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62.A MEETUP, COLLECT YOUR STUFF!
˖*⋆｡˚𖦹࣪˖ ִֶָ⋆｡°✩
THE
silence following his words is really, really awkward. Like, seriously awkward. Like, you-want-to dig-a-hole-and-die-on-the-spot awkward. Thankfully, this uncomfortable situation does not last much longer, because your saviour, coach, and the only football player you actually know finally arrives.
Noel Noa, in his middle-aged wonder, walks out onto the grassy plain and the aura surrounding him just demands respect. No kidding he's the number one, you think. He does have that vibe of glory.
"Stop, Kaiser, and quit it with that habit of acting like you're superior. It's childish." He talks sternly—he doesn't yell, or even make a face—but the way he talks makes everyone in the vicinity follow his order like a mantra.
Kaiser plasters a smile onto his face—but it doesn't suit his bones right and stretches out a little too far to feel real. He says, in the most artificial joyful tone you've ever heard, "Sorry, Noa. I thought it'd get them hyped up."
Noa's face darkens and if you look hard enough, you think he's glaring at Kaiser. "Don't talk back to me. I make the rules."
Kaiser clearly doesn't seem to think so—but agrees nonetheless if only to get the master striker off his back.
"For now, the first training is over. You must have noticed by now, but this room is meant to gauge your physical abilities. Bastard Munchen's philosophy is super rationality. I do not take invisible things like impressions or emotions into consideration. Only those who hold the proper numbers to win will be chosen as regular players."
Noa motions towards the big, digital screen behind him. As soon as he does, there is a list of all the players who had joined Bastard Munchen ranked by this test. "I'll take the data from the results of this training and from your matches for all 21 players here. Those who make it to the top 11 will be used in matches. And those below, will not. Bastard Munchen is a team that wins with logic."
Dead last—on the bottom of the list is Isagi, with the words below his name, Not clear.
As Noa begins explaining the data and requirements of the players, you can't help but mumble under your breath, "That's unfair." It's not like Isagi wanted Kaiser to intercept him. It's more to yourself than anything, but Mariele still humours you with a response.
"Noa's practically a cyborg. The process is useless to him. All that matters is the result." Her voice is low too—even though you both are standing far away enough that he wouldn't be able to hear even if your voices were normal—the low tone gives a sense of secrecy. It makes you smile a little. "Most adults wouldn't agree with him, but they can't really hold a candle to the world's number one striker."
