Inazuma Eleven Secret Santa @secretsoccer - Tumblr Blog

To: fxdou!

From: Miga (enyaga)

Hey there; I’m your Secret Santa this year!! I already happened to give Fudou-related art last year, so I was glad to hear you would rather get a fic instead; it’s been refreshing, despite taking so long to finish it! Okay, so, hmm— I’m a very wordy person and I tend to shove my stupid headcanons on everything I write, so I’m truly sorry if something is too out of your comfort zone when you read this, ha ha;;;

Anyway, you said you liked Fudou, Shin Teikoku and losers, so I did my best to provide you a little bit of everything as best as I could with the little thought I have given that team (SHAME ON ME). I tried to add different concepts to the story hoping you’ll at least find ONE thing you like, although it came out a bit too dark, my writing was rustier than expected and my English is messy as ever, but, well— I hope you’ll enjoy it!!

(By the way, just for reference, I thought the story to take place at some point between the matches against Teikoku and Kaiou, but it came out as something kind of ambiguous, so feel free to place it wherever you want, ha ha.)

Title: Mohawk Character(s): Akio Fudou, Mamoru Endou, Kyousuke Tsurugi (minor) Rating: M (for swearing, mostly) Genre: Drama-ish? Summary: Maybe things weren’t as simple as portrayed. Maybe soccer just wasn’t always the answer. Maybe he had a reason to wear a mohawk and to remove it afterwards. But no one ever bothered asking.

“…Coach.”

Startled, Raimon’s coach turned around towards the unexpected voice that called his name during that day’s training session. As much as he was not used yet to seeing him dressed in Raimon’s bright yellow uniform, the still uncommon sight made Endou grin once more. The owner of the voice, on the other hand, was by no means as happy as his coach.

“What’s it, Tsurugi?” Endou asked Raimon’s prodigal son, who still wore the shame in his eyes despite having been accepted by all of his teammates already.

“There’s… something I wanted to talk about later, once we are all done training. …In private.”

Endou blinked quickly, but didn’t question him. He gently nodded at him, and Tsurugi bowed in response. The forward turned around again and broke into a trot across the riverbank field, where the team was training at the moment, to join his matesagain.

“How strange of Tsurugi-kun to come talk to you,” Otonashi pointed out. “What do you think he wants?”

“I have no idea,” Endou grinned, “but that’s what makes it exciting!”

Otonashi chuckled lightly.

“You haven’t changed one bit, have you? You would better help him out properly, then, or else I doubt he will ever do as much as talk to us again.”

“Heh! Just leave it to me!” The coach said as he flexed his arm with a laugh, and then set off to train with his team out of sheer enthusiasm. Otonashi, on the other hand, sighed happily at the sight and decided on her own that her job as the club’s advisor was over for the day, so she picked up her belongings and got ready to go.

As she headed out of the riverbank, though, a colourful shadow emerged from behind a tree and sneaked behind her to mischievously grope her rear, to which Otonashi reacted with a little shriek and a quick and ferocious slap that knocked down the assaulter, followed by a quick look around to make sure no one saw any of that.

“Goodness, you… C-can’t you be a little more discreet in public? Let alone so close to the kids…!” She said as her cheeks turned progressively redder. The shadow, who happened to be a man who was now sitting on the floor, just chuckled as he rubbed the cheek that had just been slapped. “If you are here to see Endou, he’s down there, in the field. The children should have just finished training, so you can go and talk to him now, if you want.”

“What if I said I came here to see you?” The man said mockingly as he stood up. Otonashi gave him an equally mocking chuckle in return.

“Pfft. Who would ever fall for such a bad li—?“

The man, however, didn’t give her the time to finish. He suddenly pulled her into the small grove that framed the path and, with a swift move, he pushed her against thesame tree he had appeared from and leant in to kiss her. Surprisingly, Otonashi was more passionate than he was about the kiss, as she soon took the lead and did as she pleased with the man. When she finally let go of him, she smiled almost as mischievously as the man and pointed at the field.

“They must have finished by now.”

“Probably, although I kind of want to avoid meeting the kids. What can we do to kill time until they all have left, I wonder?”

Otonashi, proactive as ever, gave the man one of the cheekiest looks he had ever seen on her and dragged him to the deepest part of the grove, where she made him sit down against a tree and then proceeded to cuddle up to him. No one would see them there, but they could easily see it all. They weren’t too interested in their surroundings, either way.

A while after the kids had left, and as soon as the man was allowed to escape from Otonashi’s hands, he stood up, was suddenly kissed again by her and, finally, headed towards the field.

“…I see. Well, it’s perfectly fine by me!” Endou said with a little smile on his lips as he clapped his hands together. “Let’s see what you’ve really got!”

“All right, Endou-san. Here goes!”

“Bring it on!”

Tsurugi rose his left knee high in the air along with the ball, and then swiftly brought his whole leg up with a kick, brushing the ball in the process and making it spin in the air. Before the ball could even move from its place, he brought his whole leg down as a pendulum; the huge momentum of the kick forced his body to do a backflip, but the heel of his boot dragged the ball along with it and tossed it high up in the air as the forward’s body rolled.

Tsurugi kept his eyes on the ball as it flew and spun, and jumped after it in a flash. A dark, crimson and evil-looking aura seemed to surge from inside the ball, as if the air within had been turned into a maleficent storm by Tsurugi’s kick.

Before anyone could notice it, the forward had already placed himself right behind the ball, with his eyes closed and a confident smile on his face despite the fact that his head was upside down. Pitch-black yet bright lightning began to flash from the ball right next to Tsurugi’s face, but he seemed totally unfazed by it. Instead, he just let himself fall faster than the ball as he brought his right leg back, so as to get ready to kick the infamous mass of dark energy. The closer he was to kicking, the more violent the sparking got.

Tsurugi seemed to take a deep breath and then turned his calm expression into a deep scowl. He clenched his teeth for a second, opened his mouth and, as his foot clashed against the ball, he shouted:

“Death Dr—!”

But the last few letters of the name of his brand-new hissatsu turned into a gasp when a colourful shadow appeared right in front of him out of nowhere and kicked the ball as well, just the same way he had just done so.

Tsurugi didn’t stand a chance in front of the shadow’s diabolical kick. As soon as both feet kicked the ball at the same time, Tsurugi lost the battle and was mercilessly hurled to the floor, against which he crashed with his back and was swept away even farther, digging up a small trail of land after him and raising a curtain of dust that hid the identity of the shadow.

“Who’s there?” Endou asked in a calm voice, yet staring at the dust intently.

“Tch. I’d’ve thought yer kids were a tad better educated than that, Endou,” the shadow said from the other side of the dust wall. “Yanno, some basic manners’re never bad.”

“Who’s there…?” Endou repeated with his eyes half-closed, trying to see through the curtain. He had definitely heard that voice before, but he couldn’t quite give it a face.

The dust finally settled down. From inside the cloud, the silhouette of a grown-up man began to become visible, as well as Tsurugi’s, who was still lying on the floor and struggling to look at the shadow who had just attacked him.

The man was wearing some rather colourful, almost tasteless clothes: green baggy pants, a pink jacket and a striped black and white T-shirt underneath. Matching his wild and aggressive attitude, an unkempt lion-like mane covered his head completely and fell over his shoulders, making the cheeky smirk on his face even more mocking than it was probably intended to be. His sharp, grey eyes looked at the knocked down Raimon player out of their corners, but they soon moved back to Endou as soon as the dust wall faded.

The man clicked his tongue and snorted.

“Hav’cha forgotten ‘bout me already, captain?”

“…F-Fudou!?” Endou exclaimed, losing all of his cool. He broke into a run towards him, but braked during the sprint and ended up standing still right in front of him with the most serious face he could muster. “Fudou, is that you?” He looked at the other man’s face from a very close range until he made sure he was talking to his old teammate, then stepped back and huffed, “Why’d you do that to my player, Fudou?”

Akio Fudou, former player of Inazuma Japan, just shrugged.

“Manners.”

“Manners?” Endou asked, tilting his head a bit. Years might pass, but he was still a kid in many senses.

“Manners,” Fudou repeated as he pointed at Tsurugi with a quick movement of his head. “Ya make me come aaall da way from fuckin’ Europe fer reasons ya can’t even explain, an’ first thing I see’s that yer snotty brat stole my hissatsu. But I bet he didn’t mention that part, huh?”

Endou turned towards Tsurugi as well; unlike Fudou, he didn’t mean to scold him, but he did want to know what was going on. When he looked at his player, though, the forward’s face had turned into a grimace where awe and fright could both be noticed, but couldn’t be distinguished from each other.

“A-Akio… Fudou… The Devilish Joker…”

“That’s my name; don’t ya wear it out, kid.”

Endou took Fudou to a nearby bench and sat down there, hoping Fudou would also sit down beside him, but the newcomer preferred to stick his rear on the nearby grassy hill instead. Tsurugi, on the other hand, had long fled, ashamed of having been caught and scolded by one of his biggest role models.

“So… ‘Devilish Joker’?” Endou asked as his eyes gleamed in excitement and a dumb smile appeared on his face. “Is that how they call you in your new team?”

Fudou sighed deeply and covered his face with his hand.

“Yer such an airhead,” he snorted. “Ya haven’t opened a History book in a long time, hav’cha? Even I, livin’ abroad as I was,was aware that ‘ere in Japan there’s this sorta myth goin’ ‘round ‘bout us, what we did durin’ da FFI an’ all that crap.”

“…Myth?” Endou repeated. “Wait, wait, wait—History books? Do we… appear in history books?!”

“Ya bet,” Fudou snorted as he picked his ear. “It’s what happens when ya basically change a whole fuckin’ country’s politics by kickin’ some ball. Hence da myth, hence da shitty nicknames, like ‘Devilish Joker.’ I still dunno where that came from.”

“…How come I wasn’t aware of this…?” Endou muttered as he folded his arms.

“God fuck, captain, know yer score,” the Devilish Joker huffed, but soon chuckled briefly and gave Endou half a smile. “Ya haven’t changed one bit in all these years, hav’cha?”

“Well, I don’t knowif I have, but you, Fudou, you really have—” Endou said, frantically gesturing with his hands around his head, “…changed. I could barely recognise you when I saw you!”

“Well, times change, an’ so did I.” Fudou sighed with his eyes closed. “It’s not like da rest of y’all haven’t changed too, yanno.”

“Of course, but you really do look so different with all that… you know,” the coach said, bringing his hands to his head once again. “I thought you liked— well, that.”

Fudou smirked.

“So, ‘like,’ huh?” Fudou smirked. “Ya either have a very icky idea o’ what ‘like’ means or ya definitely dunno much ‘bout me, after all.“

Endou looked down slightly and scratched the nape of his neck.

“…Sorry, Fudou. I suddenly feel like I never really paid much attention to your feelings.”

Fudou closed his eyes and snorted.

“Don’t sweat it, captain. It’s not like ya could’ve done anythin’; there were no feelings whatsoever back then.”

“I hope that’s changed too…”

“It has. Thought that much’d be obvious judgin’ by that, as ya called it.”

Endou chuckled.

“Yeah. But I’d love to know more about you, either way. I know I’m so late, but let me mend my ways, please..!”

“I ain’t da kinda guy who needs to talk his problems out. If I haven’t told this story before, what makes ya think I will now?”

“Aw, c’mon, Fudou! It will do you good! And I really mean it when I say I want to get to know you better. We’ve been friends for a very long time, after all…”

The newcomer sighed.

“Yo, brat,” hesaid, drastically rising his voice. “I know yer there, so quit hiddin’ and come ‘ere. If ya’ve had da balls to steal my hissatsu, what’s comin’ next might interest ya too.”

Tsurugi came out from his little hideout behind the trees of the grove and slowly walked up to them.

“Good. Now take a seat, kiddo; it’s gonna be a wild ride.”

Endou, acting like the overexcited child he always was, quickly moved up a bit to sit down on the floor, right in front of Fudou and with his legs crossed. Tsurugi shyly sat down next to his coach, unconsciously looking for a bit of his protection, while Inazuma Japan’s former trump card moved his rear up the hill he was sitting on to look at his friend and his fan from above.

“It all started ‘cause my father was a fuckin’ dipshit.”

My father was da biggest fuckin’ joke of a man I’ve ever had da disgrace o’ laying my eyes on. When I was still a snotty-nosed kid, he worked fer a mediocre company somewhere. An’ one day, out of da blue, he came back home pale as a fuckin’ kid about to puke in da car. He didn’t wanna face me, so he sent me to my room to talk to my mother alone, but I refused to leave an’ I eavesdropped. He told my mother that his boss’d promised him a promotion if he agreed to take da blame fer some mistakes, an’, as da brainless arselicker he was, my father accepted. But his boss didn’t keep his promise, an’ once his hands were clean, he didn’t hesitate to kick my father out fer da sake o’ keepin’ da company’s name clean as well.

His boss came home, an’ my father pitifully apologised to him in da hall of our own house. My mother was too busy cryin’ to hear any o’ their words, but I did. My father was told that everythin’ had been his fault fer not doin’ things properly, albeit he’d done exactly as told. He acted like a scapegoat, an’, of course, his boss never hesitated to use such a pathetic excuse o’ a man as sacrifice fodder fer da sake o’ not takin’ his just desserts fer da fraudulent actions da company had done. My father was da only one to blame ‘ere, though, as he offered himself to be used as a fuckin’ toilet brush. He could’ve stayed silent an’ kept his job, but he sold his soul an’ didn’t get shit in return. Even da Devil’d be more reliable than any o’ those shit-fuckers; at least he keeps his promises. At some point, da boss told my father to come outta there an’ continued scoldin’ him outside. From then on, all I could hear were senseless an’ incomprehensible shouts, so I went to bed.

Da next morning, my father'd left da house to never come back. My mother told me he’d had to take da blame for his boss’s mistakes or some crap, but I knew what was really goin’ on. Just thinkin’ ‘bout it makes my blood boil again, although I couldn’t truly understand as a kid. I only knew he’d lied to us, an’ that he’d fled as a fuckin’ rat afterwards.

My mother was devastated. Not only she’d lost her husband, but also her life along with it. My father brought money home, but he was nowhere to be found, let alone wilin’ to send us money. He was probably dead in some corner. I never cared; I still don’t. But I just didn’t know what to do from then on. Fer me, life was just a pathetic excuse to become cannon fodder fer someone stronger than us from da moment we were born, an’ nourishmen’ fer worms from da moment we died. A meanin’less cycle not worth goin’ through.

Da day I tried to end my life, my mother stopped me on my tracks, but barely managed to do so. At that point, I was done cryin’, an’ I just stared blankly at her as she held my hand in da air, but I finally reacted when she hugged me. I’ll never forget da feelin’ of her fingers runnin’ through my hair as she held me like she never did before. As tears streamed down her cheeks an’ wetted mine, she forced me to put da knife down an’, then, whispered in my ear, “Be strong, Akio. You need to be strong to pay them back for what they did to us. Do never become the same kind of person your father is.”

…And I saw it. Life was not cruel; the world was simply full of awful, merciless people who wouldn’t hesitate to screw my life up just to achieve their egoistical goals. So dying like that, on my own and without putting up a fight, was plainly pointless and just as pathetic as my father. If I were to go down, I’d do so in the battlefield.

I wouldn’t turn into a bloodless shit like my father. I wouldn’t let my mother alone like he did.

That weight on my shoulders was unbearable, though. Without my father, my mother only had me to take care of her, and even though I was a powerless child, I had to deal with her suffering all alone. I became the outlet for her suffocated feelings. For months, she cried herself to sleep on my shoulder while sobbing about what our lives would turn into from then on. Seeing my mother so torn hurt me to no end, but I was unable to cry. I couldn’t bring myself to do so, no matter how hard I tried. But, in a way, I’m glad I didn’t. It would have hurt her even more, probably.

That’s when I realised that my mother was, indeed, hopeless. She had lost the strength to go on, and she clung to me in a desperate attempt to hold on to the last cherished thing she had left in her life. As hard as it was to admit, by shielding her and trying to support her, I was blinding my own mother and keeping her from moving forward.

So, one night, after she fell asleep and while my shirt was still wet from her tears, and with coldness that I wasn’t aware of having yet, I used the supplies my father had left at home and I shaved my head until only a last lock of hair was left, just barely enough to fill my hand: the mohawk I wore for so many years, that is. From then on, my own self would always remind me that I lost everything once, just like my hair was also gone; and the same way my mohawk was the last lock of hair in my head, just barely enough to hold on to with a hand, it would also remind me constantly that I was as well the last hope my mother could hold on to. My own countenance became a reflection of my life, and would always remind me the reason why I had to be strong. That would be my penance, and also my reason to live. My bald head was the ocean my mother was drowning in, and my mohawk, on the other hand, the lifebelt I had to turn into.

And thus, sad as ever, but still unable to cry, I wrote a note for her and left my house, just like my father once did, which always hurt my pride. But, unlike him, I always kept myself in contact with her, so she would always know that her son was still out there, fighting for them both.

…So, yeah. As young as I was, I decided to start livin’ on my own, ‘cause we were short o’ money an’ my mother could hardly feed us both. But money wasn’t da main reason why I left. As I said, I’d become my mother’s shield, one that was keepin’ her isolated from da world. Had I stayed, she’d’ve never stood up on her own again, an’ thatd’ve been da end o’ her, an’ us both, fer that matter. But once I was gone, she was forced to start rebuildin’ herself on her own, since I wasn’t there any more to act like da scaffoldin’ o’ her life. She was always a smart woman an’ she did eventually find a job, but I never came back home even after that happened.

However, survivin’ on my own wasn’t easy. I starved more times than I can count, but I’d become too power-hungry to care. I just wanted to be strong, an’ I’d’ve done anythin’ to achieve that goal.

I recruited more kids that, like me, had seen da cruelness o’ this world with their own eyes, an’ they’dfollow my orders like an army at my command. To survive, we’d steal from all that scum we hated an’ share it amongst ourselves an’ those in need.

Hah. I felt like a fuckin’ king.

Screwin’ with those who once screwed up with my family felt damn awesome, an’, with time, we kept on goin’ further an’ further. We started off by pickpocketin’ big shots in da street, but we soon moved on to stealin’ from bigger an’ more pompous places every time, until da day we decided to nick from those fuckin’ snobs at Teikoku Academy.

Teikoku was da embodiment o’ everythin’ I despised: rich fucks, important an’ influential people, top-notch company bosses… All da scum ya’d think messed up with us poor people an’ ruined our lives just to get some more profit fer their already full pockets. That’s why stealin’ from ‘em felt so fuckin’ awesome. Hah. Da losers were so focused on da shitty match ‘bout to start at da stadium that they didn’t notice shit. We looted as much as we wanted just by wearin’ some shitty uniforms we stole from da laundry. Those idiots see their clothes an’ they totally lose their minds. They think us lowlifes’ll get burnt if we try an’ wear ‘em or somethin’, as if they were sacred. As if they were gods above us mere humans. No wonder where what happened soon after came from.

But it wasn’t 'nuff. Sure, what we already had was worth a shit-ton o’ money, an’ my army was satisfied with that much, but it wouldn’t feel like a victory unless I attacked da very root o’ Teikoku, da source o’ da reason why that shitty academy was so well-known: their soccer. Their “commander.”

Reiji Kageyama. Whatta fuckin’ scumbag. I hated him so much fer everythin’ he depicted. He was always there, givin’ every fuckin’ one that creepy smile as he stood behind his team o’ losers. He made me sick. I just had to find his room an’ loot it, although what I really wanted to do was to destroy everythin’ in it, if not punch his face straight away. I told my army to pick everythin’ up an’ leave da place; this had nothin’ to do with ‘em, so there was no point in havin’ ‘em involved in my business. Also, it’d be easier fer a single person to flee, if it ever came down to that.

Da match was ‘bout to start, an’ all corridors were empty. It wasn’t hard to find Kageyama’s office either, as da egomaniacal shit had da biggest damn place in da whole academy, even bigger than da principal’s. Da door was so massive an’ outstandin’ that neon lights wouldn’t’ve made it any more strikin’ than what it already was. I went straight up there ‘cause, being da team’s commander as he was supposed to be, I thought Kageyama’d be with his team at da field.

…Heh. How wrong I was.

The door opened before me, and I saw myself getting into an almost completely dark room—and here I thought the corridors were poorly illuminated. But, across the room, sitting in front of his desk and looking at a bunch of screens with a deadpan face, which were the only source of light in sight, I saw him. His hands were crossed before his face, and his eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses. I guess you eventually need them when you spend your entire existence looking at bright screens in the dark as if you were some sort of hikikomori. But, when he saw me, he rose his head a bit and asked, “Who are you, boy?”

As much as I wasn’t impressed by him being there when I first saw him, his voice made me shiver from head to toes. Just who the fuck was the guy to manage to make me react like that? I didn’t answer because of the sudden shock, though, and his reaction to that was to bring his eyes back to the screens. “I see,” he said slowly. “Seems like you had your little fun sneaking in here, but I have no time to waste with the likes of you, kid. Get lost.”

The likes of me. The likes of me. The sentence kept echoing in my head, and made me more and more furious every fucking time it did. My hatred towards him became personal in a second and made me burn inside. I wanted his fucking head served on a plate for bringing back all the pain I had suffered for being ‘a like’ instead of a person. Us poor people are just an archetype to these fucking rich scum.

He even had the guts to chuckle at my fury. “Heh. So you have the strength to be mad, but not the strength to actually fight, don’t you? Pathetic. Now keep your tail between your legs as you get out of my sight.”

Sadly… he was right. I had to get my revenge for what he had said, but his presence had me intimidated and paralysed. My body wouldn’t move an inch farther from the place I was standing at. Had I had a weapon with me, it all would have ended there for the both of us, but, luckily, it wasn’t the case. But I did find a soccer ball close to the door.

…Ya wanna make us believe yer better than us ‘cause ya command a fuckin’ soccer team, y’say? Then, gettin’ yer face crushed by a soccer ball’d be da perfect outcome fer ya. Yeah, wish I’d said that; it’d’ve been cool. But I didn’t. I was too shocked an’, why not mention it, scared to actually talk or get any closer, but not to act. There were no words, but I did kick da ball. An’, o’ fuckin’ course, I hit him right on his ugly bitch face from all across da room. Da ball went through one o’ his holographic screens an’ crushed his nose as if it were made o’ butter. Da next time I saw his face, he was bleedin’ from his nose an’ mouth, an’, yet, he was still smirkin’. God fuck, just what was wrong with him?

“…Not bad,” he said with a creepy li’l laugh. “Tell me, boy; you definitely are not a Teikoku student despite your clothes, so what team do you play for?”

“None,” I replied as curtly as possible. “I’ve never played soccer before.”

His eerie smile grew even bigger. Very slowly, he stood up, cleaned da blood on his face an’ walked up to me. Fer some reason, I was so impressed an’ scared o’ his height that I almost forgot how to breathe. Hah. I must admit da idiot knew his shit.

“I can see it,” he said as he stood right in front o’ me. “Your eyes are brimming with the thirst for sheer power.”

…To this day, I still wonder whether my ambitions were really that clear, or Kageyama’s heart had just been consumed by darkness to the point that he could also feel it within other people. Either way, I didn’t reply.

“It was your first time kicking a ball, yet you did so with faultless accuracy and a strength to be feared. Not many experienced players could have done what you just did,” he continued. “I’ve been looking for someone like you: someone with your talent who hasn’t been stained yet with some mediocre coach’s worthless teachings. Virgin clay in my hands to turn you into the ultimate soccer warrior, one with the power to rule them all. You could have everything, all the power you ever sought, yet you are not a soccer player.”

“…What could something as stupid as soccer give me, even?” I managed to ask.

“Everything.” His grin turned into an evil smirk. “Soccer has the power to rule the world, in the right hands.”

He stretched out his arm an’ offered me his hand. At that point, his filthy paws seemed massive to me, as if they were meant to hold da planet an’ make it theirs. Da planet… or even more.

“Join me, and I will teach you. You will have all the power you ever wanted, and much more.”

I won’t blame him; I was already corrupted at that point. He didn’t bribe me nor lure me into doing anything I didn’t want to do. He just offered me the chance to be who I was meant to, and my inner self could not refuse that offer. My mind was as wicked as his, maybe even more, and he knew it. But, sadly, he was smarter.

…An’ that’s how I gave him my hand an’ gave up on everythin’ I had in order to become Kageyama’s puppet. My army, my goals, even my mother: if I was to become strong, leavin’ those aside fer now didn’t matter in da slightest.

It was incredible how far ahead that man’d think. “Teikoku is doomed,” he said. “It no longer serves any purpose to me.” I had no fuckin’ clue what he meant, but I’d promised to follow his instructions. I never realised it at that moment, but I’d just become as worthless an’ pathetic as I thought my father was. He told me to get outta there as quickly as possible, an’ that a friend o’ his would come pick me up if I waited at da right spot. He’d come later himself to meet us, also.

But he never came. Later on, I’d know that he was arrested durin’ da match against Raimon fer trynna kill ‘em; or that’s what I heard, at least. Someone did come pick me up, though: a really pale an’ scrawny man who never gave me his name, as far as I can recall. “Who are you, young man?” He told me in a mockin’ voice. Ugh. Yet ‘nother fuckin’ adult actin’ so high an’ mighty with me fer bein’ a poor kid. Fuck him with a curved cactus.

I gave him my name, though, an' told him that Kageyama’d sent me. Da guy seemed to know what da whole plan was about, an’ he took me somewhere by car; can’t really say where, though. I never understood shit; actually, I don’t think I ever even tried to understand what was goin’ on. They promised me power; that’s all I cared ‘bout. Da only thin’ I know’s da place was huge an’ dark as fuck, fer some reason—an’ please notice that I’d just come outta Teikoku, where they definitely will never go broke fer spendin’ too much money on electricity, so just imagine how dark da place must’ve been fer me to complain.

He guided me through some of da most confusin’ corridors I’ve ever seen, an’ locked me in a room, but not before givin’ me a necklace with a little, purple stone attached to it. He told me to wear it, an’ that he’d come back after a while. An’ then… Hmph.

…Kid, you should consider yourself lucky for fighting for the sake of soccer now and not back when we did. You could have been in my place, too, and let me tell you that it’s anything but funny. I know your History books mention us and what we went through, so I hope you have heard about some certain little thing called the Aliea Meteorite. Well, let me tell you something: it was the worst fucking thing you could ever come across. Its power greatly improved physical abilities, that much is true, but the cost was far beyond what you could imagine. The fact that it changes most people’s anatomy after being exposed to it for long enough should be enough proof of how terrible it was. If growing pains hurt brats like you and those changes happen during many months or years, imagine how sharp the pain must be when your body changes in a matter of weeks, or even days.

The effects the Aliea Meteorite had in people’s bodies were always terrible, regardless of the relatively little change on the outside they produced at times. Some changes were as innocent-looking as growing hair much faster than usual; other ones included facial features changing, and so on. However, the power of the meteorite was so strong that, at times, it could even rip off clothes. Not everyone was as lucky as to only have their clothes ripped, though, and many people had their bodies terribly shattered and deformed to the point of almost losing their human features completely, all due to being exposed to the meteorite for too long. As for me, I’m convinced I was on my way to becoming one of the latter, but, luckily, I wasn’t exposed to the meteorite for long enough in the end. My hair grew longer and messier, and a red marking shaped like lightning appeared on my still shaved head. For some reason, ever since the day I first had that stone hanging on my neck, hair stopped growing on the rest of my head. I had had to shave my head continuously during my days as a thief, but I suddenly never needed to do so again. To this day, I still don’t know if it was yet another side effect of the Aliea Meteorite, but a part of me has always thought that it was not.

…Howev’r, no words can describe what I felt durin’ those days, or weeks; it’s hard to tell how much time I spent in that nasty place. Sayin’ that my body was burnin’ would be puttin’ it very lightly: rather than growin’, it felt as if my limbs an’ inner organs were bein’ chopped off an’ replaced with new ones that my body rejected. For days, I stayed in that room alone, screamin’ an’ writhin’ in pain. No wonder that bastard Kira never wanted The Genesis to be exposed to da damn meteorite; it ruins bodies like Kidou ruins da fun. It wouldn’t’ve been practical in da long run to have his “ultimate soldiers” turned into shit.

Same as with growin’ pains, though, da pain stops eventually. From what I heard, it takes a few days fer da body to get completely used to it after da pain stops, but I didn’t have said time. Da same day my body began to behave itself, that pale man who locked me there showed up again an’ took me out, sayin’ that there’d been a “sudden change of plans” an’ that I was needed right away. Accordin’ to him, Kageyama’d been freed an’ lifted again after screwin’ up with some kids other than Teikoku’s.

Heh. Da guy might be a creep, but, damn, he did know what was up. He had it all planed. He did tell me he’d need me for this, an’ there I was. Oh, man.

Da pale guy took me to a road covered by snow an’ gave me a black soccer ball that was heavier than Kabeyama ridin’ an obese cow. He said to be wary of a black truck drivin’ through that road an’, after tellin’ me to hit da truck with that ball, he left me all alone. What was I supposed to do, though? I didn’t know shit ‘bout soccer, an’, from how much it weighted, kickin’ that ball seemed as useless as kickin’ a fuckin’ mountain: if anythin’ was to be damaged, that’d be my foot.

Da truck was nowhere to be seen yet an’ I was kinda startin’ to get bored, not gonna lie, so I decided to try an’ see how much it’d hurt to hit that ball. First off, I just touched it a bit with my foot, and da ball moved slightly. It was strange: da ball was by all means heavy, yet it didn’t feel like so at all when I touched it. I kept trynna get a grasp of it more an’ more an’, before I could realise it, I was playin’ keepie-uppie with it as if it weighted nothin’. Only then I realised da huge, obscene power da stone hangin’ from my neck had given me, an’ how that power was directly related to da strange black ball I had been given by da equally weird creep from before.

As I was focusin’ on keepin’ da ball from touchin’ da ground, I heard da sound of a huge black van runnin’ through da road behind me. At that point, I was already aware o’ what I could do, even though I’d done nothin’ but scratch da surface o’ my new power. I kicked da ball in da air an’ caught it with a single hand, then pressed it against my hip. I waited there for da van to show up with a smirk on my face, much like Kageyama’s own one when we first met. An’, when da sound got close 'nuff, I dropped da ball. It took a second to fall, though, since da strange black ball reacted to da new power da meteorite’d provided me of an’ hovered with a creepy green glow before fallin’. When it finally fell an’ I kicked it, da ball described a perfect parabola an’ crashed against a nearby hill covered in snow as if it were a cannonball. All that snow fell on da road as an avalanche, an’ da van lost control an’ came off da road.

I dunno if da police officers in da van survived da crash; if they did, they were unconscious, at least. Kageyama, on da other hand, wasn’t. He came out o’ da van on his own as if shit had happened, removed his handcuffs an’ walked up to me. “Good job, Fudou,” he said. Somehow, his voice didn’t seem menacin’ any more; it just evoked… respect. Devotion.

“Thank you, Commander.”

…From that point on, Kageyama took me under his wing to teach me, as promised. The power granted by the piece of the Aliea Meteorite hanging from my neck provided me of terrific strength, but I still needed the skill and knowledge to use it properly:the skill and knowledge only a coach can provide, as evil or wicked as said coach might be. He put his plan into action as I was learning, counting on me to be ready by the time he needed me. Seeing how things turned out, though, I wonder if I was.

I did everything he asked me to do. I learnt the rules of soccer, but I never cared about them: I had already seen what doing things my way could lead to, and I wouldn’t let some stupid rules keep me from achieving my ultimate goals. I brought him the best players I could find; all incredible, and twisted. They were the same kind I used to recruit during my army days, but our goal was exactly the opposite this time around. I never felt any regret about it, though. I also recruited again those who were once loyal to Kageyama, call it Sakuma and Genda, since, using his own words, “they could still be useful to us, be it as soldiers or as cannon fodder.” I never cared one bit, though; I was Kageyama’s right hand, the one who would inherit his power, and I couldn’t care less about some lowlifes who were once too weak to be useful to him. I even exposed them to the Aliea Stone myself, and I enjoyed seeing them writhe in pain like I once did.

…Yeah, I know. I’d become a fuckin’ inhuman monster. Wish I could blame it all on da damn crystal ‘round my neck or da pain it made me go through, but I truly think that that side o’ me’d been there all along, deep within. Da meteorite only unleashed an’ sped up what was meant to happen ever since that scumbag I used to call ‘father’ left my mother an’ me alone. Or maybe I was born with it altogether. Who knows.

Howev’r, da inhuman monster I’d turned into was, in da end, nothin’ but a puppet to be used. Or, rather, a fuckin’, nasty, dispensable handkerchief. After all, as soon as da match between Shin Teikoku an’ Raimon was over, Kageyama left me all alone again, without even carin’ if I survived da sink or not. All in all, I was too weak for his likin’, too, an’, thus, I deserved to die. I was no different than those bastards that I thought were my puppets, but, in da end, were just as useless an’ dispensable as me.

“The only weakling here is you. I told you to gather first-rate players. But all of the players you have found are second-rate, including you.” Just rememberin’ those words’ 'nuff to make my blood boil again. Most o’ da stuff he used to say back then made me pretty fuckin’ angry, honestly. “You are not fit for me if you can not get past your own problems. You tried to use me and fought as a player of Shin Teikoku to defeat Raimon… so that person would acknowledge you.”

But… heh. He was right. All in all… I just wanted to be renowned. Wherever he might be, I wanted my father to hear of me, of how far I had got, of how much power I had. I wanted to see him begging on his knees for an apology and so I would share a bit of my power with him. I wanted to destroy his dreams and hopes like he once did with my mother’s. I wanted to show him a ray of hope and then take it away from him with my bare hands. I needed it. And I would have done anything to achieve that goal.

I won’t bore you with the details of how I survived, since I don’t even know it myself. I woke up beside the sea, with nothing but my life yet to lose, and I went astray. It was all over. I had bet everything on a single card because it seemed flawless, yet I lost. I trusted the word of a man I had never trusted before, and he used me as fodder to make up for his loss. He never lost; only I did—and my teammates too, I guess, although those were saved by Raimon, unlike me.

Sounds familiar? Yeah, thought so.

I roamed for days or weeks, aimlessly, looking for either a new goal in life or a place to drop down dead. As I did so, the red marking on my head disappeared, but despite I no longer had the Aliea Stone with me, my hair refused to grow back. My mohawk did, though, but, as it grew longer, white locks grew from it too; or, rather, it was as if the edges of my hair had turned white. I tried trimming my hair and combing it in different ways to make them disappear or less visible, at least, but they just wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard I tried.

When you’ve been exposed to an alienating material such as the Aliea Meteorite, you can never be sure whether the alterations your body experiences are natural or one of the meteorite’s side effects, nor to which extent those two factors can work together. However, I always thought it had a deeper meaning than just being a reaction to the lack of an invasive material in my body. My head had become a portrait of my own self ever since the day I ran away from home, and I believe those white locks were also part of that… canvas, as fucking lame as it sounds. Those pure-looking white locks became the light among the shadows of my penitence; perhaps, a sign that I had been walking among the darkness up until then, but light would soon appear again before me—or had already appeared, maybe. To be honest, had it not been for them, I doubt I’d be here now.

…Then, da rest’s history. Hibiki found me wanderin’ ‘bout Ehime, picked me up, told me to play with Inazuma Japan, yadda yadda yadda. Howev’r, don’t go thinkin’ stuff like ‘oh, such an experience must had traumatized you to the point of not ever wanting to play soccer again!’ Bullshit. Look… Kageyama was a fuckin’ bitch, that much’s true. But those who knew him well also knew that, deep inside, an’ despite havin’ a full army o’ Batmen in da belfry or havin’ used nothin’ but da loose screws from his head to build Shin Teikoku’s floatin’ stadium, da guy loved soccer more than anythin’, an’ he also taught me to love it as he taught me how to play. His trainin’ sessions were almost—almost—as bad as yours, captain, but… well, I’ve said it before, but da guy knew his shit, all right. Now I see why Teikoku’s players loved soccer so much despite havin’ had him as their coach fer da longest time: ‘cause he could never completely hide his love, although it was constantly covered by da hatred he’d imposed on himself.

Inazuma Japan had nothin’ to do with my hair growin’ back, though. As much as I did wanna win da tournament, doin’ so didn’t change my past, nor what I’d promised myself. I… still had to protect my mother. I still had to take my revenge from my father. My grudges didn’t go away; it didn’t change who I was, nor what I’d done. I was still astray, as I didn’t know how to change any o’ that shit. Guess ya could say I was… stuck.

But once I finally fought my demons an’ found my own identity aside from my debts toward my parents, my hair began to grow naturally again, an’ da white streaks faded away. I was in peace at last, an’ I felt like I didn’t owe anyone shit, so I could finally leave aside my lifelong penitence an’ be who I wanted to be. Move on, yanno.

So, as a way to make up fer my mistakes, an’ so I’d never go back to that dismal period nor forget what I felt back then, I let my hair grow an’ didn’t cut it at all ever since. So, yeah—what ya see here’re almost ten years wortha hair.

“…Wow, that was a wild ride,” Endou said, sighing deeply afterwards, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. “What got you out from that situation, though? What happened to those feelings towards your parents?”

“Heh,” Fudou said as he put his hands behind his head and lay down on the grassy hill. “That’s a whole different story, captain, an’ must be told in a whole different moment. Ya should know that story yerself, though.”

Endou rubbed his chin, trying to remember what could have triggered such a change in Fudou. Meanwhile, Fudou continued:

“Howev’r, my mother’s fine; not havin’ to feed me greatly improved her economical situation back in da day, an’ so did da scholarship I got to study at Teikoku. She’s also recovered from her emotional trauma, luckily, an’ she’s livin’ a happy life at home with a li’l support of mine; bein’ a pro soccer player’s got its perks,” Fudou smirked. “She’s proud of me, she’s got back her hope, yadda yadda; ya get da idea, don’t ya. As fer my father, well. We parted ways long ago; long ‘nuff fer it to not matter nowadays. Never found him, but I stopped tryin’ long ago, too. Wherev’r he is, be it lickin’ some other boss’ arse or dead in some alley, it’s not my problem. Da time to forget ‘bout him was past due.”

Tsurugi listened to Fudou’s words intently, but his mind wandered. As much as caring so less about a family member was something he could not completely grasp due to his situation, that was not what was bothering him.

“Fudou-san… There’s still something I can’t understand.”

“Spit it out, kiddo,” Fudou said as he closed his eyes. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and it was dazzling him directly.

“You kept mentioning how horrible those days were, but you also said you let your hair grow to remember them… Why would you want to do that?”

“Funny to hear ya askin’ that question,” Fudou chuckled arrogantly. “Yanno, that hissatsu ya stole from me ain’t just anythin’. It was da first technique I developed after my, err, ‘rehabilitation,’ if ya may call it that way,” he said as he moved his right hand in a circular motion. “My Death Drop’s a representation o’ how those death thoughts that once consumedme can be overcome an’ turned into da sheer power I always craved. Da one against my demons was a valuable victory worth treasurin’, albeit not an easy one to deal with, but it takes a strong feelin’ o’ remorse to master a shot like that. Do ya think ya can live up to that kinda feelin’, kiddo?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll definitely try my best to live up to its true meaning. …If you would let me, that is.”

“Yeah, wha’ev’r, go ahead if ya must; like coach, like player, after all. Just trynna follow Endou’s path too in da sense o’ finally realisin’ he was bein’ a crappy copycat, an’ go look fer somethin’ o’ yer own eventually.”

Tsurugi slowly turned his eyes towards his coach.

“Ha ha, you got me…!” Endou hurried to say as he scratched the back of his neck. “I used to idolise my grandpa, so I took most of my hissatsus from him, but the strongest ones I ever came up with were of my own! Mimicking him definitely helped me improve, though, and I’m glad I did. It helped me feel closer to him, too, and that alone would’ve been enough of a reason to emulate him. Soccer is about connecting people’s hearts, after all—even those out of the field!”

“Then, was your grandfather your mentor, Endou-san?” Tsurugi asked.

“Not really…! It took me a really long time to meet him, and he did help me when that happened, but I had to come a long way before that. I guess you could say it was an inspiration or a role model rather than a mentor… But, hey, you have it easier than I did! After all, you have Fudou right here to tea—!”

“NO FUCKIN’ WAY!” Fudou hurried to shout as he gave Endou a mean look. “I’m not gonna babysit yer snotty kids, Endou!”

“But, Fudou—“

“No is no,” Fudou repeated, lowering his voice but frowning harder. “I’m no coach—you are. …And no one but you could do this. I’m only here because you called me for help to fight something bigger than us both, not to train some creepy-looking brat, so I’m off. Hit me up again when you find a better way to waste my time.”

A flaming dagger crossed Tsurugi’s little heart after being called ‘creepy-looking,’ and Fudou stood up and began to walk away.

Endou put a hand on Tsurugi’s shoulder.

“Excuse him; he’s a bit… rough, sometimes,” he whispered. “But he didn’t mean to be rude…!”

“I did!” Fudou shouted as he walked, but suddenly stopped and sighed lightly. Then, without even as much as turning around to look at them, he rose his voice again and said, “…However, keep working on it. Improve that Death Drop; evolve it; make it yours. If you do by the time we meet again, I might feel like teaching you a trick or two…, kiddo. There’s only so much you can learn from an airhead like your coach, after all.”

Tsurugi smiled. Even if his biggest hero was Gouenji, he had always admired Fudou too for the fierceness of his plays, and he set his mind to earning his respect by the time they would meet again.

“See ya.”

That said, Fudou walked away, lost in thought, remembering the person who got him out of his well of darkness and smiling at the idea of him being mad at the manners he had just displayed towards that little, spiky-haired kid. And just like he once did almost ten years ago, he unconsciously headed to the Steel Tower, wondering if his favourite bench would be free that day.

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