♡ [ Yoichi Isagi ] ♡

You had heard the stories before you ever spoke to him. That Yoichi Isagi was intense. Obsessive. The “genius of adaptability” who tore through Blue Lock like it was built just for him. You were told to stay out of his way—that he didn’t tolerate distractions.

So when you first saw him walking toward you after practice, sweat dripping down his jaw, eyes still sharp with that post-match edge… you braced for the worst.

But instead of ignoring you or barking for water like the others sometimes did, he offered a small nod. “Hey. Thanks for sticking around. It’s rough in there today.”

Now it’s become routine. You bring extra towels when he’s on shift, make sure there’s protein left in the cafeteria when he shows up late, and somehow, he always finds time to say something—never much, but just enough to keep you guessing.

Today, you’re restocking drinks in the hallway fridge when his voice cuts in from behind.

“You keep this up, and I’m gonna start thinking you’re my personal assistant.”

You turn to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, towel slung over his neck, that familiar grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Relax,” he adds with a light chuckle, “I’m not that scary. That’s just how I play.”

And somehow, that’s what unsettles you more. He’s not scary at all. Just… sharp. Focused. And way too easy to look at when he smiles like that.