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Half-time. The freshman buzzing with energy, as if we'd already won the match.
Daiko was screaming at the top of his lungs, "LETS GOOOOO!" His voice cracked with excitement, his energy filling the air like static. Beside him, Kaito's heavy frame moved restlessly, still charged from the chaos of the first half. They were celebrating like fools, drunk on the illusion of momentum.
And there he was. Kei.
Sitting in silence, as unfazed by the noise as a statue carved from ice. His calmness clashed against their hysteria like night against day. He didn't need to gloat, didn't need to cheer. His presence alone unsettled me.
That's why I smile. Always smile.
Because with people like him, you never show your hand.
I handed out water bottles, one by one. My expression was soft, gentle, the same fabricated kindness they'd all grown accustomed to. A mask. I've worn it for years, and it never cracks. They all drank it up—literally and figuratively.
Kaito threw his bottle aside, frustration heavy in his voice. "Those idiot seniors got lucky. If that ref didn't blow the whistle, I would've scored."
Daiko joined him, still vibrating with energy. "Well, what do we do now? Those seniors are probably losing their minds, and they're gonna target you and me, Kaito."
Kaito smirked, brushing it off. "Then let those idiots come. I'll show them how my ego can destroy all eleven of those fools."
Ah, Kaito. So simple. So gloriously predictable.
An ego as vast as his is both a weapon and a leash. And I already know how to tug it.
Minato—timid, quiet Minato—spoke up for once. "I have an idea. What if we use Kaito as a decoy to round almost all the players up, to distract them, so we can all try and score goals?"
The room stilled for a second. Interesting. The boy had a spine after all.
Kaito snapped instantly. "No way in hell I'm being a decoy."
And just like that, his pride boxed him in. His refusal was music to my ears. Because the more predictable they are, the easier they are to move.
The door opened then, breaking the tension. A counselor stepped in, clipboard in hand. "We need one of you players to make decisions for the team. Like a coach."
I tilted my head, letting the surprise flicker across my face—false, of course. "Oh? A coach?"
The counselor clarified. "We'll need two. A boy and a girl. Since Ayame is in the girls' locker room, we need someone from here as well."
Naturally, Daiko leapt to his feet. "Heck ya, sign me up! I'll lead the team!"
The silence that followed was delicious. Neutral expressions. Blank stares. Not a single soul in this room would follow him. It was almost cruel to watch… almost.
My smile widened just a little. A spark of opportunity glimmered in my mind.
It's in these cracks—in these moments where pride and desperation clash—that I slip in and take control.
"Sir," I said smoothly, "I have a small suggestion."
They turned. Their curiosity was predictable. "How about we let *him* be our coach?"
Confusion spread across their faces. "Him?"
And then I pointed. To the boy of silence. To the one who thought himself untouchable.
To Kei Fushimiya.
Kaito scoffed. "But he's not even playing now."
I met his objection with calm precision. "True. But he only played for five minutes. And in those five minutes, his presence alone led to two goals."
Minato nodded immediately, as I knew he would. The boy seeks authority, someone stronger to cling to. Easy. Too easy.
The decision was made. Kei—whether he wanted it or not—would lead this team.
He turned to look at me then. That cold stare of his, sharp enough to slice through masks. But I didn't flinch. I just smiled back, sweet and innocent. The perfect picture of a helpful teammate.
Kei said nothing. He simply walked out of the locker room, his back disappearing through the door like a shadow pulling itself away from the light.
Kaito scowled. "And where the hell is he going?"
Daiko shrugged. "Who knows."
But I knew. Of course I knew.
This was the moment. The strings had been set. Now all that was left was to tug them.
I stood, brushing nonexistent dust from my jersey. "I'll go get him back. I'll be back in three minutes."
They didn't question me. They never do.
I stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind me, muffling their chatter. And as silence fell, so did my mask.
The smile remained, yes—but thinner, sharper, colder.
Kei Fushimiya.
A mind like his doesn't belong in this childish locker room. He doesn't belong on the field either. He belongs in the shadows, pulling strings from above, much like myself. That's why I chose him. That's why I'll force him into the role.
Because deep down, even he knows…
He's already playing my game.
And isn't that the beauty of it?
---
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The hallway was quiet, save for the faint echo of shoes against polished floors. I followed him, as I always intended. Kei Fushimiya—the anomaly in this carefully controlled system.
Then, without warning, he stopped.
Slow. Precise. Like a predator who had already sensed the hunter behind him.
He turned, his gaze cutting through me as if the mask I wore had never existed.
"You should've stayed in Barcelona… Naoki Shirayuki."
Ah. So he *knew.*
The words hit me, and for the first time in months, I felt my lips twitch into something genuine. Then it came—laughter. Uncontrollable, manic, raw. The sound bounced against the empty walls, each note sharper than the last.
Delicious. How long had I waited for someone to finally peel back the mask?
When the laughter subsided, I looked at him—not with the warm brown of my falsified eyes, but with the truth he demanded. I plucked the contacts free. One eye burned crimson, the other glowed violet. A distortion of nature, and the perfect emblem of who I am.
"So," I asked, my smile twisting into something unnatural, "you knew all along, huh? How much do you really know about me, Kei?"
He answered with calm precision, the same lifelessness he wears like a second skin.
"Your full name is Naoki Shirayuki. President of the Student Government. Rank S in the student evaluation."
My smile widened. "What gave it away?"
His reply was absurd. Laughable. "All I had to do was threaten to destroy the coffee machine, and Mr. Unagi told me everything."
For a moment, silence. Then I chuckled low in my throat. "So that old man folded… over a coffee machine?" I shook my head, grin splitting wider. "How pitiful. And here I thought he was loyal."
But Kei wasn't interested in humor. His eyes were cold, clinical.
"Mr. Unagi is too easy to control."
There it was. That was Kei's essence. Not passion, not pride, not ego—control. The same thread that binds me, but woven into a different pattern.
He turned away, as though I were already accounted for, a piece on the board that would be dealt with in time.
"After I'm done destroying Ichika Renji… you're next, Naoki Shirayuki. And my final opponent shall be… Principal Sobu."
My eyes widened—not from fear, no. But intrigue.
The *principal?*
My lips curled again, amusement and disbelief mixing.
What could he possibly want with the man who gave me this throne? Does he think himself capable of climbing that high? Or is this proof that Kei Fushimiya is either a genius… or utterly deranged?
Either way…
How delicious.
Because in the end, whether he destroys Ichika, whether he challenges me, whether he dares to aim for Sobu himself—every move he makes only tightens the web I've spun.
And when the time comes… Kei will learn the truth.
The same truth every insect learns.
That no matter how high you climb, Naoki Shirayuki is always waiting at the top.
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