A/N: This fanfic takes place in the GO! series, kicking off at around about the same time as GO! itself, and for the convenience of this story, everything about Fifth Sector is going to be cut out, though it shouldn't affect the actual story too much. I created all of my OCs by myself, and I'm not going to be accepting any others. The story is rated K+ for very mild language and some tragic elements. Please read, review, and enjoy!
"Mum, this is the third time you've called today. What do you want now?" I said in an annoyed voice, trying to hold up the phone, brush my brown hair away from my eyes, and take another slurp of ramen from my bowl all at the same time, but failing horribly.
"Oh, I was just checking to see if you're alright, dearie," my mother replied over the phone from the other side of Tokyo.
"That's always your excuse," I said, pumping my fist as I finally managed to shove some more ramen into my mouth, but I chose that moment to forget that I'm still holding my phone, and sent it flying across the room. I hurriedly scrambled over to it, chewing the ramen in my mouth in an equally frantic way, but then I forgot that my hand was directly behind the ramen bowl, sending it flying across the table and spilling its contents all over it. I swore under my breath, looking from my phone to the table and back, not sure what to do first. Me failing at life, example number 1.
"Honey, are you alright? I heard something break."
"What? No, no. I-it's nothing like that. Gosh, you're-you're really getting old, aren't you, mum?"
"Well, I suppose I am. If even my younger son thinks that…"
"Wait, no, I didn't mean it like that!" I spoke into my phone, finally having decided to retrieve the phone instead. Me failing at life, example number 2. I took this moment to brush the hair from my face with an exasperated sigh – my multitasking challenge had failed yet again, like all the other times before it. No wonder I was still unemployed. "I'm sorry. But honestly, mum, you don't need to worry about me that much. I'm an independent adult, you know?"
"Yes, a 24-year-old independent man who has never dated a woman in his life and is still unemployed," my dear mother said, her warm tone suddenly turning dry. Ouch.
"Have you forgotten that my birthday is in June, mum? I'm technically still only—"
"It's still only three months away. And your older brother—"
"Fine, fine. Now, if all you're gonna do is talk on and on about how I should live up to nii-san, then goodbye."
I ended the call, switched my phone off, and sighed again. Maybe I should introduce myself first. I am Handa Shin'ichi, and I was – emphasis on the 'was' – indeed, quoting my mother, a '25-year-old independent man who has never dated a woman in his life and is still unemployed'. This wouldn't get on my nerves so much if it weren't for the fact that my older brother by three years, Handa Ken'ichi, got employed by a respected insurance company straight after graduating from university, and had earned enough money already to get married and buy a house of their own at the time. My parents expected the same of their younger, inferior son, but so far, nothing had come into fruition. Something tells me that they were thinking I'd suddenly man up and become a successful man with a wife and two kids the minute I got a house of my own. Yeah, right.
There's also the fact that I have some very, very talented friends. There's Endou Mamoru, who you should all know is a famous goalkeeper playing for the national team, widely regarded as the best goalkeeper the world has seen in years, and also married to boot; Someoka Ryuugo, another famous striker in one of Italy's best football teams; and Megane Kakeru, who, though not famous, is still a video game developer for Square Enix nonetheless, to name just a few. And then there was me, Handa Shin'ichi, single and unemployed, living in a tracksuit and feeding on ramen almost every day, while helplessly looking for a job.
To be honest, there isn't anything particularly remarkable about my appearance or personality. I do have a fairly unique background in that he was once part of the legendary Raimon football team, along with the aforementioned Endou and Someoka as well as many other people who became successful in adulthood, but when you take that away, I'm just like any other Tom and Dick and Jerry of the neighbourhood. I have plain brown hair, with some sort of dorky sprig sprouting out from the middle, giving me a childish appearance (I've thought of cutting it off on many occasions, I can never bring myself to do the deed; that thing is just too precious), with chestnut brown eyes, which I also think to be too plain and boring. My personality is, well, complex to describe in words, but to sum it up, I'll say that I have a cynical and pessimistic view on almost everything in this world, but I still displa mys immature and excitable side once in a while, evidenced by the squeals I make whenever my favourite shounen anime come on, or when Endou and Kazemaru (another one of my famous friends) and the others come on TV. Sometimes, I still laugh at the fact that I'm a legal adult.
But, above all, I hold a strong passion for football. Every single day without fail, I jog down to the local park with my ball, and practice my skills so that they would never be too rusty… well, mainly so that I won't be picked on by Endou and Someoka the next time we meet, but there's that, too. Even though I'd had a three-year break while I was in high school busy panicking about papers and essays and exams and girls, I'm proud to admit that I'd still retained most of my skills, and my love for football had remained the same. I did want to catch up to his friends, after all, even if I was going to live out the rest of my life as a salaryman fated to be constantly scolded by my seniors and pestered by my juniors. My older brother once advised me to channel all the time spent on doing something useless as playing football into studying more and looking for a job. I responded with a kick between his legs.
Anyway, that didn't change the fact that I was still a pathetic little man with no job and no money. I flopped down onto my sofa, letting out a third tremendous sigh and then some more, and threw down my phone onto the clean side of the ramen-covered table. Honestly, I could keep on living like this, leeching off my parents and my brother – surely they wouldn't just abandon their son and younger brother like that, even if he was useless and did nothing – but as a man with an ego, that was simply an unacceptable thing to do. I wondered if I should have just pursued my far-fetched, unlikely dream of becoming a professional footballer, something I'd given up in high school; it had turned out well for the others, after all.
Suddenly, my phone rang again, and I sat up with a garbled yell. Me failing at life, example number 3. I hit the table several times before he finally grabbed the actual phone, and looked at the caller's number. It was a number I didn't recognise; nevertheless, I still pressed the 'Call' button, pressing his phone against my ear, curious to find out who it was. It was probably just a random businessman feebly trying to sell more of his products, but there was only one way to find out, as far as I was aware.
"Hello?" I said, disregarding how broken and old his voice sounded. It probably adds to the list of "Reasons why I am still single".
"Handa? Handa Shin'ichi-kun, is that you?" the mystery caller, a gruff and elderly-sounding voice, spoke.
"Yes, but, um… who are you?"
"Have you forgotten all about me, Handa-kun?" the voice replied with a warm laugh. "You foolish boy. I'm Aida Chikara, the coach of Inazuma KFC. Do you remember me now?"
"Oh!" I exclaimed, bolting up from my seat. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I couldn't recognise your voice, sir. How have you been? It's been quite a while since we last talked."
"Well, we can save that conversation for later. But for now, I have an important favour to ask you."
"A… favour?"
"Yes, a favour. As you probably know, young lad, I'm getting along in my years. I'm well past retirement age, and even I have my limits. I can't keep working three days a week anymore, even if it's only three days; I need my rest. I'm getting more and more tired every day. And you know that if I leave, Inazuma KFC will need a new coach, right?"
My ears perked up, and I held my phone even closer to my face. I was onto something here. "And…?" I pressed on.
"So, I was thinking if you, Handa, could fill in my position?"
These words were exactly what I had been hoping for. These words would be my lifeline. These words would save me from the unrelenting clutches of unemployment. These words would give me a new hope, a new light. These words had to be from heaven itself, sent from the divine goddess of victory or whoever it was that Endou liked to ramble on about, whether he was serious or not. These words would be the starting point of my new life. These twelve simple words would be.
"Handa? Handa-kun, are you still there?" Aida-san's voice crackled from the phone, which was now in my arms as I joyously danced in his living room, yelling incoherent words of what must have been celebration as he waved his arms and shook his hips in a way which would have been more suited for a 90's nightclub than a modern house, having no shame whatsoever as I did so. Right now, I was in my own little world, just me and my phone, dancing a slow waltz as I marvelled at my stroke of luck. Me failing at life, example number 4.
"Handa-kun? Handa-kun! You still there, lad?"
"What? Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes, a hundred million gazillion times yes! Definitely yes! Yes! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" I screamed at the phone in a high-pitched voice, continuing to dance around the room. "Working times? Weekly pay? Any other requirements?"
"Golly, you're excited, aren't you?" Aida-san chuckled. "Well, I did hear from Endou that you were a NEET, after all."
I am going to effing kill that Endou when I next see him, I thought, clenching my fists aggressively while imagining that that bird-brained brat was struggling inside them. "Oh, really?" I continued, forcing myself to retain a polite composure. "Oh, you know how gossipy that Endou Mamoru can be…"
"So, I'm assuming that you're up for it?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—"
"Right, right, I get you, lad. So, you know that Inazuma KFC meets up three days a week, right? It's on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when it's from two o'clock to half past three, and then on Saturdays, when it's from one o'clock to four, including a break. Follow me?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes—"
"And your hourly wage will be 6,000 yen, so that amounts to… uh… 36,000 yen for the whole week, not including results from matches. It's a part-time job, so I expect that to be enough for you. More than enough, really."
"Yes, yes, yes—"
"I suppose your football skills are still polished, yes? Endou also told me that you've been practicing football almost every day, so I'm assuming here that you're still suitable for the job."
I decided to take that "kill Endou" part back. "Yes, yes—"
"Right, right, you're excited, I get the idea! Now calm down, will you? So, I expect you to meet me at the riverbank for your practice session next Tuesday—"
"But you don't know what it feels like to win the lottery, sir!" I yelled at my phone, and with these enigmatic finishing words, executed a fabulous twirl that, despite its elegance, still sent my phone flying across the room and hit the wall, leaving a dent in it. I ignored this and continued to celebrate with whoops and spins, being fully aware that a phone like that from ten years ago would easily be able to withstand such a small blow. Being a NEET also meant that you couldn't afford expensive, high-technology smartphones that had the disadvantage of being as fragile as glass.
It is only natural that, on their first day to work, or school, or any other important occasion, one will oversleep and have barely any time to wash and dress themselves, let alone eat. This was exactly what happened to my poor old self on the fated Tuesday that I believed would be my lifeline. When I finally woke up with bleary eyes and a foggy mind, it was already half past one in the afternoon, and by the calculations I had made the previous day, it would take me about fifteen minutes to get myself ready, and another thirty minutes to make the journey to the riverbank, which meant that…
Me failing at life, example number 5.
Uttering words that I'd never say in front of my mother, I slid out of bed, landing on my side as I did so, and rolled outside of his bedroom to the bathroom, where I promptly stood up and undressed myself in the space of ten seconds. One hurried shower later, which I will not describe in excessive detail (now, if this was Endou we were talking about, then maybe, but as we are not… what the heck am I talking about, anyway?), I was at my wardrobe, coughing as I tried to wave the emerging clouds of dust away, and pulled out what I thought would do: a t-shirt, a hooded jumper, and a pair of jeans. My old tracksuits would be too informal (and smelly, judging by the fact that they were the only clothes I'd worn for the past week), and a suit would be the opposite; besides, I didn't even have a suit, last time I checked, which must have been about a month ago.
Pulling my socks on and hopping into the kitchen at the same time, I – after a few failed attempts – finally managed to jab a piece of sliced bread into the toaster. After a minute of almost unbearable waiting, it finally popped out, and I shoved it into his mouth, munching on it as I skidded over to the front door, stuffed his feet into a pair of trainers, and, after checking that he had his phone, purse, and travel card with him in his pockets, set off. …Trust me, it wasn't as cool and action-packed as I made it seem.
It was only after I'd sprinted through several roads and was just about to enter the subway station that I realised that the piece of toast had been – and still was – hanging out of my mouth for the whole journey, and that I hadn't combed my hair at all, as well as the fact that I was wearing mismatched socks. I hurriedly chomped on the toast and swallowed it, and took a look around him. To my despair, I spotted an elderly lady casting a disapproving look at me, with a girl of about ten standing next to her trying to suppress her giggles. I sighed, and wiped my mouth with my sleeve, not caring – or perhaps not being aware of this, knowing what I was like at the time – that the jam and butter would stain the cloth. Me failing at life, example number 6.
"It really isn't my day, huh?" I muttered under my breath, dragging my feet down the steps to the station, feeling as if there was a raincloud directly above my head, showering down thoughts of hopelessness and pity, and all colour around me fading away.
The process of boarding the subway went smoothly, thankfully enough, and soon I was inside an awkwardly silent carriage, with five other people who looked much better off and happier than I was. You know, something I never understood about subways is how everyone's so quiet and still. It's like being trapped in a metal container with a handful of statues, or even dead people. Going on the subway always creeps me out. I took out my iPod and earphones from my pocket (at least I'd brought those with me), and plugging my earphones into my ears, set the playlist on shuffle, and stared at my reflection in the window behind me. Listening to music always comforted me in a situation like this.
"Hey, isn't that the guy from before?"
A voice interrupted my state of peace, and I turned my head towards it. To my surprise and dismay, I found the girl from before pointing at me and tugging at her grandmother's – well, I assumed it was her grandmother – sleeve. "It's the toast guy from before, isn't it?"
I never thought I'd ever see such a scene, but here it was, clear in plain sight before me: this girl, who was clearly old enough to be able judge what was right and wrong, openly talking to her grandmother and pointing at someone in a subway carriage, in front of everyone else in the same carriage. Not to mention, she was clearly insulting me in some way. Everyone immediately turned to stare at her and her grandmother. I raised my eyebrow. The elderly lady shook her head, and slapped the girl's hand away. She whispered something into the girl's ear, probably telling her off for acting so boldly in public.
"I just wanted to tell him that he's still got crumbs on his chin," she replied, looking straight at my eyes. I blinked, and looked again at the window behind me, lifting my chin. Sure enough, there were a couple of crumbs hidden away, which I hadn't caught sight of before. I was about to wipe them away when I felt someone tap my shoulder.
I turned around, and saw the girl in front of me, a tissue in her hand. Behind her, I could see her grandmother burying her face in her hands in utter exasperation. "Here," the girl said, smiling. "It's cleaner that way."
"Uh… thanks," I replied, taking it from her. That's one weird kid, I thought. I took a good look at her; she had short, straight, amber hair, a messy fringe almost covering her golden, cat-like eyes, and elfish ears. That's one cute weird kid, I added to my thoughts.
What I didn't know at the time was that "that one cute weird kid" would end up deciding my fate for me, inadvertently or not. But spoiling the story for you from the start won't be any fun, now, would it?
"Handa-kun, we've got a problem here."
Those were the first words Aida-san said to me when I finally arrived at the riverbank, panting and doubling over in pain, though at least I'd arrived here just on time. "What problem?" I gasped, putting my arms behind my head to give my lungs more space. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Well, the thing is, Handa-kun…" Aida-san said, wiping his brow nervously. "She's here, too." And with that, he turned around, and following his eyes, I looked over his shoulder, and caught sight of a familiar figure, sitting on the bench, with her arms crossed.
"Kisaragi?" I exclaimed. "Kisaragi Mako? From Inazuma KFC? What are you doing here?"
"That's something I should be asking you, Handa Shin'ichi-san," she scoffed, standing up and glaring at me. She looked just as she had almost ten years ago; her light brown hair was tied in two ponytails, with her long, straight-cut fringe and two strands of hair framing her face. Her eyes were as brown and round as ever, though her cheeks had become more slender, and lacked the slight blush they'd always had when she was younger.
"It appears that there has been a mix-up," she continued, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I thought I was here for the job of the new coach of Inazuma KFC, and there's no way that I'm not backing down."
I stared at her. She stared back at me. And that was when everything went horribly, horribly wrong.