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"Barou! Barou, do you have a moment?"
Barou looks over his shoulder, spotting Snuffy down the hallway. He jogs to catch up with him, eyes glinting. "Oh, did I catch you post-workout?" he asks. It's a rhetorical question; Barou has a gym towel draped around his shoulders and is covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He cocks an eyebrow. "...Yes. I'm on my way to the showers. What do you want?"
"Well, once you're out of the shower, do you think you could show me something? Just an hour of your time, that’s all, I swear.” he pleads, holding his palm vertically. Barou tuts and looks visibly irritated, as usual. “An hour of my time cuts into stretching, tidying up, and rest. I don’t have that kind of downtime when the Manshine match is coming up in three days.” he grumbles.
Snuffy scoffs. God forbid the Princess doesn’t get his beauty sleep. “I’m sure you’ll be able to fit it in tonight. Now!” he claps his hands. “As you know, being a professional athlete often sends you around the globe to lots of different countries. Even though I play for an Italian team, I’m originally from Malta. I grew up speaking Maltese and English, and now I’m fluent in Italian as well. And now, here I am in Japan—”
“Get on with it.” Barou groans.
Impatient little brat. “I want you to teach me some Japanese. Just a couple phrases! I’d love to add another language to my repertoire.” he says.
A tapping sound drums against the earbud firmly planted in Snuffy’s ear. “We have these.” Barou says, leaning over. “You don’t need to learn anything if we all magically understand each other already.”
Snuffy shakes his head, his blond shaggy hair bounding against his headband. “No, no, you’re looking at it the wrong way. That’s too utilitarian.” he says. “I want to talk to my players using my own words in their language, even if it’s in broken Japanese.” he chuckles.
Barou averts his gaze somewhere down the hallway. “Besides, you won’t even be in Japan for that long. The Neo Egoist League is wrapping up in a couple weeks, isn’t it? What’s the point?” Snuffy scratches the back of his neck at the same time Barou dabs some sweat away from his face with the towel. “Sheesh, kid, does everything have to have a noble purpose? I just think it would be fun.” he mutters.
An awkward air settles over the two of them in the sterile, steel-plated halls of the facility. Two other Ubers players can be faintly heard chatting in another corridor. Barou turns back around towards the showers, but faces Snuffy briefly. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll meet you in your office.”
Snuffy beams. “Deal!”
----------
As Snuffy clears piles of clipboards, pens, and cheap snacks from the desk, he hears a knock at the door. “Come in, I’m just cleaning up a bit!” he calls. He knows that the King would pitch a fit if he saw the usual state of his office, cluttered with papers and books on strategy, psychology, and business stacked to the ceiling.
Barou enters in his leisurewear, carding his fingers through his hair. Snuffy almost doesn’t recognize him without it spiked up into place. “Feel refreshed, King?” he smirks. Barou makes an indifferent noise, but Snuffy can tell by the way his brows aren’t knit that he doesn’t seem especially bothered to give some language lessons. “You ready?” Barou asks. “You better be grateful I agreed to this.”
Snuffy pulls up a chair and laughs. “Is that any way to talk to your coach, brat?” he challenges.
What’s left on the desk is a pencil, Snuffy’s phone, and a random Blue Lock document flipped around to the blank side. Snuffy’s wide eyes stare into Barou’s as he sits down, making him feel like he’s about to take an exam. An exam with a very, very eager proctor.
“Alright, let’s start with some basic stuff. ‘Hello’, ‘nice to meet you’, ‘my name is’, et cetera.” Snuffy says. “We’ll both take off our earbuds, you’ll say it, I’ll repeat it and write it down until we both put them back in for the next phrase. Sounds good?” he prattles on excitedly.
“Sure.” Barou and Snuffy both take out their translators and place them on the desk. Snuffy places a hand to his temple, the sensation of taking the earbud out feeling foreign when he’s not sleeping or showering.“Ah, inħossni stramb.”"Ah, it feels weird." He laughs.
Barou pauses, listening to Snuffy’s unfiltered voice for the first time. It’s gravelly, deeper than the computerized voice in the earbuds had interpreted it. He wonders if it’s always sounded like that, or if something happened to his voicebox in the past. It’s unexpected for someone with his demeanor, but fitting. He likes it.
Snuffy whistles. “Barou?”
He blinks. “すまん.” "My bad." he mumbles. Barou doesn’t need a translator to understand his own name.
Barou clears his throat. “こんにちわ. こ-ん-に-ち-わ.” "Hello. Hell-o." he enunciates. It feels strange to speak in such a formal and stilted way, but it seems to be the right pace for a beginner like Snuffy. “こにちわ.” "Helo." he repeats back to him. Barou rolls his eyes. “こ-ん-にちわ.” "Hel-LO." he says, emphasizing the second syllable. “Jien għedt li? こにちわ.” "Isn't that what I said? Helo." Snuffy says, confused.
“へたくそ...” "Goddamn peasant..." Barou growls and shoves his earbuds back in. “You’re not saying it correctly. You’re missing the second syllable!” he barks. Snuffy inserts his earbuds too. “It sounded like four to me! Settle down, you goddamn brat!” He reaches for his pencil to amend his written notes. Barou peers at what he’s scrawled down and balks at his attempt at transliteration. “And what the hell is with those notes?!” He scans elsewhere in the office for a pen and grabs it. “Give me that.”
Snuffy slides the paper across the desk with a single pointer finger and Barou begins to write his own notes for Snuffy. “You’re not writing the romaji correctly. It should be spelled like this.” he says. Barou neatly writes konnichiwa = hello on the document himself, and passes it back to Snuffy. He stares at it for a moment. “Barou...Do you know English?” he starts.
Barou startles, but schools his expression. “Not a lot. I’ve been taking classes since middle school, and I get pretty good grades. I had a private tutor, too.”
Humble much, King? Snuffy folds his arms on the desk.
“This handwriting is neater than most native speakers I know. Including myself.” Snuffy remarks. “Why don’t you translate it in English? If you say it in English and then Japanese, we’ll be able to understand each other. Our lingua franca!” he says. Barou cards his fingers through his hair. “Fine. My accent isn’t perfect though.” he grumbles.
Eventually, they take their earbuds out again to continue their language exchange. Barou is a surprisingly skilled teacher, Snuffy thinks, albeit impatient. He gives examples and contexts for each phrase that he writes down, having taken control of the note sheet. And with each new word, Barou forcefully jabs the pen into each written syllable so there is zero confusion.
Just as they've settled into a nice rhythm, an alarm beeps on Snuffy's phone. “Ah! Diġà?” "Ah! Already?" he gasps. His brows furrow at the blinking 9:00 pm on the alarm. “Barou–” Snuffy starts, fumbling for the earbuds. “Barou, wait, I know time's up but can you teach me just one more thing? I wanna say something specific to the team.” he practically begs. “Please?”
Barou sighs. “You get ONE more. That's it.” he says, picking up the pen.
Snuffy rubs the bridge of his nose. “I want to tell them that they're the best strikers…but they'll never be better than me.” he chuckles mischievously. “You can just write it down at the bottom, don't worry about the English translation.”
An equally mischievous cog turns in Barou's head. “Sure.” he says, beginning to write.
“You know, you can always come to me if you want to learn Maltese or Italian. I suppose Lorenzo would be better for Italian, but I've lived in Italy for quite a while now.” Snuffy rambles, shuffling his headband off of his head. Barou scrunches his nose. “Why would I ever want to do that?” he says.
The corners of Snuffy's grin fall ever so slightly.
Embarrassed, Barou coughs and stares anywhere but his clearly hurt expression. “I…I would forget it if I didn't practice. Besides, I have no idea if I'll end up playing for Japan or another team in the league that bids on me.” he sputters.
Snuffy sighs, shaking his head. “This whole bidding system that he's concocted…” he trails off. “I don't know where you're headed, but whichever team ends up with you will be very, very lucky.” He pats Barou on the shoulder. “I can only hope that I get to share the pitch with you after the Neo Egoist League.”
Barou halts to look at him as he tucks his chair in. All he responds with is an inaudible mumble before turning towards the door.
It seems that Snuffy registered the words that just left his mouth; now it's his turn to feel flustered. “So! I'll see you tomorrow morning at practice, then! Don't forget your…routine! Goodnight!” he stammers, waving.
He sighs when Barou leaves the office. All the fanciest translation tech in the world, yet it's still so difficult to talk to each other sometimes.
----------
In the Italy wing of Blue Lock, the practice field bustles with soccer athletes warming up before practice begins. The energy in the air before practice doesn't carry the adrenaline that comes before a match, but still has a buzz that courses through the veins of each player. A chance to refine a new strategy, catch up with teammates, or simply start a scrimmage that scratches an itch until the real match.
Snuffy jogs around the perimeter and into the field, greeting each and every team member on Ubers. He says good morning, checks in on proper stretching techniques, and asks how their evenings were. But when he finds a contender from Blue Lock, he excitedly motions for them to follow him.
“Aiku! Could you come here for a second, please?” he asks.
Aiku pushes himself to his feet, finishing his one-armed push-ups. “Wuh-oh. Am I in trouble?” he jokes.
“Not this time, at least.” Snuffy replies.
When all the players are gathered, Snuffy motions for everyone to take out their earbuds, doing the same himself. Puzzled, they all comply. Sendou squints his eyes in suspicion.
“おはよう!” "Good morning!
Snuffy beams, eyes crinkled from how wide he's grinning. Aiku chuckles and gives a small wave. “おはよう, じいちゃん.” "Good morning, old man." Niko bows ever so slightly and musters a quiet “おはようございます”. "Good morning." The rest of the players follow suit greeting him, mostly amused.
From the back of the crowd, Barou huffs through his nose. He'll never understand why this is so thrilling to Snuffy, but as long as it makes him happy. His ears perk up when he hears a piece of paper unfold from his pocket.
Snuffy narrows his eyes at the phrase at the bottom of the page, and clears his throat. “俺は…最悪のストライカーで…すごくくせー…です.” "I am...the worst striker, and...I...smell awful." he reads aloud.
Aiku howls with laughter, along with many other Blue Lock contenders. Snuffy's head whirls around, flickering between each player's expressions. “Xiex, xiex?” "What, what is it?" he says. “Kien umoristiku...?” "Was it that funny...?"
Sendou pipes up. “あの…” "Um..." He walks up and taps him on the shoulder, slotting his earbuds in again. Somehow, he looks more embarrassed than Snuffy.
The coach scrambles to put his earbuds in. “I said I was the greatest striker, right? What's going on?” he sputters.
Aryu gives him a look of pity. “I believe someone played a prank on you. You just told everyone that you're the worst striker.” he says. “And that you smell like ass!” Aiku cackles.
Snuffy zeroes in on Barou. “You little…” he growls. Barou's pointedly looking away, lips pursed tight. He steals a glance at the coach and lets out a snicker.
“Get over here, you brat!!”
The other Ubers part like curtains as Snuffy charges after Barou. He shouts out brief apologies to the ones that he bumps shoulders with, chasing the forward across the field. “Hey Snuffy, lemme teach you some Swedish! I promise I won't teach you anything inappropriate!” Aiku calls out.
Barou sprints like a madman, deftly weaving between the other players on the field. He turns sharply on his heel until Lorenzo cuts in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. “Ti ho beccato~” "I caught you~" he drawls, blocking his path.
The air in Barou's lungs gets knocked out of him as Snuffy tackles him to the ground and pins him there. He flails beneath him, grasping at Snuffy's thighs. “Get off me, peasant!” he shouts.
“This is for making me look like a fool!” Snuffy runs his hands through Barou's coiffed hair roughly, mussing it until it's a spiky mess. The King makes a rather undignified noise, trying and failing to push himself off of the turf.
When Snuffy finally relents, he stands up and claps his hands to gather everyone's attention. “Okay, everyone get in position for our forward-themed formation! I let you all have a little bit of a break this morning, so let's get to work!” he calls. He holds out a hand to Barou to help him off the ground.
Barou sneers at his outstretched hand as Snuffy chuckles. He makes a vain attempt to fix his bird's nest to no avail.
“You know, I'm actually glad you played a prank on me, Barou.” Snuffy says, patting his shoulder. Barou tilts his head in question. “I think that's the first time I've ever seen you laugh. Or even smile.”
Before Barou can respond, Snuffy plucks out his earbud and leans close.
“It's very...what's the word for it again? かわいい? Cute?” he husks.
He gently slots the earbud back in his ear while Barou is still stunned, jogging towards the sideline. Within moments, he's already switched into coaching mode like nothing happened. “Lorenzo! Watch your footwork!...”
Barou's head spins.
----------
“I’m going to bed.”
“Aw, what? C’mon man, just one more round!”
The college students in the rec room groan as Barou rises from his seat on the sofa. He sets the controller down beside the empty cans of cheap beer on the coffee table. “I have to wake up early tomorrow morning. Also, I have a headache because you are very loud.” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. His brutal honesty doesn’t faze them in the slightest. “Truuue. We do get pretty heated.” one player pipes up. “Well, you should stop by tomorrow night for more Smash, dude! You’re the sickest Bowser main I’ve seen in a while.” the captain praises.
“Maybe.” he grunts. “Goodnight.”
As Barou trudges through the dorms, he gingerly massages his shoulder. He has no idea how the rest of the American football team doesn’t get nightly salt baths, massages, or some kind of muscle relief after flinging their bodies at each other day in and day out. Sure, he’s hurtled past other players with his strength in a soccer match, but it’s a different beast than a 290-pound college student tackling him with all their might.
It’s been only a week since Barou’s training camp began per Ego’s request, and he’s already had his patience tested. “ ‘Go there if you want to be a king again’, my ass.” he spits. “Those meatheads have no idea what it’s like to be at the top.” He’s clearly out of his element; competing in a sport he’s only just learned the rules of with seasoned athletes who are mostly Americans that grew up with the pastime. In just a few days, he’s already had numerous arguments with the coach over his position as a linebacker, relegated to defense for the first time in his sporting career. But, as he’s learned, it’s difficult to hold an argument in a language you’re not fluent in.
He collapses on the bed in his dorm feeling far more spent than he does after his usual soccer training regimens. The creaky bedframe somehow reminds him of the meager living conditions in Blue Lock.
Blue Lock…
He idly wonders what his teammates–servants–are up to while he’s in his personal American football hell. Maybe Ego’s forcing Aiku to become a figure skater or Niko to lift weights. He snorts at the idea of that shrimp ever becoming as built as him. I bet Sendou is off somewhere getting humbled, too. That snot-nosed womanizer. I could see Aryu playing basketball with those lanky limbs. Lorenzo and Snuffy–
Barou blinks. It had already become second nature to think of the Ubers players as part of Blue Lock that for a brief moment he forgot they wouldn’t be returning. The Neo Egoist League barely lasted two months, but it felt like he’d spent an entire season with them. Sure, he’ll be eager to rejoin the other Blue Lock competitors once the U-20 World Cup starts, but it wouldn’t feel right if Snuffy wasn’t there to see it–to see him–win.
The King cringes at his own sappy thoughts. What am I, a kid that misses his friends from soccer camp? Ugh.
Barou plugs in his phone, fumbles for the light switch, and rolls over. Just seven more days, and he’s done with this bullshit.
…
…
He rolls over.
…
…
The blue light assaults his eyes in the dark. 11:48 pm. He opens a website for time zone conversions.
…
This is stupid.
He begins typing a message, then deletes it.
You’re acting like a spoiled brat right now.
He stares at the contact on his phone, hovers his thumb over the “call” icon, then presses it.
He’s not going to pick up. What are you even gonna say if he does?
…
…
“Pronto? Pronto? Barou, sei tu? Tutto bene?” "Hello? Hello? Barou, is that you? Everything alright?"
Snuffy’s voice rings through the speaker of Barou’s phone, a pleasant sound in the cacophony of shouting this past week. Relief floods through Barou’s tensed muscles. Hearing his voice again is a much better cooldown routine than any stretching or salt bath. He sighs without realizing it, sinking into the mattress.
With no response, Snuffy gets increasingly nervous. “Barou, c'è qualcosa che non va? Bisogno di una risposta–” "Barou, is something wrong? I need you to answer me, or--" Barou hears someone else talk to Snuffy, laughing. “MannaggiaDamn it–Barou, is everything okay? Are you okay?” he asks.
Barou snaps out of his trance, called to attention when he hears words he recognizes. He had nearly forgotten about their shared second language. “I-I’m okay.” he stutters, sitting up in bed.
“Oh, thank god. I was worried something terrible happened to you! Why else would you have called someone on the other side of the globe?” he laughs, still with an uneasy tone. Despite his rapid pace, Barou picks up on most of what he says. “Nothing terrible happened to me. I’m fine.” he replies.
“Well then, what’s up? How have you been after the NEL?” Snuffy asks.
“I’ve been practicing since it ended. I…” he lies. Well, partially lies, he reasons. He is practicing, but not in the way Snuffy might expect.
Barou grips his phone, frowning. He still can’t bring himself to say it. Not because of the language barrier; his vocabulary has flourished since he started at training camp. But how is he supposed to say “Ever since the NEL ended, I can’t stop thinking about you“ without sounding like a lovesick maiden waiting for his husband to return from the sea?
The pitch used to be my domain, but after you left it feels hollow and incomplete?
The King is quite fond of his Crown Messenger…?
Barou takes a deep breath. At least Snuffy won’t see the expression on his face when he finally speaks.
“I miss you.”
Somehow, it feels less humiliating to say it in a second language. If he spoke it in Japanese, Snuffy wouldn’t understand but it would haunt Barou. The King isn’t allowed to be vulnerable.
A beat of silence passes. Then another. Barou’s face burns with regret.
This is fucking ridiculous. He doesn’t give a shit about you.
Right before Barou presses the button to hang up, Snuffy’s voice interrupts him.
“Aitai. Ore mo.” "I miss you too."
He freezes. For a moment, the only thing he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears. Then, the sound of pages flipping through the speaker.
“...kusogaki.” "...you brat."
Barou scoffs. He can’t see Snuffy’s smirk, but he knows it’s there. “Shit old man.” he mutters with a grin of his own. Snuffy laughs at his broken swears. “I think you’re looking for ‘shitty’, or maybe even ‘dumbass.’ Want me to teach you some proper English curses?” he prompts. Barou’s mind drifts to the spats he’s had with the coach the past week. “Yeah. I want to show those American football players who’s the King.” he says, clenching his fist in front of his face.
“Eh? American football? I thought you said you were practicing for the U-20 cup.” Snuffy asks. “Lorenzo says hi, by the way.” A shrill Ciao, Barou-chan! pierces Barou’s ears through the receiver. “Hi. Wait, did he hear what I said earlier?” he snaps. Snuffy frantically waves his hands as if Barou can see him. “No, no, he didn’t hear anything, promise! He barely knows any English, anyway. But what’s this about football?” he says, expertly deflecting.
Barou shuffles out of bed to pace as he talks. “Ego sent me to a university to play American football. All of the students are total idiots.” he says, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Aw, they can’t be that stupid if they’re in college.” Snuffy replies. “Are they from Japan? Or international students?...”
For once, Barou pays no mind to his nightly routines as he chats with Snuffy well into the night.