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Reo had become a master of adaptation, a chameleon who could shape himself to fit whatever role others expected of him. From his earliest days in elementary school to the field of Manshine City, he had forgotten what it was like to be himself. The real him felt like a sort of illusion, something he once saw that had later disappeared.
It all started with a simple piece of advice from his parents. The words from his parents echoed in his mind, the same words he heard as a child: 'Don’t cry, Reo. People don’t like that. It’ll make you look spoiled.' He had learned that lesson well—so well, in fact, that now, even when his body screamed for rest, he pushed through, hiding his exhaustion behind a mask of forced normalcy.
The memory of that day lingered
in his mind. He had been outside, carefree, jumping around, until he fell and scraped his knee. It was a bad scrape—if you looked close enough, you could still see the faint scar.
But what really stuck with him was the scolding he received afterward. Crying in public, in front of others, was a sign of weakness. It was a vulnerability that could be exploited by anyone watching—especially the reporters who hovered around, waiting for any opportunity to turn his life into a story. That’s when Reo learned to hide, to bury his emotions deep inside where no one could see them.
Blue lock was supposed to be a restart, he had originally assumed that it would be isolated. Until he realized how many cameras were everywhere, just to catch footage for BLTV. Blame him for years of being in the public eye, but he could even spot the well hidden ones in the baths. Usually just covering it with a towel.
Every time he tried to be normal, although it never felt perfectly genuine, people treated him like he was weird. Although Nagi was the only one who actually commented on it.
“Is something wrong?”
“Hm, what do you mean?”
“Reo’s being weird..”
And that was that, he never pried as much as he wanted too. He could never understand the genius. All he could do was try.
At least there was soccer. Soccer was the one thing that still felt like his own. He enjoyed it, no matter how many games he won or lost. He could lose himself in the thrill. Well, it was enjoyable enough, but it was more tense. Blame him for getting attached to his treasure, but with their new strained relationship made him a little nervous for the future.
Manshine City had been tough on him. It was the main point of the Neo Egoist league, to get players training with people in actual tournaments. Without a doubt, Reo was proud of his improvement, his passes were smoother, and he had a better idea of who he was around.
But the social chameleon was still a chameleon on the field, and he found himself adapting to people’s styles easier.
Practice was hard enough, it was made for the big leagues. Blame him for thinking this, but sometimes it didn’t feel like Chris was made to be an altogether coach. Sure, he had great ideas and gave great advice. It was just that practices were taking a toll on his body. He found more strange bruises appearing on his legs, and scratches. There wasn’t anything to blame them on other than training.
Yet, he would nod along with Chris when he would give group advice. From healthy diets to enough sleep, he would smile at it, even if internally he was rolling his eyes. No one got to the top healthily, well at least not quickly. And Reo, unfortunately, wanted to be the best quickly.
Slowly, he was starting to train without Nagi even more. He couldn’t fall behind him, not again, not ever. He had to prove to Nagi that he was worth staying with. Chris never locked the door to the field after practice, usually because he would practice on his own later. And thankfully, blue lock didn’t have many safety measures for mental or physical health. So, late into the night when everyone was asleep, he would sneak to the field and practice until his legs could barely stand.
All secrets could only be held for so long. And he could tell, very clearly, that Chris was slowly catching on. Although he never really said anything directly, Reo could tell. Chris was talking more about taking rest, keeping a closer eye on Reo. And since Blue lock didn’t have any makeup, he couldn't cover up the slowly more noticeable eyebags. Let alone the fact his legs were getting more sore, since he was too tired at night to stretch.
Unfortunately, everyone has a limit. No matter how hard you think you can work, no matter how long you think you can go. The body will forever hold back the soul.
Rel scored another goal, then another, his legs trembling with each attempt. The holograms blurred, the cones distorted as his vision faltered. The ball slammed into the metal wall with a sharp clang, but the sound was distant. His body screamed for rest, but he kept moving. Every shot was a miss. Every miss felt like failure.
His legs burned with each step, and the smell of fake grass mixed with the metallic tang of sweat. The ball rolled sluggishly across the field, its sound dull against the quiet of the night. Every movement felt like dragging his body through mud, but still, he pushed forward, chasing perfection that always seemed just out of reach
At least until the rack was pulled away from his grasp. As he reached for the rack of balls, his hands unsteady. His body swaying, nearly crashing to the ground, a voice cut through the haze.
“Reo.” It was soft but firm. He blinked, struggling to focus. His back straightened as his mind snapped awake—Chris. His gaze dropped immediately. Shame weighed him down.
“Coach,” he muttered, barely a whisper.
God, why couldn’t he be better. He should’ve been quieter, sneakier. He wouldn’t even be up this late if he was better, he should’ve just kept up more, been a quicker learner. By this point his parents would’ve been screaming at him. And at this point, he would’ve rather had that. Reo’s chest tightened as the words from his parents resurfaced—'Don’t cry, Reo. People don’t like that.' The pit in his stomach deepened, threatening to swallow him whole. Why couldn’t he be better? Why was he always behind?
“Why are you up this late? It’s nearly two in the morning, and we have to prepare for the match this week.”
Reo opened his mouth to respond, closing it after 2 seconds. Chris’s eyes were only burning into his head, already hung low. How do you tell someone who’s been perfect all their life, been such a quick learner, been perfect, been everything Reo wanted to be since he found soccer, that he was training because he was pathetic. He was falling behind and needed to keep up.
He could hear Chris talking, and he was trying to listen. Some form of advice he couldn’t bother listening to. His peripherals slowly go blurry, then a dark grey slowly overcomes his vision.
“Reo?” Chris looked at him, “Hey, are you listening.” He snapped in front of his face.
Reo fell, and he fell hard, almost like a lead brick. Thank god Chris’s reflexes were quick enough to respond and catch him. He was still conscious, barely. He felt himself get picked up, but that was it.
Next time he woke up, he was the infirmary. Chris was talking to a nurse about what happened. And the still exhausted Rep decided to close his eyes, once again