CHAPTER 56 :- Dawn of the State Tournament – Dreams, Schemes & Hidden Eyes
The hotel room was still wrapped in deep pre-dawn silence when Haruya's eyes opened.
The digital clock on the nightstand glowed a soft 3:00 a.m. He had set no alarm—his body had simply decided it was time. The tournament's first whistle would blow at 8:30. Five and a half hours from now. Plenty of time to sharpen the blade one last time.
He slipped out of bed without a sound, bare feet meeting cool hardwood. The small teddy bear is there sat slumped against the far wall like a silent sentinel, its black button eyes watching him in the dim glow from the balcony doors. Haruya gave it a small, amused glance as he passed—*Thanks for the company, small guy*—then pulled on his training shorts, a fitted black compression shirt, and his favorite worn-in running shoes.
The hallway outside his suite was hushed. Only the faint hum of the hotel's air system and the distant tick of an elevator somewhere far below broke the stillness. He took the service stairs down to the lower level, avoiding the main lifts so he wouldn't wake anyone.
The indoor practice facility was exactly as the manager had promised: a full-size artificial turf pitch under bright but soft LED lights, surrounded by high netting and padded walls. Goalposts stood at either end, freshly painted white. A rack of balls waited in the corner like obedient soldiers.
Haruya selected one, bounced it once on his instep, then let it drop to the turf with a satisfying thud.
For the next two hours he worked alone.
First came basic ball mastery—inside-outside touches, sole rolls, quick cuts, figure-eights around imaginary defenders. Then came the real focus: Ronaldinho moves.
The elastico, the flip-flap, the no-look pass, the sombrero flick. He had watched grainy highlight reels on his phone for months, mimicking the rhythm, the deception, the joy in every feint. his body had somehow retained—or perhaps rediscovered—an unnatural fluency.
He practiced the elastico over and over. Right foot drags the ball left, left foot snaps it right in a blink. Again. Faster. Then with a body feint. Then at full sprint. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, then trickle down his temples, but he didn't slow. Every time the ball escaped his control he retrieved it without frustration, reset, and went again.
*Control. Deception. Joy.* Those three words looped quietly in his mind like a mantra.
After an hour he finally stopped, chest heaving, shirt clinging to his back. He sat cross-legged on the turf, bottle of water in hand, staring at the goal he had scored against thirty times in a row.
*Today—the real thing begins.*
A small, private smile curved his lips.
Meanwhile, on the floor above, in a softly lit suite bathed in the faint blue of a nightlight, Saeko lay curled on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
In her dream, the pillow had become Haruya's face.
Her lips pressed against the fabric, soft and insistent. A quiet, sleepy murmur escaped her.
"Haruya… the first time I saw you… I just knew… we were made for each other…"
Her arms tightened. She nuzzled deeper, voice dropping to a dreamy whisper.
"You're so important to me… more than anything…"
Then she kissed the pillow—deeply, slowly, with all the longing she could never quite say aloud when awake. A tiny, contented sigh slipped out.
The pillow received another fervent kiss.
Then—vacuum-seal suction.
Saeko's cheeks hollowed as she suckled the fabric like it owed her oxygen, completely lost in the fantasy of Haruya's mouth on hers. A soft, happy hum vibrated in her throat.
Across the hall, Reina had not even made it to her bed.
She lay slumped forward on the small writing desk, cheek pressed to an open notebook filled with frantic scribbles: arrows, X's and O's, hypothetical formations, counter-plays, substitution timings. Last night she had run mental simulations one hundred times—different opponents, different weather, different referee calls—until her brain simply shut down.
Now she slept with one arm draped over the page like a shield, pen still loosely gripped in her fingers, a faint line of drool marking the margin beside "M32 must stay central at all costs."
Even in sleep her brow was furrowed with determination.
In the suite two doors down, Ayame thrashed once, violently, against her mattress.
Her dream was darker.
Saeko and Reina stood hand-in-hand in wedding dresses, laughing as they walked away with Haruya between them. He never looked back. Ayame reached out, screaming his name, but her voice made no sound.
"You both… bitches…" she snarled through clenched teeth, tears streaming down her dream-self's face. "You took my Haruya from me… (っπ╭╮π)っ"
In reality, her arms wrapped around her own pillow and she bit down hard on the corner, chewing in furious, muffled anger, salty tears soaking the cotton as she cried herself deeper into the nightmare.
Two hours passed.
At 6:00 a.m. alarms began chiming softly up and down the corridor.
Saeko jolted awake, pillow still clamped between her teeth. She blinked, realized what she was doing, and flung it across the room with a mortified squeak. Her face turned crimson.
Reina lifted her head from the desk, a page stuck to her cheek, and groaned. "One more simulation… just one…" then promptly fell forward again before jerking upright.
Ayame sat bolt upright, eyes wide, pillow shredded at one corner. She stared at the damage, horrified, then buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to kill them both…" she whispered, before realizing it was only a dream.
Doors opened one after another.
Teammates emerged in fresh kits, hair tied back, water bottles in hand.
Akari stepped out of her executive suite in a sleek black tracksuit, expression cool and focused. Yuzuki Arai followed a moment later, clipboard already in hand.
Yuzuki Arai—the team's assistant coach and strategist—clapped once to gather everyone in the hallway.
"Listen up," she said firmly. "Today is the day. Our first match. We show every other school here that Sakura High isn't some pushover academy. Our students are strong. Our players are fierce. And we're going to prove it."
Akari stepped forward, voice low but carrying effortlessly.
"You guide the rest of the team, Yuzuki. I'll handle Haruya's protection and direct guidance."
Yuzuki rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I know, I know. No need to remind me. You've staked your claim loud and clear."
Reina, now fully awake and vibrating with nervous energy, raised her hand.
"Everyone—new rule for today. We will not use no real names on the pitch or in strategy talk. We use code designations only. Makes communication faster and confuses opponents if they overhear."
She pulled out a small laminated card.
"Saeko—you're M15.
I'm M16.
Haruya… you're M32."
A ripple of giggles and nods went through the group.
Haruya, standing quietly near the back in his warm-up jacket, simply smiled and gave a small thumbs-up.
"M32 it is."
The hallway filled with quiet determination.
The day had begun.
---
— 8:30 Announcement – Powerhouses Introduced,
The stadium clock ticked over to 8:30 a.m. sharp.
A hush fell across the packed stands as the massive overhead speakers crackled to life. The announcer's voice—deep, polished, carrying the practiced excitement of someone who had called a thousand tournaments—rolled out over the field like thunder wrapped in velvet.
"Ladies, welcome to the opening ceremony of the State-Level High School Girls' Football Tournament! Today we begin with six thrilling group-stage matches. The winners will advance, and only the team that triumphs in the final match tonight will claim the championship trophy and the title of state champions!"
The crowd erupted—cheers, whistles, banners waving in a riot of school colors.
The announcer continued, voice rising with each introduction as spotlights swept across the tunnel exits where teams waited in formation.
"First, from the northern powerhouse district—Seiran Academy! Known for their iron defense and relentless counter-attacks, led by captain Kira Hashimoto, the 'Wall of the North.' They've gone unbeaten in their last twenty-three matches. A team built on discipline and raw physicality—give it up for Seiran!"
Roars from the northern stands. Blue-and-silver flags snapped in the wind.
"Next—Takara Women's Institute from the coastal region! Famous for their lightning-fast wing play and pinpoint crossing. Captain Miko Tanaka has already drawn professional scouts this season. They play beautiful, flowing football—expect fireworks when Takara takes the pitch!"
A wave of applause rolled from the eastern blocks, pink-and-gold banners shimmering.
"From the industrial heartlands—Kurogane Technical High! Brutal, direct, and unapologetic. Their long-ball game and aerial dominance have crushed opponents all year. Captain Rika Sato leads a squad that never backs down. Kurogane—bring the thunder!"
Deep, rhythmic chants rose from the western terraces. Black-and-red smoke flares bloomed briefly before security waved them down.
"Representing the elite private academies—Hoshizora International! Precision passing, tactical mastery, and a bench deeper than most schools' starting lineups. Captain Aya Fujimoto is already being called the next national-team midfielder. Hoshizora—elegance in motion!"
Polite but enthusiastic applause from the premium seating areas, silver-and-purple scarves fluttering like silk.
"And finally—from the central valley powerhouse—Akebono Comprehensive! Speed demons with an unbreakable press. They suffocate opponents early and never let up. Captain Saki Nakamura has scored in every match this season. Akebono—unleash the storm!"
The loudest cheer yet from the central stands, orange-and-white drums pounding in unison.
The announcer paused for dramatic effect, letting the tension build.
"And now… making their state-level debut… from Sakura High School! A team that stunned the region with their recent upset victories. Led by their star player—yes, a boy, alongside a determined squad of young women who refuse to be underestimated. Sakura High—welcome to the big stage!"
The cheer was… polite. Scattered.
A few curious murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Is that the boy everyone's talking about? Is it a jokedo they really have a boy"
"Sakura High? Never heard of them."
"They must be the underdogs… cute, but come on."
In the stands, clusters of supporters from the bigger schools exchanged smirks and quiet laughs.
Seiran fans leaned back, arms crossed. "A boy on the field? Am i deaf or we listen right That's adorable."
Takara supporters whispered behind manicured hands. "They probably got here on a technicality. No way they match our wing speed and I bet they are lying about having a boy."
Kurogane's rowdy section snorted. "I don't believe they have boy with them they are just bunch of nobodies? We'll bury them in long balls before halftime."
Hoshizora's refined crowd barely glanced up from their programs. "Charming fake story about having a real boy, but elegance beats novelty every time."
Akebono fans outright laughed. "Sakura High? Sounds like a gardening club. This'll be a warm-up match for us and also we will make them regret lying about having aboy."
Down on the field, hidden in the players' tunnel, Haruya stood quietly among his teammates. He heard every word through the speakers—every dismissive chuckle, every condescending prediction.
His expression didn't change. No frown, no clenched jaw. Just that same calm, gentle gaze fixed on the bright rectangle of sunlight at the tunnel's end.
Inside, though, a small spark flickered.
"They don't know us yet."
"That's okay."
"They will."
Akari, standing just behind him with arms folded, caught the subtle shift in his posture. Her lips curved into the faintest, most dangerous smile.
"Let them talk," she murmured low enough for only him to hear. "We'll answer with goals."
Haruya turned his head slightly, offering her a small, grateful nod.
The announcer's voice boomed one final time.
"Six matches today—three in the morning bracket, three in the afternoon. The top two teams from each group advance. The road to the final starts… now!"
The crowd roared again, louder than before.
The stadium lights flared brighter.
The first whistle of the tournament season isonly minutes away.
---
— Miyahara Yume's Decision – Masked Journey to the Stadium
High above the city, in the penthouse suite of one of the most exclusive residential towers in the capital, Miyahara Yume stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, arms folded loosely, staring down at the glittering sprawl below.
The morning sun caught the edge of her silk robe, turning the deep midnight blue fabric into liquid shadow.
Yume, heart beating a little too fast over a high-school football tournament broadcast she had no business caring about but only care because haruya is there.
Her phone buzzed once on the marble console behind her. She didn't turn; she already knew who it was.
"Secretary," she said without looking, voice calm and melodic even at this hour.
The door to the private office opened a second later. Her long-time secretary—mid-thirties, sharp bob, sharper eyes—stepped inside holding a tablet.
"Boss. The one hundred premium seats have been secured. Center-block, row three, perfect sightline to the pitch. No adjacent press or VIP boxes. Completely private bubble."
Yume's lips curved—just the smallest fraction.
"Good. Prepare a car. I'm going now to see my love there."
The secretary's brow furrowed instantly.
"Boss… you should keep a low profile. If word gets out that Miyahara Yume is attending a regional high-school tournament—for having a affair with a boy—it will explode. Paparazzi, fan riots, speculation about secret relationships. Worst case, the Male Protection Department gets involved. They don't play they crush anyone who comes on there target list, when high-profile women show excessive interest in a protected male."
Yume finally turned, dark eyes steady.
"You're right. I can't be seen."
She crossed to the walk-in closet, already moving with purpose.
"I'll go masked."
The secretary exhaled in quiet relief and immediately lifted her phone.
"Manager? Prepare the blackout Mercedes—full tinted mirrors, privacy partition, bulletproof glass option enabled. Black-on-black, no logos. Have it downstairs in five min."
She ended the call and looked back at Yume.
"Boss… are you sure? You could watch the stream here. Safe. Controlled."
Yume slipped out of the robe and into a long, loose black cashmere coat that swallowed her figure completely. Next came oversized dark sunglasses, a plain black surgical mask that covered from nose to chin, and a simple baseball cap pulled low. In under thirty seconds she had transformed from national icon to anonymous civilian.
"I could watch on TV," Yume said quietly, adjusting the cap. "But I want to see my love. Really see him. Not through a screen. Not through highlights. I want to feel what everyone else will feel when he steps onto that field."
The secretary said nothing more. She simply nodded once—respectful, resigned—and opened the private elevator door for her.
Two minutes later the elevator dinged at the underground garage.
The Mercedes waited—sleek, matte black, windows so dark they looked like voids. Two bodyguards in plain black suits stood at attention. One opened the rear door without a word.
Yume slid inside. The leather was cool against her skin. The door closed with a soft, expensive thunk.
The car pulled out smoothly, gliding up the ramp and into the morning traffic without drawing a single glance.
Back in the penthouse, the secretary waited until the elevator doors sealed before moving to her desk. She opened her laptop, pulled up the official tournament bracket, venue map, security protocols—everything she could find in the public domain.
After scanning for thirty seconds, she lifted her phone again.
This time the call connected almost instantly.
"Senior operations at Grand Azure Stadium? This is a private assistant for a high-priority guest attending today's matches. I need confirmation: no photography, no announcements, no staff interaction with seat block C-3, row three. Full blackout protocol. If any media or fan approaches, redirect immediately. Understood?"
A brief pause. Affirmative response on the other end.
"Thank you. Discretion is non-negotiable."
She ended the call, closed the laptop, and leaned back in her chair.
Downstairs, the Mercedes merged onto the expressway, accelerating toward the stadium on the city's edge.
Inside the car, Yume sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap, mask hiding everything but her eyes.
Those eyes were fixed on the road ahead—sharp, focused, almost hungry.
She had seen the clips. The magazine covers. The viral practice footage that had somehow she still remember in Hanma studio first time seeing haruya infront of her such a cute boy.
She wanted to feel her own heart stutter when he touched the ball.
She wanted—more than she would ever admit—to know if the quiet fire she felt watching those short videos make her jealous.
The stadium rose on the horizon like a colossus of steel and light.
Yume exhaled once, slow and steady.
---
— First Whistle – Rest & Anticipation
Back inside the roaring stadium, the first match whistle had already blown.
The announcer's voice cut through the cheers once more, crisp and excited.
"And now, the opening game of the morning bracket: Kurogane Technical High versus Hoshizora International! Two giants clash right out of the gate—expect power versus precision from the very first kick!"
On the field, the teams lined up, captains shaking hands under the bright sun. The crowd surged to their feet as the ball rolled into play.
In the players' lounge—a cool, carpeted rest area tucked beneath the stands—Haruya's team sat in quiet focus. Most girls reviewed notes on tablets or stretched lightly on mats. Haruya leaned against the wall near the window, arms crossed, watching the live feed on the mounted screen with calm eyes.
Up in the stands, Akari and Ayame occupied adjacent seats in the reserved team section—prime view of the pitch, shielded from the main crowd by a low barrier.
Akari sat with perfect posture, arms folded, gaze sharp as she analyzed every pass and tackle unfolding below.
Ayame, beside her, fidgeted slightly—knees bouncing, fingers twisting the hem of her jacket.
"First match looks brutal already," Ayame murmured.
Akari didn't look away from the field.
"Good. Let them tire each other out. We'll be fresh when it's our turn."
A small, fierce smile touched her lips.
Haruya's team moment is coming.
And when it did, the stadium would learn exactly why Sakura High had arrived.
—To be continued…
---
Author's Note
Hey my dear readers,
First off — thank you so much for sticking with the story and for all your support. It really means the world to me, especially during these busy days in new class 12th.
If you spot any errors (typos, timeline slips, grammar stuff, anything at all), please point them out in the comments. I read every single one and fix what I can — your help makes the story better for everyone.
Next chapter, you'll finally see Haruya's team in action soon — the real matches are coming!
Just a quick heads-up so no one gets confused: when Haruya's team plays, you'll see a lot of codes like M15, M16, M32, etc. instead of their real names. This is intentional — in the story, Reina made this rule to confuse the opposing teams during matches. I'm also using these codes in the writing so it doesn't get overwhelming with too many full names flying around at once (especially with all the other schools and players). It keeps things clearer for you so you can easily make difference between haruya team members and enemy team members while staying true to the team's strategy.
Thanks again for reading, for the likes, comments, and patience. You guys are the best.
See you in the next chapter — things are about to heat up on the pitch! ⚽🔥
Love you all by
—king_fuzu_