Chapter 1: What is this feeling?
I unintentionally upset a self-proclaimed god and ended up fighting a war with magic. The wild Being X I encountered seemed hell-bent on making my life miserable, and in the end, I died—again. That's the summary of everything up to now.
Being X is an incompetent entity you can't reason with. He invaded my mind, got offended by my thoughts, and decided to "prove me wrong." Spoiler alert: he failed. But thanks to the war he threw me into, I still ended up dead.
I didn't think I'd ever be reincarnated again, though. After tossing me into another world, he stopped checking in or meddling with me directly. Sure, his accomplice gave me that cursed jewel, but that was the closest I ever got to him after our first meeting. I assumed he'd moved on from his twisted experiment. Apparently, I was wrong. Or not?
Somehow, I ended up with a third life—back in the world I knew from my first one. Growing up was still a pain, much like in my second life, but at least this time, I had a family. A rich family, no less. There was no war looming on the horizon, and I was once again male.
The only conclusion I could draw from this was that Being X must have met his end and the system corrected itself. The idea of him turning over a new leaf and attempting to fix the hideous things he had done to me seemed utterly impossible.
I still had a somewhat feminine appearance despite being male, which often led to people mistaking me for a girl. It was annoying, but not the worst thing to deal with. I retained my blonde hair and sky-blue eyes—traits I inherited from my mother's side—which made me stand out more than I liked. Again, annoying, but manageable.
As I mentioned, my family is rich. My parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts—all of them were wealthy. It was unusual but definitely worked in my favor. However, their wealth came with expectations—they wanted me to fulfill their dreams. That part? Definitely less favorable, leaving me feeling trapped.
My entire family had an obsessive love for football—or soccer, if you prefer—and they dreamed of me becoming a professional player. Obviously, that was impossible. But I could see why they thought I had a shot: they believed I was some kind of football genius. Unfortunately, whether it was Tetsuya, Tanya, or now Tamika Masako—my new name—genius was never part of the equation.
At first, my parents didn't take my perceived intelligence too seriously, even though I was more perceptive and mature than most kids thanks to this being my third life. That all changed when I played football for the first time at age five. In my first life, I had casually played football because my friends were into it, so I was a bit more skilled than the average toddler. My parents saw me play, and that was all it took for their dreams to be pinned on me like a badge I never asked for.
They signed me up for a team, crafted a strict diet plan, and imposed an intense training schedule that grew more demanding as their expectations skyrocketed. None of it was enjoyable. I knew I wasn't destined to make it big, and all that effort felt like a colossal waste—time that could've been better spent building a stable future.
Sometimes I considered calling the authorities, reporting the borderline obsession my family had. But then again, they were rich. Severing such a valuable connection wouldn't be the smartest move. Besides, I was managing to keep up with school without much trouble.
So here I am, outwardly chasing my parents' dream of becoming the best striker in the world. Internally, though, I'm constantly scheming to find a way to quit football while maintaining my ties with my family. It's a tricky situation since they've made it crystal clear—if I give up, I'll be disowned. Sure, I could take legal action, but let's be real, that outcome would be far less favorable than staying in their good graces.
"OOOOOHHH GOALLLLL!"
"Nice, Kira!"
"You're amazing!"
"We're up 3-1 already!"
"Just one more game after this, and it's nationals!"
Damn it, we're losing. Ugh, I can already hear my old man nagging me about this. Time to get serious.
There were times I'd dozed off on the field like this, and every time we lost because of it, my dad would go on a nagging spree. It made me understand why some people find constant nagging unbearable. Normally, I'd just fix whatever was being criticized, and the nagging would stop. But this? It felt pointless. I wasn't a genius destined to become a pro footballer; there wasn't much I could improve, as far as I knew. Football just wasn't something I was made for.
Dozing off had become a bad habit in this life, one I hadn't really tried to shake off. Football irritated me to no end—it had taken away so much time I could have spent on more productive pursuits than chasing the fantasies of my parents. Still, I regretted not dealing with the habit sooner. If I'd played better from the start, I wouldn't have to push myself so hard now just to avoid another endless nagging session. This number 10 from Matsukaze Kokuo seemed a notch above the rest, but if I gave it my all, I could at least tie the game.
His name is Kira, right? Well Kira, youre not bad but, you don't know what being a striker means.
"Being a striker means you have to score," I whispered to myself, just before launching the ball that had landed perfectly in my shooting range.
The ball zoomed through the air and slammed into the back of the net before the goalkeeper could even react, perfectly landing in the top right corner of the goal.
"OOOOH NIIICEEEE!"
"Nice Tamika!"
"Just one more goal and we're tied!"
"Why were you spaced out? Nice goal!"
"Sorry, I was thinking of a plan." I lied through my teeth.
My high school football team wasn't anything special, despite my parents' best efforts to find the best players. At least they could pass the ball to me, and that made them valuable enough. Not that I'm supposed to be better than them, but it just so happens that I've been training rigorously since I was five years old, with the sole purpose of making me the best. It's enough to make me good, but not someone who could realistically make it pro.
If we win this, we're just one match away from going to the nationals. I've already had to give it my all sometimes, so… How am I supposed to make it pro? I really needed to have a serious talk with my parents before it's too late, before they kick me out for giving up.
This donkey lost the ball—I'll be taking it, thank you very much.
I'm almost in my shooting range. This will tie the game, and then in extra time, I'll have to score once more.
Just as I was about to make my move, number 10 stepped in front of me. Obviously, he was trying to block my shot, and he'd probably succeed, which is why I'll—
"Tamika! Pass, I'm open!"
Fake the shot, and score.
The blonde who had been in front of me quickly disappeared behind as he missed his tackle when I faked the shot. Now, it was just me and the goalkeeper.
"Tamika! Pass, we've got this!" my teammate yelled again.
He's starting to get annoying. I already told you, it's just me and the goalkeeper now.
BAMM!
And that's 3-3. Well, we're about 80% done now—just one more goal, maybe I won't even need extra time.
"OOOOOH WOOOWW TAMIKA, WE'RE TIED NOW!"
"GOAL GOAL GOAL!"
"AMAZING, YOU TABLED THE TURNS ON THEM!"
These guys are so excited they're forgetting how to speak. I guess it's a big deal for them, but they just don't get how pointless this is. Comparing my team to me, I think they're about on my level, if I hadn't been trained since I was five. But the truth is, they'll never make it pro. They've all made the choice to try and become professional footballers, but none of them will ever make it. I can't understand them. If I were in their shoes, I'd have already secured a stable career, set up everything I need, and planned for the future. But these guys? They're wasting their time. And I guess I am too, but that's because I'm being forced into it. So, it's different.
"It was your distraction that created the path to score, Igaguri," I lied smoothly, forcing a smile. "One more goal, guys, let's go!"
"I really wanted the ball, though, hehe." Igaguri chuckled, his face flushed slightly red.
Not in a million years. You're by far the worst player on our team, Igaguri. It's frustrating that I have to share the forward position with this imbecile.
"Haha, maybe next time I'll let you score," I lied again.
The most important thing as a striker in this world is your ego, and while I understand that, I know I don't have one. But because I recognize this, I still try my best to do what a striker should do. It's a lot like how I acted as a patriot in my second life, but now, I won't get executed by a firing squad if I don't perform. It's much more peaceful.
A grin slipped onto my face. This life is so much nicer. The only thing I really have to worry about is my pride being crushed when I inevitably leech off my family's wealth if my football career doesn't work out. No matter what, I'll keep this connection with my family.
"Kira, you see that? That femboy is grinning like we're nothing."
It's a little annoying that I know they're talking about me, but it's fine. This life is still fine.
"Don't get provoked, we can still score and win!" Kira shouted while stretching his arm. Everyone followed suit, and they all screamed, "Yeah!" as they simultaneously raised their hands in the air.
That was kind of weak. Did they not plan anything? I mean, they should know that if this goes on, my team will win. You can't just shout in unison and expect to win the game out of nowhere.
The game restarted with a throw-in for Matsukaze Kokuo High School. Kira had the ball, and by now, I already knew exactly where he wanted to go. So, I moved there first. To my surprise, he passed the ball this time, unlike when he faced me earlier.
So, he's not totally stupid. But honestly, he should have worked out that kind of thing with his teammates.
Kira's teammate wasn't expecting the pass, and immediately one of my defenders pinned him down. Igaguri then appeared out of nowhere, coming from Kira's teammate's blind spot, and stole the ball.
Kira had already started running back when he saw his teammate struggling, and now he was trying to catch up with Igaguri, who was dribbling toward the opposing team's goal.
Igaguri is going to lose the ball. When he does, I'll just take it.
Just as I predicted, Kira caught up to Igaguri and stole the ball with barely any effort. I was already in position to intercept him.
I'll take it now. Is he going to pass?
Kira's teammates were ready for a pass, but Kira thought it would play out like before, so he decided to try and get past me himself.
Left or right?
Kira shifted his body right, then stepped over the ball, trying to get past me with an outside touch using his left foot.
An outside step-over. I knew you'd try that.
I positioned myself between Kira and the ball he had kicked to the side, quickly taking it with my left foot and spinning to face the opposing goal again.
The defense had opened up because they thought it was time to counterattack after Kira had stolen the ball. I saw the gap and took off running toward the goal.
Nice, no nagging this time!
I kicked the ball as hard as I could into the left corner of the goal, but the goalkeeper managed to keep it out.
Shit, where's it going to land?
Just then, the ball landed near Igaguri, who immediately shot for the right corner of the goal. His shot hit the outside of the post, but the ball bounced back to my feet.
Without hesitation, I kicked it again, this time straight down the middle of the goal before the goalkeeper could recover.
"GOAL! GOAAAAAL! YEEESSSS!"
"TAMIKA, TAMIKA, TAMIKA!"
"ONE MORE WIN UNTIL WE GO TO THE NATIONALS!"
Loud cheers erupted from every direction across the field, mostly male voices echoing through the stadium, though there were plenty of girls in the stands as well.
They are probably here for Kira.
"Haha, take it easy, guys, come on." I forced a smile, my mind clearly somewhere else at that moment.
"I really wanted to score that one," Igaguri said, and for some reason, his words echoed in my thoughts.
How did he even get there? Am I missing something? This... is surprisingly frustrating. Igaguri definitely saw something I didn't. I only got the goal because of sheer luck.
I couldn't pinpoint why I was frustrated, but it seemed like I was missing something that could explain it. I'd like to just play it off as him being more talented than me, maybe better than I initially thought, but... but I should be the better one.
Huh? The better one? But I don't even like football...
"Uwaaaah, I-i-i... it's alright, guys..." one of the opposing players stuttered. "This isn't the end for u-u-us. Remember this moment and l-l-learn from it..." Crying faces everywhere on their team, except for Kira.
He was the first to leave his team. As he passed by me, I swear I heard him mumble something. Not that it mattered—just like the frustrating feeling I'd just had. It's fine. I'm tired of thinking about it. It must've been a fluke that Igaguri ended up where he did. There's no way he could've predicted everything to score.
Well, time to break that habit of zoning out. I was a little too thrown off when the goalkeeper saved my shot. At least it ended well, and there's no nagging this time.
"Good job, son! You made an amazing comeback!" Jin Masako said, grinning widely. "You're just one match away from going to the nationals!"
"Yes, Dad." I did my best not to sound or look annoyed. "I figured them all out at the end, and then it was game over."
"HAHAHAHA, that's my son!" Jin's laugh was so loud that I had to cover my ears. "Hey, is my laugh really that loud?"
"You already know I'm covering my ears because of your laugh, so you should know the answer to that," I replied, a little relieved the conversation had shifted away from football.
We were riding back to our house in my dad's expensive-looking car after leaving McDonald's to celebrate my win. I still didn't understand why he thought I'd enjoy McDonald's as a celebration. Maybe he just assumed every kid liked it, but honestly, I would've been way happier if we'd gone to a real restaurant instead of that junk place. I didn't really mind, though, since it was at least a break from the usual diet food my parents had me eat every day. My dad seemed to think it was a big deal, though, which probably meant we wouldn't be going there again anytime soon.
Soon, we arrived home, and my little brother was waiting outside as usual. He always stood there whenever I came back from a match, eager to hear all about it. It was clear that, just like the rest of the family, he had a real passion for football. It made me wonder how much better things might be if we could swap places. He could enjoy playing football to his heart's content, and I could focus on building a solid career.
It felt strange, though. It was obvious that choices were being made for me, and while I didn't like having my freedom taken away, I hadn't really resisted this time. Part of it was because my family was too valuable a connection to let go of, and I knew I could make my own choices later, once I quit football because I knew I wouldn't make it pro. But there was something else. I had told myself not to dwell on the final moments of the match, but now it felt like something about that ending had something to do with it.
"Dear, you let him eat at McDonald's?" My mother's voice cut through the air as we sat at the dinner table, where she had prepared my diet food. The moment she found out we'd eaten out, I could tell she wasn't happy.
"Oh, come on, I'm pretty sure he's sick of that diet food by now. He just won a big game; of course I'm going to celebrate with him a bit," my father said, trying to deflect her nagging, much like I had during the game.
My father was actually the stricter of the two, but he seemed to be in a good mood—probably because I won the match. Was it really that important? It wasn't like I was suddenly on the path to becoming a pro from winning this one game. We hadn't even made it to the nationals yet; we still had one more match to win.
'One more match to win?' Since when did I think winning was so natural?
"Tamika,"
Was me acting like a striker making me think like a striker? I never had this problem when I acted like a patriot in my second life.
"Tamika?"
Is it Being X's doing? Is he corrupting my mind again? Okay, that's a bit ridiculous. There's no way he'd do that. There's no reason for him to do that.
"Tamika?!"
No, there's no reason for him to do that. Besides, I know how that feels from experience with the Type 95, and this is definitely not that. But then, why? Why am I so fixated on that feeling of frustration from the end of today's match?
"TAMIKA!" My father's voice broke through, much louder than my mother's, and it made me jump in surprise. "Finally, what are you even thinking about? Anyways, your mom says you still have to eat the food she made for you."
"Oh. Uh... okay." I said, nodding, while silently making a declaration inside my head.
I'm never going to think about it again, I resolved, determined to live my peaceful life.
I made this decision because I knew something I couldn't quite put into words. If I tried to chase those words down, if I started trying to understand what happened at the end of the match, I'd probably end up putting football above everything else. And that's not rational—it's not the way I want to go. So I'm stopping right here.
This isn't good. I could end up with a grim future, despite the amazing spawn I've been given in this third life.
-End Chapter 1: What is this feeling?
-Author here.
I decided to fix this chapter.