Chapter Text
Steady, precisely calculated breaths filled the pitch, carrying no visible trace of fatigue.
A few drops of sweat barely trickled down the forehead of the handsome blonde-haired boy from the afternoon heat.
"Hmm..." he hummed softly under his breath, tracking the movements of the players around him.
One player was sprinting with the ball, completely devoid of any intention to score. Another quickly snatched it away, only to be instantly boxed in by defenders.
A dreadful... match.
'Sigh...' Isagi yawned out of pure boredom, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
He couldn't believe he was wasting his time participating in a game of such abysmal quality. Wasn't this supposed to be the final match? The decisive game standing between him and the National Tournament?
Him? In this?
What a joke.
"Isagi!" a familiar voice called out. It was Tada.
"Mhm, Tada-chan—" Isagi replied, taking a single step forward.
"—Just give me the damn ball already, you hideous-looking trash,"
Isagi finished cold-bloodedly. A flash of impatience and anger broke through his frozen expression.
Tada flinched for a second, holding a nervous breath before delivering a low pass straight to Isagi.
The moment the ball touched Isagi's heel, his expression shifted entirely. A gentle, pleasant smile bloomed on his lips, while every trace of malice and hatred vanished from his eyes.
"Good job, Tada-chan. Keep it up and I'll reward you~" Isagi sang out, his voice completely unrecognizable from the tone he had used just a minute ago.
He twirled the ball between his feet for a brief moment, getting accustomed to its feel. Without overthinking, he surged forward in a flawless, straight line toward the penalty area.
"Isagi-chaaan!!!!"
"Isagi! Isagi! Isagi!?"
Cheers and screams erupted from the packed crowd in the stands.
They weren't cheering for Ichinan High. they were cheering for Isagi Yoichi.
The most eye-catching player, a living legend who had suddenly materialized out of nowhere... A player who couldn't be pinned down to any single position.
The number 11 was emblazoned across the back of Isagi's team jersey. Yet despite carrying the number of a striker, here he was, controlling the game as a midfielder.
"Wheeeeeeeew...~" Isagi whistled softly, effortlessly gliding the ball past the legs of the defenders rushing toward him.
"I'll take it from him!" a boy from Matsukaze Koku High yelled arrogantly, attempting to swipe the ball away with the top of his foot.
"Nice try, little buddy. Try that again and I might just snap that pretty leg of yours~" Isagi hummed with a crystal-clear smile that wildly contradicted his threat.
The defender froze dead in his tracks out of sheer fear, while Isagi carried on as if he were taking a casual morning stroll. Even though it was noon.
'Hmm~ what should I eat when this is over? Ah, some kintsuba would be nice~ I should buy some... also, a perfect combination~' Isagi thought with a pure laugh. His mind often drifted during matches, but...
An opposing defender attempted to block his path, but Isagi bypassed him with a swift spin, keeping the ball tightly protected between his feet while maintaining a clear distance between them.
"Mhm, don't even try~" Isagi replied.
Stealing the ball from him was nearly impossible.
It wasn't just that he possessed extraordinary ball control. he simply knew exactly how to keep possession for as long as he pleased.
This was the result of endless nights spent training for uncounted hours alongside the top coaches in the country.
‘Yoichi, we need you to be the best. You are the one who chose football, and you must excel at it. Do you hear me?’
‘tsk. Isagi... you have to make us proud. You are the heir to the Isagi family. Act like one!’
"Shut up..." Isagi muttered, his smile twisting away its purity at the memory of his parents' words.
‘I... I never asked for any of this,’ Isagi thought.
‘I just—’
His thoughts were cut short by the head coach’s furious shouting.
"Isagi! Pass the ball!! One for all, and all for one!"
"Ugh, what a nauseatingly romantic line straight out of a cheap drama," Isagi spat out sarcastically without a second thought.
"You'd have to be out of your damn mind to think I'd ever pass to players at this level, you senile old fool," Isagi dripped his poison directly at the head coach, leaving his opponents and teammates standing in utter shock and awe.
"You insolent brat! I'll kick you off this roster!" the coach roared in anger.
"HAHAHAHA! Hilarious! If it weren't for me, we wouldn't have even made it to Nationals, you ungrateful old bastard!"
Isagi fired back with an enraged shout as he unleashed a direct strike toward the net. The goalkeeper tried to make a save, feeling a momentary sense of relief since the shot didn't seem overpoweringly fast.
However, he was instantly horrified as the ball sharply curved to the left at the very last second, nestling smoothly into the back of the net as if drawn there by a magnet.
TWEEEEEEET!
The referee's whistle blew, signaling the end of the match with a 2-1 victory for Ichinan High.
The moment the game ended, Isagi let out a heavy sigh. The pure, gentle persona vanished into thin air. He reverted to his true self—fuming and hypercritical.
"G-Great job, Isagi-san!" Tada-chan stammered, stepping forward cautiously out of fear of Isagi's volatile mood swings.
"Oh, shut up. I didn't do a damn thing.They should all be grateful I didn't end this match at 6-1," Isagi stated with absolute arrogance.
‘He c-can score all thatt?!’ Tada felt as though he were about to faint.
"Isagi-kun! Good game," a white-haired boy called out, walking over to him.
"K-Kira-kun!" Tada gasped, stunned to see Japan's national treasure standing right before them. Kira would have easily crushed them had Isagi not been on their side.
"Hah? Who the hell are you, worthless?" Isagi uttered with a deadpan expression.
Kira Ryosuke froze, startled by the harsh words coming from such an unreadable face. However, he maintained his effortless, friendly mask to preserve his image in front of the crowd and reporters.
"-I'm Kira Ryosuke! Congratulations on your win—"
"God, people like you make my skin crawl," Isagi spat out, narrowing his eyes as he glared at Kira.
"Huh?" Kira's eyes widened in disbelief.
"I said, people like you make me sick. You talentless player. I have no idea how you made it to the prefectural finals with skill like that. If I were you, I would've retired from playing a long time ago." Isagi rolled his eyes in annoyance, catching sight of several reporters gathering behind Kira.
"W-What..." Kira muttered, completely thrown off balance before being pushed aside by journalists eager to approach the match winner, Isagi Yoichi.
"Isagi Yoichi-kun! Congratulations on your victory today!"
"Isagi-kun! Would you mind telling us about your upcoming goals now that you've qualified for Nationals?!"
"Isagi-kun! You have such an advanced playstyle! Haha... Do you have any intention of joining the Japan U-20 team?! You would be an exceptional addition to the squad—"
"Get out of my face." Isagi shot them a single, piercing glare before turning on his heel and heading toward the locker room.
"Let's go, Tada-chan," Isagi called out.
"Y-Yes!" Tada scurried behind him, still reeling in shock from the insults Isagi had just hurled at Kira Ryosuke and the press.
'What a terrifying guy!'
Inside the Ichinan High locker room, the team members were resting while some first-year substitutes assisted them. In the center of the room, Isagi Yoichi was drying his blonde hair, wet with sweat from all the continuous running.
"Nice work... I-Isagi-kun!.." one of his teammates complimented, though he refused to make direct eye contact with Isagi.
"Tch," Isagi scoffed, continuing to towel his hair dry, completely indifferent to what anyone thought of him.
"Isagi Yoichi!" the coach's stern voice boomed as he barged into the room.
The team members flinched for a moment before relaxing again.
It was always like this, Isagi did whatever he pleased, the coach lost his temper and threatened to bench him, but ultimately did nothing about it.
"Do you have any idea how much you've ruined Ichinan's reputation with your reckless behavior?! The core motto of Ichinan that we want to spread is 'One for all, and all for one!' And you tried to tarnish it with that final shot of yours!"
Isagi rolled his eyes in annoyance, letting the towel rest over his shoulders. Its dampness cooled the back of his neck, relieving the heat from his intense physical effort during the match.
"Shut your mouth, you damn coach."
The head coach gasped in sheer rage. "You spoiled little brat—"
Before the coach could finish his sentence, Isagi slapped a sheet of paper directly onto his face. The coach snatched it angrily, irritated by Isagi's utter lack of manners, before reading the bold text printed across it:
«Early Dismissal Pass»
Signed by his legal guardian and the high school administration.
"What is this—"
"An early dismissal pass, you old geezer."
Isagi grabbed his bag, having already changed out of his sportswear and back into Ichinan's blue school uniform, complete with a loosened necktie and his bag slung over one shoulder.
"I'm not wasting any more time here. I have a training schedule and a life far more important than you or this team. Celebrate the team's victory thanks to my goals or whatever. We won't be seeing each other until Nationals."
"Hey!" the coach yelled after him, but Isagi didn't even bother to reply. He was already walking out the door.
‘What a disgusting day. I would've transferred out of this entire school if it weren't for these damn Nationals...’
Isagi clenched his jaw tightly.
‘I... didn't even want to win.’
‘Damn it...’
Barely fifteen minutes had passed since Isagi exited the stadium building before a pristine black Mercedes arrived, its glossy paint reflecting the bright afternoon sunlight. Inside sat the family's private chauffeur, wearing glasses and a dark mustache.
He stepped out of the vehicle with practiced professionalism and held the door open for the young master.
"Welcome back, Young Master. How was your day?"
Isagi stepped forward with calculated strides before slumping into the back seat, showing zero interest in small talk.
"It was disgusting. Prepare the transfer papers for Tokyo Private High. I've had my fill of public schools."
"Understood," the driver answered with a single nod. He walked around the car, climbed into the driver's seat, and smoothly turned the steering wheel, driving them away from the stadium grounds.
The afternoon sun was slowly fading into a stunning twilight that blended deep oranges with dark blues across the city sky. Streetlights along the road began to flicker to life like row upon row of candles.
"Mr. Isagi is awaiting your return home. He instructed me to remind you of your training schedule for this week," the driver initiated quietly.
"Of course. All that old man cares about is my training and how much he pays those worthless coaches. He won't even bother asking about my match today," Isagi let out a dry, humorless laugh as he stared out the car window.
"That is certainly not the case, Young Master. You know that Mr. and Mrs. Isagi truly care about you."
Isagi gazed out at the bustling streets outside. The roads around them were crowded—people coming and going, families walking happily, living the kind of life millions wished for... including him.
"Yeah, sure," Isagi muttered in agreement, though his tone reeked far more of heavy sarcasm than actual concurrence.