𝙂𝙊𝘼𝙇𝙎 | blue lock

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆

"Hello, [Name]."

As soon as the words left his lips, the temperature of the room immediately dropped ten degrees. The hum of the blasting air conditioner filled the desolate atmosphere of the room, only managing to intensify the bitter feelings you had long pushed down.

"Why are you here, Sae?" You finally looked up to meet his eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively as you leaned against the shut door of the office. His cheek was resting comfortably against his hand that was propped up by the arm of Ego's chair, his expression only holding the smallest tinge of impatience.  

Of all places, Ego's office was not where you wanted to have your desperately awaited reunion with Itoshi Sae. Nowhere or never at all would also be acceptable options, but it seems no one gets what they want. 

He sighed under his breath, shutting his eyes as he briefly rubbed the bridge of his nose. There was a stale pause before he finally adjusted his posture—you honestly wanted nothing more than to run out of that room and pull some angsty teen shit like Rin, but instead, he finally decided to respond. "What's with the hostility? I haven't seen you in forever," he breathed.

You cocked your head to the side slightly, pulling your features together in utter disbelief. "Isn't that exactly the fucking problem? You left for Spain, what—four years ago? You came back every once in a while, and every time you did your ego just got pushed farther and farther up your ass." You shook your head, whether it was in exasperation or disappointment, you didn't really know. "I don't think I've had a real conversation with you since I was a preteen."

He grimaced and shifted his gaze to the side like he couldn't even bear to keep his eyes on you for the moment. "That's not why I'm here. I wanted to discuss a proposal I have for you."

Oh wow, if I listen close enough it really sounds like he said, 'I'm so sorry for the shit I said to you [Name]. Please forgive me.'

"No."

"No?" he scoffed. "Don't make this difficult, just hear me out."

You swallowed harshly, trying your best to repress the bubbling rage in your gut. Difficult? I'm the difficult one? The words were so condescending, his tone managing to capture the same feeling of a person patting their less successful counterpart on the head. Seems he has more talents than just being able to kick a ball, he's mastered the art of being a grade-A asshole. "Spit it out, then."

"As I'm sure you're aware, the U-20 team will be playing a match against Blue Lock in three weeks. And you should also be aware of the fact that I'll be playing with Japan," he explained, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. "A condition of my agreement was that I'd be able to pick any striker of my choosing. Any. Now-"

"Ah, ah, ah," you held an accusatory finger up toward him, clicking your tongue. "Stop right there. Because if you offer me that fucking position I might actually murder you in that dumbass chair."

The addition of threats managed to thicken the air even further. If someone were to walk in, they'd surely suffocate on the atmosphere created by your locked glares. He narrowed his eyes, giving you an unimpressed frown. "What do you mean? You should be grateful, think about the amount of recognition you'd get if we win."

"No, it's just hypocritical, isn't it? What happened to 'not being good enough', huh? Where'd that go?"

"Are you really still hung up on that? That was a while ago. I've seen your stats, clips of your matches. I think you'd be more useful than that joke on the U-20 team."

Your fingers pushed themselves further into the flesh of your bicep, indenting the crescent shape of your nails. The audacity was honestly a gram too much to handle. "No, fuck you and fuck your stupid offer. You don't get to double back on your words because it's convenient for you. What made you think it was your place to come in here and expose my name and expect me to mindlessly follow you onto your team? You need a reality check, buddy."

While his gr=aze hardened—if you looked closely enough—the corner of his eyes softened slightly, and his frown grew just a bit more bitter. "You're not thinking this through."

"No. Nope. Nuh-uh," you responded curtly. Not even sparing him another glance, you turned on your heel and stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Sae and his shitty offer. If I could just bury the spike of your cleats in his fa-

Oh. Offer. 

You stared at the opposite wall of the hallway thoughtfully, piecing together the events of the past 24 hours. You never did get to hear about the offer from your coach. Was he trying to get me on the men's U-20 too? You would surely have a field-day chewing him out if that were to be the case.

So, obviously, step one to do that would be calling him. What does one need for said phone call? A phone. Where was your phone?

Ego's office.

You shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back, regaining as much of your composure as you could before you had to face the devil reincarnate again. Pushing down your shame, you opened the door again, avoiding the gaze you could feel on your back as you crossed the room. Ego was more than kind enough to leave the device on the desk next to him. 

You quickly grabbed it and turned around as fast you could, trying out best to get in and out in the least amount of time necessary. 

"Forget something?" he asked mockingly as you were a few steps from the door.

You were too embarrassed at your stupidity to speak, opting instead to throw him a sweet view of your middle finger from over your shoulder. You slammed the door behind you once again—having a little less theatric effect this time. 

Walking swiftly toward the bathroom for whatever privacy you could find, you clicked the call button on your coach's contact. Your patience stretched thinner with each drawled ring, his time to answer unusually slow. The ONE time I actually want to talk to him he decides he doesn't have time to pick up. 

The ringing finally ceased, "[Surname]! Oh? Now you finally decide to call me back?!" he screeched from the other side of the line.

"Look, you know the drill. I didn't have my phone, blah, blah—Was your offer about the Blue Lock and U-20 game?" you asked quickly, tapping your foot incessantly against the tiled flooring.

"Huh?" he paused, "Oh, I heard about that from some colleagues. Should be interesting. Especially with that Itoshi guy from Sp-"

"Answer the question for fuck's sake."

"You're so damn disrespectful—But anyway, no. It's much larger than that, and you're real lucky they weren't upset about waiting another day to hear from you."

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