I sat on the bench in the locker's room, fixing my laces for hundredth time. I used to do this weird ritual before every match. You can laugh, that my behavior resembles Midorima, but I don't find it funny at all. If there is anything I care about more than school and my office, it must be football. Sport that molded and brought me up.
My parents always told me that I run earlier than I spoke. Mum yelled at father for taking me to the pitch, when I could barely walk, but he didn't bother. He always said, that he saw something essential for game in me. And my Eyes... I developed under his wings, using all my free time for this sport. I've never had a reason to complain - dad did everything he could to make me love football. It wasn't only thanks to his attitude. I started noticing clear points of chasing the ball on my own. And when I finally completed my team, nothing could take my away from football.
That's why now, taping my injured knee with a tape, the only thing I could think about was our starting line-up. I had millions of options in my head, shaping future game. I consider planning as my great strength. I decide about match's appearance, how many goals we will score and how strong we will be. Until recently we played at full strength; it's humiliating for an opponent to play sloppily. But since my injury and discovering new sources of power we rarely play for hundred percent.
I really wanted to take my anger out, so I was still apologizing my rivals in advance. I'm not merciless. I consider myself to be rather too kind. I even close my eyes when my boys are fouled. I should just follow Akashi's example and shut myself from anything.
Oh yeah, the redhead. He tried my patience enough. He'll probably show up for the match; the rest of his team had already decided to cheer on us. Maybe I'll manage to kick the ball straight into his snooty face? I can always pass the buck on the partial obfuscation. I clenched my fists and got up, ready for anything. My teammates were waiting for me by the pitch, listening to the coach. His speech has never been too important, I'm the leader. And the score depends on me.
Welcomed by screams and ovaries I left the locker's room. My steps were accompanied by commentator's voice, who had his permanent place on a tribune.

"There she is! The invincible Captain, strongest forward in Europe and the world, also support of our Rakuzan school's team! The Empress of penalty area, Chiara Attaviano!"

I snorted quietly. Where did he find those epithets?! He must be a really good storyteller. I got used to my title, it chased me since junior high school. I gave my boys a high five and looked at the opponents. They gathered around their coach and discussed something vigorously. Quick check and I knew all their data. Short analyze of their stature gave me a lot; they didn't seem to train too much from our last meeting. As if they had a break.

"Gentlemen, you obviously know, what we have to do. We don't change our plan, starting with pressing on their defence. We will focus our offence on left wing, and then we'll see. They don't look prepared for us. It makes me sad; you know I hate people who don't want to give their best. If only we could, we'd switch to higher level. You're fully aware of the situation. Let's do this. We win and it's over with qualifications."

Boys shouted short: "Yes, ma'am!" and took their positions on the turf. I, however, went to shake hands with referees and the captain. I like this tradition. It's a beautiful symbol of respect and general ascertainment that football isn't only about competing.
Guests were starting. I smiled innocently at the opponent's captain, who looked dumbstruck. I'll crush you and with every humiliation I'll wear this pure, charming smile.
At whistle's sound we run forward, taking into Hawk's formation. Sebastian slid out to the front, having me and Matt by his sides. The defence was supposed to take over the ball and pass it to me. I've been wondering for a long time if I shouldn't switch to midfielder. I loved scoring goals when I was younger. I was able to finish actions with jumps, insteps or fakes I didn't understand. Everyone matures one day; it also happened to me. I got passionate about forming the course of game. I created the pace, played the ball and imposed opponent's moves. It became an important matter to me to win not only physically, but also psychologically.
When I got the ball, the first thing to do was warming up my Eyes - a wider field of vision. Aware of their positions I hastened, dribbling freely. I think we should start with something easy. I nutmeg defender and passed the ball to Sebastian. He nodded his head in understanding and kicked it in the air. I described a circle behind him only to turn around in the air and put it in the back of net.
Referee whistled again; goal scored, and it were barely thirty seconds of a game. My boys were getting fired up, so I smiled slightly. You should have trained more. We're definitely not going easy on you.
The opponents, surprisingly, had some advantages; they were strong in the air. They put eleven men behind the ball, aware that switching to offence was impossible for them. We repeatedly surprised the goalkeeper with a vast range of shooting: volleys, headers, backheels, and also some acrobatic tricks. I rarely crossed the ball, putting the game in the wings. We also used the permanent parts of a game. Each corner, throw-in or free-kick; they all were under our control. Rivals conceded goals in two shakes of a lamb's tail, panting heavily as if they run a marathon. We didn't even use a half of our potential.

In a second half we decided to play one-touch football. Since they didn't take us seriously, we recognized we shouldn't do so either. We agreed upon the fact, that humiliating them in a traditional way wasn't enough. We jumped to every ball, created clinical finishes with attractive endings. The goalkeeper made so many howlers, that it only worsened their current situation. We didn't give a damn about that, irritated by their attitude. The final whistle was like manna from heaven. It was finally over. I squeezed captain's hand and glanced at the score board. Thirty-four to null. Rather a weak score, but who cares, honestly. Whole tribunes were chanting my name, so I raised my arm and took a bow. Somewhere on the right side I noticed characteristic red hair, but I ignored it. I came back to locker's room, steamed, loosening my tourniquet.

"Wasn't it an interesting, but unilateral clash?! Our stunning Chiara-san as always casts a spell on a ball and us!" commentator's voice didn't want to go quiet, still to excited to calm down.

"Chiudi il becco!" I murmured.

Then, the final day has come. I fixed the shirt of my uniform and took a placeon the stage, few steps away from Akashi. Ultimate voting was about to begin. Students gathered in the gym were supposed to approach a ballot box and pick the one person they want to represent them as a President. I avoided redhead's gaze at all costs. Actually, any time I saw him in the hallways I passed him quickly or turned around. I couldn't make myself to confront him. I wasn't afraid of our duel. His unforced gestures made me susceptible. How long would I stand it?
When the teacher's turn was over we were the only ones left, candidats. I ommited the screen and took prepared piece of paper. Millions thoughts exploded in my head. It was so intensive, I had to lean over the ballot box. I could vote for me or him. I took a deep breath and marked the only right name.

Author's note: Hey everyone! So here I am, with another chapter for you, guys! Thank you so much for all your time you spend reading my story, I truly appreciate it. It means a lot to me, cause as I said before: English isn't my native language. Still, I want to improve. How do you like the breaks between the chapters? Is it okay? By the way, yes, I used to play football a lot. I leave you to Chiara and Akashi (even if he wasn't too important in this part) and let them know what you think. What do you expect from this clash? Love you guys, see you soon!