Phantasmal Fear- Bachisagi (Blue Lock)

Chapter 6

Bachira awoke on a concrete floor with a groggy view of a grey wall some 20 or so yards away. A football tapped his knee, which he reflexively pulled to hug at his chest. So that even if the walls closed in on him at any moment, he could probably go happy. A familiar face lay down next to him, to which Bachira promptly flipped himself over.

"I don't want to see you right now," he muttered under his breath, well-aware that it could hear him anyway. Why wouldn't you be able to hear your own thoughts? Its' breath blew against the back of his neck, only his own premonition preparing him for it to reply,

"You don't have to see me ever again if you want. You shouldn't."

Bachira jolted up, the football still clutched to his chest subconsciously tight.

"You...you're not supposed to speak. You c-you can't!" He receded until his back pressed against the bolts holding a metal wall. Its pattern etched itself into his skin. His monster rose, and approached– slow, like approaching a stray kitten in the rain. But in this case, it was its' creator: the holy trinity of god, child and angel in one.

"We used to talk a lot, Meguru, but you don't remember until now. It's coming back to you in all 20 yards of its repressed glory. I'm sorry, kid. But this will make it easier for me to tell you something." It leaned down to eye level. Bachira trembled at his reflection; at the voice he never thought he'd let himself hear again. Paint fumes tingled his nose. He continued cradling the ball with one hand and covered the lower half of his face with the other, leaving everything from the eyes up exposed.

"And so unknowingly, he makes one whole," it whispered. Its legs and upper half of its face crumbled away to leave torso, arms, mouth and nose with yellow hair curling out from behind its neck. In this form, it reached out to gently lower Bachira's hand, to reveal a half-hearted snarl.

"Why do you have to talk when you can just show?" he said in more of a command through gritted teeth than a question.

"Don't you think you've lived far too long in fear? How is it that you've allowed yourself to shape your entire being around this?" The ball rolled across the floor as Bachira's hands both shot up to block his ears. His monster continued nonetheless. Because your own voice can only stay dormant for so long until it erupts enough ash to bury everything around it. Had that wall always been that close to him?

"You're yelling so loud at yourself that even I can hear it, yet you seem to turn a deaf ear to it. It sounds like a child locked in a doggy cage that you forced me to keep at bay."

"Shut the fuck up."

"You have to free him, Meguru." The other three walls let out piercing screeches, inching closer to him still leaned against the fourth. "He won't let you ignore him for much longer."

Something like adrenaline shot to Meguru's throat, as perhaps in an urge to scream back at the walls, his hands closed around the neck of his monster's. He started to squeeze. He couldn't tell if his own neck hurting was from his vocal chords or his own doing. His monster roared in pain, their arms lashing everywhere but nowhere in particular until it looked like it had grown ten more.

"Is this...what it takes...to make you shut up? Is this what you want then?" Meguru shouted over the walls continuing to close in. It couldn't reply, but he had a feeling that this could be the last time he would face this fear. This would be the last time paint fumes suffocate him into isolation.

There was a last time they passed a ball between them for hours on end, a singular goal and other children at the end of the park long forgotten as Meguru skid on wet dirt after rain. No more staring out the window of the crowded morning train to search for a mischievous, monstrous grin. He couldn't answer any more questions Yuu asked him about them, or rather he would have to answer in past tense. Yuu might cry, or congratulate him, or leave the dining table to her art room and pick out that canvas from long ago to hold a lighter to it. The one with black and yellow eyes peeking through a mist of browns, purples and whites.

But there would be many more times to come when he could look at Isagi, even if just through a screen, and a warm feeling would settle in his stomach. There were people like Rin to catch up to and soon surpass and whole worlds to take over with him front and centre. He would smile as new players entered his field, or even smile as they left because in a way, they never do.

Maybe if they were weird, they would think of each other from time to time and send a telepathic "how have you been?" message rather than a real one, or wait for the other to approach from behind and start it all again. But maybe if they were friends, they could meet in the middle again, and again, and keep on dancing in each other's orbits since gravity can be trusted and so can-

Meguru lost his train of thought as the three walls began to press them further together, too close for him to maintain position. His arms went limp and instead closed around the ghost's shoulders in somewhat of an embrace. They sighed peacefully, leaning into Meguru's ear just as he realised a crack in the wall behind him widening. He clung on tightly as if they would be so kind as to take him with them, to the unknown void that was the future, and continue to hold his hand through it all. But this felt more of the correct send-off.

"Remember that I love you. And tell that to your partner too, okay?"

They expected a vacuum of space beyond the crack, but was instead met with a long corridor. As they traversed for what felt like at least 5 and a half minutes, occasional impacts had been left on the walls, a bit like punch marks. Even some that looked like claw marks. A musk of tears mixed in with sweat densely packed the whole way, and sometimes it felt like they could hear the faint sound of a ball hitting the outside wall.

At the end of the corridor were two doors with text in red font: one which read "Exit", and another which read "Wildcard". Entities do not need much sustenance, they mused, so naturally they could probably stay in the corridor indefinitely if they wanted to. When you're undeservingly graced with choices, which door, if any, should you open?

-----A/N-----

Proceed to the next chapter (7) if you choose "Exit".

Proceed to chapter 8 if you choose "Stay in the corridor".

Proceed to chapter 9 if you choose "Wildcard".