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7. Early Blooming Flower -1
Sometimes, when I go to a sauna or something to work up a sweat, the air I breathe after finishing and stepping out feels as refreshing as a carbonated drink.
Likewise, if you exercise while wearing a weighted vest and then take it off, you feel like you could fly.
The 18th round of the league, held at home.
Our opponent was Atalanta BC, and facing Atalanta after playing Man City felt like... running on a track after running underwater.
Of course, I had no intention of disrespecting the opponent, and Atalanta wasn't a team you could call easy either, but...
It was largely because the match against Man City had been an incredibly difficult one for us.
Honestly, in that match, we barely touched the ball for the full 90 minutes, didn't we?
All we could do was watch the opponent's passes while defending, and occasionally attempt counterattacks.
It was probably the same for the spectators, but from the player's perspective, it was truly a suffocating match.
It was to the point where it was the most frustrating match I'd experienced since I was born.
In contrast, today... it was nothing short of refreshing.
Swish-!
Swish-!
I drop into the midfield and exchange short passes with the surrounding midfielders.
At this, the opposing midfielders constantly rush in to intercept the pass or steal the ball, but... Swish-!
Their movements look as slow as if playing at 0.5x speed, so evading them doesn't feel difficult.
Everything looks clear and distinct.
Was soccer always this easy?
Was passing the ball back and forth always this fun?
Feeling an inexplicable sense of liberation, I kick the ball to my heart's content.
While doing so, it suddenly crosses my mind—just how much fun must the Man City players who faced us have had—and it gets to the point where I feel annoyed.
Swish-!
After exchanging passes relentlessly like that, I confirm that the opponents' movements have slowed as if resigned, then stop the ball at my feet.
"..."
And after glancing toward the front line, I pull my right foot back while standing in place.
Today, I feel like I've become Kevin De Bruyne.
Bwoooom-!
With my ankle locked and the angle tilted diagonally, I strike the lower-middle part of the ball as if slicing it, and the ball travels in a low trajectory.
The target is the right side.
Trusting in Romero's speed as he breaks through, and since I've put backspin on it, I send it slightly further ahead.
That pass drops precisely in front of Romero, and at the same time, the speed dies down and settles at his feet.
Swish-!
The sensation of relative ease was one thing, but what I gained from the match against Man City wasn't just that.
Personally, I received a lot of inspiration as well.
Of course, the greatest inspiration was the team's overall movement, but if I had to pick a player who shocked me personally, it would undoubtedly be De Bruyne.
Because I still can't forget that pass he threaded at a completely unexpected angle.
Thanks to that... or perhaps because of it... I'm not sure which.
Anyway, I think I've contracted a slight illness.
Because whenever I get the chance, I keep trying to find invisible angles, and I feel the urge to attempt difficult passes.
Fortunately or unfortunately, however, even though we had a firm grip on the initiative, there weren't many opportunities for that.
Because a pass is something two people do, not something I give unilaterally by myself.
Such challenging passes... were difficult to say they fit well with our team's color.
Ah, that's not to say my teammates' movements to receive passes were lacking.
It's just a tactical difference.
Our attacking tactics involve holding the ball first and solving from there, rather than creating space through movement.
Like right now.
Swish-!
Near the box, in the right half-space, I receive the pass laid back by Romero.
And while facing off with one defender in front of me, I don't feel my teammates' movements.
Because they're just watching as if telling me to handle it on my own.
This is what I mean by a tactical difference.
The coach instructs me to finish by myself whenever possible... so I tend to choose shooting over passing.
Ta-tat-!
I give a body feint to the right, then drive out long to the left.
And immediately adjusting my stride, I pull back my left foot aiming for the upper left corner of the goal.
Once again, I have no intention of disrespecting Atalanta.
However, compared to the match against Man City, the space is so much more generous.
Bwoooom-!
Shooooo
-Thwack-!!
At this distance with barely any defensive pressure, it would be strange not to score.
A well-struck shot gets sucked into the corner, and soon a massive roar erupts from the stands.
"──!!"
Hearing that roar, I run slowly toward the corner flag.
Perhaps because of the previous match's result, I don't feel like doing an extravagant celebration.
Still, this is closer to duty than choice.
I have a duty to make the fans happy, and an obligation to meet their expectations.
Also, since I'm wearing the Fiorentina uniform, I must be confident anywhere and never show a lack of confidence.
That must be the least I can do for the fans who make me proud.
"Yeeaaah-!!!"
Passing the corner flag, I leap up with a whoosh, and when I clench my fist tight, the faces of the fans cheering toward me become clearly visible.
I'd been around the world quite a bit, but this was a more beautiful sight than anywhere else....
Full Time
FIO 3 : 0 ATA
-11' Lee
-34' Lee
-51' Lee (Hat-trick)
...
"Hmm..."
The moment I realize I've woken up to a groaning sound from my throat.
My body is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, with a phone in my hand.
"..."
It's a day off so I didn't set an alarm.
So I was planning to sleep one or two hours more than usual, but a body steeped in routine doesn't seem to allow sleeping in.
Now I've become someone who can't even sleep as I please.
"Ha-am..."
With a dry yawn, I lift my hips and get up, approaching the window.
And when I draw the curtains and slowly open the window, fresh yet lukewarm air brushes past my face.
I usually sleep in just my underwear in my room.
That's still the case now, but seeing that I don't feel cold even with the outside wind coming through the window... spring must be well on its way.
It's already March.
Now, green is starting to appear sparsely against the gray cityscape, and the weather has warmed up enough to put thick coats deep in the closet.
Time really flies.
Come to think of it, I can barely remember how January and February passed.
I'm not even twenty yet, so isn't this a problem?
Tsk tsk, I click my tongue and grab fresh underwear, heading to the bathroom.
It's a day off, but it's not a day off—there's an appointment.
More accurately, it's a day to play rather than rest.
If you're asking who the appointment is with... who else would I make an appointment with besides one person?
Jiwoo again, of course.
My human relationships are this narrow.
Shhh... Hmm.
But thinking about it the other way, doesn't that mean Jiwoo, who sees me every day, also has narrow relationships?
At first glance it sounds obvious, but it feels surprisingly unexpected.
Jiwoo is extroverted unlike me, likes to talk, likes to go around.
And though she has a bit of a temper, she's not a difficult personality, so she's not the type to have no friends.
Come to think of it, I don't know why she only meets me.
Even if I use the excuse that it's because we're in Italy, it's already the second spring.
It's a bit strange, but it's clear Jiwoo has as few friends as I do.
Thinking that, a laugh bursts out for some reason.
Friends without friends have to help each other survive, I guess.
"Huu."
Such useless thoughts during the shower are the rule.
After finishing the shower, I sit on the sofa for a bit and flip through TV channels meaninglessly to pass the time.
Then, when the clock is pointing around 11 AM, I slowly get up from my seat and head to the closet.
And opening the closet, I take out clothes hung as a set on one hanger.
...Let me make this clear, it's new clothes, but I didn't buy them.
If I had bought them, I'd have bought training clothes; there's no way I would have bought uncomfortable-looking clothes like this.
Well anyway, she bought them for me because I wear training clothes so much that she got sick of it.
Honestly, I don't think Jiwoo has exceptional fashion sense either. But she keeps acting like she dresses well in front of me, which is a bit annoying.
She probably just wears whatever too, relying on her face.
Anyway, she told me to wear this today, so I have no choice even if it's uncomfortable.
Scratchy black jeans and a black denim jacket.
According to Jiwoo, this is the trend these days, though I have no idea which country this trend is from.
It's better to just wear what she tells me than to be bombarded with nagging for no reason.
"Huu."
After preparing, I sigh and grab my keys, putting them in my pocket.
*So, normally Jiwoo would come over to my house to hang out.
The reason we decided to meet outside today is none other than this.
It was to help Jiwoo with her school assignment.
What was it again.
I think she said they had to go on a picnic with a lunchbox made at school and take certification photos.
Since Jiwoo's school is a vocational school, I guess they have all sorts of unusual assignments.
Anyway, when I said she should just go with a school friend and do it,
she threw a fit saying I had nothing to do since it's a day off and not to pretend to be busy, so I had no choice but to surrender.
So anyway, that's why I'm here now, sitting on park grass like some neighborhood bum, soaking up the sun.
Well, the weather is nice at least.
When is she coming?
We said we'd meet in front of the school, but she said it would paralyze the school, so I'm waiting here.
"Hey!"
...Hmm.
They say speak of the tiger and it appears, and it was true.
At the voice heard from afar, I turn my head, and in the distance, I see Jiwoo waving and coming toward me.
But, for a moment...
"..."
I fall into an inexplicable optical illusion.
Jiwoo is approaching from afar... and her appearance begins to look slow, like slow motion.
In one hand, she's holding what looks like a basket... and the wind blowing from somewhere makes her hair and the hem of her long skirt flutter.
...What is this.
Have the flowers already bloomed?
I think I can smell a flower scent wafting from somewhere.
"Hey, why do you look dumb. Did you wait long?"
"...Huh? Ah, no."
"Yeah? Good. Ah, homeroom ended a bit late."
"...Yeah."
That strange optical illusion only ended when Jiwoo taps my shoulder.
...Was I tipsy on the spring breeze for a moment?
While scratching my head, Jiwoo takes out a crumpled picnic mat from the basket and hands it to me.
"Lay it out."
"Okay."
I spread the mat in a suitable spot, take off my shoes, and place them on the corners so the mat doesn't fly away.
Sitting on it, Jiwoo starts taking things out of the basket.
There are lunchboxes, fruit, and cookies.
I skipped breakfast because of that, so my salivary glands immediately start working.
"Tst, hey. Not yet."
"Why."
"We have to take pictures first. We came for the assignment."
"Ah."
I reach for the fruit without thinking, then withdraw my hand at Jiwoo's restraint.
Awkward.
"Open everything first. The lids. So everything is visible."
"Ah, okay."
Clenching my growling stomach for no reason, I open the lunchboxes one by one following Jiwoo's instructions.
The more I open them, the more my mouth floods with saliva.
This is pasta.
This is sausage and ham.
Wow, there's meat too.
And this is...
...Huh?
"..."
Checking the contents of the last lunchbox, I widen my eyes for a moment.
There wasn't really a reason to be surprised; the last container simply contained white rice.
But if there was anything slightly special about it... it was the green peas arranged in the shape of letters on top of the rice.
QUARTER FINALS GO!
With my eyes still wide, I look at Jiwoo, and she checks the lunchbox in my hand and shakes her head.
"Originally, these things are done with a childish taste. So I tried it. The match is in two days after all."
"...Yeah."
"Don't lose like last time. Win this time and go to the quarterfinals. Got it?"
"Uh... yeah, I will."
"Hey, hold that so it's visible from this angle. I'll take a selfie."
Following Jiwoo's instructions, I hold the lunchbox in my hand and look at the phone camera raised at a 45-degree angle.
And she takes photos—who knows how many she's planning to take—as the shutter sound shows no sign of stopping.
Meanwhile, my stomach keeps growling, but on the other hand, I was worried.
This rice is too precious to eat.