo was they usually are—but there's a sense of wonder within him. "Now that you mention it... Maybe that's the whole point of this selection. I mean... just guessing, I don't know that much about soccer... but up until now, someone on your team could turn zero into one. The rest of the team could work off of that and make it into a hundred. In the second selection, the field's smaller and there are fewer players, so your personal style has a bigger influence overall. I could say we're being tested on individual skills."

The thick tension has subsided by now—and it's like a weight has been lifted off your lungs, and a fresh breath of air has just replaced it. Isagi looks much less intense now, and swallows before nodding his head, "I see... We tried using teamwork, but relying on someone else's passes or plays isn't going to fly now."

"Bingo," Nagi points at him, eyelids lifting. "Even though it might win us games against weaker groups... From here on out, the focus should be on what we can do independently."

Isagi turns his head when Nagi calls out his name—and it almost looks like there's a certain aura radiating from the snow-haired boy. He doesn't hunch, and now lives up to his 6'2 title, with dark, glowing eyes. "This frustrated feeling... How do you make it go away?"

Isagi pauses at the question, lips parted as he raises his fist. Then, they upturned into a grin, eyes squinted upwards, "Unfortunately, for guys like us..."

Nagi moves his fist up too to meet Isagi's, and the boy with jet-black hair finishes his sentence, "Winning. That's the only way to quench the fire."

You let a small smile travel onto your face at the sight in front of you, and you lift yourself off of the chair and stand beside the two wordlessly. Maybe, you didn't have anything to worry about—because it doesn't seem like either of them is planning to head home any time soon.

The doors in front of you three suddenly slide open, and there stands... What? The king guy... what's he doing here? You squint at him, head tilted to the side—like it would help you understand this any more than you already did. Both Nagi and Isagi pull away from their homie fist bump to stare at him in shock, and Isagi even utters his name in surprise.

Barou distinctively insults the room he's in, looking around carelessly and not even meeting any of your shocked gazes. He scoffs, "Guess if your team sucks they send you here to wait till the others are done. Back with the losers. Weaking commoners."

He narrows his eyes at Isagi—who looks to be deep in thought while staring at Barou—and insults him before shoving him out of his way. Nagi doesn't even flinch when Barou struts right past him, face as monotone as always.

"I wasn't expecting to run into you here. Thought you were supposed to be the best. Wanna play us? You might not be so hard to defeat." The words leaving Nagi's mouth make you gape and turn your head around cartoonishly—eyes bulging wide and jaw hanging open. Nagi, seriously, stop picking fights with everyone!

Barou clicks his tongue—clearly unimpressed—with a sneer, and mockingly leans down to Nagi's face, getting all up in his personal space to stare into his eyes, "What do you think is gonna happen exactly?"

Nagi isn't the slightest bit phased by the clear breach of his bubble—staring right back with just as much intensity as he is given. "Isagi and I win. You lose."

The words strike deep within Barou, it seems, because he moves back and gives Nagi the deadliest stare you've ever seen before, with blazing hot eyes and a deep scowl, "You're merely an amateur who's half decent at ball control. The way you're talking now—you must want the king to personally demolish you." A vein bulges out of his forehead, and the air around him seems to grow hotter.

Oppositely—the air surrounding Nagi feels icy cold, and so is his stare to match. With black-hole-like eyes, and a shadow falling over the left side of his eye, he glares right back at Barou. "You're making a lot of noise for somebody who lost, king. I'm gonna beat you and make you my servant."

With you beside Isagi, the two of you take a step back and Isagi's lips tremble as he raises his hands in defence—eyes wide, "Don't go and provoke him, Nagi!"

You nod in agreement, head whipping between the two of them and your gaze hollowing out on the altercation happening between the two players in front of you. "You need to stop picking fights with people, Nagi."

"Just an FYI you two—" A voice, presentably familiar voice, rings in your ear from behind, and you look over your shoulder to see Naruhaya, bushy brown hair clear in your eyes. He leans on the doorway, thumb jotted to the sign beside him. "The sign over here says you've gotta wait twenty-four hours before you can choose your next match-up. We should chill 'til then. If ya ask me."

Isagi, lips parted in shock, mutters Naruhaya's name and gasps. Nagi looks to be done with Barou (who walks away without even glancing at your former teammate) and peers over at Naruhaya. Then, he turns his gaze back to you and Isagi, asking, "Who is he again?"

"A former teammate back in the first selection," Isagi answered, just as Naruhaya made his way over to you three, a joyous smile on his face. "You and Barou... partnered up?"

"Mhm!" Naruhaya grinned, hands resting behind the back of his neck, and he leaned back on his heel. The first thing you think is that he looks way too comfortable to be somebody on the same team as Barou. "With Nishioka! You remember him, right? The guy they call the Messi of Aomori? As soon as the game started, Barou went off and scored four goals in a row. But the other team ended up reaching five points before us. Barou wasn't chosen 'cause he's too selfish and he would've upset their whole balance. So now it's just me and him."

Barou snarls from beside the short boy, sharp eyes glaring down at Naruhaya, "The reason we lost is because you two were dead weight holding me back. You'll always be useless, and don't forget it."

Naruhaya laughs Barou's rude comments off, smiling just as wide as he turns his head over at Barou's direction. "Aw come on, there's no need to rush into anything! Let's give it some time before we decide if we actually wanna play them! Besides, if we lose the next game, we're done for!"

He giggles, a coy grin replacing the joyous one, and he turns over to look over at you three, eyes squinted deviously, "But... you know that." He doesn't wait for your reply—and only prances over behind Barou, a skip in his step that goes unnoticed by him.

Just as Barou walks through the door leading to the chill-out area, he peers over his shoulder to where you all still stand, "Come and challenge me whenever you want. It's not like I'll be hard to track down." He looks back forward, hands stuffed in his pockets, "'Til then, cowards."

Naruhaya waves as he follows behind Barou—a closed-eye smile painted on his face. "Later! See you around!"

None of you can say anything in reply—because the door has already shut behind them, and you are now left alone once again in the loser's room.

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