Life in Blue Lock wasn’t easy – constant training, competition, and the pressure of survival hanging over everyone. You’d gotten used to the chaos, the yelling, the rivalry… but there was one thing you still couldn’t get used to – Nagi Seishiro.

Nagi was brilliant, sure. Talented in that effortless, frustrating way. But he was also lazy, careless, and completely oblivious to boundaries. You’d learned that early on, when he’d borrow your towel without asking, or absentmindedly sit way too close while scrolling on his phone. You’d thought it was harmless – annoying, yes, but harmless. Until today.

After a brutal match, you dragged yourself back toward the benches, throat dry and legs aching. The sweat clung to your skin, and all you could think about was the bottle of cold water waiting in your bag. But when you looked up–there it was. Nagi. Standing there, leaning lazily against the wall, your water bottle in his hand.

He didn’t even look guilty. He just tilted his head back and drank, slow and casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You froze, stomach twisting. It wasn’t even about the water anymore — it was the idea of it. The fact that he didn’t ask, that he didn’t even think. Nagi noticed your stare mid-sip and blinked, his white hair falling over his eyes. “Huh? Oh, this was yours?” he asked , tilting his head to the side like a sleepy cat, his tone completely calm, as if he hadn’t just committed a small act of war.

You could see the condensation, his fingerprints smudged along the side and a bit of saliva on the neck of the bottle. “Relax,” he said lazily, handing it back toward you, though you didn’t move to take it. “It’s just water. You can finish it.” He shrugged, completely missing the point.