NIKE -Blue Lock-

302 to fall

Kaiser's pov

It's not working.
Reason, as well as oxygen, can't reach my brain. Why doesn't it get there?

Usually this works.

I kneel on the ground, shower drops beating the skin of my head, unaware or perhaps careless to the fact that I don't feel it. That I can't feel it.

Maybe it's not enough.
Maybe I need to persevere a little longer. Just a little more. A little bit more. More.

No. It's still not enough. I still have to continue. It is necessary for me to continue.

I cough, but I don't inhale. I couldn't even if I wanted to. My vision is blurred, one ear is ringing while the other ear cannot hear at all. I think I feel hot everywhere.

But still nothing. I cannot formulate rational thoughts, thoughts that make sense, thoughts that can help me get out of this madness, thoughts that are useful.

My forehead is pushing against the white tiles of the floor, and my longest locks of hair are moving in unison with the water running underneath me.

I squeeze more.
That's probably what I have to do. I do it all the time, and it always works. Maybe my body has adapted to the grip and is asking me to increase it a little.

That's fine.
Let's take more oxygen out of my mind, just enough to activate that survival mechanism that drives my thoughts in the most neurotic but rational of ways.

My hand is like the noose of an innocent man condemned to death, like the weapon of a murderer who kills his wife and children just to cry about it after.

I cough again, my vision is completely black at this point and it seems my eyes are rolling back in my head.

I don't have to stop. I can't stop. I just have to tighten my hand a little more around my neck. Just a little more, enough to find it...

...to find a way to survive the deadly walk of Nicklaus Vinciguerra.

Third pov

"Ego-San, not only do you force me to prepare unhealthy food, but you don't even bother to eat it." Anri declared, more exhausted than irritated, glancing at the still-full bowl on the man's desk.

"It takes less than five minutes to prepare a bowl of instant noodles..." he said, not looking up from whatever held his attention, adding "Essentially, you spend more time arguing about me not eating it than what it takes to make it. Instead of bothering me, why not use that time for one of the useless things you usually do on your tablet?"

Anri sighed irritably, refraining from slapping him on the head, and sat at the small table in the center of the room. She glanced at football market analyses, sighed, and closed the internet page: nothing significantly different from the past weeks.

Looking up at the back of Ego's chair, she wondered how he hadn't started spinning around in boredom as he usually did.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, slightly curious.

"Nicole Vinciguerra and her chaperon, seen together again after the sport gala." he read aloud, making Anri aware it was a gossip article.

"The Italian prodigy and the Japanese one on a romantic seaside stroll. Is this the beginning of an overseas love story?" he continued reading the next headline, his voice sarcastic and stoic.

Anri, excited, got up to see the news herself. Her attention was immediately captured by a photo at the beginning of the article, clearly taken by a paparazzo.