All the forwards want me all to themselves - Chapter 5

Icarus looked down at the red-haired youth on the stretcher, who had drifted into a deep sleep due to the combination of agony and the sheer exhaustion of the match.

Chigiri Hyoma, a striker who won through speed. Due to the unique structure of his leg muscles, he could run faster than ordinary men, yet he was more susceptible to ACL tears. His ACL had ruptured once before; although it had been effectively treated and he had followed his rehabilitation plan to the letter, the fragile ligament could not withstand another break.

It seemed as if this striker’s future would end here, yet another athlete dragged into the mire by injury.

If the doctor in Blue Lock weren’t Icarus, that would indeed be the case.

He looked at Chigiri’s rapidly swelling knee and felt the area with his hands to assess the damage.

“Euan, wheel him into the OR. Prep the instruments.”

“Yes.”

So cold.

Chigiri Hyoma opened his eyes in a daze, seeing the surgical spotlights shining down from above and smelling the sharp scent of disinfectant.

Where am I?

Chigiri moved uncomfortably. Wait, why can’t I move?

“Don’t squirm now that you’re awake. I’ve given you anesthesia; you’re numb from the waist down.”

A cool, crisp voice came from above. Chigiri shifted his gaze. The owner of the voice wore a surgical mask, hiding his face, but his black pupils were exceptionally bright.

“I am, where.?”

Only when, he spoke did Chigiri realize his voice was terrifyingly raspy.

“A patient should rest. Speak less.”

Icarus answered nonchalantly, his hands remaining steady. He reached back with his other hand. Behind him, Euan quickly and silently handed over the scalpel Icarus required.

No, wait, why is he performing surgery?

Chigiri’s gaze was scattered as he frantically tried to recall what happened before he lost consciousness. He and his teammates had finally defeated Team V, but then a loud snap had erupted from his knee, followed by blinding pain. As he fell, he thought he saw Isagi’s anxious face.

So, Isagi had sent him to the infirmary?

But wait can surgery be performed in an infirmary? He thought an infirmary was just for simple bandages and basic medicine! And shouldn’t he have signed a consent form before surgery?

“Lord Icarus is performing your surgery; you should accept it with gratitude,” Euan noted, sensing Chigiri’s confusion.

All the thoughts were written plainly on the boy’s face. Euan, catching a glimpse, spoke with a hint of irritation. How many wealthy people in the human world chase Lord Icarus for surgery and can’t even get on the waiting list? Here this boy is, getting the benefit of a lifetime, yet wearing a look of reluctance.

He had planned to come to Blue Lock for a vacation, but the Lord had ended up taking on “overtime.”

Who is Icarus? Is he famous?

Chigiri felt bewildered. “Don’t you need my consent to operate on me?”

“So, do you consent to me fixing your leg?” Icarus asked patiently.

“Isn’t it a bit late to ask, wait.” Chigiri stared at the masked face. “You can fix me?”

The person seemed to roll his eyes elegantly Chigiri wasn’t sure if he was seeing things.

“What else do you think I’m doing right now?”

“But.”

Chigiri wanted to say more, but the person merely said succinctly: “Euan.”

“At your command.”

In the next moment, Chigiri felt an irresistible wave of drowsiness hit him. His eyes closed, and he plunged back into darkness.

Before his sight returned, he sensed the whispers by his ear.

“Euan, go to the warehouse for the medicine.”

“Yes.”

A set of footsteps receded, and then Chigiri felt the bed beside him sink underweight. A slightly cool hand touched his forehead and quickly pulled away.

“No fever, overall effect is decent.”

What effect is ‘decent’? Is there hope for my knee? The prisoner who thought he had been sentenced to death looked expectantly toward the spider’s silk hanging from the sky.

“Recovery will take time; that’s a bit of a hassle.”

Chigiri’s heart sank heavily. He thought of the increasingly tight selection schedule. Although the first selection had concluded, the second selection likely wouldn’t be delayed just for him. Am I doomed to watch my teammates shine on the stage from the sidelines?

“Forget it, let’s speed things up.”

Chigiri tried desperately to open his eyes, but perhaps the anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off; he couldn’t make a sound no matter what. Suddenly, a hand pinched his cheek. A cool object touched his lips, and a liquid flowed down.

Chigiri tasted it. It was sweet, yet a bit metallic [bloody].

Is this medicine from the doctor? It must be to help with post-op recovery, Chigiri comforted himself, trying to ignore the various inconsistencies of this infirmary.

“To save you, I’ve truly paid a heavy ‘blood’ price.” the voice said with a hint of pained regret. “You better become the world’s number one striker; do you hear me?”

Why does the doctor in this infirmary have such high expectations for me? Does he know me from before? Chigiri pricked up his ears to listen more, but the other didn’t speak again. The aftereffects of the anesthesia surged back, and Chigiri finally succumbed to the waves of drowsiness, falling into a deep sleep once more.

Icarus looked at his fingertip with a pang of “wallet-ache” [stinginess].

To accelerate Chigiri’s recovery, he had intentionally sent Euan away to slice his index finger and squeeze a few drops of blood for Chigiri to consume. This truly was “paying a blood price”—in the most literal sense of the word.

“Lord Icarus, I’ve brought the medicine.”

Footsteps sounded at the door. Icarus hurriedly turned his back, putting his bleeding finger in his mouth to lick away the remaining droplets. Euan stood in silence, looking at the black-haired youth whose back practically radiated panic.

As a vampire, how could he not be sensitive to the scent of blood? He simply didn’t wish to expose the Lord. Letting out a silent sigh, Euan set the medicine aside and spoke up.

“I shall go to synchronize this matter with Ego.”

Given how Blue Lock was covered in surveillance cameras, Jinpachi Ego likely already knew. But Icarus didn’t say anything, and Euan’s departure now gave him the perfect excuse.

“Alright, go tell him then,” Icarus said indistinctly.

Euan took one last deep look at the healthy, rosy-cheeked Chigiri lying on the bed and ground his teeth in secret. Dammit! Why is Lord Icarus so devoted to these strikers! Is it too late for me to learn football now?

Chigiri Hyoma woke again.

The ward was empty, a perfect environment for him to gather his thoughts. He had been injured in the match, mysteriously appeared in this place, and underwent an even more mysterious surgery. He only hoped this doctor was actually reliable.

Chigiri sighed and tentatively moved his right foot. As expected, a rhythmic pain throbbed in his knee, but it was bearable. Remembering the grueling rehabilitation training he had endured during his last ACL tear just to maintain his muscle state, he let out a long breath.

I’ll train. It’s just doing it one more time.

He had fallen to the bottom once and leapt back up. He, who had climbed up by his own strength, did not fear being covered in mud a second time. He was confident he could race across the field again, leaving everyone in his dust.

Grit and determination set in. Chigiri turned his gaze and saw warm water and medicine left on the nightstand. Beside them was a note: [Once a day. Two pills at a time.]

What a succinct instruction.

Chigiri reached for the small pills in the bag. No medical labeling, no brand, and no list of ingredients. Is this really safe to eat?

The memory of those black pupils and the words “Do you consent to me fixing your leg?” flashed in his mind. Chigiri gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and swallowed the pills. He felt he must be insane to trust a stranger of unknown origin, but he felt an impulse to listen to him.

Fine, I’ll trust him this once.

Icarus let out a massive yawn. That surgery had drained his spirit, and combined with the blood loss, he felt a bit listless. He returned to his room in low spirits, collapsing onto the bed without even changing his clothes.

“Lord Icarus?” Euan asked with concern from behind him. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine. Just going to sleep.” Suppressing another yawn, Icarus waved him off. Euan immediately fell silent, bowed, and quietly closed the door.

Free from noise and surrounded by his own familiar scent, Icarus finally closed his eyes in peace.

“Nagi, are you okay?”

Only the two of them remained in the locker room. Reo Mikage looked worriedly at his friend, who had his head lowered. Since the match with Team Z ended, Nagi Seishiro had been acting out of sorts—his gaze was hollow, as if he were in a perpetual daze.

Though Nagi was always lazy, Reo, who knew him best, could tell at a glance that the former was currently feeling restless.

“Reo,” Nagi murmured. “This time, feels different.”

“I haven’t lost before.”

“But today, I lost.”

“Wins and losses are common in sports,” Reo said somewhat reluctantly. “We underestimated the enemy. That’s all it was.”

“Mm… at that moment, I really wanted to win.”

“For the first time, I truly wanted to win.” Nagi’s gaze looked straight at the purple-haired youth. “But I lost.”

“For the first time, I wanted something and couldn’t get it.”

Reo blinked slowly. Yes, it was the same for him. The World Cup, the only thing he wanted that he could not yet grasp.

“Reo, I want to be a bit more serious,” Nagi suddenly looked up, his eyes burning as he stared at Reo. “And then, win.”

He didn’t want to be the one lying on the grass watching others celebrate with joy. The taste of looking up from below once you’ve tasted it, it is carved into your soul. He wanted to stand on the pitch and look down at opponents who were filled with regret for losing.

And then say

“What I want, shall surely be mine.”