Chapter 186: Secret -1
Two days after returning from the away trip to Napoli.
The training ground locker room.
Since we were the ones who had left in second place, only to return in first.
The atmosphere in the locker room, preparing for training, seemed like it would be more vibrant than ever, but the reality was far from it.
"···"
"···"
Far from being vibrant, it was rather quieter than usual.
Saponara and Bonaventura, who would normally be deafening me with their silly jokes, were quiet too.
Thanks to that, the air in the locker room was so heavy it was hard to breathe.
"···"
After winning 1–0 against Napoli.
With the 3 points from that match, we succeeded in rising to joint first place in the league, level on points with Napoli.
Naturally, the outside atmosphere couldn't have been better.
The fans who had come all the way to Napoli to cheer had made it feel like they moved the Artemio Franchi to Napoli.
In the interview held right after the match, I had also received congratulations for reaching first place.
I remember them saying it had been over a decade since Fiorentina had risen to first place in the latter half of the league season.
They had even called it a historic day.
It was the same after returning to Florence.
The city atmosphere, well, it almost felt like we had already confirmed the championship.
Purple jerseys hung like flags everywhere on the streets, and though it might have been my imagination, everyone passing by had smiling faces.
The fruit shop owner I often stop by on the way to work also seemed to be in a great mood, saying he would have a half-price sale for the day.
Well, Jiu was the same.
Saying congratulations on reaching first place, calling it a celebratory gift, she had sent me a selfie via message.
I don't know why that's a gift.
I had saved it for now, but no, that's not what's important here.
Anyway, despite receiving so many congratulations... I'm truly sorry to say this, but.
Even receiving such congratulations, joy wasn't the first thing I felt.
Of course, rising to first place was a happy thing, but I had to pay the price for it.
The empty seats visible throughout the locker room were that price.
"How's Nikola (Milenković)?"
"They said they need to see more."
"What about Sofyan (Amrabat)? Any more news?"
"Not yet. Probably at least a month."
"...Tsk."
The last match had been such an important game, and the opponent being who they were, too.
Everyone had played like their lives depended on it—I could see that with my own eyes—but it seemed that had become a curse.
For starters, just counting those definitively diagnosed with injuries were two.
They said Amrabat had a calf injury and Torreira an ankle injury.
The full prognosis wasn't out yet, but Milenković and Nastasić were also complaining of pain here and there, unable to come out for today's training.
But that didn't mean the rest were perfectly fine, either.
They could run by enduring just enough, but everyone was struggling all the same.
Rising to first place was truly a happy thing, but.
Somehow, people's congratulations felt a bit... I couldn't simply accept them with pure joy.
How should I put it.
In a way... it even felt a little overwhelming.
The words, "Since we're in first place, let's push harder and go for the championship," even sounded a bit frightening.
It felt somehow... like I was being pushed forward.
So honestly, I was a little confused right now.
Because of some sense of dissonance felt from the temperature difference between outside and inside.
From the outside, it must look like a purely joyful moment.
Of course it does.
We won a head-to-head against a championship rival, and even if it was joint, we had risen to first place.
With the goal right before our eyes, it couldn't help but be a happy moment.
However, that was precisely why it was also the hardest moment.
A goal is a goal precisely because it is difficult.
While running toward that difficult goal, when is the hardest moment?
Naturally, it is the moment when the goal is right before your eyes, when the finish line is one step away.
That is why now is the happiest yet hardest moment.
But while people acknowledge joy, there is no one who acknowledges the hardship, too.
Only we who are right in the middle of it know.
If joy is the fruit, then hardship is merely the root.
Naturally, that is impossible to know.
And so, receiving congratulations in such a difficult situation, I even felt a little rebellious against the dissonance that came with it.
I know too.
That it's an incredibly childish thought, a narrow-minded one.
To ask that people recognize the hardship before the joy.
For starters, I don't do that myself either.
When I see a cool player, I think about how cool and admirable they are first; I don't first think about how hard it must have been for them to become like that.
But... since I'm only that kind of person.
I just felt that way.
Even though from the outside it might look like there's nothing but joy... I suppose I wanted to feel understood about the fact that there is hardship in its own way.
At times like this, even Jiu or Dad aren't much help.
In front of them, only words of "I'm fine" come out, not words of "It's hard."
...Hmm.
I don't really know either.
Do I want to open up to someone about how hard it is? It seems like that might be it.
However, I'm cautious about saying such things.
Because someone might take it differently.
"Alright, alright. We need to raise the mood more than ever at times like this. Don't let the empty seats be felt; everyone speak up a little more."
"Okay, okay."
"Let's go with a fighting spirit, let's go with a fighting spirit."
I didn't feel energized today, and I wondered if I could even train properly, but.
Hearing the captain's voice, I force myself to nod.
No matter how much I think this or that, there's no other way. We just have to run forward to win the next match.
What needs to be done just needs to be done.
It's fine even if no one understands.
Of course, comfort would be nice... but it's fine.
"Let's go."
"Let's go, let's go."
To the point where I wondered if my hips had always been this heavy, the steps toward the training ground after getting up from the chair felt like a thousand pounds.
*
"It'll be a bit tough, but please understand. Hmm?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Then let's go like that after training."
"Yes..."
Before even starting proper training.
Due to the unwelcome news brought by a club official, it was hard to manage my expression.
If I looked in the mirror now, wouldn't there be some guy standing there looking like he'd eaten shit?
It wasn't anything else, but a notice about external activities I had to handle after training.
One was an interview with the press. One was going to meet a fan, or something like that.
On days like today when there's no training or only recovery training, such external activities are often scheduled.
Phew.
I shouldn't be like this, but honestly, I'm in a situation where I lack the focus to even just train.
My chest feels a bit tight, but it can't be helped.
This is what they pay me to do.
...Hmm.
Still, can't I somehow skip the media interview just this once?
I'm pre-reading the questionnaire the staff gave me, and somehow I feel like I might make a mistake without realizing it.
...Question 1. Having defeated Napoli and finally risen to stand side by side in first place, how do you feel?
The correct answer would be to say I'm happy and proud, but I'm afraid I might unwittingly say it's a bit hard first.
...Question 2. Your performances in the Champions League and in the league—you are reaching new heights every week in both. How do you feel?
For this... would "It's like a dream" be the correct answer?
Probably.
But I'm afraid the answer "It's hard" might come out first instead, so this scares me too.
...Question 3. It seems like the momentum for winning the league is gathering; do you think it's possible?
I have to say it's definitely possible.
Because if I say something like, "Even if we can't, please don't curse us," it'll be a disaster.
"..."
Well, the questions below are more or less the same.
Since it's a title challenge for the first time in over a decade, everyone only talks hopeful and bright things.
...If I said I didn't particularly feel like doing this, I'd be a bad person, wouldn't I?
"Alright, let's start the warm-up."
Suddenly, I thought that being able to focus solely on training and matches was something to be grateful for.
*
"Just go this way. You don't need to pay attention to the reporters. Just act naturally, as if they're not there."
Telling me to act as if they're not there when they clearly are—there couldn't be a more amusing statement, but.
I don't snort thoughtlessly.
After finishing a simple recovery training, on the move to handle external activities.
Several club staff and several reporters are following behind.
According to the original plan, the media interview was supposed to be first, but perhaps the situation had changed slightly.
Instead of sitting down for the interview, the place we were heading to first was a hospital room.
I'm on my way to visit because there's a friend here who is the same age as me, hospitalized, and he's a fan of mine.
Not long ago, he watched our match on the hospital room TV, and when I scored, his father filmed his happy reaction and uploaded the video, which became a hot topic, I heard.
At times like this, meeting that friend—the staff explained the purpose was to show a figure giving hope to a fan in a difficult situation.
It's an incredibly thankful and wonderful thing.
However, what worries me.
Is that the timing doesn't seem very good.
I wonder what business I have doing this.
Since I'm going to give hope, I should be armed with bright energy to the fullest, yet it still wouldn't be enough.
But I'm in no state to do so.
Thanks to that, I'm still not organized about what I should say to him.
I'm not the kind of person to spread hope to others on a good day, and on top of being thoroughly exhausted, I'm very worried.
For now, urgently, rather than thinking about what to talk about, I should imprint on my mind what I absolutely must not say before entering.
I should avoid sensitive topics as much as possible, and I absolutely must not dare to act like I'm having a hard time...
"Alright, here. We'll start filming from when you enter."
But regardless, the watching eyes are on.
The staff's advice to act naturally as if they're not there is lightly ignored.
Carefully opening the door and entering, together with several nurses.
I see the friend who looks like he had been waiting for me, no matter who saw him.
...There was no way not to know by looking at the jersey he was wearing over his patient gown.
"Ah, hello!"
"Hello."
These days, I don't even get this nervous during matches.
But trying not to look awkward made me seem more awkward, so I already had the thought that this would be a rough time.
It's just because I'm the type to feel awkward meeting anyone. It's not that I was surprised to see he had no hair at all.
I think explaining myself would be even stranger, so hoping he doesn't misunderstand, I sit in the chair prepared beside the bed.
"Wow, I didn't think you'd really come. I had heard about it, but..."
"Well, it's not a difficult thing."
We then exchanged simple stories.
As carefully as possible.
How he came to like our team, who his favorite player is, and so on.
I tried to break the awkwardness by throwing out questions I had prepared in advance.
My friend's name is Matteo.
He said he became a Viola fan, following his father.
His favorite player used to be Vlahović, but now it's me.
Mmm.
I see.
"Nothing else you're curious about?"
"Huh? Ah, um..."
Damn.
The questions I had hastily prepared had run out.
I had avoided anything that might be rude and become overly cautious, so nothing particularly came to mind.
While I was sweating because of that, Matteo spoke first.
"Aren't you curious why I don't have hair?"
Ssk-ssk.
Matteo rubs his white head and laughs.
...I feel like I shouldn't be flustered.
But for him to bring it up first like that, I couldn't help but be flustered.
Even though I hadn't gone out of my way to mention it, Matteo seemed to understand and spoke first again.
"It's fine. It's nothing much. It's called leukemia, but they said it's curable, so you don't need to be so awkward about it."
"...Ah. Th-that's not it, I'm not awkward. Got it. Then..."
"Yeah?"
"...Does it hurt a lot?"
I gather the courage thinking it might be okay to ask a bit boldly.
Matteo himself looked completely unfazed, so I somehow felt it would be okay.
Fortunately, Matteo nodded with a smile.
"It hurts a bit. That's why I became your fan."
"...Why?"
"Because you make me happy. When you're happy, you can forget the pain. Just for a moment, though."
"...I see."
"Yeah. If it weren't for you, it might have been really hard? Haha."
...Mmm.
Suddenly, feeling like I'd been hit on the back of the head.
I finally felt the desire to ask a real question.
Not a question to break the awkwardness, but meaning something I was truly curious about had come up.
"But still, th-that. The hard things don't disappear, do they? Even if you're happy."
"Well, they don't disappear? They get covered up, instead. Isn't it the same for you? Even when it's really hard, when you score a goal, you forget the hardship at least for that moment. Right?"
"...That's true."
"Joy is the best painkiller. It's strong, and there are no side effects either."
"..."
...Joy is the best painkiller.
Hearing those words, suddenly overcome with embarrassment, even as I nodded.
My head stayed lowered a bit longer.
What a weak and terrible person I am.
Because of that, even though it was the timing to say something, anything.
As I'm unable to speak, from beyond the bed.
I hear Matteo's father whispering something to Matteo.
I faintly hear him telling Matteo to ask what he had always wanted to ask.
But Matteo glances at me and shakes his head.
So I speak first.
"If there's something you want to ask, you can ask."
"No. It's fine."
"Mmm, so you don't have anything you're curious about regarding me."
"No, it's the opposite. There's too much I want to ask, so I just won't ask. It'd probably take about three hours."
"...It's fine. You can ask."
I said it because I really meant it was fine, but Matteo shakes his head again.
And he said.
"You look really tired. So I won't bother you."
...It's only been about ten minutes since we met.
And he's already made me flustered several times.
"...Do I look tired?"
"Yeah. You look incredibly tired. Wouldn't that be obvious?"
At that moment, suddenly.
I had clearly heard that the purpose of this meeting was for me to give him strength.
With the thought that perhaps it was the opposite, I look at Matteo.
At the same time, the worries about what I should say disappear.
Because words I wanted to say began to spring up without me having to deliberately think about them.