Archive of Our Own ^beta

The dorms were unusually quiet that afternoon, save for the faint sound of Bachira laughing in another room. 

Isagi stretched after a long day of practice and paused, his gaze drawn to Rin sitting at the corner of the room. The younger Itoshi was hunched over, his face illuminated by the faint blue glow of his phone screen.

Rin, as far as Isagi knew, wasn’t much of a phone person. 

Unless it was to review matches, talk to Ego, or check for team-related updates, he rarely touched it. Yet, for the past three days, Rin had been glued to his phone for hours, staring at it with an intensity that rivaled his focus on the pitch.

Isagi squinted, curiosity bubbling up inside him.

“What’s up with him?” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Unfortunately, Shidou was passing by and overheard.

“Don’t tell me the Ice Prince has a secret?” Shidou grinned, shark-like and dangerous. “Ohhh, I’m intrigued. What do you think, Isagi?”

“I didn’t say anything about a secret—”

“Come on, he’s staring at that thing like it holds the meaning of life.” Shidou plopped down on the bed, kicking his feet up. “I say we find out.”

“What? No! That’s—”

“—a brilliant idea,” Shidou finished for him.

Before Isagi could protest further, Niko appeared, having overheard the commotion. His quiet presence gave Shidou just enough fuel.

“Niko! Wanna join Operation Ice King’s Phone?”

“Operation what?”

“Stealing Rin’s phone,” Shidou clarified, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s... definitely a bad idea,” Niko said, but the faint curiosity in his eyes betrayed him.

“Look, it’s probably some ultra-secret training technique,” Shidou continued, roping in more bystanders as he spoke. “The guy’s intense. He’s gotta have something worth digging into. Don’t you want to know what gives him that edge?”

At that moment, Reo, Nagi, Hiori, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya, Chigiri, Bachira, and even Barou began gathering, each drawn in by the escalating chaos.

“Rin doesn’t even lock his phone half the time,” Bachira pointed out. “I say we take a peek!”

“Wait, wait,” Isagi said, attempting to rein things in. “Isn’t this, I don’t know, illegal ? And besides, what if it’s personal?”

“Oh, come on, Isagi,” Shidou grinned. “You’re just scared he’s got dirt on you.”

That shut him up.

It was easier than it should have been.

Rin, as expected, left his phone behind in his bag during his solo practice. Niko acted as the lookout, Hiori quietly hacked into the device, and Shidou made sure to gloat the entire time.

“You’re all terrible people,” Isagi muttered, but his own curiosity got the better of him as he peeked over Hiori’s shoulder.

And then the phone unlocked.

“What the hell?” Karasu was the first to break the silence.

There was no secret training regimen, no football notes, no strategy files. Instead, they were greeted with a flood of bookmarks, videos, and pictures—every single one tied to horror .

“Is this... horror movies?” Yukimiya squinted.

“Look at all these saved forums!” Bachira scrolled excitedly. “Rin’s, like, super into ghost stories. And—oh my god—is that a haunted house review blog?”

Shidou’s laugh echoed through the room. “No way. No way the Ice Prince is a closet scaredy-cat.”

“He’s not scared if he’s into this stuff,” Chigiri countered, though his tone was equally incredulous.

“Guys, he’s got all the classics here,” Hiori noted, scrolling through the saved movie list. “And some really obscure ones too.”

“This one’s called The House Beyond the Fog ,” Otoya read aloud. “Five stars. Looks like Rin even left a comment—‘Atmosphere could be better, but the pacing is solid.’”

“I didn’t expect him to review movies?” Reo muttered, stunned.

“Bro’s got a whole second life,” Shidou cackled.

“What are we even looking for?” Nagi yawned, scrolling lazily.

“Anything,” Shidou replied, his grin widening as he swiped through Rin’s apps. “Anything that explains why he’s been glued to this thing like it’s his lifeline.”

“Rin’s into horror?” Karasu asked, incredulous.

“Not just into it,” Hiori added, scrolling through. “He’s... kind of an expert. Look, he even writes reviews.”

Otoya read aloud “‘The atmosphere of Bloodstained Manor was impeccable, but the lack of tension in the third act ruined the pacing.’”

“Damn,” Bachira said, impressed. “Rin’s got standards.”

Shidou, however, wasn’t satisfied. “This is cute and all, but it’s not what we’re looking for. There’s gotta be more.”

His fingers moved quickly, sifting through Rin’s files until he stumbled upon a recent video.

“This one’s new,” Shidou said, his voice tinged with excitement.

He clicked the file. The group fell silent, the tension building as the video loaded.

The screen flickered to life, and the first thing they saw was a woman’s face. She smiled warmly at the camera, her features serene and kind. The long bottom eyelashes framing her eyes were strikingly familiar.

“Hello, everyone. Today is Rin’s first birthday.”

The woman’s voice was gentle, and the camera panned downward, revealing a baby lying on a small comforter. His dark green hair stuck out in tufts, and his wide eyes blinked curiously at the camera.

“It’s Rin!” Bachira exclaimed, leaning closer to the screen. “He’s so small!”

The baby in the video cooed softly, waving his tiny hands as if responding to the attention. Next to him sat a young boy, barely older than three, with sharp features and a familiar mop of reddish-brown hair.

“Happy birthday, Rin,” the boy said shyly, his voice quiet but clear.

“That’s Sae,” Niko said, his tone reverent.

“Man, he looks so different,” Reo added.

The camera focused on the two brothers. Baby Rin gurgled happily as Sae leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

The room was silent. None of them expected this.

“It’s... sweet,” Hiori said after a beat, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Sweet?” Shidou raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We didn’t hack his phone to watch some family home video.”

“It’s more than that,” Isagi muttered, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“It’s a whole compilation,” Yukimiya observed.

The video faded to black momentarily before flickering back on. 

This time, it showed a small Rin sitting on a swing, his tiny hands gripping the chains awkwardly. He looked no older than three, his chubby cheeks glowing under the sunlight. The faint sound of birds chirping in the background added to the peaceful scene.

“Look here, Rin,” came a familiar voice from behind the camera. It was unmistakably Sae.

Rin’s head lifted slightly, and his round eyes locked onto the camera. He looked hesitant but curious, as though unsure what his older brother wanted him to do.

“Good boy,” Sae said, his tone surprisingly gentle.

The camera wobbled slightly, and the faint rustling suggested Sae was adjusting his grip. Rin, encouraged by the praise, tried to move his legs to swing higher, but his coordination wasn’t quite there yet. 

A moment later, he lost his balance and tumbled forward off the swing.

A soft thud was followed by a sharp gasp—Sae’s gasp.

The camera jolted violently before it was dropped to the ground, capturing only a slanted view of the grass. Sae’s footsteps pounded into the scene as he rushed to Rin, his panicked voice cutting through the silence.

“Rin! Are you okay?”

The faint sound of sniffles came next. Sae knelt down, cradling the small boy in his arms. “It’s okay, don’t cry. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice tender in a way none of them would’ve believed possible. 

He brushed at Rin’s hands, checking for any scrapes or bruises, and hugged him close when Rin whimpered.

Back in the present, the group watching the video was dead silent, their faces etched with shock.

“Wait a second…” Karasu broke the silence, his brows furrowing. “That’s Sae?”

“No way,” Otoya muttered, his jaw slack. “The guy who called me a ‘waste of talent’ in a five-second conversation?”

Bachira stared at the screen with wide eyes, whispering, “He’s… so soft. Like, actually soft.”

“Unreal,” Chigiri added, shaking his head. “That guy is all sharp edges and ice now.”

Even Barou, usually unfazed, crossed his arms and let out a low, contemplative grunt. “Didn’t think Itoshi Sae had it in him.”

The tension between the Itoshi brothers was no secret—everyone in Blue Lock had seen it play out during the U-20 match. But this? This was a side of Sae none of them could have imagined.

“Rin was just a kid,” Yukimiya finally said, his voice subdued. “Sae cared about him. A lot.”

Hiori glanced at Isagi, who looked conflicted. “I think… maybe there’s more to their relationship than we know.”

Shidou, meanwhile, looked absolutely delighted. “Oh, this is gold,” he said with a grin. “Cold, heartless Sae? Acting like a perfect big brother? Never thought I’d see the day.”

 “But what happened? How’d they go from this to…” Chigiri folded his arms.

His words trailed off as the video continued playing, leaving the group with more questions than answers.

The video transitioned smoothly, showing Sae standing in the middle of what looked like a modest backyard. 

His hair was different—his bangs were short and slightly messy, giving him a carefree look that contrasted with the polished Sae they knew now. A worn-out soccer ball rested at his feet as he shifted it slightly with his toes, his expression calm but focused.

Taking a step back, Sae ensured his entire body was in the frame. He looked straight into the camera and stated matter-of-factly, “Today, I’m teaching Rin to play football for the first time.”

“Even as a kid, he’s all about football,” Reo said with a small scoff. “Classic Sae.”

Bachira, however, was leaning forward eagerly. “Forget that—show me baby Rin already!”

The camera shifted slightly before Rin appeared in the frame, his small figure shyly stepping into view. He was noticeably smaller than Sae, his dark green hair sticking up in uneven tufts, and his big eyes darted nervously toward the camera.

“I—I’ll try my best, Nii-chan!” Rin’s tiny voice wavered, both anxious and determined.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then:

“Wait a second,” Shidou blurted, leaning closer. “Did he just call him... ‘Nii-chan’?”

“No way,” Karasu said, his brow furrowing. “Rin Itoshi said ‘Nii-chan’? And like... genuinely?”

“That’s adorable,” Chigiri said, his tone begrudging. “I didn’t think Rin had it in him.”

“Did,” Otoya corrected with a smirk. “There’s no way he’s saying that now.”

Barou clicked his tongue. “Tch. Kids grow out of that kind of thing. Doesn’t mean anything.”

But Isagi’s brows knitted together, his gaze fixed on the screen. “Still... it’s kind of hard to imagine. Rin looks so... different.”

The Rin in the video took a hesitant step toward the ball, his small legs trembling slightly. Sae’s voice cut in, calm but firm: “Rin, don’t stand so close. Move back. You need space to kick properly.”

Rin immediately adjusted, his face scrunching in concentration. He gave the ball a timid nudge with his foot, and it barely moved. Sae crossed his arms but gave a small nod. “Good. But put more power into it next time.”

Even from the screen, Sae’s tone wasn’t harsh—it was measured, as if he expected Rin to improve immediately. Rin looked up at his brother, a faint pout on his face. “Did I do okay, Nii-chan?”

For the first time, Sae cracked a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. You’re doing fine. Just listen to what I say.”

“That’s... kinda strict,” Yukimiya commented.

“Strict about football, sure,” Hiori noted, watching as Sae stepped closer to adjust Rin’s stance, “but outside of that, he seems pretty relaxed.”

“Let’s try again. Kick harder this time,” Sae instructed. Rin nodded furiously, his face determined as he tried again, this time sending the ball rolling a little farther. Sae gave him a short nod of approval. “Better.”

“Man, even baby Sae has that know-it-all aura,” Shidou muttered, shaking his head.

“But he’s not a jerk,” Bachira pointed out, grinning. “Look at him—he actually cares.”

The screen showed Sae crouching down to Rin’s level, giving him a casual pat on the head. “You’ll get better if you keep practicing. Just don’t give up, okay?”

Rin’s face brightened, and he gave a small, toothy smile. “Okay, Nii-chan!”

“Wow,” Chigiri said softly. “Rin actually looked up to him.”

Otoya leaned back, a wry smile on his face. “That’s the most shocking part of all this. They were so... normal.”

The screen faded briefly, but their thoughts lingered, the image of a young Rin looking up to Sae sticking in their minds.

The screen transitioned to another clip, this time focusing on Rin directly in front of the camera. He leaned in close, cupping his small hands around his mouth as if he were sharing a secret.

“Today is Nii-chan’s 10th birthday. I’m planning to make a cake for him!” Rin’s voice was a hushed, excited whisper, his eyes sparkling with determination.

The room full of players collectively paused, their expressions a mix of shock and curiosity.

“Rin... baking a cake?” Chigiri said, his disbelief apparent.

“Doesn’t really scream ‘ice king,’ does it?” Karasu added, smirking.

“Shh,” Bachira urged, waving them off. “Let me enjoy this.”

The video cut to an angle showing Rin standing on a small stool in what appeared to be the Itoshi family kitchen. His tiny hands struggled to mix batter in a large bowl, the whisk wobbling as he worked. Flour was scattered across the counter—and a bit on his cheeks. Despite his evident inexperience, his focus was unwavering.

In the background, a woman’s voice—gentle and warm—spoke up. “Need help, Rin?”

Rin turned toward her, his head barely reaching the counter. “Ne, Ka-san, do you think Nii-chan will like it?”

“Of course he will,” she said, leaning down to help steady his bowl. “You’re working so hard for him. He’ll love it.”

“Oh, come on,” Shidou groaned, throwing his head back. “This is almost too sweet. What happened to this Rin?!”

“Guess life happened,” Reo muttered, crossing his arms.

The next clip showed Rin concentrating as he carefully poured batter into a pan, his tiny tongue poking out in concentration. His mother’s hands were there to guide him, but it was clear he was doing most of the work.

“Kid was really putting in the effort,” Yukimiya remarked.

“More effort than you ever see him put into anything except football now,” Otoya quipped.

As the video continued, Rin peeked into the oven, his hands pressed against the glass. His mother chuckled softly. “You have to be patient, Rin. It’ll take some time to bake.”

Rin pouted slightly but nodded. The video faded briefly, then resumed with Rin triumphantly holding up the completed cake. The decoration was messy—uneven icing and slightly tilted candles—but it was unmistakably heartfelt.

“Look at his face,” Bachira laughed. “He’s so proud of it!”

“Bet Sae didn’t even appreciate it,” Shidou muttered, though his grin betrayed his teasing tone.

“Quiet,” Isagi said, his voice uncharacteristically firm. “Let’s see the rest.”

The video faded to black briefly before reappearing with a new scene. The camera angle had shifted, now positioned in front of the Itoshi family’s genkan. Rin, now with clean clothes, carefully approached Sae with a cake. The decoration was a bit sloppy, but it was clearly made with effort and love.

“Happy birthday, Nii-chan!” Rin’s voice was hopeful, a bright smile lighting up his face.

Sae glanced at him, his expression cool and indifferent as usual. He gave a brief side-eye to the cake, his voice flat. “I don’t need it. It’s too much sugar.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the camera captured the sudden deflation of Rin’s face. His eyes fell, disappointment evident in the way his shoulders slumped.

“Damn,” Bachira muttered. “That hit different.”

“Harsh,” Karasu added, shaking his head.

But then, Sae seemed to register the hurt in his younger brother's expression. With a slight sigh, he reached over and gently patted Rin’s head. “You can eat it for me,” he said, though his tone was still nonchalant.

Rin’s face brightened at this, but without a word, he took the cake and slowly walked away, his feet dragging slightly.

Sae turned around to open the door, but his muttering was caught by the camera. “I wonder where he bought this…”

Just as he was about to step outside, their mother appeared in the frame, her voice calm as ever. “Rin made that cake,” she said matter-of-factly.

For a split second, Sae froze. His eyes widened in surprise, and without a word, he took off his shoes and stepped inside.

The camera followed their mother, who had taken it from its place, as she moved to follow Sae.

Inside, Rin was sitting at the table, eating the cake by himself, his face clouded with disappointment. Sae moved toward him, his expression unreadable. Without warning, he pulled the plate from Rin’s hands and snatched the fork away. 

In one swift motion, Sae stabbed the cake and took a large bite.

Rin’s eyes went wide in shock, and before he could process what had happened, he stood up and grabbed his brother’s elbow. “You said you don’t want it!!! Give it back,” Rin whined, his voice desperate.

Sae merely grunted, his usual cold demeanor in full force. “Shut up,” he muttered, still chewing.

The final thing caught on camera before the video faded to black was the sound of their mother’s laughter—soft and warm, a stark contrast to the earlier tension between the two brothers.

The moment the video ended, the group was silent for a second before bursting into laughter.

“Wait, so he actually ate it?!” Bachira gasped, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “That was too funny.”

“Rin’s face when Sae took the cake was priceless,” Chigiri added, trying to stifle his laughter. “I’ve never seen him look so shocked.”

“Ha! And Sae’s totally cold as usual.” Shidou chuckled, grinning widely. “But that part with the ‘Shut up’ was hilarious.”

Even Isagi couldn’t help but laugh. "I didn’t think Sae could be that... nonchalant about it all, but he just... took the cake and kept eating. Poor Rin."

Reo shook his head, still snickering. “Sae’s a lot more complicated than he lets on. But seriously, that whole scene was gold.”

Hiori, who had been silent for a while, wiped his eyes. “That was really something. I wasn’t expecting Sae to pull that move.”

The laughter continued as they watched the video replay in their minds, each of them finding something unexpected in the cold but surprisingly caring side of Sae.

The video began with a close-up of young Rin adjusting the camera. His face, rounder and softer than they were used to seeing, filled the frame as he fidgeted to get the angle just right. He appeared to be sitting at a study table, with a sheet of paper and a pencil laid out in front of him.

“Today, the class asked me to write about the person I admire,” Rin said, his voice a little shy but steady. His cheeks flushed slightly, but there was determination in his eyes. “I just wrote this much,” he admitted, holding the paper up briefly before placing it back down. “But I will try to practice the presentation since I need to say this in front of the whole class tomorrow.”

The group watching blinked in surprise.

“Rin... talking this much?” Chigiri said incredulously.

“And smiling too. That’s rare,” Isagi added, eyebrows raised.

Bachira leaned closer to the screen. “He looks so cute, though! Like an entirely different person!”

On the screen, Rin cleared his throat, sitting upright as if preparing for a grand speech. “My name is Itoshi Rin, and I’m 11 years old. The person I admire the most is my Nii-chan!” A wide smile broke across his face as he said the words, the sincerity in his voice radiating through the screen.

“Oh, wow,” Reo murmured. “I didn’t think Rin had it in him to smile like that.”

Shidou snorted. “Seriously, who is this kid? That can’t be Rin.”

Rin continued reading from his paper. “His name is Itoshi Sae. Nii-chan is always cool and strong.”

“I always wanted to be like my Nii-chan. He is very good at football, and he is unbeatable.” Rin’s eyes shone with admiration. “Nii-chan is going to be the best striker in the world, and then I’ll be the second.”

That statement hung in the air for a moment, and the group exchanged glances.

“Best striker?” Isagi frowned slightly. “But Sae’s a midfielder now...”

“It’s weird hearing Rin admire him like this,” Chigiri muttered. “Especially knowing how things are now.”

Rin’s voice grew more passionate as he went on. “We’re going to win the World Cup together!” He pumped his fist, the smile still glowing on his face.

“Pfft, he’s so hopeful,” Bachira chuckled.

The video showed Rin putting the paper down briefly as he started scribbling more. He looked thoughtful. “Um... Nii-chan is also the kindest person in the world.”

That statement brought a round of reactions.

“Kindest?” Shidou raised an eyebrow. “That Sae? No way.”

Reo crossed his arms, smirking. “He’s been bearable, sure. But this version of Sae... I don’t think we’ve ever met him.”

Rin continued, his tone soft but unwavering. “Nii-chan always takes good care of me. Sometimes he can be mean, but he always tries to console me. Nii-chan is the best. I hope we can always stay together forever.”

The young boy trailed off, his tone dipping slightly. His smile faded, replaced with a faint frown as he leaned back against his chair, staring at the paper. The room in the video grew quiet.

“But that’s... not possible.”

Rin’s voice dropped, the sadness creeping into his words. He glanced down, his hands gripping the pencil tightly. “Nii-chan will be going to Spain in a month.”

The group’s expressions sobered.

“Oh...” Isagi whispered, the weight of the words hitting.

Rin’s lips quivered slightly as he kept speaking. “I actually feel really happy for Nii-chan! But at the same time, I’m afraid.”

The group watched in silence as Rin bit his lip, trying to hold back the emotion. If they looked closely, they could see the shimmer of a tear threatening to fall.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Rin whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “And I’m not looking forward to playing without my Nii-chan.”

The tear slipped free, but Rin quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand. Without another word, he leaned forward and turned off the camera. The screen faded to black.

No one spoke for a long moment, the emotions from the video lingering in the air.

“That...” Yukimiya started but trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Man, young Rin really loved his brother,” Bachira said softly.

Isagi nodded, his voice subdued. “You can feel how much it hurt him... knowing Sae was leaving.”

Even Shidou, typically loud and brash, had no sarcastic remark to add.

The screen brightened again, signaling the start of the next video. The group shifted slightly, their focus returning to the screen, curious about what would come next.

The screen lit up, showing the next video. This time, the angle was slightly tilted, as if a small hand had hastily placed the camera down. The scene was inside a bedroom, and sitting on the edge of the bed was six-year-old Rin, his small frame curled up with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His cheeks were puffed, and his eyes looked suspiciously watery.

Across from him stood eight-year-old Sae, his hair a little messy from practice and his usual calm expression in place.

“Rin, seriously? You’re still mad about this?” Sae asked, his voice even but tinged with exasperation.

Rin shot him a glare, though it lacked the usual bite. “You left without telling me! You didn’t even let me come with you!”

Sae sighed, walking over to sit next to Rin on the bed. He didn’t immediately respond, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment before speaking. “Rin, I didn’t leave because I wanted to make you mad. I had to go to football camp—it’s not something you can just come to yet.”

“I’m good at football too!” Rin protested, his voice cracking slightly as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I could’ve gone with you! You didn’t even ask if I wanted to!”

Sae’s lips twitched as if holding back a smile. “You’re good, yeah, but you’re also six, dummy. They don’t let six-year-olds into the camp.”

Rin sniffled, his lower lip jutting out. “It’s not fair.”

Sae leaned back on his hands, tilting his head to glance at his little brother. “I get it. But you don’t have to cry about it.”

“I’m not crying!” Rin snapped, though the tears pooling in his eyes said otherwise.

Sae stared at him for a moment, then let out a sigh. Shifting forward, he reached out and ruffled Rin’s hair roughly. “You’re such a baby sometimes.”

“Stop it!” Rin swatted at Sae’s hand but didn’t move away.

“Listen,” Sae said, his tone softening as he leaned closer. “I’m gonna go to camps like that a lot, okay? But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you behind forever. You’re gonna get bigger and stronger, and one day, you’ll be there too.”

Rin turned his head slightly, peeking up at his brother with watery eyes. “...Really?”

“Yeah.” Sae nodded, his voice steady. “And when you get there, I’ll be waiting. You’re gonna be on my team, right?”

A small sniffle escaped Rin before he nodded vigorously. “Yeah... I’m gonna be on your team, Nii-chan!”

Sae smirked, reaching out to pinky-promise him. “Then it’s a deal.”

Rin hesitated for only a second before linking his smaller pinky with Sae’s.

“It’s a deal,” Rin repeated, his voice quiet but determined.

The camera captured Sae’s rare, genuine smile as he leaned back again, his hand casually resting on Rin’s head. “Good. Now stop being such a crybaby.”

“I’m not a crybaby!” Rin pouted, his voice regaining some of its usual energy.

The video lingered on the brothers sitting together before their mom’s voice called from off-screen, announcing that dinner was ready. Sae stood, ruffling Rin’s hair one last time before heading toward the door.

Rin sat there for a moment, then suddenly grabbed the camera, facing it toward himself. His cheeks were still puffed, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m gonna be on Nii-chan’s team one day,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, before the video faded out.

The video faded to black, and for a moment, the group sat there, stunned and wide-eyed.

“Wait, hold on,” Isagi said, blinking. “Was that really Rin?”

“That was Rin!” Bachira snorted, clutching his stomach as laughter spilled out. “I can’t believe it! He was so cute and clingy!”

“Clingy isn’t the word. More like a baby,” Shidou teased, his grin mischievous. “Did you see how much he cried over Sae leaving for camp?”

Chigiri chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s surreal seeing them like that. Sae actually looked...kind of nice?”

“He looked like a big brother,” Reo added, smirking. “Who knew?”

Just as the teasing and laughter reached a crescendo, the door to the room suddenly burst open. Rin stepped inside, his usual frown etched deeply on his face. “What’s with all the noise—”

His eyes immediately darted to the screen, where the final frame of the video was paused: little Rin, cheeks puffed and holding up a pinky-promise with Sae. The chaos erupted.

“Rin! Look, it’s you!” Bachira cried, pointing at the screen.

“You were so cute, ” Shidou cooed, doing his best impression of little Rin’s pout.

“ Nii-chan! I’m gonna be on your team! ” Reo mimicked dramatically, clasping his hands together.

Rin’s face turned bright red, his lips twitching in a mix of embarrassment and anger. “What the hell are you guys watching?!”

“Your childhood masterpiece,” Chigiri said with a smirk, clearly amused.

Isagi, caught somewhere between laughter and panic, tried to calm Rin. “It’s not that bad, Rin—”

Rin’s glare silenced him instantly. “Turn it off. Now. ”

Bachira, clearly enjoying himself, leaned toward the screen. “But Rin, you were adorable! And that pinky promise? Pure gold!”

Before Rin could retort, Shidou chimed in, “Hey, Rin, do you still think Sae’s the kindest person in the world?”

That did it. Rin lunged toward Shidou, and chaos broke out. 

Bachira laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch, while Reo and Chigiri scrambled out of the way. Isagi, ever the peacemaker, tried to pull Rin back as Shidou taunted him with exaggerated impressions.

Amidst the chaos, the faint sound of laughter could still be heard—the same laughter that had ended the video, ringing out warmly as Rin’s younger self made his pinky promise to a kinder, gentler Sae.