3.22. Nothing To Lose

For the players, the game went on, as the stakes behind it, and the energy grew on both sides. And for Y/N, the feeling of hopelessness grew too.

Nobody had stopped him. He'd locked the door to his room, flopped to the floor, and now lay there with nothing but the harsh reflection of the tablet in his eyes.

He didn't know how long he lay there. Long enough to see the end of the game.

Hiori was going by himself, making a solo play right down the centre of the pitch. Aiku faced off against him, but Hiori was in the zone. Faking to the right, before swapping the ball to the left, he made it into clear space.

He didn't look for teammates. He went to shoot. And as defenders attempted to block him, he faked it.

Again, he didn't look for Isagi. Neither did Isagi look for him, using some quick footwork to sneak past the remaining defenders in front of the goal. Hiori sent a pass, an incredible ball straight across the entire pitch. Perfect height, perfect backspin, perfect distance. It went to Isagi.

And of course, the boy scored.

Y/N hadn't shown any reaction to that. Even though he was alone, he still bit back any possible hint of anger, of frustration, of sadness. Even when the stream turned to post-match discussions, the vast majority of the talking being about Isagi, he didn't show anything.

There was a small segment about him too.

"Right. So, I have a question. For the next game, after the break. Are we still believers in the Mercenary, Y/N L/N?"

"I honestly don't know, after today's atrocious performance. He was already showing signs of slowing down in the game of Bastard Munchen against Manshine City, and even more in the Barcha against Ubers game. But three in a row is too much."

"I'm thinking the same. Every player has a sort of honeymoon period when they join the scene, where they play amazingly at the start, and I'm pretty sure that was the case with Y/N L/N. Now, though, it looks like he just isn't good enough for the world stage."

"Yeah, exactly. Isagi Yoichi is showing much more right now, looking like a real contender for the best player in Bluelock. Also, take into account Rin Itoshi, Nagi Seishiro, Barou Shoei, and Bachira Meguru alongside them."

"So Y/N isn't the best player in Bluelock. Can we still think of him as a Japanese prodigy?"

"Of course we can. It's just that he's outshined by other prodigies, such as Isagi. Don't get me wrong, I think Y/N will be a great winger for the Japanese U-20 team, but a striker? Maybe not - and it seems like the club owners bidding for him agree. Here's a message from one of them."

"While Y/N L/N is indeed a good player, we will be lowering our bid by four million, bringing it down to 41 million. We ask other clubs to think a little bit more about their own bids for this player, as while Y/N L/N's goal count in the Neo Egoist League is high, people have to remember that he has played many, many more games than the other players."

"I agree. Y/N has had so many more games played compared to everyone else, and he still hasn't shown us anything special. We're going to run a poll in chat now - is Y/N L/N overrated as a player?"

Y/N didn't stick around for the poll. He shut down the tablet, leaving himself in complete darkness. Again, he didn't show anything.

Maybe he would be able to keep in control for the rest of the day. That would be a nice thought.

With superhuman effort, he picked himself up off the floor, and began stumbling through the darkness of his room for the light switch. He left the tablet on the floor, feeling his way forwards. And somehow, he managed to miss the table.

His foot slammed into the metal leg of the table, sending a jolt of pain through him. And, for some reason, instead of anything that had happened earlier, that tiny incident was what uncorked the emotions he'd been bottling up for a long time.

Y/N's breathing quickened, and he gave up on finding the lights. He sat on the floor, in complete darkness. Hands shaking in his lap, he couldn't stop the tears from falling.

First a few. Then more. And more. And more.

Why...? Why can't... Why does everything seem so much harder for me than it does everyone else...?

I don't know what I want... but please, is it so hard to just get what I need? Everyone else manages it. Why can't I?

Why can't I? That was the big question, really. Why can't I win? Why can't I have fun? Why can't I be free? Why can't I know what I want? Why can't I be respected? Why can't I be liked? Why can't I stop feeling bad? Why can't I just... like life?

Because I'm worthless.

Isn't that right?

The only thing I'm good for - was good for - is soccer. That got me into Bluelock. That got me happy. That got me freedom, if only for a month after the U-20 game.

And I'm not good anymore.

Y/N cried.

If someone tried knocking on his door, it wouldn't open. But if someone did, and miraculously, it opened, they wouldn't see anything. Only if they managed to get inside, turned on the lights, and saw the small boy curled up on the floor, would they fully realise what was going on.

And even after that. It would take an incredible amount of care. Maybe they would look over his reddened, puffy eyes, a continuous stream of tears leaking out. Maybe they would hold his shaking shoulders, pull him into a gentle embrace like he so desperately needed but didn't know it. Maybe they would let him release all his emotions, not caring if their shirt got wet, or if their leg went numb from him leaning on it.

And then maybe, just maybe, would they stick around. Maybe they would help him find what he wanted, maybe they would be someone he could truly trust, maybe starting with one gesture of kindness, they would help Y/N heal. Maybe, with just a little help, Y/N would learn by himself how to be happy.

Maybe he would be able to play soccer without basing his entire worth on his goal. Maybe he would think life was worth living. Maybe he would sleep better, maybe he would wake up refreshed without the fear of nightmares, maybe he would be able to love himself like any other person.

If something like that happened, and someone burst through the door right then, it might've changed what happened next.

But alas.

It wasn't to be.

There was someone nearby, though. Closer than Y/N would've expected. A person that sat against the other side of Y/N's door, back against the wood, head resting near the handle. He could do nothing but listen, listen to the muted crying from inside the room, and hope his presence through the wall could be of some comfort.

But it didn't.

Why do I even keep trying... huh?

Why?

Why is it so difficult for me to just be happy?

What did I do to deserve this...?

It took a long time for him to calm himself down.

But even after he was left with drying eyes, and shuddering hiccups, Y/N wasn't back to normal. Before, he'd been filled with emotion. Anger, sadness, fear, frustration, anxiety, jealousy, he'd bottled it up to the point of overflowing, of bursting. Now that everything was out, now that his eyes were itchy from crying, and he struggled not to be sick from sobbing, he felt...

nothing.

So, he spent the next few minutes trying to find how to turn the lights on. And when he'd done that, he picked up his phone, flickering to the messages app.

At the top, two messages from Ego Jinpachi.

The older of the two, thankfully only half visible on his screen, displayed auction rankings. Y/N didn't scroll up, fighting his curiosity. The latest message was a simple one, written in plain text.

EGO JINPACHI JFU

[This is an automated message.

All Bluelock players have received this.

Do not reply.]

The two-week break of the NEL starts

now. Leave the facility through the

main entrance. Find your own way

to and from the facility. Be back at

midnight in 14 days.

It is not compulsory to leave.

Anyone who wishes to remain may do so.

The NEL will restart after 14 days,

whether or not you return.

Y/N gave the message a quick, uninterested look, before scrolling down the list of other messages. His eyes alighted on one in particular. From Ei.Yu.T.

He'd received the message a week ago, and for days, he'd agonised over it. Picking at every single word, staring it at it for what felt like hours on end, trying to just understand why. Because after eleven years away from them, his parents wanted to meet up with him. They'd given him a place, and they were waiting a reply.

At first, he'd been scared, and frustrated. Now?

He had nothing to lose.

Y/N's fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Then, he replied.