I have to ask you if you need warnings or something. I'm not used to put them, but if you need them for specific topics tell me.
That said, see ya
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"The first selection is over. From today until the start of the second selection, you will be subjected to a training regimen that will drive you to exhaustion."
The boys of all teams sighed in surrender, and any hope they had of resting died as quickly as it had been born at the beginning of Ego's speech.
Isagi looked around, noting the absence of a twelfth person in the room.
"Has anyone seen Nicklaus?" he asked in fact, not seeing the boy's tanned face.
It was already eight o'clock in the morning, and by that time usually the red-haired figure was with them.
"Nicklaus Vinciguerra, as the last in the rankings, has been taken for a personalized training regimen. He will be isolated for as long as necessary." the man behind the screen said in a mournful and ominous tone, making the entire team Z shudder.
Kunigami sighed, scratching the back of his head worriedly and shifting his gaze to his friend with long magenta hair.
"Let's hope he's okay."
Meanwhile...
"I SWEAR, AND THEN HE STARTED TALKING SO FAST IN YOUR LANGUAGE, MY EARS WERE ALMOST BLEEDING."
Nicole rolled her eyes at Oliver's dramatic words, bringing the coffee cup to her lips and sipping the liquid not recommended to cardiopatich people.
She was wearing a low-waisted silk skirt with a mixed tone between white and beige, with a very simple top of the same material and color.
On her head, holding down her red hair, was a pair of sunglasses with frames typical of the 2000s.
As soon as Nicole had texted the guy that she wanted to have breakfast outside (after not texting him for who knows how long) he had immediately suggested they go out together.
The two had met that morning at a very nice café in the city center, and were at that moment having breakfast on the sunny terrace.
He had to admit that, of all the girls he had met, she was the only one who had really caught his attention. Hell, he had suffered her absence so much that in those days even his fuck boy nature had been suppressed.
Oliver had tried to dress well that morning. He didn't want to be elegant, but he didn't want to look ragged either.
He didn't want her to think he actually put effort in choosing his outfit.
He went for a casual but classy style, a mixture of something that belonged to him and something that didn't suit him at all.
From an outside point of view, the two looked like an extremely chic and fashionable couple, and they probably gave the idea of being rich as well.
There was a reason the waiters had treated them with the velvet glove.
Oliver aimed his heterochromatic eyes at his date (at least that's what he liked to think of her), who at that moment had her face turned toward the sun with her eyelids slightly fluttered open.
The morning light was kissing her skin, making it glow. Her long dark eyelashes moved slightly as she kept her eyes closed, probably slightly annoyed by the power of the sunlight penetrating past the thin skin layer of her eyelids.
His eyes lowered to her glossy, parted lips, smiling at the mere thought of kissing them again that night.
He had waited for nothing else since she had left him.
"Do you have plans for today?" the boy asked, resting his jaw on his palm and continuing to admire the girl's calm, relaxed face.
Nicole sighed and, without looking at him or opening her eyes, indifferently answered his question.
"A nameless, insignificant boy invited me to watch one of his practices. I have nothing better to do, so I accepted." she replied as she enjoyed the sunshine, ignoring the confusion in the two-tone haired boy's expression.
"And are you interested?" he asked again, already aware of the girl's thoughts on the matter.
"Should I be?"
She was not interested at all.
Everyone who was not her was not important enough to trigger her interest. That was what she had always said and that was what others, including Oliver, perceived from her.
Oliver sneered, silently getting up from his chair and standing in front of the girl with his body.
Nicole sighed as soon as the sun disappeared from in front of her face, and her eyes slowly opened, focusing on the differently colored ones of the boy who was looking down at her.
The spark of mischief was evident in the boy's mocking gaze, who was reveling in the feeling of the world champion's feline eyes on him (a feeling of which he had been deprived all that time without her).
His hands encircled the elbow rests of the chair on which the redhead sat, and with his torso he leaned forward until his head was at the same height as the girl's, with only a few inches separating their lips.
Oliver's eyes shifted briefly to the fleshy protrusions he so yearned to taste again, while Nicole's eyes did not move from the boy's, almost as if she was unimpressed by the two-toned haired man's mischievous behavior.
And indeed she was not.
"What if I told you to come and watch me training?" whispered the team's fuck boy in a rough, deep voice, lifting his gaze back into the redhead's deep, impassive one.
"Depends, are you important and good enough to say you are interesting for me to watch, Aiku Oliver?" she asked in an equally sinuous and sensual voice, bringing her face slightly closer and causing the boy's grin to grow.
Aiku bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back the urge to kiss her passionately there in front of all those strangers as he so longed to do.
"You're talking to a Japan National Under-20 Football Team player."
Japan National Under-20 Football Team...
A knowing grin appeared on the fleshy lips of the italian world champion, while a spark of sadism crossed her blood-red irises.
She placed a finger under the boy's chin, forcing him to raise his face slightly as she watched him from under the length of her black lashes.
"And tell me Oliver, can you assure me that you are better than the other guy?" she asked, well aware of the game she was playing at.
Oliver opened his eyelids slightly wide, thrilled at the mere idea of the selfish champion choosing him over whatever nameless boy had asked her first.
"Just look at me."
Fan fact: they were on the same team.
That afternoon...
The girl sipped the cool drink she had bought from the vending machines, watching the team in front of her with disinterest.
Before heading to the stadium, both she and Oliver had gone to her house to change. She was now wearing what was definitely more casual clothing, consisting of low-waisted cargo pants and a tight T-shirt that left her belly exposed.
The same glasses that previously held her hair in place now shielded her eyes from the sun.
With the look on her face, disinterested and obviously bored, anyone would have questioned whether she was seriously paying attention.
Oliver was the team captain, something she had not been aware of until she had noticed his authoritative attitude toward his team.
Oliver, almost as if he had sensed her thinking, looked up at the stands and smiled winningly at her, giving her a quick wink before continuing to practice.
Nicole shifted her gaze slightly, meeting the teal-colored eyes already focused on her.
The redhead grinned mentally, almost amused by the situation. It was hilarious how each of the two boys thought they were the main focus of her attention, but how in the end she was the main attraction for both of them.
Their egocentrism deluded them into believing they could be important characters in her life.
But that little egocentrism of theirs was nothing compared to the redhead's egomanism.
And, so obsessed with representing someone slightly important to her, in the end they did not realize how central she herself was to their story.
For now it was quite obvious that neither Itoshi Sae nor Oliver Aiku were aware that there was another individual on their team who had claimed the world champion's gaze.
But that would come out soon.
She had analyzed the two in that short time, devouring every piece of information and integrating it with her own insights and everything she had already learned from Ego.
That was what the sunglasses were for: no one had to see how focused she was on them.
Sae Itoshi was extremely precise. What she had noticed most of all was the ability to control his own kick, from intensity, to angle, to speed and accuracy. The ability to manipulate the ball seemed to serve him well in controlling all the players with him as well, to whom he could adapt perfectly so as to give them the perfect pass. He was a midfielder, at least that's what Ego had called him.
Oliver Aiku was different from Itoshi Sae, both in size and style of play. More than elegant, his way was extremely versatile. What allowed this versatility of his must have been his physical dominance, which let him be both defender and striker. Probably this dominance also manifested itself under a point of view of authority, which not only made him captain of the team, but also the basis of the entire team structure.
Nicole lowered her gaze as soon as she heard the ringtone of her cell phone, and without even checking the name she brought the instrument to her ear.
She already knew who it was.
He had a different ringtone from everyone else.
"Had fun on vacation, puttana ingrata che non sei altro?"
His voice was hoarse and broken, his tone fluctuating and his words slurred with a mixture of Italian and English.
He was drunk in the early afternoon.
Nicole did not respond, casting a glance toward the field and absentmindedly observing Itoshi Sae's calculated and precise movements.
"Did the cat eat your tongue? Or maybe the boy you were with this morning ate it, mhm?"
The girl tightened her eyelids, holding back a sigh.
Paparazzi. Obviously.
"RISPONDI, TROIA." he yelled in Italian, causing an annoying and familiar ringing in her ear.
She was used to hearing him yell. She was used to hearing his insults. She was used to him in general.
Her empty eyes, hidden by the dark lenses of her glasses, rose toward the sunlight, staring at the flaming ball without ever blinking almost as if she wanted to remain blinded by it.
"I say he looks more like a snake than a cat, but whatever makes you sleep at night I guess..." she said in an indifferent tone, aware of how provocative that gesture might turn out to be.
On the other side of the phone line there was the sound of a pile of glass breaking, and it did not take long to realize that the man had thrown the bottle of whatever liquor he was drinking against the floor or the wall.
"Don't you dare use that know-it-all tone with me, you orphan bitch." hissed the man through gritted teeth, provoking no reaction from the girl except total emptiness.
Oliver made a slight rush toward the girl, approaching her with a smile on his face and resting his arms on the railing that divided the field from the stands on which she was sitting.
His eyes carefully studied the only visible part of the redhead's face, who, noticing his gaze on her, took off her glasses from in front of her eyes to show her entire expression to the two-toned haired man.
Her guise filled with nonchalance and tranquility made the boy calm down and he grinned contentedly, not noticing the threatening voice that could be imperceptibly heard from the cell phone attached to the girl's ear.
She gave the young boy her attention for a few moments with one of her cover smiles, as if violent, mean, and threat-filled words that many times had come true in the past were not entering her head.
She was used to making those smiles: she put on masks all the time, perpetually surrounded by cameras and people who had a certain idea of her public image.
"Go home tonight and don't you dare take that nobody with you. Don't try to disobey: you know very well what happens when you don't do what I tell you, Nike." he threatened her, emphasizing her nickname with sarcasm and malice, well aware of the power it had over the young champion.
Nike.
Not Nicole Vinciguerra.
Not Nicole.
Nike: only the public image that no one was interested in knowing, only in admiring.
And the more the man used that name in a derogatory way, the stronger the effect. It signaled a challenge, a wager, an ulterior motive to prove that that was her name for a reason.
Oh, and how she loved being Nike.
Nike was invincible and strong.
Nike was victory.
And victory was the only thing that kept her alive.
Her only way to stay alive.
The girl closed the call, lowering the phone and addressing the captain of the U-20 national team.
"You look hot sweaty and tired. I don't mind the view." said the girl, making the boy who had not yet stopped staring longingly at her laugh slightly.
"You think so? I'll keep that in mind then." he taunted her in an allusive and mischievous tone, raising the corner of his lips in a mocking grin.
"Aren't you a pretentious one?" the redhead asked with the same energy, deflecting the topic completely.
The boy licked his lips, but before he could even say anything else he was joined by another person from his team.
"You don't seem interested in my sport."
Itoshi Sae, of course.
With his monotone tone, his blank, impassive expression, his long eyelashes, his teal eyes, and his well-delineated face.
The girl slightly smirked at the pink-haired boy's interruption, while Oliver rolled his eyes, well aware of Sae's attitude toward anyone who turned out to be ignorant about football.
"I wonder why..." muttered the girl aloud, blatantly alluding to the conversation they had had during their last meeting.
Itoshi gritted his teeth at the girl's superior attitude as he tried to control his expression so as not to let his annoyance and aversion to the woman seep through.
"I wonder why someone like you is here." he insisted, drawing the gaze of the team captain to himself, this time confused by his companion's insistence.
Usually, when he met someone who was not even excellent at soccer, Sae would totally ignore them.
Sae had anticipated the girl's lack of interest in him. From the very first moment, she had shown an extremely self-centered personality (like all of them).
The thing that bothered him was that while she had shown an unpleasant and superior personality with him, despite his popularity, she seemed more calm and friendly toward the team captain (whose fame was less since the pink-haired one had traveled and even joined Real Madrid, while the other had stayed all the time in Japan).
Moreover, the more she answered him, the more she seemed to be suggesting that the only reason she was bored was because of Sae Itoshi's character.
And that was a bad blow to his pride.
"Someone asked for my presence, and I accepted." she replied, well aware that both guys were thinking they were the individual she was talking about.
Oliver, with a proud expression on his face, stepped back from the railing, sending a final wink to the girl and mimicking with his mouth to keep looking at him.
Sae stood for a few more moments watching the deep, analytical eyes of the Italian champion in front of him, resting his forearms on the railing where the captain had previously leaned and bending his body forward.
"And why did you accept?"
He really wanted the satisfaction of hearing that the girl had agreed for him, to see a genius at work.
He wanted the satisfaction of hearing one of the most admired people in the world say she was interested in him.
The girl looked at him without a word, resting her shoulders against the backrest and slowly crossing one leg over the other.
The boy did not detach his deep eyes from her for a single moment.
"I thought he wanted to introduce me to a player worth playing for..." she replied without ever breaking eye contact, almost seeming to intensify it because of how imposing her gaze was.
The boy frowned imperceptibly, hoping in vain that the girl would not notice him.
Key word: in vain.
Nicole peered straight into his eyes, bending her head slightly to one side as if she were mocking him.
And she was.
"I guess he hasn't found them yet..." she finished, looking away from Itoshi and shifting her gaze to the cell phone, as if to let him know that she had nothing more to say or hear.
The prodigy gritted his teeth, pulling away from the railing and returning to the court with hatred and determination shining in his eyes.
He would prove to her how wrong she was. At the cost of having to stay all his life in Japan to do so.
"Just look at me, Nicole Vinciguerra."
That evening...
A slap echoed within the apartment walls, and the neighbors rolled their eyes at the familiar noise they had just heard.
For some reason they were able to tell when the old man was coming to visit the young girl solely from a simple slap.
It usually had the same power, and its noise was dry and violent. It was easy to tell that the man's hand was mighty and heavy, and it was easy to tell that in striking the young girl's face he never controlled himself.
Not once. In all the visits he made, the slap was always there and always caused the same noise.
What happened after the slap was another story though. That one no one ever understood, and not so much because they couldn't hear the sounds of slapping or punching or screaming in the old man's foreign language.
But because it was from her that they never heard a word.
Never a cry.
Never a scream.
And every time, those less familiar with that situation, would come to think that it was simply a madman arguing with the wall, or with a ghost that wasn't real.
Too bad that slap was more than real, as was the blush on her cheek, and as was the pain on her face.
"WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU RUN OFF TO HUH?"
Slowly Nicole, with her face still turned in the opposite direction from where the man's heavy hand had struck her, opened her eyelids wide, pointing her empty, bored and deep eyes into his.
She just looked at him, with the disinterest and absence of awe evident in her gaze.
The silence earned her a second slap, still on the same spot. The man was right-handed after all, and preferred to deliver the blows with his more powerful arm.
"ANSWER ME WHEN I ASK YOU A FUCKING QUESTION, STUPID WHORE."
Nicole clenched her jaw at the pain caused by the second slap, but nothing in her face suggested any suffering.
After years she had now learned to hide the pain.
"Maybe you don't realize the money you're making me lose, you ungrateful woman. Three. THREE FUCKING AGENCIES TERMINATED YOUR CONTRACT BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T SHOW UP FOR THEIR SHITTY SHOOTINGS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING MONEY THOSE IDIOTS WERE MAKING ME?"
The same hand grabbed the girl's long red hair, gripping it tightly and pulling it viciously.
With the same malevolence, he pushed her against the wall, causing her to slam against it with her face and her body to fall on the floor.
The redhead inhaled deeply, opening her eyelids and staring at her adoptive father from below with a blank, icy stare.
She licked her lower lip, feeling the iron taste of blood on her palate. She had probably opened her tongue by accidentally biting herself when she had hit the wall.
The man looked down at her, reading extravagance and superiority in her eyes.
As an inept man, who without her was nothing but a nobody, he immediately felt attacked deep inside. He always felt challenged whenever she looked at him that way: as if her red pools of blood reminded him that his destiny, without her, was to dye as a poor sewer rat.
And how he hated that feeling. How he hated her.
"Oh oh, of course you do. You know it very well. Is that why you left, mhm? So you wouldn't make any more money for me?" he asked in a venomous, deep tone, slowly kneeling before his adopted daughter.
His hand slid down to her red, scratched cheek, gently caressing it almost as if he were taking care of a rose petal.
"You are lucky that I did not make you a prostitute. You know that, don't you? You should be grateful: I made you famous, I made you invincible, everyone wants you just because I brought you into this world." he stated in a slow, hushed tone, almost gentle in comparison to the tone he used as he shouted in her face.
With his thumb he stroked her lower lip, smearing her chin with the same blood that was dripping at the corner of her mouth.
She did not move even a millimeter. Motionless, still, helpless as a lifeless corpse before a cold, unfeeling mortician.
"Is this the way you thank me?"
The hand that was previously caressing her cheek in a gentle manner suddenly descended to her neck, beginning to tighten its grip around her windpipe.
The girl's eyes remained fixed in the blind, sick eyes of the possessive man, who was equally watching without really looking at her.
"Is this the way you repay all the good I've done you, Nike?"
The grip gradually tightened, and oxygen began to fail the redhead, who opened her lips slightly wide in an attempt to get some air.
"Fucking with strangers and disappearing without asking my permission?"
An attempt that proved futile as soon as the grip became so strong that the man's nails dug into the flesh of the tanned skin, while her face began to lose the color that belonged to her.
"Leaving your dear father all alone?" oh and how he hated calling himself her father.
Nicole grabbed the man's wrist, hitting him repeatedly to let him know what he was doing.
She refused to cry or to ask him to let her go. She had learned that it was completely useless.
"Is this how you treat the man who saved you from a death in the middle of garbage cans, Nicole?"
The protagonist opened her mouth completely, still refusing to try and speak or say anything to awaken the man from his not uncommon state of lackluster thinking.
She really could have pressed him any nerve, tried to kick him, or punch him, or anything. She was good at fighting after all.
But she knew well what was waiting for her if she had only thought of doing such a thing.
There was a reason the man walked around with a Beretta hidden under his jacket, and that reason was not self-defense.
The ringing of the doorbell awakened the man from his trance-like state, and immediately his hand loosened its grip on the girl's windpipe, causing her to slump against the wall.
"Who the fuck is that? I told you not to call anyone." he told her in a scornful tone, standing up and casting a glance at the redhead, cursing under his breath as soon as he saw the speed with which her ribs were widening and narrowing in an attempt to regain lost oxygen.
"Have you told anyone who I am? Does anyone know who I am?"
At the lack of response and the second ringing of the bell, the old man reached down and grabbed the young champion's cheeks violently, squeezing them tightly and forcing her to look at him.
"Eh Nike, did you say may name to someone? Rispondi piccola troia o vi ammazzo entrambi: tu e qualsiasi stronzo ci sia dietro quella porta." and, to let her know he was serious (not that he needed to) he grabbed a piece of broken glass and pressed it under her ribs, making her feel the sensation of cold glass against her skin.
She refused to answer, raising the corner of her lips slightly in what appeared to be a smirk to taunt him.
Clearly the old man didn't like her grin very much, because he pressed the piece of glass even harder until he shoved half of it inside her skin.
"DID YOU FUCKING SAY MY NAME?"
Nicole shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek to keep all the insults she had for him and staring resentfully straight into his eyes.
He snapped his tongue against his palate, getting up and quickly throwing that piece of glass away, then heading for the door and opening it.
He find himself in front of the same guy that was in that shit of apartment when she disappeared.
Merda.
"Nicole I brought dinne..."
Oliver did not have time to finish the sentence that a shove forced him back, causing him to drop the Chinese food he had bought on the floor.
An annoyed look appeared on his face, but before he could even block whoever had hit him, the man disappeared behind the stairs with his quick walk.
Oliver squeezed his eyelids slightly, under the impression that he had already met the dude just by looking at his size.
His heterochromatic eyes shifted to the open apartment door, and a strange sense of alarm began to pump the blood in his veins.
"Nicole?"
No answer.
He quickly forgot about the food, darting inside the dwelling. The scene he found before him increased his stress level: a broken chair, objects on the floor, traces of blood littering an already dirty wall.
Wait- blood?
"NICOLE?"
A faint groan caught his attention and, ignoring the heedless of shards of glass on the floor or any other objects, he ran into the kitchen.
"NICO-"
Oliver's eyes widened at the sight, but Nicole just grinned in amusement as her slightly half-closed eyes looked distractedly at the boy from under her long lashes.
The shape of the hand was already beginning to appear on the girl's neck in the form of a hematoma, blood was trickling slightly down her mouth, and her cheek was turning a slightly deeper color.
She was pressing her hand on her stomach, and the same red liquid was staining her fingers.
"Hey there sexy..." whispered the girl, closing her eyelids slightly and deeply inhaling a breath of air before slowly exhaling it.
Oliver looked at her in shock, approaching cautiously when he saw her slowly getting up.
Nicole sighed, stroking a strand of hair that had stuck to the blood on her lips, bringing it behind her ear.
Oliver stood in front of her with a rigid face, lifting her chin slightly to study the condition of her neck.
"What happene-"
"Don't meddle in other people's business..."
Nicole laughed bitterly at his horrified face, finding it hilarious to see concern coming from a boy who prided himself on being a lone wolf.
"...especially not mine."
The two looked at each other intensely for a few more moments, the redhead with a heavier gaze than his, the heterochromia boy with a sterner expression than hers.
After a few moments of knowing silence, Oliver surrendered to Nicole's will.
"What about some wine?"
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Oliver felt special when Nicole said she was coming to watch his practice and not the other boy's practice
Sae resents Nicole cause she treats him as if he is inferior to her (or at least that's what he feels whenever he's with her) and feels the need to show her that the two of them are on the same level.
The old man does not have a name because he does not deserve one.
The old man has a really strong accent, in fact he didn't say anything in front of Oliver to not get recognised.
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Author
Poor Nicole and poor Oliver who can do nothing to help her.
Oh well, do you thing Oliver is way too out of character?
And of course, could you tell me if you need warnings now that you know what kind of stuff can appear in this fiction?
That said, see ya beautiful