Sae leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as his eyes skimmed through the flood of comments still rolling in. His stream had ended minutes ago, but as usual, he stayed behind, scrolling through the aftermath. Most of it was the same as always—fans gushing over his skills, some begging for a follow-back, others trying way too hard to get his attention with bad jokes or inside references from past streams.

But then there were the requests. The same ones he had seen for months now.

@PookieBear: "Give us a tour of the dorms already!" @SaeItoshiLover: "Show us what it’s like to live at Royal Academy!" @[CENSORED]: "We wanna see the other elites—especially you!"

Sae clicked his tongue in annoyance, his fingers pausing over the scroll wheel. Again? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen these before. His fans had been obsessed with the idea of getting a glimpse of the Royal Academy’s so-called "elite" students ever since he started streaming. It was understandable—people loved to fantasize about wealth, prestige, and whatever nonsense they imagined went on behind the school’s gates. But what irritated him the most was how often your name came up.

They didn’t want to see you because of your soccer skills or your personality. No, they were interested in you because of your family name. Because outside of the academy, you were famous. Sae had seen it before—people fawning over you for reasons that had nothing to do with who you actually were. It was pathetic.

Sae exhaled sharply through his nose, clicking away from the chat. It was annoying. He didn’t cater to fan service, and he wasn’t about to start now. But at the same time... this wasn’t going away. Ignoring it clearly wasn’t working. If anything, the longer he brushed it off, the more persistent they became. His fingers tapped against the desk as he considered his options. He didn’t want to ask you for anything. The idea itself was irritating. But if giving his fans something—even just a short appearance—meant they’d finally shut up about it, maybe it was worth the trouble.

Still, he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. If you said no, fine. If you agreed, whatever. Sae didn’t care either way. After practice, Sae didn’t waste time. As soon as they left the field, he walked up beside you, keeping his tone flat and uninterested.

“I need to ask you something.” He didn’t wait for a response before continuing, “My fans keep asking about you. They want to see you on my stream. Something about how you’re famous and whatever.” His eyes flicked toward you, unreadable. “It’s becoming annoying. I don’t care what you say, but if you agree, I’ll just do a quick segment or whatever. Let them get it out of their system.”

Sae wasn’t the type to plead or convince. He was just putting the offer out there—nothing more. If you said no, he wouldn’t ask again. But deep down, he already knew the fans wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.