Mark arrived back at the hotel where the US team were staying. Santiago gave him a hand out of the cab, making him feel even more frail than usual.
After walking a few feet, he stumbled briefly, only to be caught by his son.
“Dad! Are you okay?” Santiago’s face was shrouded with worry as he propped him up on his shoulder.
“I… I’m just a bit light headed. Help to my room.” Mark responded, his voice lacking the usual deep and commanding tone that he was used to.
Santiago hesitated, “Shouldn’t I call an ambulance?”
“No, it’s not my lungs. I think I’m just tired.” He replied.
Yet this was a lie. His lungs had been burning ever since they left the restaurant, giving him the urge to cough. The pain was nothing like he’d ever felt before, but he did his best for his son not to worry.
As they approached the main entrance of the hotel, he could see a few of the players lounging in the lobby. They looked to be down, likely because of experiencing their first loss of the World Cup.
Mark straightened his back and quickly got his breathing under control. He moved Santiago’s hands off him before walking on his own.
The players saw their coach enter through the front doors and instantly got to attention. Seeing the serious expression on his face, they knew that they were likely to be chewed out at the eting tonight.
“We’re postponing the eting till tomorrow morning. Take tonight to relax and think about what part you played in our loss today.”
Not waiting for a response, Mark walked towards the elevators alongside Santiago, causing everyone to breathe out a small sigh of relief. They had been worried he would give them so sort of disciplinary action.
The mont the two stepped inside the elevator, Mark nearly collapsed, causing another shout of fright from Santiago.
Thankfully, the two managed to make it to Mark’s room without anyone seeing them.
After laying on the bed, Mark couldn’t keep his eyes open, instantly falling asleep.
“Don’t call an ambulance.”
That was the last thing he said before laying down.
Santiago dropped down to his backside and sat on the floor. He held his head in his hands and felt his eyes begin to tear up.
This was by far the worst he’d seen his adoptive father, causing him to feel all sorts of emotions. The once strong and kind man who saved him from a life of struggle and maltreatnt was reduced to such a state.
“Why is life so cruel?” He muttered, feeling overwheld.
He stayed this way for so ti, before feeling a bout of exhaustion himself. Today had been a long day filled with both excitent and fear.
Santiago stood up and checked that his father was breathing before grabbing the key to his room and leaving. He planned to shower and co back to sleep here, afraid that sothing might happen in the night.
A few minutes after he left, Mark began to mutter sothing in his sleep.
“Yuna… I miss you.”
It seed that he was having a pleasant dream.
Elsewhere in the building, a certain teen was sitting in his dark room, the lights from his laptop screen flickering against his face.
The handso teen wore a frustrated expression on his face as he stared at the screen showing the ga which took place only a few hours ago.
“How were they picking my pitches…” He muttered, biting his fingernails.
Ryan mumbled and grumbled as he used his right hand to rewind and fast forward through every pitch. He focused in on the actions of the batters, starting with Hiroki in the first innings.
He watched everything from Leo’s lead, to his wind up and the action of the batter.
DOONG
The mont he heard the sound of the bat, his expression darkened even further.
“Damn it!”
Ryan slamd the table with his left hand, causing the mouse to fall off and hit the ground. Sohow, the mouse seed to have ssed with the video, pausing it on a certain fra.
He saw himself looking towards 3rd base, his glove held close to his chest.
“Hmm?”
His curiosity piqued, Ryan picked up the mouse and pressed the play button.
He saw the pitch go outside, right before Hiroki hit the ball with ease, as if he was expecting it.
Ryan frowned, moving to the next inning where he pitched against Daichi first. Once again he repeated the movents, only for the ball to go flying into the outfield.
For the next 10 minutes, Ryan watched himself pitch, breaking down his form little by little.
“Ha ha ha… HAHAHAHA.”
Scary laughter began to co out of his mouth as he raised his head up, facing the ceiling. After a few monts he let out a contended sigh, as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“You’re a bunch of sneaky bastards, I’ll give you that.” He said softly, running his hand through his sandy blond hair.
All of his previous depression seed to have disappeared in that mont, replaced by his usual confidence. After figuring out how Japan overran them, correcting the mistakes just beca a lot easier.
“I’ll tell the coach tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be pleased with this information.” He said, a smile creeping onto his features.
Yet it froze in the next mont.
He suddenly rembered how the coach acted in front of Ken and their assistant coach, causing him to feel a certain way. Perhaps it was because he respected the coach so much, but it annoyed him to see them getting along like that.
“I’ll crush you in the finals Ken… Don’t you dare lose until then.” He said, narrowing his eyes.
With that, he got up from the chair and stretched, feeling a cold calmness envelop him.
“Man I’m hungry… I should probably get so food.” He muttered before grabbing his key and heading out the door.
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