B. Yuna: Return to Form and the Miracle at Home
After the El Clasico derby against Barcelona wrapped up, the local media showered praise, calling it a fierce match worthy of the 300th El Clasico with a result that made perfect sense.
But I saw it differently from the press. That game was my defeat. It was the price for losing my roots over some stupid game stats. I'd meddled too much, trying to boost my pro mindset and patience. With intense self-criticism, I worked hard to rediscover my beginner's spirit. As part of that, I started by ditching training.
"…Does anyone know where Jesus is? He was definitely in the locker room a bit ago."
"Said he was heading home."
"…Back to normal, huh."
"Hey! Luka! I won the bet, so pay up!"
"…The result's not even out yet."
"Don't be a whiny bitch like Luis—fork it over."
"…Why the fuck are you dragging me into this outta nowhere?!"
I slipped out of the training ground and headed straight home. As soon as I walked in, Yohan and Yuna greeted me.
"Oh? You're home early today?"
"Dada—! Dada dada daa!"
While I hugged Yuna, Yohan—thrilled that Dad was home earlier than usual—zipped over with a soccer ball.
Yuna tried to scold him at the sight.
"Dada—! Kick kick!"
"Yohan! Mommy said…"
"It's fine. Let's go play in the yard, Yohan."
I stopped Yuna and took Yohan's hand, heading out to the yard to play with him.
And that evening.
While Yohan dozed off from exhaustion, Yuna handed me a gift box. I looked at her with a face full of confusion.
What the hell? Is today some anniversary? I racked my brain desperately. But no matter how hard I thought, nothing came to mind. Glancing at Yuna with a hint of fear, she barely suppressed her rising smile and urged me to open the box.
"What are you waiting for? Open it already!"
The vibe wasn't bad, so I relaxed a bit at first. But I didn't let my guard down completely. With trembling hands, I slowly opened the box. Inside was a black bra.
"…What is this?"
The unexpected item made a bewildered sound slip from my mouth.
Swish—
I carefully lifted the bra from the box and gave Yuna a puzzled look.
"Hehe."
Instead of answering, Yuna just giggled mischievously. Her warm hand wrapped around mine, guiding it to her chest. Her action sparked a sudden realization in me.
Squish.
Soon, a soft, squishy sensation filled my palm.
Only then did I notice Yuna's chest was actually perky. Two years of effort flashed before my eyes like a montage. Before I knew it, tears streamed from mine. Seeing the patriarch's tears, Yuna's eyes reddened too.
"Maa… Daa… Waaahhh don't cryyy!!"
Meanwhile, Yohan had woken up and come looking for Mom and Dad. Seeing us crying, he burst into tears himself.
Two years into our marriage, our family finally reaped the rewards of our efforts.
Early the next morning, as I stroked Yuna's hair while she slept beside me, she slyly opened her eyes and grinned.
"Hng… We should've had sex on such a great day yesterday."
"We can do it later."
Since Yuna was pregnant, we didn't go all the way. But just fondling her chest gave me all the satisfaction I needed. She did blow me, of course, but that's not the point—let's move on.
"Hehe~"
I watched Yuna humming as she prepared breakfast. Unlike before, her curves stood out, unhidden by her apron. Staring at her, an Italian coach's words suddenly popped into my head: Women under a B-cup are no different from men. I reflected on my time with Yuna so far and slowly nodded. Yeah. I'd basically been fucking a dude all this time…
"Honey… What're you thinking? Nothing weird, right?"
"N-no. Looks delicious. Dig in!"
After setting my meal, Yuna prepared hers—packed with foods good for breast growth: milk, dairy, shellfish, quail eggs, carrots, apples, pomegranates. I nodded at the sight. No wonder all her YouTube money's going here. Surgery would've been cheaper…
"Hm? Want some?"
"Nah, eat up. Looks good."
Of course, I only thought that last part.
After El Clasico, Jesus returned to his usual self. Those around him breathed sighs of relief at the sight.
"Phew… I was on edge not knowing when he'd blow up. Glad he's back to normal."
"Yes, now we can plan assuming problems will always pop up."
While Coach Valverde and the assistant coach chatted, Real Madrid's fifth goal exploded from Jesus's right foot.
"Booooooooooooo—!"
Jesus received the ball at the halfway line, tapped it a few times while dribbling, then unleashed a shot that ripped straight into the net.
"Puta Madre!"
"Damn that Korean!!!"
The home fans of Sporting Gijon—famous for producing Luis Enrique and David Villa—jeered at Jesus, who'd notched a hat-trick. Jesus fired back with a celebration.
Flailing his arms and legs wildly, he dashed to the corner flag, beckoned his teammates, and broke out the big man celebration.
No one knew exactly what it meant, but the Sporting Gijon fans watching Jesus knew it was aimed at them.
"I'm gonna kill those bastards!!!"
"Forget everything else! Lose if you have to—just break Jesus's leg!!!"
Enraged fans hurled objects onto the pitch. The other Real Madrid players recoiled in shock, but Jesus stood firm, continuing his celebration.
The ref flashed a yellow card at Jesus as he finished.
"Please don't provoke the home fans any more."
True to the ref's wish, Jesus provoked them no further. Coach Valverde subbed him out.
As he walked off amid the jeers from the Sporting Gijon crowd, Jesus flashed a victor's smile.
Full Time.
Real Madrid 6 : 0 Sporting Gijon