Glass Coffin (an Inazuma Eleven f.f.)

For the Fairest

He looked down at the field of gilded modern sculptures. They were art in motion, achieved by weaving individual training with team tactics into a fine filigree. A rush of glory at this sight coursed through his stationary body, quenching the throwing knife that was his mind, forged by divine hands and sharpened for years against stone. And all of a sudden, he knew, as the finished blade was drawn.

They would be the undisputed winners.

He grew alert upon noticing a snag at the edge of his eyes. The maverick was identified as the last person he wished to see at the souring moment. "What is this one doing here? Begone!" he declared loudly at the cloaked intruder. His team stopped when they heard their captain receive the uninvited visitor.

The modest cloak could not conceal the trespasser's exquisite beauty, and all recognized him immediately for his hallmark charm. He brought a presence grand enough to challenge the authority in this room, filling it to a brimming tension. Careless strands of spun gold had tumbled out from his hood. "Nice to see you too, ZP1C1," the boy greeted daringly in a smug, charming manner, "I see your team is doing well."

The haughty, relaxed way the other boy had a habit of speaking in irritated him, for it defied his efficient policies. He could not see how he had once seen his team as a threat when they were a lazy bunch that would have been the perfect group for his Second Comrade. He maintained a reserved composure and stared his rival down with absolute eyes. "This one is not welcome on our grounds. If this one has nothing important to say, then we request for this one to leave at once. This one is disrupting our practice."

"I'll cut right to the chase then. I come with words from the Commander."

"...Let us speak in the halls."

Time Skip

"Commander," the red and blue cloaked figures addressed in unison as they kneeled before the tall man with exceptional grace. This, just like everything else they did, were the fruits of sweat and sores. The man had his back to them and was gazing at holographic screens. Among them were pie charts, medical documents, reports, and videos of boys in green jerseys. The red cloaked captain noted in particular a long haired boy with an eyepatch, a tall brunette, and a boy with dreadlocks and goggles. Appearance-wise they were very diverse, but all possessed the same sort of arrogant, impish grin.

How pathetic, he thought to himself, but he carefully concealed his thoughts with the same care he took to obscure his visage. He had been taught from the beginning that his opinions were of no importance, and would only suggest wavering loyalty. Betrayal was the greatest sin, and he would never allow the Commander to think of him anything less than the perfection which he was raised for.

With one glance from his sharp eyes, trained to observe and strike with utmost accuracy, it was clear the boy with dreadlocks was the playmaker of the team. His plays, although great, were flimsy to ZP1C1's well-tuned mind, which he had been told possessed an IQ of 180, a whole twenty greater than the former's. He knew that in only half a second he could think of strategies that would dominate every single one of the goggled boy's maneuvers.

That was why he was here, after all. That was why he lived, biding his time until he was presented with the opportunity to strike these mortals down. Only when he completed his mission would he have succeeded, and perhaps earned his freedom at last. Anything less than perfect execution would be failure. There would be no second chances: the Commander had made that clear from the beginning.

The man which the two boys called "Commander" made no acknowledgement that he had heard them. "Commander," the blue cloaked boy repeated, "I have brought ZP1C1 as you instructed."

Finally, the Commander shifted in his seat, and inquired in his deep voice, "First Comrades, how are your units doing?"

As according to the procedural practice, ZP1C1 went first. "You have my word that ZP1 is unmatched. Every member is in optimal condition and my strategies make the best advantage of their individual strengths." He could not resist curling the edges of his lips triumphantly. "We are ready."

The other captain brushed off his claim with faithful persuasion. "ZP2 will not lose either. I believe in each and every one of my teammates, including ZP2C2." ZP1C1 wondered how this boy could believe in a phantom's allegiance.

"I hope the two of you understand that actions speak louder than words," the great man chuckled with an edge in his tone, "Do not disappoint me."

"Yes Commander." That man's threats were always to be taken seriously.

ZP1C1 watched the man's wizened fingers drumming on the arm rest. He waited on the Commander beside the other captain for an uncomfortable period of time until the hand ceased and its owner spoke up again, "Remember that all rules are meant to be broken except mine. Don't forget your place, Afuro Terumi."

Flustered, blue cloaked boy quickly tucked his hair back in. "Deepest apologies, Commander. It won't happen again."

With a wave of Kageyama Reiji's hand, the two were dismissed.