67. MORE THAN ANYTHING

note: for that one person in my comments who gets on my dick about favouriting yukimiya i have NO SHAME i favourite him SO WHAT

this is basically free advertisement for why everyone should love yukimiya kenyu because he is the number one cutie in the world and is so RIDICULOUSLY overhated by NEANDERTHALS WHO HAVE NO SENSE OF READING COMPREHENSION. 

and all of his haters are those HIMSAGI CLEARS people too. no hate to them. but i hate HATE HATE HATE HATE yukimiya haters. you wont be laughing when i glue your buttcheeks together and feed you laxatives you hobgoblin

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MARIELE

pushes a loose strand of blonde behind her ear, looking down at the bedsheets. Sitting across from her, cross-legged on the sheets—she's explaining everything to you.

"And the next game is with England's Manshine City, in ten days." Mariele finishes off her recap with a stunning smile—it still lacks any sort of depth, but she smiles nonetheless. Placing her hands on the tablet that lay between you both—she pushes it towards you. "In the meantime, what should we do?"

She knows what you should do—but the whole point of your existence within her team is to learn—so she's teaching you how to organise your time properly.

(It wasn't so much as you did not have enough time to finish all your menial tasks, it's that you slotted yourself with too much time and to fill those empty spots you would task yourself with more—to the point you were losing sleep over this filthy, bad habit of yours).

You should do well to remember her gesture, you think, before tapping on the screen. It lights up, and it's immediately showing your blank to-do list for the next ten days. You place a finger on your chin, "We should... prepare with practice matches... and... do extensive research on the players we are already aware of. Look for weakness in both teams—exploit the opposition, remedy the teammates."

You could've just been imagining it, but her eyes light up with your words. She claps a little, before sending you a thumbs-up. "Good work. That is right—of course, you need to balance out your chores and daily tasks within this, but you should do well to spend a good amount of time with research. You know the Blue Lock players on their team, yes? You should already be familiar with their strengths and weaknesses."

"Right. I am." With her words, you suddenly feel a little more self-assured than before. It's a good feeling. You wonder if this is an effect managers should have on their teams. "I'll try and put together something to help with remembering all this."

Mariele smiles. "That's a good start. You're a very organised person. It's a good thing, [name]. It makes you diligent."

A strange sort of flutter appears in your stomach, and you almost feel like a peacock from the way you preen with joy at her praise. "Thank... you. I'm just trying my best. I don't really know everything about this whole managerial thing, so you lending me a hand is really helping."

Her eyes shimmer with an unidentifiable emotion. Mariele still holds up this sort of fog that always clouds over her striking green eyes—you wonder what may lie behind it. "It's nothing. All a part of the job. Still... If you wouldn't mind, I have a question."

You nod. "Sure."

"Isagi Yoichi was put into the game for "fan service", which is a very vague reason. But something that also stood out to me was that Noa specified it was put in his contract." As always, she says her words with such certainty that there's no room for you to doubt her thoughts. With your nod of acknowledgement, she continues, "Do you know why this is?"

You pause. You don't think you're breathing in this moment—you just can't feel it. You blink. You didn't expect this, but you weren't opposed to answering.

A smile stretches out across your lips, and you relax your shoulders. "I... am selfish."

She looks confused at your words, blonde brows furrowing. You continue, "I'm selfish. I want to see Isagi win, more than anything."

Thinking back now—you remember typing out the contract by hand after being given what it must entail by both Ego and Anri. You remember finishing up and correcting any mistakes with a perfect, steady hand.

You remember thinking back and typing in one last line of text.

Isagi Yoichi is required to participate in, at the very least, one soccer match.

You remember typing out a reason for this being in there, for fan service—but you're a liar. You are the most selfish being alive—you wish to see Isagi win. 

Mariele stares at you with wide eyes, and lips parted wide open. When you finish your explanation, you pause before continuing to talk, "But... even if it's too much to ask... please don't tell him. I... don't want him to know."

She eyes you. "... Why? You're the reason he was put in the game and the reason he may continue to be put into games. Don't you want him to recognise you for it?"

Perhaps being around somebody like Kaiser had affected her mentality in a way—you think, staring at her genuinely surprised expression. You shake your head, smiling fondly with your gaze trailed downwards, "No. I don't. Because... this is just my duty, as a manager, right? To help my player succeed in any possible way—it's all a part of the job."

To use her own words against her—Mariele's green eyes tremble with shock. So... that's what Kaiser meant when he said... 

* "And you, [name]... I misjudged you, too. Seeing what you did for the sake of the person you adore the most—it gave me chills. I want it. You're not just going to be a measly manager—you're my love interest."

You turn off the tablet, slipping off the bedsheets and putting your comfy shoes onto your feet. It's soft. You feel soft, for some reason. 

You tilt your head over your shoulder and send her a cheeky grin, placing your finger over your lips in a hushing motion, "So... don't tell him, okay? I'm just... doing what I can, to help him win!"

If it is a selfish and egotistical wish to hope to see Isagi succeed, over everyone else... 

Then I don't mind being the most self-serving, greedy person alive.

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There were multiple times throughout each day you had tried talking to Kunigami Rensuke. Each and every time, however, you had been blown off like you meant nothing to him. To say it hurt would be a gross understatement.

Compared to all those times you used to do that to your teammates during the first selection—to all those times you did that to him—was this really how they felt?

No. No way.

Because, at least then, they hadn't seen such a softer side of you.

Kunigami was always so kind. He talked about his sisters with you. He offered to let you meet them once they were all let out of Blue Lock.

But now, you doubted he would even give you a second thought. Cold, sunken eyes that were now devoid of it's sparkle. A rough, scratchy voice that sent chills down your veins. He stared at you like you were nothing but a bother. You think he hates you—but that means he must hate everyone (it's not too far-fetched, anyway).

Even so... you still can't help but hold out a little hope. For the kind boy who welcomed you with such a sweet smile, and the boy who ate steak with you and told you he would not rather have anyone else.

Kunigami...

I still want to meet your family.

And I still want to be your manager.

It's hard to mourn the loss of somebody who is still there, right in front of you.

With a dejected heart and head hung low, you walk out of the training equipment room down the hall. There's the distinct sound of a soccer ball flying into a net every couple minutes—and as you get closer to the stratum's training field, it grows louder and louder.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you peek inside.

There stands Yukimiya, alone, sweaty and panting in the middle of the room and discarded soccer balls surrounding him. His sports glasses are nearly tumbling off his face, and he's staring at the goal with squinted eyes and a heavy gaze. 

He looks conflicted—but it reminds you that Noa told you to have a talk with him about whatever went down in the locker rooms yesterday.

Yukimiya falls to the ground, sitting with one knee held up tight to his chest and he removes his glasses with a heavy sigh. You can vaguely hear him mumble a curse under his breath, clutching the upper part of his face with his hand.

His hearing must be quite good—or maybe it's just the fact that you're in such a silent room late this evening—because as soon as your slippers make contact with the crunchy grass, his head snaps up. He blinks at you—still squinting his eyes. 

It doesn't take too much longer until that model-like smile is plastered on his face—though, he makes no move to get up—looking up at you as you grow closer, "[name]. What's up?"

As happy as you'd think he'd like to believe he is—the face he made before he had noticed your presence still lingers in your mind. You wave a little—it was slightly awkward since you were clad in your pyjamas compared to his Blue Lock-issued tracksuit, but you tried to not let it bother you. "Hi, Yukki."

You take your place sitting beside him on the plastic grass. He looks away from you, a light, humourless chuckle escaping his lips as he speaks, "... Noa told you to see me, right?"

You swallow thickly, but still, you nod, fiddling with your fingers in your palm. "Yes, he did, but I'm still worried about you. You're not in trouble, it's just that you were not acting like yourself yesterday."

You can feel your composure slowly returning, and you cross your legs—arm extending to lightly place your hand on his shoulder. It's warm. He's warm. "Yukimiya—what's happening? Tell me. That's what I'm here for."

I'm your manager—it's my job to shoulder your burdens even when you do not wish me to.

A smile stretches out across his lips once more, but it just doesn't fit his face quite right. "I'm really fine, [name]." His tone is deadly blank. "I'm just... hoping to get a spot on the regulars."

It's such a glaringly obvious lie. He's squinting at you like you're miles away from him. You're right here. And you also happen to have his medical information. You twist your body around so that you're naturally facing him—you can an eyeful of his amber irises, "Yukimiya, please don't lie to me. If you think your sight is getting worse then—"

The words seem to tick him off—he shrugs your hand off his shoulder forcefully and his jaw is clenched—hard—eyes narrowed into a harsh glare and voice more forceful and strained than you've ever heard, "Don't say that. I'm fine. I..." He sucks in a deep, heavy breath at the sight of your shocked expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't... ugh."

He holds his head in his hands—knees pulled up to his chest—and he buries his face in them. He groans loudly, and for a second, he looks like he's about to cry. You can't see his face—but from the way his voice trembles—it's clear. 

You shuffle a little closer, a lithe hand finding itself atop his back. He is warm, like a campfire. "Just because Isagi is succeeding, doesn't mean you can't as well. There's nothing more to it."

He is silent. Not being the best with words—you aren't too sure what to say. Perhaps you are over-stepping, or you're poking your nose in things that are not your business—but since you've been in Blue Lock, everything's been your business.  "Even with unfortunate circumstances... feeling sorry for yourself... will not change a thing."

You like to think he can recognise the familiarity—the experience—in your tone. Yukimiya is a plethora of things—but you can say for sure that oblivious is not one of them. 

"I think you're really cool, Yukimiya." You say, honestly. The genuine tone in your tone makes him raise his head, and his bright orange eyes are now trained directly on you. "Even if you do not think so yourself. Even so... if you want to prove your existence, then you shouldn't prove it to—"

You gesture upwards to the blinding lights that shine down atop you both. "Everyone out there, but," your index finger pokes at his chest and his eyes widen, "To everyone there. That's all. In your own way, Yukki, you shall live."

Prepared to die with your ideals—that is exactly why you believe he should live.

You are not the best with words, but even so, Yukimiya Kenyu stares at you like you are, and as if you are kind. You are not.

You stand up. Dusting nothing off your pyjama pants, you peer down at him. He looks up at you without his glasses acting as any sort of barrier. His eyes sparkle from the fluorescent lights positioned right above you both. "Good luck, Yukki. I... hope to see you succeed. That is my only wish as your manager."

And it is the truth. Not once, have you lied—and he knows this. Before you turn on your heel and leave, he says, "Thanks."

A simple, short reply, but it makes you smile all the same. You gather yourself and leave with your head held high—leaving a star-struck Yukimiya behind you.

All you wish to do is help. Your duty as their manager, you've realised—is to help them in every way possible. You have been told this more times than you could count, but it had not felt as real to you as it had now.

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* 65 — THE WIN AGAINST SPAIN