Chapter Text
Rin never quite knew what genre his life belonged to because the things he didn’t want always seemed to be the ones that showed up. His life had been relatively normal at first. He had a good older brother. Even with parents like theirs, at least he had Itoshi Sae, someone who held his hand when they walked home from elementary school, someone who played with him when other kids were too scared of how intense Rin could be. He had his brother, and that was enough. Those were the good times until Sae was declared an omega, and Rain’s world flipped completely.
At first, Rin thought, “Being an omega isn’t that big of a deal for Sae, right?” But Rin was only 14. He didn’t understand how the world really worked. To him, alpha, beta, and omega were just sub-genders—biological labels that didn’t mean much. He didn’t realize how drastically that label would change Sae, or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. Maybe he was still clinging to the version of his brother who played soccer with him in the schoolyard.
“Being an omega isn’t a big deal, right? You’re still going to play football, right?” Rin had asked, hopeful.
“Nah. I’m done.”
“What? No, you’re not! There are omegas out there who still go pro!”
“What part of ‘done’ don’t you understand, Rin? I’m quitting. Can you hear me?”
“But... what about our dream? We were supposed to be the number one and two strikers!”
“You’re still on that?” Sae rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jesus, Rin, grow up. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. God, it’s so embarrassing.”
Rin stared at him, eyes wide and voice trembling. “W-What are you saying, Nii-chan? That was our dream…”
Sae almost felt guilty but no. Someone had to drag this idiot back to reality.
“You can still do that on your own. I’m done. You think I can keep doing this when the coach sniffs around me all day just because I’m an omega? The damn suppressants don’t even work when I sweat after practice. I nearly throw up every time I walk into a locker room full of alphas and betas because they reek. You think I’d go through all that just to kick a ball? Hell no. You’re tripping if you still think I can live like that.”
“That’s not an excuse! You love football!”
“I did. Back when I wasn’t a fucking omega, Rin. God, you’re so—ugh. You know what? Let’s settle this. One-on-one. We play a match. If you beat me, I’ll consider going back. I’ll believe maybe I can do it with you by my side, protecting me from all that shit. But if you lose, you drop this ‘number one and two strikers’ fantasy for good. It’s embarrassing as hell.”
Sae stood up, done with the conversation. And well—long story short, Rin lost. And that was the start of his emo phase.
So yeah.
Itoshi Rin was in his emo era. Not the cool kind with black eyeliner and existential poetry on Instagram. No, his emo era was the kind where he sat in bed staring at the ceiling at 3AM like a haunted Roomba, replaying that match with Sae for the 500th time. Like some sort anime character who enters his villain arc.
He’d lost. He’d actually lost. Which was, in his opinion, the greatest betrayal since Judas.
Sae didn’t even gloat. Just patted his head like Rin was a particularly sad cat and walked off muttering, “Told you,” like he’d just finished a biology quiz. Like he hadn’t just shattered Rin’s soul and dreams in one fell swoop.
Rin wanted to scream. But that’s cringe, so instead he went outside and kicked a tree. And then, to make it worse, everyone suddenly wanted to talk about “how amazing Itoshi Sae was despite being an omega.” Like they’d all just discovered he was some delicate endangered species who could juggle knives and still look hot in heat season.
Meanwhile, Rin was stuck being the “grumpy younger brother who plays football like he’s trying to kill the ball with his thoughts.” That’s how one classmate described him. Out loud. In earshot. He almost kicked him instead of the tree.
At school, people stopped comparing him to Sae. Because Sae was a “brave, graceful omega who broke the mold.” And Rin was… well, Rin. He once made a second-year cry just by looking at them after missing a goal. So now people compared him to an abandoned microwave.
He had no friends. Which was fine, because friends asked questions. Like, “Hey Rin, why do you always look like you’re plotting a murder?”, “Hey Rin, wanna come hang out after school?”, and “Hey Itoshi, do you even like football?”
To which the answers were, He was plotting a murder (Sae’s, specifically), No, he didn’t. Unless the hangout included football, silence, and no talking. and football was the only thing he had left, okay? Let him sulk in peace.
But the real kicker was when his coach said, “Maybe we should find you a team that fits your playstyle better, Rin.” Which was coach speak for You’re too intense and scaring the other children. Great. Now he wasn’t just the Sae’s shadow, he was Sae’s emotionally constipated evil brother.
At some point, he even tried writing a diary. He gave up on day three because he kept ripping the paper out from how hard he was pressing the pen. Page three was just one word “WHY” written in all caps and underlined twelve times, stained with what might’ve been tears, sweat, or a stray energy drink.
He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He’d catch up to Sae anyway.
Even if Sae quit football. Even if Sae moved on. Even if Sae became a professional fucking flower arranger—Rin would still beat him somehow. Even if he had to do it by being the world’s most terrifying striker and emotionally unavailable middle-schooler in Japan.
He would rise. He would conquer.
He would—
“… Rin, did you forget your lunch again?”
“Shut up, Isagi.”
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-.-
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Two Years Later.
Itoshi Rin, now 16, had officially presented as an alpha. Which was the worst news for everyone around him.
He was already intense before, now he was intense with natural dominance pheromones and muscles from puberty. He was like a wolf who bench-pressed his emotional issues. Opponents hated him. Coaches loved him but feared him. His teammates cried in the bathroom after practice. Why? Not because he missed his brother or anything dumb like that. Definitely not because his heart still felt weird when he remembered their one-on-one match. No, no. It was for revenge.
Obviously.
”I’ll drag him back on the field, crush him, and that’ll be the end of it.”
Totally healthy behavior.
So he stormed into Sae’s apartment one weekend like a proper uninvited little sibling, all fire and aggression and totally unannounced alpha pheromones. Sae gave him his adress once so Rin will use it really well. And there was Sae. Wearing loose lounge clothes, sipping tea like a bored cat, and sitting at a small table. A chess board laid out in front of him.
“What the hell is this,” Rin blurted.
“It’s called chess, Rin. I know you only think in soccer balls, but some of us enjoy games that only require brain cells.”
“You play chess now?” Rin asked, disgusted, like Sae had just admitted to eating raw onions for fun.
“Yes. And I’m really good at it. You’d know that if you stopped stalking my football stats and actually followed my social media.”
“Why the hell would I follow your social media? You post latte art and dog pictures.”
“Exactly. It’s called growth, Rin. You should try it.”
Rin clenched his fists.
This was not how this was supposed to go. He was an alpha now. A real rival. He was finally strong enough to face Sae on equal ground. And Sae? Sae had quit football and taken up a hobby for nerds.
“Get back on the field, nii-chan. One match. That’s all I ask.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
“Yawn.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’d rather play against a dog than have to listen to you yell ‘niichan’ like a tsundere anime character mid-game.”
Rin turned red. He was not a tsundere. He was a cool rival. A stoic lone wolf. A—
“You miss me,” Sae said flatly.
“I don’t,” Rin snapped, very quickly. Too quickly.
“You keep showing up at my place like a divorced ex with unresolved emotions. I’m gonna start charging you rent.”
Rin was vibrating. He looked at the chessboard. It mocked him. Sae crossed his arms, watching Rin spiral in real time.
“You know,” Sae said casually, “I would consider football again if you beat me in chess.”
“What the fuck.”
“C’mon, Rin. How hard can it be?”
“I don’t know how to play.”
“Then learn. You’re an alpha now. Use your superior hunting instincts or whatever.”
Rin’s eye twitched.
He left that day with his pride in pieces, the image of Sae smugly sipping herbal tea burned into his brain, and a borrowed copy of Chess for Beginners: The Illustrated Edition under his arm.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
And then… Day 7 of Rin’s “Operation Drag Sae Back to Football” (Chess Edition).
The living room was a battlefield.
Rin had taken over Sae’s coffee table with a secondhand chess set, two instruction books, a printout of “Opening Principles for Idiots,” and three energy drink cans forming an odd triangle of despair. He was hunched over the board, muttering things like “e4 to d5, sacrifice your pawn for dominance” and “bishops are just aggressive cowards.”
Sae was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, sipping another cup of fancy tea, occasionally glancing at Rin like one might glance at a wet cat trying to read.
“Your knight is upside down,” Sae said.
“Shut up. It’s camouflaging.”
“It’s a knight, not a ninja.”
“Stop breathing near me.”
Rin was one week into self-taught chess training and already experiencing ego death.
He had not won a single match against Sae. In fact, he’d been bodied every single time. One time he lost in 14 moves. Once in 10. Yesterday, Sae checkmated him in four moves and said, “Damn, Rin. You’re speedrunning humiliation now.” And that’s when fate decided to ruin his life further.
Because right when Rin was finally figuring out what a “fork” was (not the eating kind) the front door opened.
And in came Shidou Ryusei.
Sweaty. Hair messy in the way that said either just fought a bear or made out with one. He kicked off his shoes like gravity was optional, then slung his gym bag at the wall and yelled, “Baby, I’m hoooome~! I brought takeout!”
Rin looked up slowly. Sae didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.
Shidou entered. Shirt still unbuttoned. Grinning like a feral dog who just discovered indoor plumbing. He spotted Rin immediately and beamed.
“Yo! You’re the cute brother!”
“…don’t call me that.”
“Nah, Sae told me about you. Big bro complex. Killer footwork. Nice.”
“What—”
Shidou plopped next to Sae, kissed his cheek casually, and threw his legs over Sae’s lap like he lived here. Which, apparently, he did.
Rin’s soul left his body.
“Wait,” Rin said slowly. “You’re dating him?”
“Surprise,” Sae said flatly.
“nice, huh?” Shidou grinned. “I was his rival, then I became his boyfriend. Kinda poetic. Also, his scent is, like, addictive.”
“Please shut up forever.”
“You mad?” Shidou wiggled his eyebrows at Rin. “Jealous? You want me instead?”
“I’m gonna throw this bishop at your face.” said Rin.
Sae sighed and pushed Shidou off his lap with exactly the energy of someone swatting a large cat off a keyboard. "Rin’s training to beat me in chess. So I’ll play football again.”
“Pffft. You? Back in football?” Shidou snorted. “What, you miss sweating and getting objectified?”
“No. Rin has a complex.”
“I do not have a complex!”
“Babe,” Shidou whispered, “he’s totally got a complex.”
Rin wanted to die.
“Hey, if you ever wanna learn mind games, I’ll teach you. I play dirty. By eating the piece, of course.”
“I will physically remove you from this apartment.”
“Hot.”
13 days later, Rin was losing it. Mentally. Emotionally. Existentially. And most importantly on the chessboard. Again.
He stared at the board in Sae’s living room, eyes hollow, soul halfway to the afterlife. Sae was sitting cross-legged on the couch, arms folded, face as blank as always.
“Checkmate,” Sae said.
Again. The fifth time that day. The twenty-sixth in total. And this time… something inside Rin just snapped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Rin said. “I—I READ A BOOK THIS TIME, I STUDIED OPENINGS, I WATCHED A FORTY-MINUTE VIDEO ON YOUTUBE DOT COM.” His voice cracked. Horribly. Like a cursed flute.
Sae raised an eyebrow. Shidou, lying upside down on the couch with chips on his chest like a raccoon on break, blinked.
“Babe, your brother’s spiraling again.”
“Let him,” Sae said, sipping tea.
Rin’s fists clenched. His eyes watered. No—no, he would not cry in front of them. He was an alpha, damn it. A composed, terrifying alpha with muscles and a dream and— “WHY AM I EVEN DOING THIS?!” Rin finally screamed, swiping the chessboard off the table like a man possessed. Pieces clattered across the floor dramatically.
“I HATE CHESS. I HATE THIS STUPID GAME. I HATE YOUR STUPID FACE. I—I HATE THAT YOU’RE NOT PLAYING FOOTBALL—”
A sob ripped out of his throat.
Oh no. Oh no no.
And now he was crying.
Ugly crying.
Like, actual waterworks. Tears rolling down his face, shoulders shaking, fists trembling.
“I hate this. I hate this. I just—I just wanted us to play again. Together. Like before,” he choked out, voice crumbling. “You were supposed to be number one and two with me. You were supposed to be there…”
Silence.
Then— Shidou passed him a tissue.
“You good, lil eyelashes?”
“Go die.”
Sae slowly stood up and walked over. Rin didn’t look at him. He kept wiping his face like a stubborn toddler who didn’t want to admit he was crying over broken Legos.
Sae sighed. Then, without a word, he crouched in front of Rin and handed him a warm bowl of miso soup.
“…You made this?” Rin asked hoarsely.
“No, Ryuusei did. But I seasoned it.”
“I hate both of you.”
“I know.”
They sat like that, Rin still red-eyed and sniffling, Shidou humming some weird pop song and trying to get a knight piece out from under the couch with his foot.
Eventually, Sae broke the silence.
“…You’ve gotten better, by the way.”
Rin blinked.
“In chess?” he asked, suspicious.
“In crying.”
“Fuck you.”
“Also in chess.”
Rin sniffled. Took a small sip of the soup. It was annoyingly good. Damn Shidou and his surprisingly competent domestic skills.
“You’re not coming back to football, huh,” Rin muttered.
Sae leaned back. Thought for a second. “Not to compete,” he said. “But maybe to kick a ball around. With you. Sometimes.”
Rin didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying not to burst into tears again. Quiet sobs turned into real ones, the kind he hadn’t let out since that day years ago. Shoulders trembling. Eyes red. Muffled cries buried into the sleeves of his hoodie like he was 12 years old again and Sae had left him behind on the field.
Sae stared. For the first time in forever, Rin didn’t look like the arrogant little brother trying to beat him. He just looked… small.
So Sae sighed, again. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t quit football because I stopped loving it.”
Rin didn’t answer. His shoulders still shook. “I quit because I knew if I kept going, I was going to hate it. The locker rooms, the stares, the pressure. I hated the way people treated me like I was a rare flower and a ticking bomb. I was going to rot inside, and I didn’t want to take that out on the game.”
“…Then you just gave up.”
“No. I survived.”
That shut Rin up. Sae leaned back, looking at the ceiling. “And I didn’t tell you in the way you understand because I knew you’d do this. Try to fix it. Try to carry it. You were a kid, Rin. You weren’t supposed to save me.”
Rin sniffed. “But I wanted to…”
“Yeah. I know.”
Another silence stretched between them. And then, slowly, Sae nudged Rin’s shoulder with his own. “Still want a rematch?”
Rin blinked at him. “In chess?”
“No. Football.”
Rin’s eyes widened. “You’ll play?”
“Just one match,” Sae said, smirking a little. “Winner gets to burn the chess set.”
Rin rubbed his face aggressively with his sleeves, like he could erase the last ten minutes. His voice was hoarse but steadier now.
“Fine. But I’m gonna destroy you.”
“We’ll see. You’re still emotional.”
“I will end you.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Shidou suddenly sat upright.
“Guys. Real talk. What if we played three-way football? Like two-on-one—but the one is allowed to throw the ball and scream.”
“Shidou,” Sae said.
“Yes, babe?”
“You’re ruining the moment.”
“Oops.”
Rin stared at his soup. His nose still running. His cheeks still wet. But inside him, something like tiny, warm, and a little less angry thing shifted.
Maybe Sae didn’t need to return to football professionally. Maybe they didn’t need to be number one and two strikers in the world. Maybe… they just needed to be brothers again. And maybe, just maybe, Rin would get good enough to beat him at chess and rub it in forever.
But for now? He cried into his soup while Shidou smiles thinly like seeing his daughter finally got into elementary school.
And honestly? It wasn’t the worst day.
.
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-.-
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They didn’t go to a stadium. That would’ve been dramatic. No, they went to the shitty park near Sae’s apartment, the one with the uneven grass, a broken swing, and two kids having a stick fight in the corner. Classic sibling showdown energy.
Shidou was on the sidelines with a bento box, eating with chopsticks like this was live theatre.
“Are we doing first to five?” Rin asked, cracking his knuckles.
“You cry again, I’m not finishing,” Sae replied.
“I didn’t cry.”
“You sobbed. There were hiccups.”
“IT WAS ALLERGIES.”
“You don’t even have allergies.”
“I do now.”
Sae rolled his eyes, took off his hoodie, and Rin had to look away for a second because ugh, even as a retired, this bastard still looked like a prodigy. Calm. Effortless. Perfect. But Rin had grown, too. Stronger. Faster. More skilled.
They took their positions. Shidou yelled, “GO!” with a mouth full of rice. The match began.
It was messy. Aggressive. Loud. No referees. No teammates. Just two brothers on a half-dead field kicking a ball and years of resentment back and forth.
Sae was still graceful—every move precise, like chess come to life. Rin was chaos incarnate. Fast, violent, unpredictable, fueled by suppressed feelings and spite.
It was art. Sae scored first. Rin scored next. Sae muttered, “Finally.”
They kept going. Dirt on their knees. Sweat dripping. Cursing each other out between panting breaths.
At 4-4, it was match point. The final goal. Rin was running, sprinting like his whole life depended on it. He could see the goal. He could feel it. Years of guilt, pain, anger, and stupid emotional constipation behind this one final kick— Sae stepped in. Their feet tangled.
They both fell. Hard.
The ball rolled off, unnoticed.
For a second, there was silence.
Then Rin laughed. Like, actually laughed. The broken, exhausted kind, flopping onto his back, arms sprawled out.
“I hate you,” he muttered between chuckles.
“I know.”
“You cheated.”
“You tripped over my foot. That’s on you.”
“I would’ve won.”
“Mmhm.”
“…I missed you, okay?”
Sae didn’t say anything at first. “Yeah. I missed you too, dumbass.”
They lay there. Under the too-bright sun. Sweaty, bruised, smelling like regret and grass stains.
From the sidelines, Shidou screamed, “YO CAN I JOIN.”
“SHUT UP, SHIDOU!” Rin yelled back.
“Sorry! Carry on with your emotional brotherhood scene. Want me to play background music?”
“NO—wait, do you have music?”
“I got a sad violin playlist on loop.”
Sae turned to Rin, eyes narrowed. “You brought him on purpose, didn’t you.”
“I thought you did.”
They stared at each other. Then both groaned in simultaneous defeat.
That night, Sae didn’t say he’d come back to football. But he did say, “Let’s train together again sometime.”
And Rin didn’t cry this time. He just said, “Yeah. Okay. But I’m still gonna destroy you.”
“You can try.”
And Shidou, arms around both of their shoulders, declared, “Group hug! I’m the team mascot now!”
Rin tried to bite him.
It was fine.
Everything was finally fine. For now.
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-.-
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Week later and the sun was too bright. Birds were too loud. And Rin was trapped on Sae’s couch.
With Shidou Ryusei. Alone. Sae had conveniently left to go buy groceries, leaving them like two wild dogs forced to share a kennel. Rin was sitting rigidly, arms crossed, scowling at the TV. Shidou was lounging chewing chips directly from the bag and watching some dumb action movie with explosions every three seconds.
It had been 30 minutes none of them spoke. Finally, Shidou glanced at Rin and said, “You want some?”
Rin narrowed his eyes. “…Are you trying to poison me?”
“If I was, you’d be dead by now.”
Rin considered this. Took a chip. Ate it.
Silence again.
Then, Shidou said, “You know, you’re not as annoying as Sae made you sound.”
Rin side-eyed him. “You’re worse than I thought.”
Shidou grinned like he just won something. “Aww, bonding.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Totally is. Look at us. Sharing snacks. Not fist-fighting. Sae would cry if he saw this.”
“He doesn’t cry.”
“He does when I kiss his neck—”
“I WILL KICK YOU THROUGH THE WALL.”
“There it is,” Shidou laughed. “The Rin rage. Kinda missed it.”
Rin snorted, involuntarily. Which made him glare at himself. How dare his body betray him like that. “You really love him, huh?” Rin muttered finally.
Shidou blinked, then shrugged. “Yeah. Lot. Even his annoying parts. Like his sleepy face and his overly expensive fucking kombucha. Even when he’s quiet for so long I think I got ghosted IRL.”
“…Don’t hurt him.”
“Would rather hurt myself. Emotionally or physically, both are fine.”
“You’re such a freak.”
“And you’re such a little brother it physically hurts me.”
Rin scoffed. But… his shoulders were a little less tense now. “He’s happier now,” Rin admitted. “With you. I didn’t get it before but… I do now.”
Shidou looked at him, genuinely for once, no grin, no teasing. “Thanks, man. Really.”
And just like that—some unspoken, grumpy treaty of mutual respect was signed in that small living room.
Right then, the door opened. Sae walked in holding grocery bags and took one look at them sitting peacefully on the couch. He froze. Slowly turned around like he was leaving the scene of a crime.
“Nope. Not dealing with whatever truce this is.”
“Sae,” Shidou called. “We’re bonding.”
“Oh my god.”
“We shared chips,” Shidou added proudly.
“I leave you alone for one hour and you turn into friends?”
“Family,” Shidou corrected. “He threatened to kill me. That’s love.”
“He did what?” Sae asked as he put down the groceries.
“He said I’m not that annoying. We cried a little.”
“That didn’t happen.” Rin added.
“We hugged—”
“NO WE DID NOT!”
Sae sighed. Turned to look at both of them. “Fine. You two bonded. Whatever. But if I hear one more story about Rin threatening to stab someone with a bishop piece—”
“I used a rook, get it right.”
“—I’m locking both of you in a tournament with middleschooler.”
“That’s a war crime.”
“That’s love,” Shidou whispered again.
Sae groaned. And maybe he smiled too. But only when no one was looking.