241_Respect -4
Peep! Peeep! Peeeeeep—!
Three blasts of the whistle rang out, and the match ended.
The final score was 3–0.
An away match, especially an overseas away match, was never easy, yet we had secured a clean, decisive victory.
"Congratulations."
"Well done."
The reason my teammates' congratulations flew at me the moment the match ended was probably because all three goals had come from my feet.
It was my first hat-trick since the transfer.
A perfect victory with nothing to criticize, both as a team and as an individual.
And yet, for all that, my heart felt strangely complicated.
"..."
Slowly, I rose from the bench and made my way down.
Was it true that whenever something good happened, something bad followed?
Recording my first hat-trick was wonderful, but why did the opponent I scored it against have to be Fiorentina, of all teams?
I wondered if life was always this exquisite.
If my heart felt somewhat less heavy, it was thanks to the applause I had received when substituted off the pitch.
Honestly, it was a situation where being cursed at wouldn't have been strange.
They had raised me and sent me off to a good place, only for me to return as an enemy and stab them in the back.
I had even charged at them with fire in my eyes, clenching my teeth.
But the fans seemed to see right through my heart.
Even though sincerity is invisible to the eye and hard to recognize.
My true intention had been to give it my all—to show that I was doing well at my new team, and to prove that a player raised by Fiorentina could thrive anywhere.
That was the greatest respect I could offer, and I was merely thankful that the fans had understood my clumsy expression with such broad generosity.
For the two years I had played here, I had felt it every week.
That this was a truly wonderful place.
That fighting alongside such fans in such a place was a blessing—I had felt it with my entire body every time I played.
And that feeling remained unchanged even now.
"Good work."
"It couldn't have been easy, but you did well."
Slowly walking out onto the pitch, I exchanged light greetings with teammates I ran into.
It was obvious custom to greet all the players after a match.
However, today was a bit awkward. Though I felt less burdened having connected heart-to-heart with the fans, I still hadn't gauged the hearts of my former teammates, who had lunged at me like they wanted to kill each other throughout the match.
Whether when no one had greeted me before the match, or when fierce physical battles had unfolded on the pitch.
I had tried not to show it, but honestly, my heart had felt strange.
Would it be too childish to say I had felt upset?
But honestly, I had been.
Looking back now, yes.
I had thought it would let me pour more of my heart into the match, but...
The truth was, I had been sulking.
Thoroughly so.
If we had lost or drawn, I might have felt differently, but...
Having won so decisively, it wasn't easy for me to readily approach them first to greet them.
So I had fidgeted awkwardly, exchanging greetings only with my own team's players.
Then, suddenly, an arm shot out from behind me, and thick arms wrapped around my neck.
"Hey, you little punk."
...I wondered who it was.
I could tell just by the voice.
It was Captain Biraghi.
"Hey, isn't this too much? Stabbing us like this?"
"I'm upset. So upset."
It wasn't just the captain.
The voices of Saponara and Bonaventura joined in, and soon the voices of other senior teammates were buzzing all around me.
Before I knew it, familiar voices had crowded around me.
"You were totally clenching your teeth out there, huh?"
"..."
"Oi, not answering? Are we strangers now?"
Was this called a headlock?
The captain's arm tightened around my head, but strangely, I felt gladness instead of pain.
Thanks to that, without realizing it—
"Ah, that hurts, Captain!"
I slapped at the captain's arm with my palm and whined, and everyone burst into laughter.
...Anyway.
They were all still as playful as ever.
"*Sigh*. I'd like to mess with you more, but you're not our youngest anymore, so I guess I shouldn't."
Slipping free from the captain's embrace, I finally looked around to see the senior teammates surrounding me, all grinning.
For a moment, I felt something hot welling up in my chest.
Before the match, and throughout it, they had treated me without a change of expression, like I was a stranger.
Seeing them return to the seniors I had known as soon as the match ended, the hidden sense of loss I had felt seemed to explode.
So I lowered my head, not wanting to face them.
But these terrible people only laughed louder instead of comforting me.
"Hey, are you crying?"
"Sniffling away? Is this the same guy who was trying to kill us earlier?"
"Oh my, still a snot-nosed brat. When will you grow up?"
"He's crying again, he's crying again."
"No, we're the ones who want to cry. Why are you crying?"
...Damn it.
I'm not crying.
It's not that I'm crying—tears are just coming out on their own.
Did they have to tease me so much?
"You worked hard, you bastard."
Hic, hic.
Barely holding back the urge to hiccup, I felt a hand roughly ruffling my hair.
And then, as if celebrating a goal, everyone surrounded me and began showering me with rough affection.
"Hic... hic..."
In that warmth smelling of sweat, the hiccups I had been suppressing finally burst out.
Let me say this again: it was absolutely not crying.
It was just uncontrollable hiccups.
"*Sigh*. I thought you were all grown up, but you've got a long way to go."
"Stop crying, you. You're making us feel bad for teasing you."
"Should we cry too? Waaah!"
For quite some time, I waged a fierce battle against the hiccups.
Only when I had calmed down somewhat did I raise my head.
And finally facing the seniors' faces, I suddenly remembered what I had wanted to ask throughout the match.
"...Earlier."
"Huh? What?"
"...Why didn't you greet me earlier?"
"Why didn't we greet you? Before the match?"
Had I asked for no reason?
The seniors burst into laughter at my question again.
Was it such a funny question?
They were people I couldn't understand, then and now.
After laughing for a while, the captain ruffled my hair again and answered.
"It's because we knew you're such a child."
"...What do you mean?"
"Your heart would have weakened. If we had greeted you warmly like before."
...That my heart would have weakened.
No.
No, but... I probably would have.
"So we were going to greet you after it ended. If you couldn't focus on the match, what would your fans think of you?"
"We wanted you to face us with all your heart. That's respect for each other. It was pretty scary, but if you hadn't given your all, we would have been disappointed."
...They really are adults, despite how they look.
Seeing how understanding they all are.
"And honestly, we were worried our hearts would weaken too. How were we supposed to mark you? We had to play rough and dirty, so how could we do to you what we do to other guys? But we had to do it that way."
"...Yes."
"So we all promised to see you not as our youngest but as our strongest enemy until the final whistle. But sorry. We didn't know the guys would treat you this roughly. You're not hurt anywhere?"
I shook my head.
They had charged at me terrifyingly.
Still, I wasn't hurt anywhere.
I had lunged at them pretty hard during the match too, so I had nothing to complain about.
"Anyway, you. Wipe your snot."
"...It's not snot."
"Then what is it?"
"...Sweat."
"So you sweat from your eyes and nose too, huh? Guys, let's just go with that."
Snicker, snicker.
Laughter erupted around us again, and this time, even I ended up laughing for no reason.
They say laughter is contagious. I guess it's true.
"We can't hold you forever. Go. See you next time."
"...Yes."
"You, before you go, I'm making this clear. When you play other teams, you have to do it like today. We still have old ties. It'd be nice if we went up together, right?"
"That's... of course."
He was asking the obvious.
When I nodded in answer, the captain smiled and nodded back too.
I didn't know why he kept patting my head like this.
They teased me saying I'm still a kid, but it was the seniors who were treating me like a child.
"Seeing you today, I don't think we can let it go. Next time, go a bit easier. Anyway, next time we meet, you'll probably have already secured advancement."
"...That won't do."
"Tch, you ruthless bastard. Go, go."
The captain turned me around and pushed my back.
With that push, I moved away from the seniors and naturally walked to rejoin my teammates.
I didn't think I could have moved my feet on my own, so I was glad he pushed me.
...By the way.
I didn't know why tears kept coming whenever I came here.
It was so embarrassing I could die, really.
.
.
.
90:00(+6) Full-Time
Fiorentina 0 : 3 Manchester City
No. 7 LEE JIAN
- Minutes Played: 80
- Goals: 3
- Accurate Passes (66/74)
- Dribble Success Rate: 75% (3/4)
- Ground Duels Won (5/8)
- Recoveries: 4
- Chances Created: 5 (Big Chances Created: 3)
- Final Third Passes: 5
- Fouls Won: 5 (Match-high)
- Overall Rating: 10.0 (Player of the Match)
*
"You're standing in this spot again."
"...So it seems."
"It's been a while since an Italian interview too, hasn't it?"
"It seems that way."
The familiar interview spot in front of the familiar advertising boards.
I had felt it several times today, but I hadn't expected to stand here again.
Yet here I was, standing again in the spot where I had made many slips of the tongue.
And this interviewer holding a microphone.
It was someone I had interviewed with several times.
So the emotions felt even newer.
"Today you literally showed a perfect performance. First, how do you feel?"
"Well, I'm happy. We met a strong opponent in an important match, beat them, and got three points, so I'm satisfied."
It had only been three or four months, even though I said it had been a while.
I answered in Italian quite smoothly.
At this level, I hadn't rusted yet.
"Right. We can't not talk about the opponent. It was Fiorentina, where you were until just a few months ago."
"...Yes."
"I imagine there must have been some difference in mindset. Was there?"
"Well..."
Starting with a meaningless filler.
Briefly scratching my nose as I organized my thoughts, I shrugged and answered.
"I think it would be a lie to say there wasn't. It was different. Because this is a place that holds special meaning for me. The purple jersey is also an unforgettable memory."
For a moment, even as I spoke, I worried.
I wondered if current fans would dislike hearing this.
But maybe it was okay to reveal this much sincerity.
I had scored three goals today, after all.
That was also my sincerity.
"So I wanted to try harder. I think I wanted to show even more of me doing well. I don't know what you might think, but I considered that to be respect."
As I spoke with all my heart, the interviewer nodded too.
"The fans seemed to think so as well. When you were substituted off, they expressed their respect with a standing ovation. Can you explain how you felt then?"
...My feelings then.
If I thought about it, I felt like I would hiccup again.
But since I was in front of the camera, I answered while suppressing my emotions as much as possible.
"Honestly, I was a bit surprised... and thankful, because I felt understood. I also thought, as expected, they are high-class fans. I felt that as long as there are fans like these, Fiorentina will remain a great team."
"Then can you say a word directly to the fans?"
A direct word.
What words should I choose to contain all this sincerity in a single phrase?
Thinking briefly, I spoke.
"Forza, Viola."
"That's nice."
The interviewer smiled brightly.
Had I answered well enough?
"Thank you for the interview today. Congratulations on the victory."
"Thank you."
"Thank you!"
The interview ended.
After a brief bow, I stepped away from the camera.
And as I was heading toward the locker room, I heard a voice calling me from behind.
I turned to see the interviewer calling me, as if there was still something left to say.
Looking puzzled, I saw the interviewer raise a thumb and speak.
"You're a full adult now."
...Did that mean I hadn't made any slips of the tongue today?
Bowing my head once more, I turned and headed for the locker room.
I guess that person hadn't seen it earlier.
Me sniffling like a child.
Ah, right.
I hadn't been crying; it was just hiccups.