The Mikage estate stretched across acres of manicured land, a private kingdom of glass and steel nestled in the hills outside Tokyo.

Cherry blossoms were beginning to bud, tiny pink promises against the late winter gray.

Inside, the east wing belonged entirely to Reo and, by extension, to the two boys he had collected like rare artifacts.

It was rare for all three of them to have nothing scheduled.

No tutors.

No business etiquette lessons for Reo.

No training regimens.

No social obligations that required them to wear masks and pretend to be normal.

Just an empty afternoon. A stretch of hours with no demands.

Nagi, predictably, had claimed the largest couch.

He lay sprawled across it like a cat who had found the single sunbeam in a room, his white hair fanned against the armrest, one leg dangling off the edge.

His phone was propped on his chest, some mobile game chiming softly, but his eyes were half-closed. The game was more of a habit than engagement.

(I can relate to nagi 😔)

Across the room, Isagi sat at the window seat, knees drawn up, a book open in his lap.

He wasn't reading it.

He was watching the garden below, where a groundsman was trimming the hedges with methodical precision

The rhythmic snip-snip-snip of the shears was the only sound besides Nagi's game.

Reo entered like a small hurricane, tablet in hand, hair slightly disheveled from his morning meetings.

"I'm free," he announced, as if expecting applause.

"Finally. The investors' call ended early. Father said I handled it well."

But sadly..

Neither boy reacted.

"Hello?" Reo planted his hands on his hips. "Your master has returned victorious from battle. This is where you cheer."

"Oh"

"Welcome back," Isagi said without turning from the window.

"Mm," Nagi contributed.

Reo's eye twitched. "You two are ridiculous!." He crossed the room and dropped onto the couch—directly onto Nagi's legs.

"Huh?'

"Oof." Nagi grunted but didn't move. "Heavy."

"I'm not heavy. You're just boneless." Reo shifted, making himself comfortable, and peered at Nagi's phone screen.

"Are you still playing that? You've been on the same level for three days."

"It's a grinding stage. Low drop rates." Nagi tilted the screen away. "Don't breathe on me. You'll jinx the pull."

"You don't even believe in luck."

"True.'

"Don't believe in it. Still don't want it jinxed."

Reo snorted and looked over at Isagi. "Yo-chan, come sit with us. You're too far away."

Isagi finally turned from the window. The afternoon light caught his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw.

He looked younger like this, Reo thought. Less like a soldier and more like the seventeen-year-old he actually was.

"I'm comfortable here," Isagi said.

"That's an order."

"It's not a very good one."

Reo gasped in mock offense. "Treason. In my own home. Nagi, back me up."

"Don't wanna," Nagi said. "Too much effort."

"......"

"Useless. Both of you. Absolutely useless." But Reo was smiling, the kind of smile that only appeared when he was with them.

Not the polished, diplomatic smile he wore for business meetings. Not the sharp, calculating smile he used during negotiations. Just Reo, young and warm and genuinely happy.

He acts similar to that of a tsundere.

Isagi closed his book and stood.

He crossed the room with the silent footfalls that still, even after all these years, betrayed his past—the way he moved like someone who had learned to be invisible and never quite unlearned it.

Like the saying goes.

Old habit die hard.

When he reached the couch, he stood there, looking down at Reo and Nagi tangled together on the cushions.

"Well?" Reo patted the narrow space beside him

"Sit."

"That's not enough room."

"Then make room. Nagi, move."

"Don't wanna."

"You're literally taking up the entire couch."

"Naur"

"Couch is comfy. Comfy is good. Why would I move from good?"

"Wha-"

Isagi watched them bicker with the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. Then, without warning, he simply sat down on top of both of them.

"Oi—"

"Yo-chan—"

"You said to sit," Isagi said evenly, settling his weight across their legs. "I'm sitting."

Reo sputtered. Nagi, after a moment of stunned silence, let out a sound that might have been a laugh if it had more energy behind it—a soft exhale through the nose, his version of hilarity.

"You're heavy too," Nagi observed.

"Pot. Kettle," Isagi replied.

Reo wriggled an arm free and poked Isagi's side. "You've been hanging around Nagi too long. His laziness is contagious."

"Nagi is efficient," Isagi corrected. "He conserves energy for things that matter."

"Exactly," Nagi said. "Isagi gets it."

Reo rolled his eyes.

"What things that matter? Your gacha game?"

"Soccer. Games. Isagi. You, sometimes. When you're not being annoying."

"I'm never annoying."

"How could I ever be?'

Both Isagi and Nagi turned to look at him.

Are you sure about that?

"Okay, fine. Rarely annoying. Selectively annoying."

Reo huffed and finally managed to extract himself enough to sit up properly.

The three of them were now arranged in a haphazard pile—Reo propped against the armrest, Isagi half on his lap, Nagi still horizontal with his head now resting against Isagi's thigh. It was undignified and messy and utterly comfortable.

Outside, the groundsman finished with the hedges and moved on. The snip-snip-snip faded into silence. Birdsong filled the gap.

It was like a Disney movey..

"Hey," Reo said after a while, voice softer now. "Do you two ever think about the future?"

"Like what?" Isagi asked.

"Like... after. After school. After all of this." Reo gestured vaguely at the estate around them. "What we'll do. Where we'll go."

Nagi's game finally chimed with a successful pull. He glanced at it without interest and closed the app. "Soccer," he said.

"You said we'd play together. I'm holding you to that."

"I know, I know. But I mean specifically. There are leagues. Teams. Blue Lock is starting recruitment soon—that program Japan's football association is launching. I've been looking into it."

Isagi's expression flickered. "Blue Lock?"

"Three hundred of Japan's best young strikers. A facility designed to create the world's greatest egoist striker. It's controversial. Brutal. The kind of program that breaks people." Reo's eyes gleamed

"Isn't that amazing?" Reo smiled.

"Sounds perfect for us."

"You just want to see Isagi destroy everyone," Nagi said.

"Obviously. But I want to be there too. And you, lazybones. Even if I have to drag you."

Nagi considered this. "If Isagi's there, I'll go."

"That's what I said last week and you ignored me."

"Isagi says it better."

"He literally just repeated what I said."

"His voice is nicer."

'Your saying my voice is unbearable?"

"You admit it yourself, I didn't mention your name did I?'

Reo threw his hands up. "I can't win with either of you."

Isagi, who had been quiet during this exchange, spoke. "Do you think we're ready?"

The question hung in the air. Reo and Nagi both stilled.

"What do you mean?" Reo asked.

Isagi's gaze was distant again, fixed on some point beyond the window, beyond the garden, beyond the present moment.

"I've trained. We all have. But training isn't the same as competing. The world is bigger than this estate. Bigger than Japan. I've survived a lot of things, but surviving isn't the same as winning."

"Yo-chan..."

"If we go to Blue Lock," Isagi continued,

"we'll face famous people like Kaiser,Hugo or Loki. People who have been trained since birth. People who have resources and support systems and parents who believe in them. I've learned to fight, but I've never learned to be a champion. There's a difference."

(If ur wondering why Isagi mentioned those name it is because Isagi always keep up with the latest soccer news)

Nagi shifted, turning his head so he could look up at Isagi's face. "You're afraid."

It wasn't an accusation. Just an observation, delivered with Nagi's characteristic flatness.

Isagi didn't deny it. "I'm afraid of not being enough. Of letting you both down. Of proving that everything you invested in me was wasted."

"Yo-chan." Reo's voice was sharp now, cutting through the heaviness. He sat up fully, hands gripping Isagi's shoulders.

"Look at me."

Isagi did. His blue eyes were clear but cautious, the way they always were when emotions entered the conversation. Emotions were still difficult for him.

They required vulnerability, and vulnerability had been beaten out of him before he learned to walk.

"I didn't invest in you," Reo said firmly.

"I chose you. There's a difference. I chose you in that alleyway when you were bleeding and feral and looking at me like I was a transaction. I chose you because you were the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. And every day since, you've proven me right. Not because you're useful. Not because you're a good deal. Because you're you. Yo-chan. My treasure."

"You sound like a villain," Nagi murmured.

"Shut up, I'm having a moment."

"A villain moment."

"Nagi...'

"I will smother you with this pillow."

"See? A villain...'

Isagi's lips twitched. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "You're both idiots."

"Your idiots," Reo corrected

"And Nagi's right, in his own useless way. You're afraid. That's fine. Fear isn't the same as weakness. The difference is what you do with it. When I'm afraid of a business deal falling through, I work harder. When Nagi's afraid of something—" Reo paused

"Wait, are you ever afraid of anything?"

"Bees," Nagi said.

"Excuse me what?..Bees?."

"They're loud and they chase you for no reason. Unnecessary aggression."

"I couldn't imagine if a bee became a real person..."

"Not like it could.."

(Oh boy I'm going to hold your hand when I say this)

"Right. Bees." Reo pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The point is, fear is normal. But you're not alone in it. Whatever we face, we face together. Blue Lock, the World Cup, Kaiser, anyone. We go as a unit. The heir, the ghost, and the stray. We've survived worse."

Isagi was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached up and placed his hand over Reo's, still gripping his shoulder.

"I don't know how to say it properly," Isagi said, voice quieter than before.

"The thing I feel. For both of you. Gratitude isn't right. Debt isn't right. It's something else."

"Belonging," Nagi said.

Isagi looked down at him. Nagi was still sprawled across their laps, white hair messy, silver eyes half-lidded but focused.

The boy who had once sat on a rooftop and calculated the distance to the ground now spoke with the certainty of someone who had found something worth staying for.

"Belonging," Nagi repeated. "That's the word. You're not grateful. You're not in debt. You belong here. With us. Because you're ours and we're yours. Simple."

"Simple," Isagi echoed, testing the word.

"Simple is good," Nagi said. "Complicated is a hassle. Simple means you don't have to think about it. You just know."

Reo stared at Nagi. "That's the most profound thing you've ever said."

"Oh shush."

"I have my moments."

"Once a year."

"Twice, if I'm feeling generous."

"Brotha..'

"What?,I'm telling the truth " Nagi smiled.

Isagi laughed. It was soft, barely more than an exhale, but it was undeniably a laugh—the rare sound that only emerged when he was with them. When he felt safe. When he forgot to be guarded.

"Fine," Isagi said. "Belonging. I can work with that."

"You'd better." Reo tugged him closer, tucking Isagi against his side. "Because you're stuck with us. Both of you. Forever."

"Forever is a long time," Nagi observed.

"Then we'd better make it interesting."

They settled into silence after that, the comfortable kind that didn't demand words.

Nagi's game remained abandoned on his chest.

Reo's tablet lay forgotten on the floor. Isagi let his head rest against Reo's shoulder, his hand still loosely holding Nagi's where it had drifted to rest on his knee.

Outside, the cherry blossoms continued their slow unfurling. Inside, three boys who had found each other against all odds held onto the fragile, fierce thing they had built together.

Not a transaction. Not a debt. Not survival.

Nothing

Just...

Belonging.

And nothing could ru-

"I'm hungry," Nagi announced eventually.

"Of course you are," Reo sighed.

"I want chazuke. The one Ba-ya makes. With the salmon."

"You just ate two hours ago."

"That was two hours ago. Basically ancient history."

Isagi shifted, preparing to stand. "I'll go ask her—"

"No." Reo's arm tightened around him. "You're not moving. Nagi can get it himself."

"But—"

"I'll order it," Reo said. "Ba-ya has a tablet. I'll message her."

"You're going to make an eighty-year-old woman bring us food because you're too lazy to walk to the kitchen?" Isagi asked.

"First of all, she's seventy-two. Second, she'll be delighted. She loves when I ask for things. It makes her feel needed."

"That's a rationalization."

"It's an efficient use of resources. Isn't that right, Nagi?"

Nagi had already closed his eyes. "Wake me when the food's here."

"Unbelievable." Isagi shook his head, but the smile was still there, lingering at the corners of his mouth.

Reo typed out a message to Ba-ya, then set his phone aside.

He looked at the two of them—Isagi still tucked against his side, Nagi already drifting toward sleep on their laps—and felt something swell in his chest.

It was too big to name.

Too fierce to examine closely.

He had been nine years old when he found a feral boy in an alleyway and decided to keep him.

He had been nine years old when his parents warned him to mark his property, to ensure his investment didn't stray.

He had played along with their logic because it was easier than fighting, but even then, even as a child, he had known it was a lie.

Isagi had never been property. Nagi had never been a second acquisition.

They were his. But not the way his parents owned stocks. Not the way the Mikage corporation owned subsidiaries.

They were his the way the moon was the tide's. The way the sun was the earth's. The way gravity was a mutual pull, each body held in orbit by the others, no single force dominating.

"Reo?" Isagi's voice was drowsy now.

"Mm?"

"Thank you. For finding me."

Reo closed his eyes. "Thank you for being worth finding."

"Gross," Nagi muttered, half-asleep. "You're both gross. Sentimental. Disgusting."

"You're crying," Isagi observed.

"Am not."

"There's moisture on your cheek."

"Allergies."

"To what? Emotions?"

"Shut up."

Reo laughed, bright and genuine, and pulled them both closer.

Outside, the cherry blossoms swayed in the breeze. Inside, the food arrived eventually, brought by a smiling Ba-ya who paused in the doorway to take in the sight of her young master and his treasures tangled together on the ouch, asleep.

She set the tray down quietly, draped a blanket over all three of them, and withdrew without a word.

Some things, she knew, were too precious to disturb.