Chapter Text
The lights flashed rapidly, and you tried your best not to blink. Your smile felt plastered onto your face, but no one seemed to mind.
"-L/N-san! L/N-san!"
The reporter raised their hand as high as possible, and you took pity on them.
"Yes?" You pointed at him with your healthy arm.
The man exhaled, as the reporters around him groaned at not being picked.
"What are your plans after this incident? Will you continue playing volleyball?"
You inhaled, adjusting your posture to lean closer to the mic. Feigning consideration, you let your voice climb to a cheerful tune. "That won't be possible for the foreseeable future, I'm afraid. I will direct my attention toward my work for now. What comes after will depend on how fast I recover." The reporters simultaneously started shouting again, desperate for their questions to be answered.
"You." You pointed at a woman in a pencil skirt.
"Will you continue making appearances at public events? Or will you stay in private until you recover?" She looked at you determined.
"Nothing is set in stone, but I don't plan on abandoning my public work. I will keep doing interviews, if that's any reassurance." Your voice appeared friendly, your expression carefully serene. A light chuckle went through the room. For a moment, everyone was scribbling down notes. You took the moment to take a sip of water.
"L/N-san!" A smaller hand emerged from the crowd.
"Yes?" You pointed at the small man the hand belonged to.
"Are the rumors true? Was your injury caused by infighting in the team?"
Complete silence fell over the stuffy room, as everyone stared at you. Your finger pinched at the table cloth as you forced the smile to stay on your face. "Of course not. The atmosphere in our team was and is always harmonious. My injury was caused by unforeseeable circumstances, and not through anyone's aggression. Please don't insult my teammates like this."You could see your coach nod out of the corner of your eye. Your teammate next to you tensed up. Murmurs and unease swept through the stuffy room, as you adjusted your arm in its sling. You suppressed a wince as the stinging sensation shot from your shoulder all the way to your fingertips.
"I-" Your teammate spoke up, though they immediately quietened at the look your coach shot at them.
"Mizuki-san will lead the team to the nationals in my absence. And I couldn't hope for a better replacement." You glanced at them as you took their hand, intertwining your fingers on the tabletop. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the cameras shifting to focus on your hands.
"Y-yes. I will." Mizuki's hair fell in their eyes as they lowered their gaze.
"That concludes our press conference. We thank everyone who took the time to be here."
The coach motioned at you, and you all stood up to bow to the crowd. Already, the managers shouted through the rooms that the reporters must leave in an orderly manner, as they still attempted to take pictures of your arm.
Your smile didn’t drop as you walked through the hallways of the building, sneakers thumping against carpet. The coach sighed. "What a shitshow. You did good, Y/N."
Mizuki's back tensed up, and you chuckled. "It's nothing new. I wouldn't have survived in the industry if I didn't know how to handle the occasional media storm."
"Regardless, you guys take care when you get home, alright? Maybe get someone to pick you up. I don't want any paparazzi following you home." The coach sighed as your teammates slowly nodded.
"I guess this is goodbye, for now." You looked at each of your teammates. You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on the cakey foundation covering Mizuki's black eye.
They immediately turned away from your gaze. You sighed, letting your voice dip into the melancholic. "Make it to the finals for me, you guys. I believe in you." You slipped past them, letting your hand glide over Mizuki's shoulder, which they immediately shrugged off.
You only let your smile drop when you finally reached your little dressing room, collapsing into the plastic chair.
A blunder like this wouldn't ruin your career. You wouldn't let it happen. But hey, at least for the two weeks of not appearing publicly you had allotted to yourself, you were free. Or as free as you could be. You sighed, as you pulled out your phone.
As usual since the incident, your mother and social media were blowing up your phone.
Briefly, you glanced over the messages your mother sent, ranging from anger to disappointment to relief that the press conference worked out. Your skimming was interrupted by your news app sending a notification for an article. Your eyes flitted to the top of the screen.
'Blue Lock; Will Japan finally take the World Cup?'
Briefly, you felt intrigued. Then you opened the article, and after skimming two lines, realized that it was about football.
You scoffed as you closed the app, ordering an uber as you packed up your things.
It seemed like airplane mode would soon become a necessary asset on your phone.
—---------------------
The tall man slurped up yet another carton of soba, as the woman picked up the clothes littered around the room. She chattered on as she did, her pristine yet stylish outfit standing out in the sheer mess of the room.
“Ego-san-”, She inhaled deeply, as if she had rehearsed this conversation many times. “I am unsure if our team is fit to appear before the media just yet. Especially if we’re planning to monetize them.”
Ego, director of Blue Lock, stared blankly at his many computer screens, replaying footage from the more recent matches. He pointedly ignored Anri as she talked.
“Ego-san.” Anri glared at the bespectacled man. “This is serious. As much as our players try, they are teenagers. They won’t get any offers if they embarrass themselves. Publicly, that is.”
He sighed, as he watched a particularly brash player flip off another after a crushing defeat. He scratched at his ankle, then at his ear. “... What’s your point, Anri-chan?”
Anri gave him a pointed look as he kept staring at his screens. “I was thinking, we should get a proper PR manager on board. We have a week until phase two starts, so we still have some time to find one. If every part of their lives will be streamed, it’ll be our responsibility to make sure they know what they’re doing.”
“.....” Ego rewinded the video to a particularly crushing goal from the older Itoshi brother.
“Ego-san.” Anri glared at him.
“................” Once more, Sae Itoshi’s goal played on the giant screen.
“Ego-san!”
“.... I’ll think it over.” He replied lamely. “If we get one for our unpolished gems, it’ll only be a matter of time before I come under fire too.”
Anri scoffed, as she gathered some of the empty soba cartons. “It certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” He adjusted his glasses.
The silence stretched between them, only disrupted by Anri’s clambering in the small kitchenette of Ego’s shitty apartment. He sighed, long and loud. “.... Who did you have in mind?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as Anri perked up, grinning.
“Y/N L/N, sir. They are-”
“A disgraced volleyball player turned D-List celebrity. I’m aware.”
Anri’s brows shot up in clear surprise. “You know of them?”
“Their story intrigued me when it broke the news. Not like the media shut up about it either.” He shrugged as he grabbed an energy drink can, opening it with a satisfying snap.
“Right. Well, that is the main reason why I think they’d be good for the job. They’ve just turned 18- but they’ve been working on their PR by themself for years. And they handled that huge crisis all on their own.” Anri typed on her tablet, turning it around to show Ego some of the more recent celebrity headlines. All of them featured you, be it through pictures, subject, or name. “Look, sir. We desperately need someone to keep the players in line, and it might be smarter to get someone they’d be able to empathize with. Someone who was thrust into the spotlight, just like them, but has since had time to curate their public persona. Someone who’ll help them do the same.”
Ego stared at the colorful magazine covers, the scandalous headlines- and found himself sighing.
“Will it get Buratsuta off my back?”
Anri lit up. “I- I believe so.” She gripped her tablet tighter, straightening her posture.
Ego sighed once more, stretching his too-long limbs. “Fine. Do what you need to do.”
Anri smiled. “You won’t regret this, Ego-san.”
“For your sake, I hope I won’t, Anri-chan.” Ego downed his Blue Bull, rewinding the video once more.