00. IF ONLY.

₊˚ ⋅ᡣ𐭩⋆.˚

IF 

nothing else, you are diligent. You, [name], are the most diligent person in the entire world, with no mistake. This fact alone brings you comfort. To live is to work and to work is to provide for the life your existence warrants—and to you, it is a comfortable, quiet, and most importantly, stable life with not too much yet not too little at all.

If there is nothing else to your life apart from your work—you aren't too sure you'd mind it, no, not one bit.

Of course, there are some life pleasures you'd like to experience before your inevitable passing. You aren't too fond of drugs or meaningless sex, but you do wish to travel. Perhaps around Europe, or Asia Minor. You heard that it's especially lovely when it snows. 

You'd like to adopt a fluffy dog or even have a child before you're in your late forties and all alone—but you're no older than 26, and you have a long way to go ahead of you to be thinking about children of all things.

But despite all this—you have never been too fond of love.

Love. What is love? You of all people do not know.

You love your parents. You're sure if you ever did end up having a child you'd love them with all your heart. You guess you loved the parrot you used to own as a child (at least, at some point before it bit your ear and made you cry). You love the cheese bread you used to get every day at your old office job—even if it was overpriced and sometimes dry, it always felt like a sweet reward after piles of paperwork.

You love yourself to some capacity—not to the point where it would be considered obsessive, but enough so you're not too insecure. You're not a stupid, insecure teenager anymore, and you have no reason to hate the life you have been living, especially not the one with you inside of it.

You can hardly imagine loving another person the way you love all these things, however. It feels unnatural, almost foreign to a woman such as yourself—to love another like this.

You'd only ever dated one guy in high school, and the relationship ended terribly—you'd like to think this is not the reason why you are the way you are, but you could never really rule out such a possibility. Nevertheless, it didn't make it any less humiliating.

Call it selfish, call it strange, call it whatever you'd like—this is simply the way [name] feels about her life, and you do not think there may be any way to change it. You'd always been far too stubborn—even as a young girl.

It's why you've survived this long in Project Blue Lock. Your straight-forward hard-headedness is one of the main reasons you've lasted longer than any of the others, dealt with Ego's ridiculous, high-standard demands, and put up with the constant overload of male testosterone that is the Blue Lockers.

Sometimes, you wonder why you had even taken this job.

You think this as you pick up another basket full of laundry. You were stuck with the leftovers—the Blue Lockers were now on their week-long break after the hype that was the U-20 match and all this fame from the media—you were just about ready to tumble over and never get up.

How far could Blue Lock go? You've wondered but never told. 

There wasn't really anybody you could confide in, anyway. Anri was kind—but despite her being not too much younger than you—she had a certain childish wonder towards this project which made it hard for you to talk to her in such a manner. The other staff members were nice—the doctor in particular offering her kind support and a person to talk to when things got tough.

But still, you felt as if there was a part of you that was still unfulfilled in some way. You were surrounded by dumb, egotistical teenagers for the majority of the day, seven days a week, for as long as the month goes.

It's not like your boss was much help—in fact, he may have been a huge part of why you feel this way. Jinpachi Ego is nothing short of a mystery, and you're not too fond of said mystery. You don't wish to be the one who solves his strange, unwell problems—but you guess that only a man as insane as Ego could pull a project like this off.

You would never be able to understand, but you feel like maybe it is better this way. You're a regular person, and you're completely fine with that.

You drop the laundry basket with a loud thud and I land on the ground, inches away from your toes. You let out a loud, chest-heaving sigh before bending down and pushing some of the dirty socks into the machine.

A daily routine that this had become—the smell barely even bothers you now.

Just the perks of being a manager.

"[name]. Report to Ego Jinpachi's office, effective immediately."

Anri's voice is unmistakable in your ears and it rings like a secret message only you could decode—even if you knew the entire facility probably heard it and believed you were in trouble. If you listened hard enough, you may have been able to hear some distinct ooohs coming from the resident troublemakers.

Nevertheless, as the diligent hard-working and loyal employee you are, you turn tail and leave the washing room as soon as the announcement ends.

You pass by a few of the Blue Lockers on the way—each giving you their own little distinctive look. Isagi's look was slightly worrying and perhaps concerned, while Shidou was smirking and looked as if he was somewhat amused at the prospect of you getting into trouble.

He always was a little brat.

Whatever. You don't care. It's not like you're going to get fired on the spot, right? And no way you were about to meet some big famous guys when you were here looking like you have just been raised from the dead, right?

...

...

...Right...?

The first thing you notice when you walk inside the office is 4 strange men you are unfamiliar with. One of them looks distinctly familiar, but you can simply not put your finger on it.

You walk inside the office and the door swings open in front of you with a creak that sends a shiver down your spine. The room was dark except for the light that shone onto your boss' pale skin—somebody, even from behind, you could undoubtedly point out as Jinpachi Ego.

Beside him was Anri. She holds a clipboard to her chest and wears a red sweater, which is just as fuzzy and soft-looking as her bright hair—she looks at you and smiles, her signature charming grin brightening your vision.

Ego spins around on his chair. It's somewhat menacing—it probably would've been a lot more spine-chilling if he was not posed like some sort of disobedient toddler who did not want to take their feet off their chair.

"[name]." You're glad he speaks because the silence in the room was starting to get to you. Ego points at the four strange men who have now turned and revealed their faces to you.

Four men, all tall in height and muscular in build—but more noticeably, is the fact that none of them are Japanese. They all look somewhat European in some way.

The first man, had tan skin, a stubbled chin, and a bright yellow mohawk. He has a tattoo wrapped snugly on his bicep, and the circular sunglasses that sit on his nose bridge draw immediate attention to his bright purple eyes. He sends you a smile—coy and confident—it sends shivers down your spine.

The second—electric yellow eyes and platinum blonde hair held back with a snug black headband around his hairline. His nose was large, almost beak-like, and, by far, the most noticeable feature on his face. He had prominent smile lines and looked older than the rest by a fair amount—but he held a certain attractiveness to that with the smile he sports.

The third, on the other side of Ego's chair—is a man with a wavy blonde middle part and crystal blue eyes that could draw anybody in, and a mole below his lip that makes him look rather mature. He was the most conventionally attractive man in the room by far, and the way he posed and behaved, he knew it. His body and posture seemed to radiate male confidence, even cockiness, and pure testosterone. His pearly grin is charming, in a teasing, yet almost princely way.

The fourth man—he holds a distant gaze. Snow white hair and golden eyes that resembled that of an owl—wise yet silent. He was the only foreign man in the room who was not smiling and held almost an air of authority in the room, even with the presence of Ego.   There was something about him—something that was so...—

Wait, no—you recognise this one.

"Noel Noa?" You instinctively ask, eyes wide in shock at the sight of him. He's taller than you imagined, even knowing his true height.

The man in question does nothing more to acknowledge you than simply nod—in a wise, all-knowing old man sort of way.

Ego grins, wicked and as much as a sneer as it is a smile, "Yes, mhm, of course, right on the money. These are all the master strikers of this world's modern generation, and they've all come here, to Blue Lock, as coaches for our boys. Isn't that amazing?"

That's a big rhetorical question, you note. You want to ask where all this money has come from, but for the sake of your peace of mind and paycheck, you decide against it.

Ego speaks up again, fingers tapping together in a villainous way, "And now, I have a request for you, [name]."

He says request, but you have a sinking feeling that this is less of a request than a demand. 

"You shall show these fine gentlemen around this facility—so that they should not find hardship in making their way around shortly."

Anri stands beside him, looking almost thoughtless as she nods to what he says. You wish to ask why, exactly, but you don't—you've learned over your time here in Blue Lock. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to have a kind boss who cared about your well-being even the least—but alas, this is your life, and this is (for whatever reason) your chosen job.

"Now, hurry, hurry." He waves his hand dismissively—in a demeaning, almost dog-like motion—something that bothers you, yet you, once again, do not have a single rebuttal to say. Even if you did have the metaphorical balls to snap back at him—it's not like he would care anyway. Just a waste of your breath. 

You pause, meeting the golden eyes of Noel Noa—something you never thought you'd ever say. "... Of course."

You turn swiftly on your heel, expression as motionless as you can possibly make it. You peer over your shoulder, "Please, follow me."

You step out of the room, and you feel the presence of those four men behind you—looming, almost scary in a way, due to the extreme height difference—but you don't let it bother you in the slightest, staring forward to the bright hall in front of you.

"Where we goin' first, mama?" A tanned elbow finds its way onto your shoulder and you barely conceal the distasteful expression on your face. "I'm thinkin'... my quarters, eh?"

God, you think, hallucinating the dark, evil grin of Jinpachi Ego in the distance. 

I really deserve a raise.

₊˚ ⋅ᡣ𐭩⋆.˚

* NEXT CHAPTER—A WICKED TOUR. 
೨⟢ You find yourself touring these strange men around, recounting it to your doctor friend—though, it seems you've found yourself in more trouble than you could ever possibly ask for...

NEXT TIME, ON ECLIPSED AFFECTION !! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

© iliverae

notez : thank u hina for helping me out with this chapter sm!!! I LUV U HEH