Cover Image: Kidou Shouri]
Authors' Notes:
SaltyCandy: Heya! Guess who it is? Yup. T'is me again. Also, what the hell is up with this story?! A combination of an 'after canon story' and then 'high school' and then and then and theeeeen... a 'next generation' one?! Why who where what?! Well, I can tell you how the story had come to this but first, let me introduce you to my biological sistah. My coauthor... TheImprisonedPrince! The same blood literally flow through our veins believe it or not (well not entirely since we're just sisters and we're our own persons but you get it). The very idea of this fanfic is hers; the next generation, after canon, and high school aspect of it, although it was actually not a single story at that time, I'm the one who told her it'll be a blast for the ideas to combine. So then I butt in and tightened the plot and added some OCs (ehem... Tsunami and Gouenji's children... ehem...). That's right, I'm a glorified and nosy betareader. Oh and btw, we reupload it since I found a lot of mistakes in both grammar and plot. Alrighty then, Imma let her talk now.
TheImprisonedPrince: Hello! As you've read, we're sisters! And yes, I'm a girl. So yeah, let's just go to the disclaimer so you can read our first story together! Well, this is also my very first story but you already know what I mean!
Disclaimer: We do not and will never own Inazuma Eleven!
P.S.: Natsumi is married to Endou here and is indeed Endou Natsumi. And yes, rest assured that their kids will be in the next chapter.
Original Word Count: 2,798
Version 4.0: 4,106 words [We've edited lots about their appearances!]
= Prologue =
Ten years after Grand Celesta Galaxy: Nihon Shounen Soccer Kyoukai Office…
"Haven't I told you to never bother me whenever I'm watching my son's match?" A tall man with platinum blond hair that reached his upper back, irritatedly, yet at the same time, gracefully, walked inside a small office and made his way directly to the opposite direction where the strong oaken table and a violet office chair were placed just a meter from the wide completely glassed window.
"I'm sorry, Sir. But this is important," a lean bespectacled man with average height that sported light brown short hair that parted on the left and thin fringes that hanged on both sides of his face followed hastily while avoiding the three cozy red violet sofas that surrounded a black glassed low table on the middle of the red carpeted floor. He stopped just in front of the larger table in the room and watched as the still chairman sat on his chair and send him a blank, silently threatening, stare.
"It better be," Gouenji Shuuya — who was wearing four healthy layers of clothing composed of a light sky blue blazer, grey waistcoat, plain white collared apparel, and a red shirt — sternly emphasized as he knitted his eyebrows. "Now, what's your concern?"
"He's back," the fair skinned man timidly answered with an obvious bead of sweat. Unlike his boss, he was only wearing a white collared shirt hidden by his cream-colored closed two-buttoned suit and an orange tie.
Gouenji raised his zigzagged brow as two shadowy male figures show themselves behind the other male with what one would unmistakably spot as a dramatic flair.
"I came here with an invitation," the Ixal Fleetian alien known as Ozrock greeted as he and his companion stood under the light, leaving Gouenji move at the back part of his seat in both disbelief and disdain.
"Ozrock?! What are— wait, you?" Taking Gouenji's shocked response as his cue, the white haired ponytailed man wearing a grey suit and sunglasses behind the alien smiled, showing sincerity with wide pearly white teeth.
Another ten years after: In a room of an unspecified mansion…
Two blank crimson red eyes slowly opened and met the light blue ceiling. A pale teenage form carefully ascended from the fluffy white king sized bed in an obvious sleep deprived state. His face — bland, unblemished, and cold — at first showed reluctance. Then, after a few seconds of seeming to be in deep thought, he suck the morning air conditioned air then pushed his back out of the warmth and comfort. The male sporting what seemed to be jet black hair that was sticking up at the top of his head— leaving only his supposedly semi-curly full bangs from the disheveled state his hair was in of which anyone would think to be ridiculous — reached for the digital clock on his bedside, just beside the lamp.
"Guess I beat you again," he muttered with a small smile before prodding with the device as to remove the alarm.
With a yawn, he got up and fixed his bed. He then walked on his left where the giant windows were as he slid the lime green curtains on the side. The small hint of orange in the sky put another smile on the pale teen's face. The indication that it was still dawn and he had a lot of time to get himself ready got him incredibly pleased with himself.
His room, that was almost identical to the master's bedroom of the mansion, also had a 42-inch flatscreen television on the exact opposite of the bed sitting on a wide and short cabinet-like stand as well as the simple tidy bookshelf that was designed to literally surround the tv— not only on its sides, but also above it— that adorned the walls just before it reached the bathroom door on the most left.
On the opposite side of the windows, however, was a custom-painted wall where the door to exit the room was placed. The said wall featured a grassy hill-like setting, showing a wide variety of flowers brimming in life under a setting sun.
After he was done basking at the awaking sky, the admittedly short sixteen-year-old journeyed to his right and met a brown painted wooden door of which he entered. Not bothering to look around his own bathroom, he immediately went to the first thing he saw on just the wall on the left; a shiny elegantly designed sink with two unlit lamps from its ceiling. He didn't mind the tidily kept automatic toilet as he walked towards the sink and looked at himself on the mirror. He fiddled with the curvy ends of his hair just below his eyebrows and noted that it was getting long again.
"Aren't you glad you got my hair instead of your father's?" A black-haired woman with red eyes that proved to be dimmer than his own smiled as she combed his short locks. In their reflection on a mirror from a purple and white painted room showed the teenager's five-year-old version giving off a wide smile that he thought would never be possible in his lips anymore. "With this silky soft strands, there's no way you have to struggle fixing it every morning," the thirty-three year old woman said with a playful wink.
The memory that came back to him instantly stuck a lump on his throat. He shook his head. He knew well that this wasn't the time to be reminiscing such bittersweet times; it was a very special day for him after all. It was his first time going to school and he had to wash off all hints of negative emotions that might consume him.
After a face wash and a toothbrush, he raised his head, not intentionally noticing the reflection of the glassed shower case on his back and decided that it was the best time for a shower.
Half a hour passed and the young man felt a lot better than ever. He moved out the comfort room with tamer-looking hair just at the same time someone knocked from his door.
"Master Shouri, breakfast is ready," an old voice he recognized as the butler Hakamada said from the other side of the door.
"Coming," his voice — flat, a bit shrill, yet easily-recognized as masculine still — passed the wall as he started dressing himself with a pleasing civilian attire.
Stepping inside the dining room was the same teen-ager wearing long sleeves which were as black as his hair covered by a gray black-accented waistcoat. The same shade of gray painted his jeans as his sneakers stayed as red as rubies. His hair, unlike when he woke up, was bending under the will of gravity now and have surely sported curvy ends that hang on different directions that surprisingly enough, did not make him look out-of-place from the fancy mansion. In fact, from the way he dressed and brought himself, one wouldn't even had a pinch of doubt that he lived here.
Kidou Shouri, after passing more intricate paintings on the wall, reached the ridiculously long rectangular dining table with the sole person he expected to see.
An older male, with the upper half of his hair in dreadlocks and ponytailed and the lower half sliding on the front of his black business suit, nodded at him with a serious stare — that was probably accompanied by layers of eyebags and wrinkles — which were more or less hidden by green-tinted glasses. Shouri unconsciously held his breath as he sat at the opposite end of the table. The monocled gray-haired butler who seemed to be in the best of condition considering the old age apparent on his features gave them each of their dishes from the tray he was strolling and removed himself from Shouri's sight as he stood behind his young master's giant red cushioned seat.
"How are you feeling?" The white shirted and black tied older Kidou from the exact opposite of the table asked as his fork neared his mouth.
"Good, excited, and… scared," he answered in a polite monotone —well, as much as a monotone could be heard politely — trying to compete with Kidou Yuuto's blank face.
Unfortunately for him, Kidou saw through this as well as the pause that didn't pass his practiced observation skills. Just when his lips almost curved up to a proud smile, a memory reached the famed strategist, making him frown.
"About the school…" Kidou started as he tried to find the right words to use. Along with his sentence, his knife and fork hang on his hands.
The young man glanced back up to his father, playing with the end of the white table cloth as he waited for the news that was hopefully not bad. Or worse— something about his father not allowing him to go to the high school he wanted to attend.
"I can't let you go to Raimon."
Shouri resisted a frown — or any change in his features at that — as he felt his heart crack. The decade old Raimon High School that he had always wanted to attend and the memories that he imagined to make there with the very few friends he had and future ones he wished of having instantly shattered to a million pieces. For someone who was homeschooled ever since he could remember, this was something of indefinite importance to him. Why did everything have to be taken from him? His studies, his high school, his mother?! What does the world have against him for it to take even this one little thing?! He felt the same sickening feeling rising from his center and reflexively tried to swallowed it. This was not the time to be getting sick again, he had to speak his mind before his father could—
"You have to, Shouri."
The black-haired teen's crimson eyes blinked as he didn't miss the seriousness within his father's sight. All of a sudden, he felt all of his former emotions flushing off his system. That wasn't the look that his father shows whenever he wanted things to go his way simply because he thought it would make his only son's life better (of which more or less [did not]). It may had a hint of that, but Shouri could tell there was more. He knew it was something bigger than the two of them and all the problems that they had between and within themselves combine, and Shouri was surely not looking forward to finding it out.
At a beachside somewhere in Okinawa…
"And there it is! The moment we've all been waiting for! The Wave's final move!" An averagely-built dark blond commentator seeming to be in his mid-twenties announced as the trunks and bikini clad audience ooh-ed at the forming tall wall of water.
"He entered the huge wave everyone! But will he survive Okinawa's wrath?!" All of a sudden, a lean yet physically fit teenager appeared just outside the giant wall where the wave that should have engulfed him was now accompanying him to the shore. His muscle-toned legs and arms bended as to steady himself on the platform on his bare feet, perfectly earning the balance that he so practiced so hard on achieving.
"He conquered it! Look at that stance! Look at that talent! And look at that clean-cut fabulous hair! Is there anyone, I repeat, is there anyone else capable of owning the ocean with such Thor-patterned pink hair?!" After a slide from the water upwards, the said teen flew with his surfing board straight up. The people at the beachside slitted their eyes as their dark-skinned idol reached the sun's rays and blinding them enough that they started to lose sight of the talented young man.
"Be careful everyone. This kid has a reputation on his landings," just as the crew cut announcer said that, people started distancing themselves from a carved shell-shaped logo on the sand with the word 'The Wave' inside it. After a few seconds, the teenager everyone knew as 'The Wave' landed gracefully on his feet. As soon as he stood, he combed his pink locks with his tanned fingers as the sun reflected on his unrimmed sunglasses.
"Wait for it…" the energetic commentator said, intriguing his audience greatly. Without anyone noticing, a blue and pink colored surfboard landed just beside him creating a slammed noise and making the ends of his blue trunks sway in the process.
"Yup, still dangerous… but hella awesome!" The commentator thundered, not at all bothered that someone might actually get hurt, as an applause resounded.
'The Wave' then took the trophy that was handed to him, then his surfboard with his free arm and turned on his heel, alarming everyone.
"W—Wait! Where are you going?!" The man on the mic asked. The teenager didn't respond and simply continued on his way.
"What about the prize?!"
The seventeen-year-old surfer suddenly stopped and turned around, removing his sunglasses and revealing his uncaring ocean-colored eyes in the process. Despite their beautiful hue that partnered his already handsome face, the seemingly bottom-less pit of apathy his orbs showed was enough to make anyone disregard the idea of him not ever hiding his eyes. Even most of his fangirls couldn't utter a squeal at his reveal. Well, most. Edgy is indeed considered cool by some.
"Give it to the others, I don't need it," he said in a low uncaring tone, turning and walking again, making everyone cheer loudly and the commentator sigh.
"Still the arrogant one, I see," was the last thing heard from the speakers as everyone watched The Wave's toned back as he indifferently left the beach.
"Young Master, your father has called you," a slim gray-haired butler holding a plated phone accompanied the pinkett halfway on his walk, making the teen grunt in irritation.
"Tell him I'm busy," was all the surfer said as his bare feet continued moving unfaltered.
"The master said it was an emergency," the butler simply replied, seeming to not be bothered at the young man's attitude. After a tired sigh, 'The Wave' stopped and reached for the pink smartphone.
"What do you need?" The lean young man said in a monotone as soon as he focused the device on his face where an older bespectacled pinkett —his proving to be longer and spikier than 'The Wave' — showed himself.
"Ah, Kaiyou! You finally answered!" Tsunami Jousuke — with all his blue glasses and pink-t-shirted glory — smiled after his cheerful greeting. The teen recognized as Kaiyou rolled his eyes.
"I won," he said as he showed the trophy tiredly. He knew what the call was about and hoped that his admittedly rude action would get this over it. He still only had a week to enjoy his vacation after all.
"Woah! That's amazing! Let me treat you for— hey wait! That's not why I called!" The half-naked Kaiyou frowned and removed his glasses at the mention of this, he couldn't believe he was wrong. What else could be more important to his father than surfing and soccer?!
"We need you to go home right now," Tsunami added with a seriousness foreign to his face. Kaiyou widened his eyes and yet found himself pondering about it.
"I don't want to. I told you I'll go to school one week late this time," he reasoned, his eyes reflecting the seriousness in his father's.
"I'm serious. This. Is. Serious. Buddy, you have to go home. We already—"
"Yeah, no. I don't think so. I'm only going when my vacation's over."
"And who, pray tell, gave you the right to talk to your father like that?!" A feminine voice was suddenly heard from the other side of the phone as father and son gulped in unison.
"Zaizen Kaiyou," the dark tone that Zaizen Touko just voiced was enough to make Kaiyou sweat bullets. Unfortunately for him, it had to be made worse by the raging pinkette —her hair darker than both men's— showing herself from the phone. She appeared to be wearing a navy blue suit made for women partnered by the same colored pencil cut skirt as she rested her hands on her hips.
"You are going home this instant, young man. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Mom," Kaiyou answered politely as the call disconnected. He immediately put his glasses back on as he handed his phone to his butler and turned to face him.
"Rigor, tell the driver to prepare the limo, we're going back home."
"Yes, sir."
In a room of an unspecified home…
"Toothbrush?"
"Check."
"Taser?"
"Check!"
"Fukio-chan?"
"Daaaaaad," a violet long-haired teen-ager complained in embarrassment as she pushed away the violet penguin plushie that an older man with dark brown wavy locks tried to give her. Her mid-back long hair swayed as she got utterly beaten in power and was pushed on the bed with the stuff toy. Even with the length and thickness of her strands, her slightly pointy ears that she without a doubt got from her father were still visible on the side of her face.
"Don't tell me you're gonna leave Fukio-chan behind?" The green jacketed Fudou Akio teased with his signature half-smile.
"You're getting old. That smile of yours shows your wrinkles!" The sixteen-year-old commented with a knit of her thin purple brows and a playful scowl that came out-of-place from her beautiful fair skinned face. It showed her lower left canine though, the tallest tooth she actually possessed that never failed to make her look like some kind of a half-feline character from an anime.
Fudou simply widened his smile, not at all bothered by the obvious lines around his eyes. "Yeah well, these are marks of wisdom, kiddo. And don't change the subject, are you taking Fukio-chan or not?!" The strategist stated while crossing his arms.
"Fine," after mirroring his actions with a pout, the younger Fudou took the plushie and cradled it on her fair slim arms before placing it on a humble space in her baggage. She then switched her green eyes at her father who now had an accomplished smirk on his face. Before she could say anything else, the door was opened and an older female with mirroring features as hers peeked inside with a warm smile.
"Are you ready to go, Akayuki-chan?"
The only distinct difference that anyone could tell was probably the fact that she was younger and had slanted green-tinted eyes, much like her father.
"Excited and ready to kick some ass!"
Fudou Fuyuka sighed while her husband smirked. Of course she caught on Fudou's language and actions, he spends more time with her after all. Honestly, if it so happened that Akayuki was born male, she'd probably even start wearing her father's clothing. So by sheer luck, as Fuyuka would like to believe, she got her to wear something she would probably wear when she was her age: a violet jacketed white and pink top that's accompanied by blue shorts and violet high socks.
Fuyuka then playfully shook her head and chose to proceed to what she was planning to do on coming there.
"Come on, you two. I'm not letting you go with an empty stomach."
"Last one down the stairs is a lousy soccer player!" Akayuki shouted as she pushed her father away and ran outside her violet-coated room.
"You're decades away from beating me, rookie!" Fudou called after her retreating figure. Fuyuka was left dumbfounded at the sight and simply sighed.
"Those two…" she said as she shook her head and smiled at the two most precious people in her life.
At the backyard of another unspecified mansion…
"Show me the Heatwave! Show me the Heatwave, Onii-chan!" A ten-year-old girl with an apple-shaped platinum blonde hair and a fair oval-shaped face wearing a lavender-printed dress that reached her knees bounced on her feet as she cheered for the older male with spiky same colored hair but with distinct dark blue highlights who was crouching and had his back towards the goal.
"Alright. But this is the last one, okay?" The seventeen-year-old wearing a red and orange fire-designed sleeveless hoodie and red white-accented goalkeeping gloves answered the child with a warm grin. Unlike him who sported onyx black eyes similar to his grandfather, the younger form had violet-pink eyes that seemed to reflect such unmatched brightness within them. Yet even with the obvious contrast in color, their shapes remained similar: slanted and incredibly sharp.
"Stop spoiling her. She'll never stop asking if you do that, Nii-san," a brown haired fourteen-year-old girl with an angled fringe on the whole of her forehead (with the longer part on the left) wearing what seemed to be a black blazered white top and black skater skirt walked over to them from the other side of the field, holding what seemed to be a pink phone.
"Aw, come on, Sunako. I know you can't resist that smile, too," the oldest and tallest of the three teased as the new-comer simply crossed her toned fair-skinned arms, making her half ponytailed hair that didn't even reach her shoulders sway on her back.
"Your call," Sunako dared with only a little difference in her features that seemed to be a sort of amusement. Brown sharp orbs surveyed the muscular teen-age goalkeeper who looked mature for his age (giving anyone the impression that he's probably eighteen) and the first thing that caught her attention were the flame-themed headphones hanging on his neck, followed by the baggy multi-pocketed cream-colored pants that seemed to be slightly covered in dirt.
Gouenji Yuuyake smiled at the sight of his other sister, thinking of how she really did look a lot like their mother especially when she unconsciously mimic her mannerisms. Except for her chocolate-flavored eyes, the rest of her features was truly a reflection of hers much like how his was a reflection of their father's— of which, if he might add, a fact he hated the most but just didn't have a choice but agree to since it was just that obvious. He then got to wonder how their mother was doing with her business trip out-of-the-country, hoping that she'd call them soon.
"Onii-chan!" The youngest and shortest Gouenji pouted as she shouted to get her brother's attention.
"Oh, yeah… Sorry about that, Sanae. Step back, you might get hurt," Yuuyake ordered as soon as he was snapped from his reverie. Sanae then smiled brightly as excitement filled her person. She then stepped back to stand just beside her only slightly taller older sister.
Yuuyake inhaled and exhaled in concentration as he placed his bare muscular arms in front of him: the right forming a fist as it leveled his chest and the other was straightened beside him. His black eyes suddenly threw off all the warmth it had before and adopted such seriousness that his sisters felt the temperature doubled. Adding up to the summer breeze, the air became much hotter than before, making Sunako hug Sanae from the back in protection.
"Yuuyake-san!" A call hindered the oldest Gouenji from showcasing his hissatsu technique and the three turned their heads to their Nanny Yuko, a brown-haired forty-year-old lady.
"The master has called you," she casually stated from the second floor window of their three-storey mansion.
"Oh great, he's here early," the bicolor-haired male muttered sarcastically as he saw his youngest sister already running inside the house, followed by Sunako who was carefully watching her. After seeing his sisters disappear in his sight to the house, he crossed his arms in irritation.
"Not like it would make any difference from when he's late," Yuuyake left the plain backyard that only featured a soccer field, calm-inducing (and abundant) plants, and a kidney-shaped swimming pool at the farther part. He entered the opened sliding double door and met a wide elegantly designed living room where Sanae was already hugging Gouenji Shuuya, a forty-five-year-old platinum blond with a gray tie-less business suit. His trousers were of the same color while his undershirt was an obvious plain white and his under-undershirt a bright red.
Unlike Yuuyake's which was spiked up properly and was obviously short, his hair was like a long waterfall that reached up to the back of his chest with the color being gradually faded. After a short pat on the head of both girls, Gouenji Shuuya faced his oldest child with a warm expression that the younger form didn't return.
"We need to talk," he simply said, making Yuuyake wonder what was it that caused his father to suddenly have time to chat.
= End of Prologue =
Authors' Notes:
SaltyCandy: As what you might have read, these OCs have a fair share of similarities as well as differences from our favorite Inazuma Eleven characters. We try to make them as relatable as possible (despite their wealthy backgrounds and all chiz) and we do hope you find these four players as such too. Don't worry, there's more of them coming (there are 12 of them after all). Male and female players alike.
TheImprisonedPrince: I seriously have nothing to say except... THANK YOU FOR READING OUR STORY!
SaltyCandy: A silent one, isn't she? LIIIIEEESS!! She's as talkative as me in the house!!
TheImprisonedPrince: Sshhhh... at least let me have face!
Both: Tell us what you think!!