Baby on the way

The air in the high-end Berlin lounge was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, aged whiskey, and the frantic energy of professional athletes celebrating a milestone. It was Alexis Ness’s birthday, and the "Magician" of Bastard München had spared no expense. Music hummed at a low, sophisticated frequency, and the lighting was dimmed to a soft amber glow that reflected off the champagne flutes.

Michael Kaiser, the undisputed Emperor of the pitch, was usually the center of such festivities. He was the man who commanded the room with a sharp smirk and a glass of the finest wine. But tonight, the man standing by the velvet armchair in the corner was unrecognizable to his teammates.

He wasn't holding a drink. Instead, his hand was splayed protectively across the small of Mimi’s back, his thumb tracing soothing circles against the silk of her dress.

Mimi was glowing. Now seven months pregnant, her once petite, skinny frame had softened into beautiful, maternal curves. She wore a sleeveless white maternity dress that hugged her bump and draped elegantly over her hips. The neckline was a modest V-shape, but the natural changes of pregnancy had filled it out in a way that drew every eye in the room.

"Michael, I’m fine," Mimi whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You don’t have to stand guard like a gargoyle. Go talk to Ness. It’s his birthday."

Kaiser didn't budge. His icy blue eyes scanned the room with a predatory sharpness, dismissing anyone who dared to look toward them for a second too long. "Ness is occupied with a tower of macarons. He doesn't need me. You, however, need to stay hydrated and away from the idiots in this room who can’t watch where they’re walking."

A teammate approached, a grin plastered on his face and a hand outstretched to pat Mimi’s belly in a gesture of drunken congratulations. Before the man’s fingers could even get close, Kaiser’s hand shot out, gripping the man’s wrist with a strength that made the player’s smile falter.

"Don't," Kaiser said, his voice a low, dangerous velvet. "Touch the ball on the field, not my woman."

The teammate stammered an apology and scurried away. Mimi sighed, though a small, fond smile played on her lips. "You’re being terrifying."

"I’m being attentive," Kaiser corrected, picking up a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter and holding it to her lips. "Drink. You haven't had enough water in the last hour."

The atmosphere shifted when the heavy oak doors at the entrance swung open. A group of players from the Japanese national team, in town for a friendly match, filed in. Among them was a tall, silver-haired figure with hooded, sleepy eyes that lacked their usual lethargy the moment they landed on the woman in white.

Nagi Seishiro froze.

It had been over a year since he and Mimi had ended things. Back then, Nagi had been too detached, too consumed by his own boredom and the demands of Blue Lock to realize what he had. He had let her go because he didn't have the energy to maintain the spark. Seeing her now, however, felt like a physical blow to his chest.

She looked radiant. The thin, fragile girl he remembered had been replaced by a woman who looked whole, cherished, and breathtakingly beautiful. The white of her dress made her look like a dream he had foolishly woken up from.

Nagi began to walk toward them, his long strides cutting through the crowd. Kaiser felt the shift in the air before he even saw the man. He stiffened, his arm sliding from Mimi’s back to her waist, pulling her flush against his side.

"Mimi," Nagi said, stopping a few feet away. His voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Mimi blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. "Nagi? I didn't know you were in Germany."

"Just for the week," Nagi replied, his gaze dropping to her stomach before flickering back to her face. There was a visible ache in his expression, a rare display of emotion from the genius. "You look... different. Happy."

"I am," she said, her hand instinctively resting atop Kaiser’s, which was still anchored on her hip. "Very happy."

Kaiser’s eyes narrowed, his ego flaring at the sight of the boy who had once held a place in Mimi’s heart. He didn't say a word, but the silence he projected was deafening. He was marking his territory without needing to utter a single threat. He looked down at Mimi, his expression melting from icy disdain to pure, unadulterated adoration. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, making sure Nagi saw the way she melted into him.

"Are you tired, Liebling?" Kaiser asked, his voice loud enough for Nagi to hear. "We can leave whenever you want. The car is waiting."

"I'm okay for a little longer, Michael," she murmured, though she squeezed his hand.

Nagi stood there for a moment, feeling like an outsider looking into a world he no longer had a right to inhabit. The tension was thick, a silent acknowledgment of the past versus the present. Seeing the way Kaiser looked at her—not as a trophy, but as his entire universe—Nagi realized that he had never been capable of giving her that. He turned away, his shoulders slumped, disappearing back into the crowd.

By the next morning, the party was the talk of the internet. Photos taken by guests and paparazzi outside the venue had gone viral. "The Emperor’s Empress," one headline read. Another social media post, featuring a candid shot of Kaiser shielding Mimi from the crowd while looking at her with a gaze that could melt lead, had millions of likes.

The comments were a battlefield of envy and curiosity.

*“Look at the way he holds her! I’ve never seen Kaiser look at anything like that, not even the World Cup trophy.”*

*“She’s absolutely glowing. That dress is everything.”*

*“Wait, they’ve been together this long and he still hasn't put a ring on it? What is he waiting for?”*

*“If I were Kaiser, I would have proposed the second I saw her in that white dress. He’s losing his touch.”*

Back in their villa, the morning sun was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Kaiser was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through the comments on his phone. He usually ignored the opinions of the "unwashed masses," but the repeated questions about a proposal were sticking in his throat like a thorn.

He looked over at Mimi. She was still asleep, tangled in the silk sheets, her hair fanned out across the pillow. Her breath was steady and shallow. She looked so peaceful, so perfect, and the thought of her not officially being his—not by law, not by name—suddenly felt like a glaring error in his perfect script.

He had spent his life chasing the "impossible," trying to prove he was the best in the world. But as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he realized that the most important goal he’d ever scored was convincing her to stay with him.

He stood up, walked to the safe in his dressing room, and pulled out a small velvet box he had purchased months ago but had been waiting for the "perfect" moment to open. He realized now that waiting for perfection was a fool’s errand. Perfection was sitting in his bed, carrying his child.

Mimi stirred as the bed shifted. She opened her eyes to find Kaiser kneeling on the floor beside her. He wasn't wearing his usual mask of arrogance. He looked vulnerable, his blue eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her heart skip.

"Michael? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?" she asked, sitting up in a hurry, her hands flying to her stomach.

"No, no," he said quickly, reaching out to take her hands in his. He took a deep breath, the "Emperor" of Bastard München finally finding himself speechless. "I was reading the news this morning. They’re all idiots, Mimi. Every single one of them."

Mimi blinked, confused. "What? Who?"

"The people online," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "They’re wondering why I haven't made you mine officially. And for once, the peasants are right. I’ve been so arrogant, thinking that having you here was enough. But I want the world to know. I want our child to know."

He opened the velvet box. Inside was a diamond so brilliant it seemed to catch every stray beam of sunlight in the room. It was a blue diamond, the color of his own eyes, surrounded by a halo of white stones.

"Mimi," he said, his voice steadying. "I don't deserve the grace you've shown me, especially when I was away for so long. I don't know how to be a father yet, but I know I want to spend every day of my life learning how to be the man you deserve. Will you marry me?"

Mimi’s eyes filled with tears, her breath hitching in her throat. She looked from the ring to the man who had changed so much in the span of a year. The cold, selfish striker was gone, replaced by someone who held her world in his hands.

"Yes," she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him onto the bed with her. "Yes, Michael. Of course."

Kaiser laughed, a genuine, hearty sound, as he slid the ring onto her finger. He pulled her into a deep kiss, his hand resting on her stomach where he felt a sudden, sharp kick.

He pulled back, his eyes wide. "Did you feel that?"

Mimi laughed through her tears, wiping her eyes. "I think the baby says yes, too."

Kaiser leaned down, pressing his forehead against her bump. "Of course he does. He has excellent taste, just like his father."

He stayed there for a long time, listening to the life they had created together, finally realizing that being an Emperor meant nothing if he didn't have a home to come back to. And as he looked up at Mimi, glowing in the morning light, he knew he had finally won the only trophy that mattered.