When I was young—back when it hadn't even been one or two years since I started playing soccer—there was a time when an external lecturer came to give a talk at the invitation of the soccer team's coach.
To be honest, seeing as I can't even remember who that person was, nor their face or name, they probably weren't all that famous.
But still, one thing they said remains deeply etched in my mind.
It was that to become a great player, you couldn't be kind and naive.
Since soccer is, after all, a competitive sport rather than a record-based sport—a structure where you only earn recognition by stepping on others to climb up—that being kind is good as a human being, but it can never be used as praise for a pro player was what they said.
I remember them saying that when you meet successful people, they all have something in common: they're filled with so much fighting spirit it'd leave you speechless, and their competitive drive is insanely strong.
The reason it left such a deep impression that I still remember it is, first, because the idea that being kind isn't necessarily a good thing was a refreshing shock—it was completely different from what I'd read in textbooks.
But more than anything, it was because I thought, *Then I guess I wasn't born with the right conditions to become a great player.*
Ah, of course, it's not that I'm kind and naive.
I'm talking about competitive drive.
When I evaluated myself, I'd never once thought of myself as someone with a strong competitive drive.
Of course, I was always filled with thoughts that I had to do well, that it wouldn't do to fail, but—that was for slightly different reasons; it wasn't that I felt immense ecstasy from winning itself, or that losing was worse than death... it wasn't that kind of feeling.
If competitive drive were quantified like a game stat, my score would definitely be quite low.
That was all I believed.
But it seems that wasn't actually the case.
"Loosen up your face. It's scary to even talk to you, hey. Still not over it?"
"...Ah. No."
"I told you everyone should hit something once."
"..."
On the way home after arriving at Florence Airport.
At Saponara's words, I suddenly come to my senses and look at my reflection in the window.
...Even I can see that my lips are sticking out, still pouting.
I'd tried hard to think positively in every way I could, but the aftereffects of the defeat still hadn't worn off.
It's not like this is the first time I've lost since playing soccer.
But this is the first time the regret has lasted this long, so even I'm surprised.
There were times I'd felt self-loathing, but I'd never really felt angry about the fact that I'd lost.
Last night, the game scenes kept flickering before my eyes, so I couldn't sleep properly.
If I think about why... well, the reason is obvious.
It's that I couldn't live up to expectations.
My teammates and fans would have wanted to win, so failing to meet those expectations is incredibly regrettable.
I wanted to return to Florence proudly, laughing with my teammates, bringing news of victory.
I wanted to see the fans happy, and not being able to do that is the most regrettable and disappointing thing.
However, it's just a little strange that this doesn't lead to self-loathing.
Rather than being afraid that people might curse at me, it's regrettable that I can't see them happy.
What makes the difference between those two most apparent is my mindset regarding the second leg.
If it were the old me... I would have wanted to hide or run away.
There would have been so many scary things that I would have tried not to play in the second leg somehow.
But now it's different; I want to play the second leg quickly.
I want to get revenge and make up for it as soon as possible, even a day sooner.
Losing... was such a terrible experience.
"Everyone, go home and get your condition sorted out. For the weekend league match, let's get the atmosphere back to normal. That's the only way we can forget the first leg and prepare for the second."
"Yes—"
All I could think was that I wished time would pass quickly and the day of the second leg would dawn.
*
Returning home, unpacking my luggage, and lying down on the bed to rest for a bit.
Having received a text from Jiu asking if I wanted to go grocery shopping together if I was free, I came into the bathroom to wash up.
Planning to just wash my face, I stood before the sink and looked in the mirror, but I was suddenly startled by my reflection.
"...Even though I'd been sulky beyond words just moments ago.
Now I was bright and cheerful, as if none of that had ever happened.
...What the heck.
Just a while ago I'd been agonizing over competitive drive, over how losing was worse than death.
Had it all been a matter of just a few dozen minutes?
Hmm.
If that were the case, I'd been like that from the moment the match ended until I got home.
My mood had cleared up so quickly that even I couldn't understand myself.
"...Hmph hmph."
Dear me.
Now I'm even humming...?
...What are you doing, you.
"Phew—"
Anyway, after briefly—no, thoroughly—washing my face.
I look into the mirror this way and that, fix my hair, and leave the bathroom.
And after putting on a coat, I leave the house.
Since I promised to meet in front of Jiu's house, I head that way.
The steps that had felt heavy just moments ago now feel surprisingly light.
Well... it's because the air is refreshing.
Manchester's sky was a bit dreary, after all.
Florence's sky is blue and the air is refreshing.
That's why, that's why.
I guess going outside to get some fresh air really is the best way to change your mood.
"..."
I was thinking that, but it struck me as so funny that a short laugh escaped me.
Truthfully, I'm exhausted enough that I'd like to go back right now, lock myself in my room, and sleep.
Even so, the fact that I came out humming at Jiu's suggestion to meet struck me as funny.
Goodness.
To think there was something that could overcome the desire for sleep...
"Hmm."
Anyway.
After arriving in front of Jiu's house, I purse my lips for no reason and get a grip on my expression.
After all, I can't be grinning like an idiot when I just came back from a loss.
I switch to a somewhat gloomy mode and wait like that for a moment.
"Oioi, ya came?"
At the strange greeting, I raise my head and see Jiu appear, waving a hand over his head.
The greeting is something only old men would use, and it clashed completely with his appearance... The gloomy mode I'd barely held onto shattered all too easily.
"What? Why are you laughing at someone's face? Do I look funny?"
"...It's not like you only just realized that now, is it?"
"Wow, it's been a long time since you got hit. Want a taste for the first time in a while?"
Acting cocky.
Jiu raises his fist with exaggerated gestures, and because of that, the corners of my mouth rise even higher.
Why did he do his hair like that today of all days... He really looks like a childish kid.
"What's with that hair..."
"What."
"It's a hairstyle only kids do."
"What are you talking about. Twin tails are trending these days. Look, honestly they're pretty."
"...You have to follow trends according to your age. I think the time for that hairstyle has passed."
"Are you brave today or something? Did you pick up a spare life somewhere? Sigh, whatever. What's the point talking about fashion with someone who only wears clothes they got as gifts? Forget it, let's just go."
Since I refused to admit it to the end, Jiu shakes his head and turns around.
And he starts walking ahead, but seeing that figure, I burst into a silent, tooth-baring laugh again.
Because of his twin braids bouncing around floppily with every step.
Why does he seem like such a little kid today of all days?
"Hurry up!"
"...Yeah."
Maybe because of that, I feel like I'm becoming a child too.
That braided hair... I start to feel an urge to grab it and pull it for no reason.
But if I did, I'd really be dead, so I barely hold back.
If I keep watching it from behind, I feel like I might pull it without realizing, so I quickly walk up to his side.
Then Jiu glances at me and soon looks forward, speaking.
"What. I thought you'd look really down. You don't seem so bad after all."
"...What reason do I have to look down."
"Well, that's true. But I thought you'd be bawling your eyes out saying the opponent was too strong and that's why you lost."
"...Am I a kid? I'm not going to cry."
He's hitting where it hurts.
Still, I answer with a feigned calmness, and Jiu looks at me with a smile full of mischief.
"You weren't a kid? Aw, our Jian has grown up?"
"...What are you saying. The kid here is you, with that hair..."
"You're dead, seriously."
...I should stop talking about the hair.
I sensed killing intent.
"Anyway, well. Seeing Noona's face makes you feel better right away, right? I know everything, kiddo."
"..."
"Did you just sigh?"
"Ah, no. It's just cold..."
"Right? That's it, right? Let's do well?"
"Yeah..."
At Jiu's hand patting my shoulder, I nod my head quickly.
Getting a talking-to from a kid with little-brat hair is a strange feeling.
But it's not exactly bad; even I wonder what I'm doing.
"...Hmm. But it is cold. My hands are cold. Haaah—"
I click my tongue inwardly as I walk, but beside me, Jiu cups his hands and blows on them.
Hmm. It doesn't seem that cold to me.
"Why didn't you wear gloves?"
"I don't like wearing gloves."
"...Then put your hands in your pockets."
"Hey, are you stupid? Don't you know you have to walk with your hands out of your pockets on snowy roads?"
"..."
"Sigh, forget it. Let's just go. What's the point talking to you, dummy."
...Hmm.
It's not like he ever hounds me for a reason.
But right now, I really don't know why I'm getting scolded.
What's with him.
"Hurry up!"
"Ah, okay."
Of course, what I understand the least is that I keep wanting to snicker at Jiu like that.
...
The human heart is truly fickle.
No, wait.
The fickle one is me.
You can't call all people fickle just because I am.
Anyway, I'm fickle.
Just months ago, I was complaining alone about the tight match schedule.
Now it's the opposite.
"Let's get off."
It had only been four days since returning from Manchester.
We'd arrived at the home stadium by bus for the weekend league match, and wanting to get off, I packed my things quickly.
Today of all days, I want to play the match quickly.
The reason is, of course, because of my desire to make it up to the fans who must be disappointed by the last match, even if just a little.
Of course, today's opponent isn't Manchester City, but I still think I should show them a winning performance.
Actually, I was a little worried.
Even though I know our fans wouldn't do that... I can't deny that the previous result was unsatisfying.
I was worried they might lower their expectations of us.
By now, I know too.
That I'm the type who plays well only when I'm expected to.
To keep receiving expectations going forward, I have no choice but to make up for it in today's match.
Pssh—
The bus door opens, and I wait for my turn to get off with a somehow nervous heart.
From getting off the bus to entering the stadium, there are usually fans who want to see us up close.
Is it a bit greedy of me to expect fans today too, waving at me and calling my name like always?
It probably is greedy.
That can be felt again after the match is over.
It's entirely up to me.
I nod, empty my mind, and get off the bus.
But the next moment... I was slightly flustered by voices much louder than usual.
"Jan—! Jaaan—!"
"Ri! Ri! Ri!"
"Do your best in today's match too!"
"Forza! Ri!"
For a moment, I was taken aback by the sounds that hit me the instant my foot touched the ground.
Soon, one fan's voice pierced my ears like a blow.
"Ri! Thank you for protecting our pride!"
That completely unexpected remark left me feeling dazed, as if struck in the back of the head.
I had just returned from losing a match, and they said I protected their pride?
I couldn't understand it at all and approached where the fans stood as if entranced.
Then the voices calling my name grew louder.
"Please sign just once!"
"A photo, please!"
"Kyaaah! So handsome!"
...Hmm.
For now, I frantically sign jerseys being shoved at me and photos, my signature still as awkward as ever.
Unfortunately, I can't take photos due to time, so I ask for understanding and substitute with signatures.
As I sign for one person after another like that.
I come face to face with the fan who verbally blindsided me earlier.
It was an uncle fan who looked about my father's age, and he too held out his jersey... and spoke to me in an excited voice.
"The last match was really cool! It was touching!"
At this, I ask back,
"...But we lost."
Then the man makes an expression like that's nonsense and soon scolds me sharply.
"What do you mean, it was just the first leg! And honestly, nobody expected us to win!"
At that scolding... my heart sinks for a moment.
The man continues.
"Even we were like that! That's why I burst into tears watching your interview! Your regret was so visible in your eyes, I could feel you truly wanted to win... right?"
...Mhm.
I nod.
Then the man makes another moved expression and taps the team emblem on his chest.
"You raised our pride. We had been lowering our own level, assuming we wouldn't make it, but you raised our pride. You showed them we're not a team that should simply be grateful just to have reached the Round of 16!"
...Is that how it works?
I was simply saying exactly how I felt.
I hadn't thought that far, so I stare blankly at the man's face for a moment.
His face looks genuinely proud.
"...Thank you for your support."
I bow my head deeply at this, finish signing, and hand the jersey back.
Then the man hugs the jersey preciously and says,
"I'll be looking forward to today! Do well!"
At those words, I nod and hold up my thumb in response.
"Please look forward to it."
With that answer, I get caught by the coach's hand saying it's time to go now and am dragged toward the stadium.
Behind me, the fans' voices keep coming, and though I can't answer each one individually, every word lodged firmly in my heart.
Suddenly, I thought that today's opponent was unfortunate.
Sorry, but they have bad luck.
A Yi Jian playing with the crowd's expectations behind her isn't easy to face.
"..."
...Was I getting too carried away?
What was I even thinking.
I quickly shake my head, come to my senses, and head toward the locker room.