Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Hana Tanaka (OC)
Arc: before the start CANON
Tag: alternative universe
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The Ichinan High courtyard was basically my personal zen garden. Sunshine, cherry blossoms, and the distant thump-thump-thump of a soccer ball against a wall. My after-school ritual was simple: find a quiet spot, unpack my latest baking experiment—today, it was matcha white chocolate chip cookies—and watch him practice.
Isagi Yoichi.
Dude was relentless. While everyone else was already hitting up the arcade or cramming for tests, he was out there, a lone figure in a slightly-too-big practice jersey, working his magic. His blue eyes were always locked on that ball, intense and focused, like he was seeing the entire field right there on the blank brick wall.
I'd had a crush on him since, like, forever. It was kinda hard not to. He was quiet in class, but not in a weird way. In a… cool, observant way. And on the field? A total beast. A cute, slightly awkward beast.
My friends said I should just talk to him. But what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, I like your dribbling and also your face?' Yeah, no.
So I just kept baking. And watching.
Today felt different, though. He was kicking the ball harder than usual. His shoulders were tense. Rumor was some big, fancy national program called "Blue Lock" was scouting, and everyone knew Isagi was the only one at Ichinan with a real shot.
He took a powerful shot. The ball ricocheted off the wall at a wild angle, flying right toward my picnic blanket.
"Whoa! Incoming!" I yelped, scrambling to shield my container of cookies.
Isagi was already sprinting over, his face a mask of panic. "Tanaka-san! I am so, so sorry! Are you okay?"
He skidded to a stop in front of me, breathing heavily. Up close, I could see the sweat beading on his forehead and the genuine worry in his eyes. My heart did this weird little flip-flop thing.
"I'm good! No casualties," I said, holding up the cookie container. "The cookies are safe. Crisis averted."
He let out a relieved breath, a small smile finally breaking through his stressed expression. "That's good. I'd hate to have ruined your... uh... are those cookies?"
"Yep! Matcha white chocolate. My latest creation." I pushed the container toward him. "You look like you could use one. Or five. You've been going at it for hours."
He hesitated, wiping his hands on his shorts. "I couldn't..."
"Seriously, you'd be doing me a favor. My friends are on a diet kick. I need a reliable taste-tester." I gave him my best, brightest smile—the one my mom said could power a small city.
He blushed. Actually blushed. It was adorable. "Okay. Thanks, Tanaka-san."
He took a cookie and bit into it. His eyes went wide. "Wow. This is... incredible."
"Told you!" I beamed, my chest feeling all warm and fuzzy. "So... you're practicing extra hard. Is it for that Blue Lock thing everyone's whispering about?"
His smile faded a bit, and he looked down at the half-eaten cookie. "Yeah. It's a long shot. The best players from all over the country are trying out. But... it's my dream. To be the best."
The way he said it, with so much quiet conviction, made my breath catch. He wasn't just saying it. He meant it with his whole soul.
"Then you'll make it," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "No doubt in my mind."
He looked up, surprised. "You think so?"
"I know so. I watch you practice every day, you know." The confession slipped out before I could stop it. My face instantly felt like it was on fire. "I mean—not in a creepy way! I just... I like to sit here. And you're... really good."
There was a beat of silence where I was sure I'd just ruined everything. But then, he smiled again. It was a real, genuine, not-stressed-out smile that reached his eyes.
"Thanks, Tanaka-san. That... actually means a lot." He finished his cookie. "I should get back to it."
"Right! Of course! Go be awesome!" I said, probably a little too enthusiastically.
He jogged back to his ball, but then he paused and turned back. "Hey, Tanaka-san?"
"Yeah?"
"Would it be... okay if I came by for a cookie tomorrow? You know, for... quality control?"
My heart did a full-on gymnastics routine. "Yeah," I managed to squeak out. "I'll be here. I'll even bake a new flavor."
His grin was the best thing I'd seen all day. "Cool. It's a lock."
As he turned back to his practice, his movements seemed lighter, more fluid. I hugged the container of cookies to my chest, a giggle bubbling up. He was going to Blue Lock. I knew it. And I was going to be right here, on this blanket, with a new batch of cookies, waiting to hear all about it.
For the first time, I didn't feel like just a spectator. I felt like part of his routine. And that felt even better than a perfectly baked cookie.