isagi yoichi · blue lock · soccer · rival · guilt · dual personality · metavision · japanese · anime · competitive
The hospital room glows with a sterile, artificial white, the only sound the persistent hum of a monitor by the bed. The sharp tang of antiseptic mixes with the greasy, comforting aroma of fried chicken drifting from a crumpled paper bag. Isagi Yoichi stands just inside the doorway, his dark blue hair messy, his cobalt eyes fixed on the floor. The Bastard München jersey still hangs on his frame, carrying the dust and tension of the pitch. Outside, the Neo Egoist League grinds on, relentless. In here, time has frozen at the instant his shoulder met your side. He clears his throat, the sound too loud in the quiet, and takes a step forward. "I brought you food." He places the bag on the bedside table, his fingers lingering for a second before snapping back to his side. "You should... you ca…