"Chromatically speaking your brother is prettier, Sae."
The boy lifted his gaze from his plate, directing his deep aquamarine eyes toward the girl's teasing smile as she put yet another piece of salmon into her mouth.
And yet she liked his colors better.
"He's also more of a jerk." he affirmed, receiving a "Nah, I think it's a fair match between you two." from the redhead in response.
Just a few hours earlier, he had received a sudden call from the Blue Lock director.
Sae was expecting questions like "Is Nicole okay?" or "Have you seen Nicole?" or "Has Nicole talked to you in the last 24 hours?" due to the redhead's tendency to do as she pleased and inevitably get into trouble. Instead, from the sparse information the man of few words had given him, the Japanese prodigy understood that the girl would spend the night at his place and return to Blue Lock facilities the next day.
Sae had asked his chauffeur (also considered butler given his services) to buy some wine bottles to stock up before the redhead's arrival. Nicole's fondness for alcohol was perhaps the only thing about her that wasn't mysterious.
There was no need to pick her up since, given the short notice, Nicole had been given permission to use her own motorcycle.
She had arrived around dinner time, dressed in black motorcycle gear and wearing a playful and calm smile. Fake.
Especially fake.
"If we're talking about jerkiness, you definitely win, Nicole." Sae replied, leaning back until his shoulders touched the chair.
Nicole smiled cunningly, shrugged, and once again took a sip of white wine.
"I win at everything, no distinctions." she replied, smiling when she noticed Sae's deadpanned expression.
"So politically correct..." the Japanese prodigy murmured with cold sarcasm, letting his eyes wander over the golden-bronze face of the girl after not seeing her for weeks.
She had regained her natural color, and the previous thinness caused by limited nourishment in the first days after her coma (nourishment mainly consisting of liquids, and liquids in the sense of alcoholic) had finally been eliminated, returning to a healthy appearance. From what the protagonist had told him during the initial minutes of dinner, there was no longer the need to spray the wounds, which had stopped bleeding or causing exaggerated pain.
The two were dining on the terrace, in front of the illuminated pool from which traces of steam emerged, signaling the artificial heating of the water.
"Why a night out?" Sae asked suddenly, carefully studying the girl whose every aspect he had now seen except for her thoughts.
Nicole didn't look at him at first, absentmindedly watching the whitish liquid of the wine sway along the glass walls of the goblet.
How could she explain it to him without really explaining it?
A night out because if she had stayed another minute inside that facility with Ego, she would have killed him.
A night out to delude herself that she was finally done with football and could return to her normal life.
A night out to avoid bumping into those people who thought they knew her so well but actually didn't know her at all.
A night out to avoid meeting the coach who should have succumbed under her triumphant step that day but was instead saved by a strange twist of fate.
Fate... she didn't even believe in that shit anymore.
"To drink." the redhead finally replied with a smile, confirming her answer by bringing the glass to her lips and finishing the liquid inside.
Sae scrutinized her without commenting, trying to ignore that strange sense of discomfort that he didn't feel with anyone else but her.
There was simply something wrong with the entire persona of Nicole Vinciguerra.
Perhaps it was the mystery, the darkness she concealed despite the brightness that radiated from just her name.
Nike, the embodiment of absolute victory in a world where victory was precarious: where it had a beginning, a peak, and an end before moving on to another.
Maybe that's why she scared athletes: because there was the certainty that if she ever entered their sport while they were champions, their success would be short-lived. And those who were not yet champions, reluctant to invest in a sport where they would never be first, felt defeat before truly being defeated.
"Well..."
Sae closed and opened his eyelids at Nicole's voice, realizing he had become distracted. He saw her slowly rise from the chair, simultaneously finishing the wine that Sae remembered was already gone.
How many times had she filled that glass?
Blood-red eyes locked onto his aquamarine ones, and the sensual smirk that then appeared on the protagonist's full and inviting lips made him sigh.
He already knew where this was going.
The girl lowered the zipper of her motorcycle suit, revealing a long strip of her skin, from the collarbones to the lower abdomen. Sae focused his gaze between her breasts, the only visible part of that area. The absence of a bra unfortunately did not escape his attention, nor did it escape his physical reactions' system's attention, which immediately kicked in.
Nicole smiled innocently as her blood-red eyes sparkled with a light of lust and cruelty. She turned around, giving her back to the boy and throwing him a brief glance over her shoulder.
"...mind giving me a hand?"
Sae looked at the suit, his memory still vivid with the image of her naked body. He wondered if anything about her appearance had changed in those weeks, aside from her wounds.
Would her skin have been even smoother than last time?
And would her ass have been just as firm when be cupped it in his hands?
And would her taste still be as sweet and aphrodisiacal as he remembered?
He slowly got up from the chair, heading towards the redhead and stopping behind her, just a step away.
Nicole didn't move, nor did she show any signs of hesitation. She remained still, immobile, with her back turned to him in a way that he couldn't see her face.
Itoshi wondered if this was a sign of trust, as she was trusting him enough not to look at him, or distrust, as she was preventing him from looking at her.
He gently stroked the redhead's nape, delicately moving the hair away from her back and placing it on one shoulder. He leaned forward, his breath warm against her neck.
Slowly, he grabbed the suit's shoulders, lowering it and sliding the rigid fabric along her arms and back, gradually revealing the atrocity of a past that was unfortunately too close and too real to be just the plot of a folkloric tale.
His teal eyes stored in his memory every cut, from the longest to the shortest and from the vertical to the horizontal ones, not neglecting the diagonal ones. The more he uncovered that abstract expressionism painting, the more he felt goosebumps.
And he wondered how... how could Nicole say it didn't hurt? How could she say she didn't care anymore? How could she say she had gotten used to it?
The mere sight horrified him; the sole perception of the scar under his fingertips reminded him that her skin would never return to its original state.
It had been ruined, and everyone would see her ruined forever.
When he reached the lower part of her back, he let go of the fabric, allowing the upper part of the one-piece suit to hang along her hips.
Nicole raised an eyebrow, casting a glance over her shoulder.
"Why did you stop?" she asked, not so much accusatorily but with perplexed curiosity.
Sae averted his gaze, putting his hands in his pockets and turning around, clearly intending to go back inside.
He wanted to stay.
More than anything else, he desired it. Even God didn't know how drawn he was to the girl and how his mind, typically focused on soccer, couldn't help but process and contemplate the various ways he could have her.
But he couldn't.
Every time he approached her, every time he undressed her, admiring her body, those damned red marks reminded him of how dangerous it was to know her.
How easy it was to be struck...
"That's enough, I'm tired-"
"You are so boring, prodigy." Nicole interrupted him, approaching from behind and grabbing him with the delicacy of a saint and the intentions of a demon.
Her light hand with an imposing presence landed on his shoulder, then slid up to the front of his chest. Her now bare breasts pressed against the boy's clothed back, and her chin rested in the hollow of his neck.
Nicole smirked, and the red of her eyes, more than recalling liveliness and passion, seemed to remember sin and lust. Sae clenched his jaw, keeping the feigned bored gaze fixed ahead while his body reacted to the protagonist's attentions.
He did wanted to stay, to continue. But he felt so... helplessly used: like a toy in the hand of a cruel kid.
"You know, it actually wasn't my choice to come here of all places..." the redhead cruelly whispered, and now it was her breath tickling his nape.
He closed his eyes, feeling his body tingling in a desire and lust that he wasn't used to.
Was it bad to accept and want to be used as a toy? Because he felt like, whatever this thing between them was...
"So try to compensate and make my night more lively, all right Sae?"
...he'd never be more than an it.
Short skip time
She grasped a bunch of grapes, walking naked through the living room, indifferent to the Japanese boy's awards on the shelves.
Sae had gone to bed, babbling about the need for eight hours of sleep, mentioning something about health, skin, body, and other things Nicole wasn't willing to hear.
She lingered in the hot tub as long as possible, ignoring Sae's advice to avoid staying to much in the water and wrinkling her skin.
She had too many things to think about and too many voices in her head to shut up, and only by staying underwater long enough would she overcome them all.
And with plenty of wine, of course.
Her eyes spotted the TV remote, and, chewing the tasteless grape, she turned on the screen, flipping through various channels.
Stretching out on the couch, she put her cheek on her fist, letting the TV's LED light illuminate her exposed skin. She scrolled without paying attention to series, movies, or programs. The volume was muted as she felt no need to listen to what she wasn't even trying to watch.
Suddenly, her finger paused on the channel change button, and her eyes focused on the slightly darker screen light.
"Nicole Vinciguerra: 2018 Kyokushin Karate World Champion." read the caption in the top right corner.
She closed and opened her eyelids, and the thumb previously on the channel change button shifted to the volume control.
"At just 13 years old in 2018, after achieving the black belt title only two months earlier, Nicole Vinciguerra fights against and defeats Kancho Matsui, one of the few super-athletes to pass the famous Kyokushinkai test called the Hyakunin kumite."
The girl rose from her reclined position, sitting up and straightening her back. Her gaze remained fixed on the face of the young redhead in front of the fallen body of the super athlete.
She looked at her smile: that maniacal, real, sincere, ecstatic, elated smile. The young kid blood-red eyes were bright, as if they saw nothing but the gold of her laurel wreath illuminating the defeated human.
Nicole looked at the program's title, then searched for it in the entertainment folder. Soon, she discovered an entire section with episodes on each of her victories, interviews, and every event she had appeared in.
I miss Nike...
She bit the inside of her cheek, staring at the "play from the beginning" caption. Her eyes couldn't tear away from the number of episodes and her portraits, transitioning from a child's face to that of a 18 year old.
Nike...
In every damn screen, above every damn face, there was that damn smile she hadn't felt on her own lips for too long. A fanatical, fervent, and exhilarated smile...
A fucking genuine smile.
When was the last time she had truly smiled?
She knew when.
It was that night.
The night when her world had shattered, and she thought she wouldn't see a tomorrow: that... that had been her last true smile.
"Cazzo..." she muttered through clenched teeth, pressing the button and starting the playback.
She got up, grabbed a robe to cover herself now that she was starting to feel the cold and a took another bottle of wine from the pantry (sure that she would need it).
She sat back down, crossing her legs on the sofa pillow, nestling comfortably in the robe. Her lips immediately clung to the bottle's neck: no need for a glass.
She began with her first victory.
And from the first, she moved to the second, from the second to the third, from the third to the fourth, until she reached her latest triumph: the 2023 Tokyo Grand Prix.
She watched, observed, scrutinized, examined, inspected, surveyed, admired every version of herself at every age, from the almost six-year-old who didn't know that the first place wouldn't be enough after the first time, to the seventeen-year-old surviving solely for those five seconds of absolute victory.
She listened, eavesdropped, heard, perceived, paid attention to every single word, every positive judgment, every admiration statement from those interviewed about her, the victorious Nike who had never retreated since she appeared.
She couldn't take her eyes off the screen. She couldn't for the whole night.
But that didn't surprise her.
She had known it since she pressed that damn button that would show her entire career as if behind it there wasn't a biography full of abuse and pain.
What she didn't know is that she would fall asleep at seven in the morning, next to an empty bottle and one still slightly full, her face illuminated by the phone screen with her father's contact on top.
Flashback
Her eyes sparkled as she watched the judge place the gold medal on her chest, listening to the herd of adults in the background clapping hands until their palms ached.
She glanced at her sternum, admiringly caressing the heavy circle dangling from her neck. Her fingers traced the number one on it, as if trying to imprint the perception of that relief in her muscle memory.
Though still short, atop that podium step she had never felt taller. Next to her, on two smaller steps, stood the second and third candidates... and they were looking at her.
They were looking at the medal, the weighty trophy in her hands, the number one embossed on the golden circle and the golden cup.
They were looking at her, at her bright eyes, red as blood and anger, shining like joy and love.
A radiance she didn't know would fade over time, making room only for the color of red wine and pain.
"And the first-place winner of the junior artistic gymnastics World Cup is Nicole Vinciguerra!" the same man who had placed the medal around her neck shouted loudly, pointing to her with a theatrical gesture while smiling at the audience.
As if the first round of applause wasn't enough, some people stood up, others whistled and shouted their congratulations.
The noise was so deafening that Nicole had to block it from entering her mind. Her still innocent and, for a little longer, red light eyes looked at each spectator, one by one. Women, men, children, and a few dogs barking due to the annoying and persistent noise... all there, watching her, watching the medal around her neck, admiring how well the gold complemented her skin tone.
Her first victory.
It felt so... so good.
She didn't even realize her body, out of habit, was giving the exit salute and walking on tiptoes with a graceful step towards the atrium exit. Her mind was fixed on the image and noise that would unknowingly become her sole reason for living... and her downfall.
Soon enough, a large and heavy male hand landed on her cheek, caressing her cheekbone with falsely affectionate gestures.
In Italy, they say, "Quando il diavolo ti accarezza va cercando l'anima".
It's a proverb derived from a Latin phrase by Phaedrus: "Habent insidias hominis blanditiae mali." which in English means, "When the devil caresses you, he wants your soul."
But the devil can be so beautiful. So kind. So cunning in hiding behind the face of an affectionate father, behind the face of a man who only wants the best for you.
"My dear, how do you feel?" the man asked, his warm hand moving from her cheek to grasp the medal hanging from her neck, feeling its weight in his palm.
Nicole looked up, and a big smile, perhaps the first genuine smile the man had seen on her face, pulled her lips in a way she wasn't accustomed to.
She wasn't used to smiling.
"Did you see them, sir?" she didn't have permission to call him dad in public, and even in private, it was better left unsaid.
He argued it was because the father figure was never a certainty, as evidenced by the way she had been abandoned. He, on the other hand, wanted to be a constant in her life, a ever-present figure.
And who better than a manager?
"They were applauding for me. Because I won." she asserted, lightly bouncing on her feet, which, despite being bruised from the tough training that year, were never tired.
"Are you happy? Are you proud?" she continued, her tone high and filled with euphoria, the heart fast and powerful in her chest.
The somewhat thirty-year-old man smiled, a wicked smile unfortunately filtered and recognized as benevolent by the protagonist's red eyes.
"Won? My dear, what are you talking about?" he affirmed, his tone still gentle as he bent his knees to reach the same height as the orphan.
She stopped jumping, but the smile didn't disappear from her face. She looked into the man's eyes, not moving away from the gentle yet unknowingly possessive touch between his fingers with imaginary claws against her skin still untouched by their inflicted wounds.
"But I won..." she claimed, the tone feeble and unsure.
The previous adrenaline rush from the victory had faded, and Nicole saddened at the thought that it had lasted so briefly.
She felt the need to have it back.
The man shook his head, looking at the medal hanging from her neck while continuing to caress her face.
"Winning, in your opinion, means having this little circle here?" he asked, making the five-and-a-half-year-old girl lower her head and look confused at the gold medallion with the number one on it.
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to answer.
The man had taught her to distinguish a normal question from an ironic one and explained that she wasn't allowed to answer in the second case.
"My dear, this is just a first step. It's a meager conquest, a successful experiment." he explained, and Nicole kept her gaze low as she listened and absorbed the words that would unknowingly lead her to a certain end.
"The cloud hides the stars and sings victory, but then it fades..." he stated, grabbing the child's face and squeezing it slightly, not enough to hurt her but enough to make her look into his eyes.
"...the stars endure."
Nicole looked at him, puzzled, confused, a little frightened by the way those large, masculine fingers were penetrating her cheek's skin.
The man stared straight into her eyes. His were so cold, so demonic, so deep and yet still static.
The child was intimidated. She was afraid of that stern and cruel gaze that had looked at her in that way only once before.
The day he had found her.
"Do you like the way they applaud for you?" he asked, the horribly sweet tone accompanied by an equally affectionate smile.
He withdrew his hand from her face as soon as he saw a person entering the corridor, and instead, he moved it to her shoulder in a gesture of false pride. The person smiled at the adult-child couple and then went on their way.
"Do you like it?" he inquired, and Nicole nodded slowly.
The heavy hand on her shoulder tightened the grip slightly.
"Then you must not be a cloud, my dear. You must be a star." he whispered, his eyes so dark they resembled the shadows in the alley where she had been abandoned.
"A star..." the child repeated, puzzled.
The man nodded, patting her head with a paternal gesture, and prompting her to close her eyes in search of that contact that was supposed to make her feel protected. He smirked.
"Yes, but you must be brighter."
Nicole's eyes reopened.
"Like the sun?" she asked as her heart started beating faster in her chest.
If people had applauded in that way for her while she was a fleeting cloud... how loudly would they have applauded if she had been the sun?
"No, not like the sun. The sun is too far away." he affirmed, pushing her head closer, so that their breaths clashed, and their eyes could see nothing but each other's pupils.
"Your victory must be absolute..." he whispered, aware that this would be Nicole Vinciguerra's last day as a child.
"...you must be as blinding as the first light of the Universe."
Her victory... has to be as destructive ad the Big Bang.
Skip time
"Do you want to sleep a bit more?"
"I don't need to, Sae."
"You could at least..." the prodigy lowered his eyes to her plate of fruit, too often touched by the fork's teeth but never diminished.
"...eat like a normal person?"
He had found her lying on the couch around eight in the morning, the time he usually woke up. Assuming she hadn't stayed up late, he woke her and helped her up; the presence of noticeable dark circles was the first thing that caught his attention.
And the minimal level of wine in the two bottles next to her, but that was normal.
He also noticed the TV screen's program title and the multitude of episodes watched. He avoided asking questions.
"After breakfast, I'll get dressed and go back to Blue Lock." the girl said while playing with her food, her tired eyes fixed on the plate.
Sae's aqua gems stared at her.
He didn't understand the girl. In general, understanding people and their behaviors was challenging for him; emotional intelligence was something he lacked, having always focused on football.
But Nicole was... an extremely strange subject.
Sae glanced at his plate, continuing to eat without commenting on the girl's statement. Silence fell between them, ignored due to the noisy thoughts in their minds.
His eyes briefly shifted to the right ring finger of the female hand resting on the table, noticing the thumb playing with the ruby nestled among small golden leaves.
He straightened slightly.
"Don't you ever take it off?" he asked, his tone slightly higher than his usual impassive voice.
Nicole raised her bored and tired gaze to the boy as soon as she heard his slightly more expressive intonation.
"Pardon?" she asked, her thumb now still on the ruby as she paid attention to the boy.
The Japanese prodigy remained silent for long moments, carefully observing a face so young marked by an oddly tired expression.
Nicole Vinciguerra...
"I saw that you watched the series dedicated to you." he changed the subject, casting a final glance at the ring he had given her before lowering it to his plate.
The redhead resumed playing with the jewel.
She nodded, casually looking at the ruby that complemented the gilding of her skin so well. However, she didn't disclose why she watched it or what she thought. And Sae, being unable to show interest in others, didn't inquire further.
Nicole liked Sae's presence.
It was peaceful, a peace she had never been able to boast.
Victory was dynamic, swift, chaotic, unexpected. There was nothing peaceful in victory. Nothing.
Therefore, being in the presence of someone who exuded so much calm, so much inertia, so much suspension, so much tranquility... it didn't make her feel the need to rush.
"We could go to the beach." the boy asserted, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning back toward the chair.
The girl sighed, aware that the prodigy had just ignored her desire to return to the Blue Lock facility. Not that she really wanted to.
She also leaned back in her chair, giving her not-so-attentive attention to the jewel that her thumb knew by heart.
"No one goes there in winter, so there wouldn't be people to disturb us." the reddish-pink-haired guy continued, looking at the distracted face of the too beautiful woman before him.
When she didn't respond, he closed his eyes for a moment and held back a sigh. Silence fell between them.
"Look-"
"Miss Vinciguerra, good morning. Please take this." Sae was interrupted by the appearance of the chauffeur-butler-housekeeper-everything, who immediately headed towards the girl.
Nicole looked at the man's smile, then at the pill in his hands.
"Is it drugs?" she asked, her fingers already ready to grab the pill, whatever it was. Her dreams were shattered when the man replied that it was an innocent and meager remedy for the post-hangover headache. Despite it not being drugs, she accepted the medicine.
Sae looked at the girl. He didn't think she could have a headache. Having never indulged in excessive alcohol and always limiting himself due to his athlete's diet, he hadn't considered if that was the reason for her lack of verbosity that morning.
Itoshi looked at his driver.
"When did you arrive, Mr. Kenshin?" he asked, still secretly annoyed that his attempt to talk to the girl had been interrupted.
Kenshin looked at him.
"This morning at six, sir. I had to fix the pool." he affirmed, looking at him with a smile that seemed to underline why he had cleaned that area.
"Miss Vinciguerra was still awake when I arrived; I suggested she get some sleep to try to lessen the alcohol's effect." he said, glancing at the girl who was now looking out the window, indirectly explaining how he knew about the need for a post-hangover pill.
Sae nodded.
"Thank you, Mr. Kenshin." he said, followed immediately by a nod from Nicole and a second "Yes, you're a darling, Kenshin." from her.
The butler looked at the redhead when she mentioned his name, slightly stiffening. He had heard her refer to him by his name only once, and from what he remembered, it hadn't been a pleasant encounter.
Despite that, he nodded in acknowledgment, then returned his attention to the prodigy.
"I couldn't help but hear that you would like to go to the beach." he asserted, a gentle but joyful smile on his lips.
It wasn't everyday that Sae proposed such things.
"I think it's a good idea. Today is a sunny day and, even though it's winter, the temperatures won't be excessively cold." he stated his opinion, making Sae raise an eyebrow and attracting the tired eyes of Nicole.
In front of their silence, Kenshin lost his smile and deadpanned.
"Please just go out and let me clean the disaster you left behind this night."
________________________
It was not Nicole's intention to be so mean or inappropriate to Sae. She perceived her rejection as disgust (which does not help her own perception of her body at all) and got lost. If you remember, something like that happened with Noel, but that time she had run away from the facility.
I would like to point out that all references to religious figures are not to be taken literally. In Italy I'm used to hearing in spoken language many references to biblical characters, even from atheistic people. Like, you just put them into your sentences you know?
Nicole's first major victory was when she was five and a half years old, exactly a little over a year after the man found her. Her first overall victory came not even half a year later, at age six, in the same sport. She took so little because she was put on a very strict regimen and because she needed to relive that feeling.
The man understood only at that first victory that he could manipulate Nicole as he wished. It was her smile that convinced him of his choice, because he knew she'd be addicted to victory.
________________________
Author
AMORI MIEI
IT'S SOO LATE, forgive me. I had to take a crash course in coding and couldn't concentrate on the story.
That said, I honestly hope I have not disappointed expectations with this chapter.
And as every time, I'll ask you some questions:
Why the first person Nicole thought to call was her father?
What do you think about the flashback?
What do you think about Sae after reading some of his thoughts?
Hope u like the chapter,
SEE YA