"Shuzocchiii!" the green childishly whined as he wrapped his arms around the raven's shoulder. Standing on his tiptoes, he put his head on the boy's fluffy hair. "Why can't I play the match against Shōei Junior High?"

The soon-to-be vice-captain already used to his friend's tactile nature didn't bother to brush him off. If he did the boy would whine more, and he didn't have time to deal with his shit.

Ignoring Mikaël's flow of words, Nijimura kept his attention on his other teammates as they elaborated a strategy to play against Tokyo's fourth-best Junior High.

The players, already used to the model's tantrums, cleverly ignored the first year as they intently listened to the first year who they knew could be considered their "vice-vice-captain." Shōei Junior High wasn't an opponent they could underestimate.

And, as Mikaël absentmindedly listened to his team's strategy, his mind drifted to him. Teppei Kiyoshi, Teppeicchi, a feral grin etched itself on his face, his golden pupils glistening with orange light as he chuckled in slight anticipation.

Mikaël hadn't seen any match featuring the Uncrowned King in his life. He had played once against one of them, but not the Iron Heart. If he remembered correctly, by the time Kise joined Kaijo, the boy had hurt his knee.

Right, was he already hurt he wondered as he halfheartedly listened to the strategy meeting. Probably not, he would have stopped playing sooner otherwise.

Speaking of a hurt knee Ryota's golden eyes unknowingly traveled to his knee as he let go of his friend to sit on the floor in a more comfortable position. His hands reached for his leg, slowly massaging it.

He did hurt his leg at some point in his former life. He knitted his brows into a frown. He had to be careful this time around, who knows what could happen otherwise.

"A problem Mikaël?"

Startled by his name being called out, Ryota's eyes widened before blinking a few time as he stared at Shuzo who had called his name. Curiously tilting his head to the side, he let a grin adorn his feature as a questioning hum escaped his lips.

Refraining a sigh, Nijimura shook his head. "Do you have a problem with the plan, you seemed troubled," he elaborated, arms crossed over his chest as he sternly gazed at the day-dreaming teen.

"Whoa, of course not Shuzocchi!" Ryota answered hurriedly, as he rubbed his left earlobe, a sheepish smile on his lips. Noticing the dubious stare of his friend, he gulped. "Promise Shuzocchi, my mind was elsewhere, sorry?"

"Why is that a question?"

"No reason?"

Sharpening his glare, Nijimura felt the green wince under it before releasing a well-deserved sigh and rubbing his temples. "Whatever, twenty more laps for you tomorrow before practice," he dismissed as he turned back to the rest of the team, not sparring the flabbergasted teen a look.

"So, as we were saying—"

::

Being on the bench was something Ryota despised. In both former and present life, he hated it. Well, what he disliked wasn't the bench but the reason he sat on it.

As he dazedly stared at the court, his golden eyes flickered to a particular brown head before he simpered. How good was he now, he wondered, a low hum escaping his lips. Would he be enough of a challenge for me?

The question made him chuckle. Right, he doubted it. Ryota had experience Kyoshi had yet to earn. Though the only way to know was for them to face off—

Mikaël's smile dropped. Right, face off. He sighed, sending Nijimura an accusing glare before huffing in dissatisfaction and leaning backward. Ryota thoroughly hated being a benchwarmer.

To be one when those playing in your stead were better or needed was okay. But to warm the bench because of a stupid injury was revolting, understandable Ryota supposed, but annoying nonetheless. It was all the more irritating when the reason wasn't an injury but a skill you hadn't mastered.

How bothersome, to be a substitute because of something you could undoubtedly repress. It made him want to scream in annoyance, throw a tantrum even, but Mikaël refrained himself.

Now wasn't the time to, breathing slowly, as to calm his nerves and bubbling anger, Mikaël observed the match. Although Junior High players weren't as impressive as Senior High's, he supposed a skill was a skill, and he couldn't be picky with them at the moment.

His golden eyes trailed on every one of their moves, leaving specks of indigo in his irises, something which never happened in his former life. Not that the ex-Kaijo ace noticed.

"Would you like to play, Lamarre?"

Not expecting his name to be called Ryota wiped his head to face Head Coach Shirogane. Blinking his golden eyes, he chased the indigo light in them before earnestly gazing at the older man.

"Yes, Coach!"

Shirogane crinkled his eyes contemplatively before glancing at the court and humming. "Would you be able to mark their number four?" Their captain?

"Yes, Coach!" Ryota answered passionately, his mind going over what he had observed to, quickly gauge the number four.

Shirogane simpered, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully he hummed. "Good, we'll switch you with Fukuda in the next quarter," he said before turning back to look at the match.

Mikaël could feel a grin blooming on his face as he stared at his coach with renewed adoration. Flickering his eyes to the court, he focused on the captain.

The boy, a third-year had an impressive amount of stamina, and judging from the way he played, although Fukuda was bothersome, he didn't disturb him enough not to give directions to the rest of the team.

As the third quarter reached its end, Ryota began to stretch, giving his legs special attention, a habit from his former life after he injured them, Mikaël tied his hair into a high ponytail.

Though it was only for the last quarter, the green-haired teen supposed he at least had the chance to play despite being pulled out of the main line-up. Beggars couldn't be choosers. Slowly exhaling, he listened into their Coach's instructions before the match resumed.

Ah, he couldn't wait.

::

"Oh? You changed?" The number four, Adachi, wondered as he eyed the green-haired teen dubiously.

Mikaël only beamed, not bothering to voice any form of agreement, he hummed. His eyes narrowed in a cat-like manner, he let his lips curl up into a feral grin as he stared at the older male in anticipation, the excitement clearly glistening in his eyes.

Adachi merely raised an eyebrow at the boy's enthusiasm before widening his eyes slightly and knitting his brow. "Aren't you the 'wizard'?" He mumbled pensively.

Ryota flashed him a toothy smile before his 'body' shattered in a cloud of indigo. "Right, that," he heard in the back of his mind before the sound of the ball falling to the ground, and the whistling of a scored point echoed.

Adachi stared at the scoreboard, noticing Teiko's three new points before trailing his eyes to the green's figure.

When exactly did he fall under the boy's spell?

::

Laying on his bed, Mikaël gently hummed some random tune. Without much surprises, they had won their practice match against Shōei Junior High, and Mikaël had more or less regained his place as a regular.

Well, he did show them he could use his skill at will. Or fool them to believe so. Truth be told, Mika didn't understand what his ability entailed, but he knew it had to do with his determination, somehow. Or perhaps, his desire to win?

He wasn't sure, but at that point, he was a hundred percent confident it was linked to his mental state. An ability to trick his surrounding's senses that at the same time exposed his darkest thoughts by laying them bare for all to see.

It was tricky, a grand but deceiving ally. And to Ryota, who himself lived by misleading others with his looks, it was exhilarating. It gave some unknown spice to his life, and he liked it. He loved it, he relished in it.

Every time he felt himself lose a bit to his skill, being tricked by what he supposed was part of his mind, he felt alive. The border between life and death was thin, and to be reminded that he belonged to the living made him relaxed, almost complete.

Complete... It was true that part of him, since reincarnation, felt empty. Hollow, as if an important piece was missing to a gigantic puzzle. It was a peculiar feeling, something he never had in his past life, even when he was far from his beloved.

While it didn't impact his daily life, it made him sometimes feel giddy. Especially while he was in France, and Ryota could only wonder: why?

He had never felt so at home, so at ease, while the giddiness was at its peak. And now that he lived in Japan, with his manager, the feeling had subsided, leaving only a sour aftertaste. Though, sometimes he did feel at peace.

An unnoticeable discomfort that followed him everywhere. As if the balance in his body was disturbed. There was no harmony to his mind, only a pitiful makeshift to compensate a hole he wasn't conscious of. 

Rolling in his bed, Ryota rested his cheek on his pillow as he stared at the bedside table where a box sat. A box, a gift from his mother, passed down by his beloved grandmother.

Renée gave him the box for his tenth birthday, but the boy had yet to open it. He knew, more or less, what was in it. His Grandmother had told him briefly, how his mother kept every letter his father wrote in there, and Mikaël hadn't found the will to read them just yet.

To be honest, Ryota didn't care for these letters. He didn't know his mother, only what his grandmother and uncle told him, and much less his father. He didn't feel the need to know them either, unlike "normal" children, Ryota had had parents and knew where he came from.

To build a psychism which was already long-established was a waste of time. Renée was enough of a parental figure for him. Right, for Ryota it was enough.

But the part of him that remained a child, an aftereffect of reincarnation, was curious. The boy that identified neither of his parents strived to earn knowledge of them. To know where he came from. To understand why he existed.

And so, as if an unknown force had taken control of his body, Ryota who still laid on his bed, reached for the midnight blue box and pulled it his way.

He opened it, delicately, as if it was a fragile treasure. His hand ghosted over the stack of white, tentatively reaching for it before pulling his hand back and reenacting the action again and again like a broken cassette.

At last, he sat up and took the stack by the red ribbon that kept them together. He stared at the package with mixed feelings, curiosity, excitement, fear, and glee. He untied the ribbon.

The velvety feeling against his fingertips made him momentarily smile, it was agreeable before he neatly folded it and put it on his bedside table. His hand took the first letter, which was in a white envelope, his mother's address written on the back with a foreign postage stamp.

Not taking note of it, or of the stamp's origin for all it mattered, he carefully opened it. He could feel his heart drumming against his ribcage, his hands becoming a bit sweaty and his brows knitting themselves as his golden eyes focused entirely on the letter.

He unfolded it, slowly, carefully, afraid to tear the paper.

At last, he would know. He breathed, his eyes snapped open.

Cyrillic script greeted him. Ryota didn't read Cyrillic script.

Mikaël's excitement like a pierced balloon, deflated, leaving only disappointment and renewed determination behind.

"Claudecchi!" The teen cried from his room as he put the letters and red ribbon back into the midnight blue box. Jumping out of his bed, he rushed out of his bedroom.

::

Platinum blond, almost white silverish hair fluttered with a light evening breeze.

A white, translucent liquid swirled into a small glass.

The man's golden eyes trailed on the alcoholic drink, not bothering to spare his business partner a glance. In this deal, he was the Boss anyway, why care about some no-name pest who was trying to gain his favors with unhidden ass-kissing?

Taking his shot down in a single gulp, he put the glass down, a light tinking sound following the gesture as he nodded his man's way for a refill.

A man with ebony black hair walked up to the regal blond, his black trench coat fluttering with every step he took until he stopped behind the drinking man.

"мой господин," he called out as he leaned down to whisper into his superior's ear. "We have found what you wanted."

The blond's features didn't change, taking a small sip of his vodka, he nodded as a flash of dark orange coursed through his golden pupils. His gaze settled on the fidgeting 'associate' before him, a feral smile stretching on his previously bland face.

"I-is there a problem, My Lord?" The man asked, a thick Portuguese accent to his broken English.

The blond's grin stretched for a second before he went back to his poker face. "None, none at all. Do not worry." He reassured, voice devoid of feelings as he finished his glass.

The Portuguese visibly relaxed at the man's world before refilling his glass of vodka like his underling before.

The blond stared at him for a second before raising his finger, ushering the tan raven to come up to him and lean down.

"убить их всех."

The raven mutely nodded, taking his phone out he sent a few texts before casually putting it back in his coat's pocket.

"Has something happened?" The associate asked as he saw the Russian man stand up, his assistant handing him his coat and shades. The blond didn't answer, putting his hand out for his brown-haired secretary to lit him and give him a cigar, he snapped his fingers.

"сделай это."

Three clean shot echoed on the balcony, followed by three thumps.

The blond exhaled, watching the cloud of smoke dispel itself in the cold wind before his eyes trailed to his associate's trembling body.

"You know what to do," turning around, he calmly marched out of the balcony, dismissing the English pleas of the man until only Portuguese insults were thrown his way.

He exhaled another cloud of smoke. Unbothered.

мой господин /moy gospodin/: My Lord

бить их всех /ubit' ikh vsekh/: Kill them all

сделай это /sdelay eto/: Do it 

I do not speak a word of Russian, therefore if there's any error do not hesitate to tell me. I'll correct them as soon as possible.

Also, I'll try to get a more regular schedule update since CLOUDY's coming to an end (probably weekly).

Thank you for reading, until next time^^