Chapter Text
“What the hell is going on, Sae?!”
Rin was already irritated, starting with the meeting with his manager. But, of course, that wasn’t enough for one day, and, of course, things could get only worse.
And yes, Sae is resting on a couch with a laptop. He’s too fucking relaxed and calm for the cause of all the troubles. So Rin just stays right in front of him, ignoring his ongoing video call. He surely wasn’t discussing something important, after all, more like listening to the never-changing vulgar jokes from his so-called boyfriend.
“Can you follow the rules of etiquette at least when you’re my guest?” he sighs in the most dramatic manner. “I’m busy, by the way.”
“Can you be a little bit less of a pain in the ass?” Rin taunts.
The person on the other side of the screen doesn’t remain silent. And as much as it’s, again, irritating, it also reminds Rin of the existence of constants. Which brings, sad to admit, some comfort.
“Look who’s talking.”
“Shut up, Shidou.”
Honestly, Rin isn’t in the mood for arguing with him. It’s just a tradition he can’t ignore for the complete picture.
“Darling, your brother is always too sweet.”
Sae grimaces again, acting like he’s the oldest one here, the smartest, and tired of all this shit. Well, he really is the oldest, but it makes no difference.
“I’ll call you later,” he informs, closes the app and turns to Rin. “So. What has happened to you?”
“Let’s not play around. I’m sure it was your idea. Partly, at a minimum.”
Rin sits opposite him and puts a tablet on a table; or, to be precise, throws it, demonstrating his annoyance. “Project 9-IY-11”, the title says. Sae raises his eyebrow, pretending that he needs to check it out to understand.
“Oh, you want to discuss your new special project.”
He could call a stupid interview or a provocative photo shoot or an M&G with children “a new special project”. Everything but this exact madness. He even laughed in disbelief when he first heard it, which surprised the manager. Yes, very funny, Itoshi Rin definitely doesn’t know how to laugh and smile . As if it’s his fault—he hasn’t willingly chosen to become a magnet for absurd news.
“I don’t want to be a part of it,” Rin states. “It’s not my job.”
“Why not?” Sae asks, still carelessly. “Sounds like a great and unique opportunity.”
“Why me, if so? Great and unique—good for you.”
“I hate it when you’re like this. Arguing, complaining, but failing to explain what’s wrong.”
Gladly, Sae doesn’t add something similar to “many years ago, we were fighting because of it”. The prohibited attack for his angriest mode. Rin feels bad about it every time, even though he disagrees and always will. That was their shared fault.
“And you’re the mature one, aware of all better options, always able to choose wisely. Even if it’s connected directly with me, if it’s my business.”
“What can I do? My little brother cares only about the ball. But professional sport is more than playing.”
“And so we need to be clowns?”
“And so we need to have kinda brand.”
“Aren’t we already good enough as a brand? All that “invincible Itoshi brothers” stuff. Still can’t believe we starred in Twix advertising. We aren’t even goddamn twins!”
“You can’t participate in one event and do one commercial. Think of it as a routine.”
Rin knows he now sounds childish, but he can’t keep it to himself. Sae is right—it’s important to have an interesting image and do something journalists will write about. They both don’t enjoy such things, by the way. Back then, Sae was a person who ignored interviews and answered as laconically as possible (and who accustomed Rin to it).
“Is it even connected with our dream? Aren’t you satisfied with passing to the best striker?”
But now, in any case, their publicity isn’t the root issue, and that’s why Rin isn’t able to stop saying shit. And he has no enthusiasm to fairly and squarely reveal his concerns, which are at the same time stupid and hard to admit, so he shows his weak side. At least, in front of Sae, it’s not that unacceptable.
“I want you to be the best striker,” Sae confirms, and his smile turns tired while he puts his hand on Rin’s shoulder—he did it often when they were kids. “But for that, in addition to training, you need popularity and good offers.”
Sae is amazing this way, encouraging, and it helps to relax. Rin, like, really needs his reliable brother by his side, since, well, there’s no one else to understand him, to treat him informally. Their troublesome past nearly separated them, but they managed to fix the mess, to become a duo in football again and also a family. Sae realized that Rin is much more sensitive than it seems, prone to overreacting. And Rin, in turn, found out that Sae wasn’t some kind of idol based on his imagination.
“You’re not just being stubborn without reason, right?”
“Where to begin…”
…
It has started as an ordinary day—Rin was practicing, with some teammates and also alone, on his individual program. Then he was a little late for the meeting with the manager, due to checking out an artificial goalkeeper system’s new update. And, as if it was revenge, this exact manager, typically a bit shy, told him about testing an android.
“Sorry, what? I have to test a special android, developed for helping with football practice? Isn’t it… a task for someone less experienced than me?” was Rin’s first reaction .
He was intrigued—something completely new. It could be a waste of time, but Rin wasn’t too against it. But it made no sense to him, since they wouldn’t be able to track his progress from training to training. If only this android isn’t as skilled as, for example, Noel Noa. In which Rin doubted.
“As I was told, it can learn from what’s happening around. So, to make it aware of the superb technique, it first needs to work with someone like you,” was the manager’s explanation. “And you, of all top players, are also known for your interest in high-tech.”
It sounded like an idea of the football association, and that’s why it was also nice to know they finally recognized Rin’s talent and even complimented him. But there were also vibes of framing. If this android is good at analyzing, it can really copy and spread Rin’s special skills. He isn’t afraid of it, but the situation stinks from the beginning.
“I’m interested in high-tech because, excluding Sae, machines are better training partners than humans,” Rin hissed. “And, oh… The android. I hope it looks like ones from “Star Wars” or something, right?”
To Rin’s surprise, the manager blushed after those words.
“No… It looks one hundred percent human, with realistic communication skills. Too perfect, even making me feel scared.”
And the one and only fact made all the difference and started to worry Rin. Human-like being, but not a human…
“Does Sae… know already? What’s his point of view?”
Of course, the manager nodded. Somehow people are afraid of doing things connected to one of the Itoshi brothers without informing the second. Rin rarely uses Sae’s opinion and authority to protect himself, but it happens from time to time when he’s too lost.
“He thinks you’re a perfect candidate. And that it will be useful for you and for the country.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Rin smiled awkwardly. “I won’t be able to even normally yell at it thanks to video monitoring.”
…
Rin returns to reality and remembers that Sae is waiting for his answer. It seems like he has one option left after all. To be honest in explaining his concerns. Maybe it will help his brother to understand what’s so wrong about this situation.
“Sae, listen to me, okay? Telling it only once, will not repeat,” Rin groans. “I’m not good with people, if you haven’t noticed yet. And communicating with androids… What should I expect? No damn idea. They have been a part of our society for a short time. Laws and rules are still incomplete; no normal advice or tutorial. They aren’t treated as humans, but they can’t be punched or cursed too just in case,” he explains. “I’ll fuck up, and all these reputational work you’re talking about will be ruined.”
“Can it be… That you’re worried about failing me?”
Only half the truth was revealed, but it’s perfectly enough. Another part, about his attitude toward androids, something even Sae doesn’t know, is a different story. And today isn’t a proper time for such a conversation—he’s already tired.
“I…” Rin mumbles, caught red-handed. “Don’t want another midfielder and his horrible passes, so we need to stay as we are, in one team, causing no trouble.”
“Don’t worry,” Sae grins, fortunately, not trying to make it more embarrassing. “You have only football on your mind. The android probably also has only football on his… program? You’ll get along!”