Brother sister bond (244)

Below him, Japan sprawled like a wrinkled green tapestry, slowly shrinking into a miniature model. Nakada watched it recede, his gaze distant and calculating.

This was the nation he planned to elevate to the pinnacle of football, a country that would bask in the reflected glory of his dominance.

A wry smile played on his lips. He wasn't naive. He knew Japan wasn't quite there yet. The current crop of players lacked the raw talent, the killer instinct, the sheer ruthlessness required to conquer the world stage.

They needed to be forged in the fires of ambition, molded into something more, something worthy of being his pawns on the grand chessboard of international football.

But Nakada had faith. He had faith in this nation's capacity to produce more prodigies like himself. Someone, somewhere, was honing their skills, hungering for a chance to prove themselves.

All they needed was the opportunity to feed him the perfect pass, to unlock his data-driven brilliance with a single, precise touch.

Nakada craved efficiency. He didn't require a barrage of chances; he just needed one. One perfect opening, and he would unleash a clinical finishing move honed to deadly perfection.

His phone buzzed, momentarily breaking his concentration. A text from his sister, a string of emoticons and a playful threat: "You haven't replied. Prepare for inbox spam!"

Nakada snorted. Yep, that was his sister alright. A whirlwind of emojis and sibling rivalry. He considered ignoring her, just to see how long it would take before her messages turned from playful to frantic. But a flicker of something akin to affection softened his features.

Family, after all, was family.

With a sigh, he typed a brief response: "On the plane. See you soon." He hit send, a tiny concession to the chaos that was his sister. As the plane ascended higher, leaving Japan behind, Nakada's gaze turned steely. Barcelona awaited. Training.

/

A sigh escaped Nakada's lips as his phone continued to buzz with his sister's messages. Even after confirming he was on the plane, she hadn't stopped the barrage. Yet, despite the annoyance that flickered in his eyes, it was quickly replaced by a flicker of something unfamiliar – warmth.

This constant stream of chatter, these random ramblings… they were a stark contrast to his own controlled existence. He craved efficiency, data, not these emotional outpourings. But for some reason, he didn't mind it.

Perhaps it was the reminder of a life outside of calculations and goals. A life his relentless pursuit of perfection had pushed aside.

His sister's latest message focused on his recent matches. "You TOTALLY crushed it!" it read, overflowing with exclamation points and emojis. "Sometimes it felt like you could see the game like you were spectating it from above."

A ghost of a smile played on Nakada's lips. "Something like that," he replied, his tone nonchalant. It wasn't entirely a lie. His data analysis did grant him a near-precognitive view of the field, allowing him to anticipate plays and movements. But he wouldn't admit to that. Not to her. Not yet.

He kept his response brief, not wanting to encourage a full-blown conversation. Yet, a part of him hoped she wouldn't give up easily. He craved his solitude, his focus, but this… this unexpected connection, it held a strange allure. Perhaps, in his calculated world, there was room for a touch of warmth, a reminder of the human element he so often disregarded.

As the plane soared higher, leaving a trail of cotton clouds in its wake, Nakada found himself glancing at his phone more often than usual. The world of data and calculations remained his domain, but a tiny corner of his mind, a corner he hadn't even realized existed, had opened to a different kind of processing.

A processing of emotions, of sibling bonds, of a warmth that defied his data-driven logic.

/

Nakada stared at the text message, a playful glint flickering in his golden eyes. His sister wouldn't give up easily, that much was clear. "Come on, tell me Nii-san...how did you do it?" the message pleaded, punctuated with a flurry of emojis that made him smirk.

He could practically hear her voice, a melody of childish excitement and genuine curiosity. A sigh escaped his lips, a sound that was more theatrical than genuine. He craved efficiency, and typing out a detailed explanation felt like a waste of valuable processing power.

"Fine, but I don't feel like typing it out so..." he typed slowly, enjoying the suspense he was building.

Before he could finish his message, a notification popped up – a call from his sister. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he tapped accept, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Alright, spill the beans, Nii-san!" her voice buzzed with excitement. Nakada could picture her practically vibrating with anticipation on the other end of the line.

"During a match, I don't just focus on what's directly in front of me," he began, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "I take in the entire field, absorbing as much data as possible about my teammates, opponents, and even the ball's trajectory."

There was a brief pause, then a gasp. "That seems like a lot of information to process at once! I bet I could get it though, in one try!" she declared, her voice brimming with confidence.

Nakada chuckled, a dry sound devoid of warmth.

"Don't overestimate your own talent, imouto," he countered, using the Japanese term for 'little sister.'

"Usually, that data analysis would be enough," he continued, ignoring her playful scoff. "But in the recent matches, I decided to push myself further."

"Of course, you out of all people would go the extra mile," his sister interjected, her voice laced with a knowing smile.

"Do you want to know or not?" he asked, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.

He wasn't used to such extended conversations, and a part of him yearned for the quiet solitude he thrived in.

"Why can't I do both?" she replied, her voice dripping with playful defiance. Nakada couldn't help but smile – a genuine one this time.

This constant banter, this teasing familiarity, it was a welcome change from the cold calculations that dominated his life.

He sighed, a sound that held a hint of indulgence. "Alright, alright," he conceded. "Prepare yourself, because what I'm about to tell you might just blow your mind."

The plane continued its ascent, carving a path through the cotton-candy clouds. Nakada, the data-driven prodigy, found himself engaged in a conversation unlike any he'd ever had. He was explaining the complexities of his game, his voice filled with a newfound passion that went beyond mere efficiency.