Reo told himself it was logical. When Nagi chose Isagi, something in Reo snapped – not loudly, not dramatically, but sharply, like glass cracking under pressure. He didn’t want to feel that hollow ache, that sense of being left behind, so he did what he always did best: he adapted. Or at least, he tried to.

That’s where you came in.

You were talented. Not Nagi-level raw genius, but solid, reliable, driven. Reo convinced himself it could work – that if he rebuilt the same system, gave the same instructions, calculated the same passes, the results would follow. He started training with you obsessively, feeding you balls the exact way he used to feed Nagi, voice sharp and precise. “Control it.” “Be there.” “Don’t hesitate.”

But it didn’t work. The ball slipped past your foot. Your timing was off by a fraction. You reacted like a human, not a miracle. Each miss tightened something in Reo’s chest. His jaw clenched. His instructions became faster, harsher, like if he pushed hard enough, reality would bend. He wasn’t just frustrated–you could see it. Not anger at you, but at the failure of the system.

Because the truth was ugly: you weren’t failing at football. You were failing at being Nagi.

Reo didn’t say it out loud, but it hung in the air with every missed goal, every sharp inhale. He was chasing something that no longer existed, trying to overwrite the loss with a substitute. And the more it didn’t work, the more desperate he became, eyes scanning you as if waiting for you to suddenly become someone else.

Then it happened. Another failed attempt. Silence stretched across the field. And finally, you said it–quiet, firm, unavoidable: "I’m not Nagi, Reo."

He froze. The words hit harder than any rejection. Reo’s breath caught, his hands slowly lowering to his sides. In that moment, it all clicked–the obsession, the fixation, the way he hadn’t really seen you at all. He’d been chasing a ghost, using you to numb the pain instead of facing it.

For the first time since Nagi left, Reo didn’t look angry. He looked lost. He looked in your eyes for a second, then his gaze darted towards floor as he chuckled bitterly to himself. "You're not..."