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“It’s honestly a pain,” he complains with a loud sigh, slumping to the ground in a manner that could be considered as utterly graceless by his etiquette teachers. Then again, the only one with him at the moment is Nagi, who doesn’t care for those things. “We really have to win the Nationals so that my parents would stop messing around with my life.”
“You really do sound like some protagonist,” is how Nagi responds to him.
They’re both wearing their school jerseys, made from top-class fabrics that Ba-ya has a renowned clothing company manufacture. Their elbows brush together, drying sweat making their skin stick. It’s a sensation that has long been registered as part of normal skinship by his brain.
After carrying Nagi on piggyback multiple times, cycling him back home, embracing him after every successful goal, dragging him by the arm or shoulder whenever he wants to show him something—this kind of close contact isn’t even worth noting.
“I’m sure they’re all lovely people.” One good thing about talking with Nagi is that he doesn’t bear him any jealousy whenever he talks about disdaining the wealth and influence force-fed into his mouth. “But having to attend all those soirees and arranged dates is so time-consuming! We need to prepare for the Best 4 matches!”
Nagi’s eyes drift, a sure sign that he’s thinking once again of playing mobile games. “Mm, but haven’t you already strategized everything so we’d win the next round?”
Another good thing about Nagi is even if he appears so disinterested, he does know him so well. He’s also not stingy with his praise for his talent as the captain. He feels buoyed by the other’s confidence in his plans. “I did, but we still have to make sure to prepare for any setback! It’s the Best 4, and once we get to the prefecture finals, that’s only when we can secure the ticket to Nationals!”
In fact, the two of them are hanging around after training in order to squeeze in more training for the two of them. There’s no doubt to anyone that they’re the core of this team. His playmaking and Nagi’s genius: they’re truly invincible. And because they’re invincible, he cannot allow that kind of history tainted by anything.
“You could tell that you’re already dating someone,” Nagi says, sounding bored by the topic.
He doesn’t mind the other’s disinterest in this matter—after all, even he is bored by this kind of talk. Who cares about dating the daughter of so-and-so’s CEO, that doesn’t help him with his dream of winning the World Cup with Nagi! Urgh, his parents really don’t understand him!
He waves a dismissive hand. “They know that I’m too busy playing with soccer and that I’m not the sort who’d just casually date. So they wouldn’t believe that—”
—wait a minute.
“Nagi, you’re a genius!” He regains a burst of energy, bouncing so that he’s kneeling over Nagi’s stretched legs, sitting on top of the other’s knees to make sure he doesn’t escape. “I’ll tell them I’m busy with soccer and busy dating you! Then, they’d stop trying to get me to attend all those soirees!”
His parents might even be shocked by the possibility that he’s so gay that he wouldn’t give them heirs, and that shock would hopefully last all the way to Nationals. By then, he’d have made a name for himself and Nagi, so they can’t say anything to him anymore! It’s perfect!
Nagi gives him a look. “…Wouldn’t they insist even more on you meeting all those women with high pedigree?”
He returns that look. “If they offer you money to break up with me, you’re absolutely not allowed to take it!” Then, he mulls it over. “Or, you could take it, but still continue to date me!”
“Being involved in all that drama sounds troublesome,” is said with pursed lips.
…Tsk. He can’t even refute it, because he also finds it troublesome. He finds his shoulders drooping. A crestfallen expression must be on his face.
But Nagi really is the best, after all.
After several moments of silence, Nagi sighs deeply. “It sounds troublesome, but I don’t find you troublesome, so I can give it a try.”
Reo hugs him in happiness, beaming from having his crisis solved. “You’re not allowed to change your mind, okay?”
-
Nagi doesn’t change his mind.
Things don’t change much either, aside from less nagging at him to attend all those soirees. His parents are seemingly repelled by his announcement that he’s dating the soccer genius who would surely reign at the top of the world.
To make this subterfuge more believable, he even keeps it a secret from Ba-ya, and he even makes sure that everyone in Hakuho knows it.
During the interview for their advancement to the prefectural finals, he squeezes Nagi’s shoulders and declares, “It’s the power of our love that has made us prevail in this match!”
5-2, with 3 goals from Nagi and 2 from him. It’s a convincing win, and there are brighter spotlights focused around Nagi’s skill. He looks bored and unmoved by the gushing praise for his ability to contort his body into all sorts of beautiful shooting poses, all by instinct.
To the questions about his ability, he only ever says, “I’m only playing because of Reo. It’s his fault.” Then, he lightly dozes against Reo’s shoulder, only mumbling to ask for a piggyback ride to the locker room once everyone’s finished interviewing Reo.
This time, Nagi changes his routine a bit. Without the need for planning beforehand, Nagi picks up his hand and interlocks their fingers. “I’m only playing because of Reo,” he repeats his usual words, then tugs at their joined hands, as if eager to bring him away.
For his part, Reo is more moved that Nagi is actually willing to walk by himself back to the locker room. It seems that the win today has energized the usually-lazy man.
“You’re more proactive today,” he comments once they’re alone in the changing room. Their teammates are already waiting for them in the school bus, used to this routine of the double aces having to be held back for interviews after each match.
“I want lemon juice later,” is the ‘demand’ from his ‘boyfriend’.
“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” is his easy agreement. After all, this is his treasure, it’s only right that he takes care of him.
-
The day before the prefecture finals, a group of girls from 3-2 wait for him in front of the club room. Before he could wipe off the sweat from his face using the towel around his neck, Nagi wipes it for him using his bare hands.
Caught off-guard, he could only say, “Nagi, you…”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Nagi declares without much fluctuation in his voice. “So your love letters would be in vain. As long as you know that he’s mine, then you can give them to him.”
That embarrasses them to the point that they run away. Reo hopes that they wouldn’t post about weird rumors slandering Nagi from this, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye on the situation anyway.
“Thanks, Nagi. I can’t afford to have them distract us from our goal.” While it’s possible for him to use techniques to diffuse the situation, his mind is too busy thinking about tomorrow’s match.
“You’re too popular,” would sound like a complaint, if not for the fact that Nagi’s still caressing his face. “It can’t be helped.”
Sometimes, Nagi has these moments, where he’d grow pensive and say things like, “With all these people wanting to transfer to our school so they could play with you, then you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
“You’re the only one in my eyes,” he says, the line lacking any manipulation or planned intent. It’s just the pure and simple truth.
He wants to win tomorrow’s match, he wants to win the Nationals, he wants to win them a spot in the National Team, he wants to win the World Cup together. And in that entire journey, he wants everyone to know just how much of a soccer genius Nagi is, just how much worthy he is of being called the best in the world.
“…Good,” Nagi says, before leaning down to brush their lips together. There’s a decisive hunger in his eyes, similar to how he looks whenever he’s about to do crazy things to score a goal. And the force of that is present in their kiss, but it’s incomparably gentle too, as if he’s the treasure instead. “Treat me to something after tomorrow’s game.”
“Good,” he echoes, and in this moment, he feels like he can win anything.
-
end