Chapter Text
Yayoi never figured she’d spend a bright summer afternoon in a hospital room, hands firmly grasping her bruised thighs, still dressed in her team’s jersey and sweatpants.
It’s the natural consequence of all so many little things, of all the shots missed during practice, of all the concerned opponents Jun would so often feel offended by even if it was in his own soft-spoken manner, of all the nights where she wondered if this would really end well for anyone, for them, for Musashi as a whole.
And she let all of it happen.
This is how she has ended up here, sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, watching a man dressed in white take the vitals of the boy she’s loved for so long, vowed to protect, and yet failed to do so. Twice over, even.
Now, and as a logical enough conclusion, she can’t even look him in the eyes – not that she’s even trying anyway. She knows how ashamed Jun gets in these settings, laid bare for anyone to see, and it’s a miracle he’s allowed her in. Cold tools, sharp eyes, calm words that hide a nightmare beneath the skin.
And it was so obvious too, how it was going to end.
Jun was going way too hard, for way too long. He was pouring all he had into practice, planning, all of it; and it showed. It put a strain like no other on their relationship, but she thought nothing of it: she only hummed along and decided it’d all get magically better once the League would be over. Once Jun would’ve accomplished his goals and could lighten his laser-tight focus on soccer.
She truly should’ve said something before it got to this point.
She’s Musashi’s manager, for God’s sake. She had the power to intervene, to put an end to the situation before it all crashed down; but no, she thought Jun had it all together and neatly planned when he’s always been excessive when there’s nobody to reel him back in. She’s one of the few he listens to, so it should’ve been her responsibility to stop him before it got to this point.
Dear God, she’s not a good manager, an even worse right-hand at that, and it that wasn’t enough, she’s also an absolutely abhorrent girlfriend.
Perhaps that last trait was her downfall, because it made her biased towards Jun’s intentions – of course, he told her about those. When he was talking to her about grand plans to restore Musashi’s dignity on the national scene, giving justice to his teammates and to himself, and finally getting his revenge showdown with Tsubasa, she was enthralled, conquered. She thought to herself he had it all figured out, as he always does, seeing four steps ahead of everyone else.
He didn’t. What Jun was wasn’t prepared, it was desperate. Desperate for a win, desperate for a chance on a brighter stage. And she should’ve seen that, known that, from his erratic behaviour. Jun doesn’t miss easy shots, he doesn’t forget to be polite even when slightly provoked, and he doesn’t let her down when she has concerns for their team and their tandem. His eyes don’t switch and get foggy. He may be prone to weak spells, but he isn’t prone to stress fevers.
It’s not like the team didn’t bring their concerns up to her either. Honma, Sanada and Ichinose in particular had a keen eye fixated on their captain, asking if he was fine and refusing to brush it off like she apparently really liked to do. The further they went in the New Hero League, the brighter Jun’s smile became, the frizzier he became, and the more the ugly questions were presented to him. He’d often almost lash out, biting down a yell or two, and one of the three forwards would more often than not question it even further, albeit in silence.
Even their newest recruit has noticed something was wrong. Of course, Hoshino is a bright soul, Jun handpicked him specifically for his terrific playmaking abilities that’ve kept the team strong even when he wasn’t on the field with them; but he shouldn’t have been able to see it that clearly when she didn’t, right? Or did she simply blind herself to these concerns, because otherwise both Jun and she would’ve been afraid of their beautiful run through the League to be dashed?
Should have she done it like she did three years ago? Or would’ve that made things worse too?
The doctor eventually looks back at her, breaking her out of her trance. He tells her something about exhaustion and a fever, nothing grievous but still handicapping, and the heart condition didn’t make it any easier.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m going to inform the team about it,” is all she says in response.
He leaves shortly thereafter, before her nearsighted eyes. She follows suit only moments later, but at an almost glacial pace. Her own heart is heavy as lead, as if beating for two, noisily, right inside her throat.
As soon as she opens and closes the door, she gets greeted by the entire team. Some of them are sitting, others are standing, but when they hear the click of her sandals, they all stop whispering among themselves. It sends a chill down her spine, having so much power over them when she’s a guilty party, but she shoves it down the pipeline as she so often does. Sentimentalism won’t do anyone good, in this trying time, she knows it better than most.
Closest to her are the trio of forwards, whose gazes are so intensely focused on her it’s almost debilitating.
“Captain is very tired,” she says, slowly, as if something was stuck in her mouth. “He’ll be… fine, eventually, but for now, he’s on strict bedrest orders.” Her fingers meld together. “He had a bit of a heart scare, but he’ll get better.” Not realistic enough. “He should be back on his feet in a couple days, at least.”
The whispers resume for a short moment. She tries her hardest to ignore their meaning, for fear her heart may break once again. She’s had enough emotional turmoil for now, she must stand strong.
“Gotcha,” Ichinose replies first. “We’ll manage without him.”
“Can we see him?” Mukai asks from the back rows.
“If he’s that tired, no, that’s a bad idea,” Honma responds. “We’ll leave it to you for now, Manager. Please give him our well-wishes.”
“Of course. See you later, boys.”
In a deafening silence, they all leave the premises, leaving her to her lonesome once more. All, except Honma, who stays behind. He puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t beat yourself too much, Manager. Even you couldn’t have stopped him, let alone all on your own.”
“How did you…”
His smile is a little too sad.
“It’s really easy to read on your face. Take care, okay? See you on the pitch tomorrow.”
“Take… Take care as well, Honma. See you there.”
He, too, takes his leave. She doesn’t take the time to stand around and get swallowed by her thoughts once more, turning on her feet to face her fate.
When she comes back inside, and to her surprise, Jun is now awake. His skin is slightly rosier than it was before, albeit that’s not saying much, with how dark the rings under his eyes still are. He barely looks at her before glancing back at the window, then at the curtain next to his bed. There’s nobody on the other side.
“How are you feeling?” She asks, hesitant, as she sits back by his side. The chair is even colder than it was earlier.
She’s only met with silence.
“Jun, please don’t do this. I’m worried for you. Everyone is.”
He finally turns around again, but his dulled eyes never quite meet hers.
“I know.” His voice is feeble. She doesn’t dare make the obvious comparison. “Honestly, I feel… weak. Awfully weak.”
“You did overdo it quite a bit, but you’ll be fine. You’ll have to skip the semifinals, but…”
“Of course,” he sighs. “A misfortune never comes alone, does it…? Goddammit…”
“I know how you feel, but… You really need that rest, Jun. You’ll never going to last to the finals if you don’t do so.”
He sighs again, from the very depths of his lungs.
“This stupid body is a… disgrace, really. I can’t be there when I need to be, it’s…”
“Please don’t beat yourself up, Jun… You’re already doing what you can. I should’ve been more careful as well. Maybe if I had put in more work…”
“It’s not your fault, Manager.” The word stings. “It’s mine. It’s… It’s that condition’s.”
“Jun, please, stop beating yourself for this. You know it’s not something you’ve got control over. All I – all we ask, as a team is… for you to be careful, okay? We’ll be fine for the match against Otomo. You just… lie down and relax. You deserve it.”
“I shouldn’t be here.”
Oh, so this is going to be how it ends for today…
“The doctor said you needed rest. If you want to, I can leave you to sleep a little. I know you need a lot of it to get your strength back.”
When she gets up, however, a delicate hand comes to her arm.
“…Stay, please,” he tells her with the softest of voices. “I don’t… I’d like you to stay here. If you can. Please.”
She gives him a timid smile.
“Of course.”
Perhaps taking care of the team starts with taking care of the captain. It sounds like a path to redemption for her, a way to make up for all of her mistakes. She’ll keep an eye on everyone, this time, with the sharpness of an eagle. It won’t entirely repair everything, and only time will be able to truly correct and undo whatever damage she let happen… but she can’t let herself slip into despair. She must be the strong pillar she was for Musashi for so many years.
It’s just what a good manager does – and damn if she’s not going to seek being the best at it.