Current day, America.
Somewhere in Los Angeles,
The score was 0 - 1 in the final quarter.
Yusuke was losing.
He stood at 6"1, white, messy hair, uninterested expression, blue eyes.
Number 13.
Prefectural finals.
"Come on, Yusuke! You got this!" high school girls cheered from the sides.
"I'll go to nationals if 'I' win this…" Yusuke told himself, dribbling the ball past two opponents.
"Nationals…"
"Nationals…"
"Nationals…"
"I'm over here, dumbass!" Yusuke said, kicking the ball past the opponent before zooming past himself.
'One on one with the goalie…' he thought.
'This decides it!'
"Let's go! Yusuke is on his A-game today! We might actually win this!" number 7 called out.
"Yusuke, I'm wide open!" number 9 called out, running 5 meters to the right of Yusuke.
'Nindo-kun…' Yusuke thought.
'He's right…'
'If I pass…'
'We'll get the point!'
"What the hell are you doing, Yusuke?! It's all over if we don't get this!" his coach called out.
'That's right, coach…' Yusuke thought.
'Soccer is…'
'A sport built on teamwork!'
Yusuke kicked the ball to the right, aiming for Nindo-kun.
"This'll for sure tie the score…" Yusuke said.
"KICK IT, NINDO-KUN!" a player yelled out.
"Right!" Nindo said, kicking the ball, but it hit the edge of the goal and bounced off.
"Shit…" Yusuke blurted out.
In the last second, Number 22 on the opposing team collected the ball, running up the field.
"SHIT, GET THE BALL!" one of Yusuke's teammates screamed, chasing number 22.
But Yusuke just dropped down to his knees.
'Why…' he thought.
'Why did I pass?'
'Why didn't I just take the shot instead of passing to Nindo…?'
Number 22 kept running.
The whole field flipped in seconds.
"GET BACK!" number 7 shouted, sprinting full speed.
But they were too slow.
Number 22 pushed the ball forward once… twice… then cut inside.
Yusuke didn't move.
He just watched.
Watched as everything slipped.
"Mark him!" the goalie yelled, stepping out.
Too late.
Number 22 fired.
The ball slammed into the net.
2 - 0.
The whistle blew right after.
Game over.
Silence hit the field for a second.
Then
"LET'S GO!!" the opposing team exploded, running across the pitch, piling onto number 22.
Yusuke stayed on his knees.
Head down.
Hands clenched in the grass.
"…we lost…" number 9 whispered, stopping in place.
Number 7 bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. "That was… our last chance…"
The crowd went quiet on their side.
No cheers.
No voices.
Just disappointment.
Yusuke's eyes slowly lifted toward the goal.
The same goal he could've shot at.
The same moment he threw away.
'If I just shot…'
His chest felt tight.
Like something was crushing him.
Footsteps approached.
Nindo.
"…sorry," Nindo said quietly.
Yusuke didn't look at him.
"…you missed," Yusuke muttered.
Nindo froze.
"I gave you the perfect ball… and you missed."
"…yeah," Nindo said, voice low.
Silence again.
Then the coach's voice cut through.
"That's enough."
They both looked up.
The coach walked onto the field, arms crossed, face serious.
"We didn't lose because of one miss."
No one spoke.
"We lost because none of you had the guts to finish it."
His eyes locked onto Yusuke.
"Especially you."
Yusuke felt it.
That weight.
That truth.
"You had the shot," the coach said. "And you passed."
Yusuke's fingers dug into the dirt.
"…I thought it was the right play," he said.
The coach shook his head.
"No. You were scared."
That hit harder than the loss.
Yusuke didn't respond.
He couldn't.
Around him, his teammates slowly started walking off the field.
Heads down.
Season over.
No nationals.
No second chance.
Just… done.
Yusuke stood up slowly.
He looked one last time at the goal.
Then turned away.
As he walked off, the cheers from the other team got louder.
Like they were chasing him.
Mocking him.
'Nationals…'
He clenched his teeth.
'…I threw it away.'
And for the first time all game,
his expression wasn't calm anymore.
"Coach…" Yusuke said, looking over his shoulder.
"I quit soccer."
Three months later.
The sun sat high over Los Angeles.
Yusuke leaned against a metal gate, one leg up, phone in his hands.
His eyes were half lidded.
Thumb tapping the screen.
Some random game.
No pressure. No noise. No expectations.
Just… nothing.
Footsteps approached from the other side of the gate.
Voices. Laughter. A group.
The gate creaked open.
Around ten guys walked out, still talking over each other.
"Bro, you sold that last play "
"Shut up, you missed too "
"Next time I'm not passing to you "
One of them turned mid argument
And bumped straight into Yusuke.
"Ah !"
Yusuke's phone slipped from his hand.
Time slowed for a second.
The phone dropped.
But before it could hit the ground
Yusuke's leg snapped up.
Clean.
Natural.
Like it never left him.
His foot cushioned the phone mid air.
'Tch, damn muscle memory…' Yusuke thought to himself.
Then flicked it back up.
Right into his hand.
Silence.
"…yo."
"…did you see that?"
"…what the hell?"
The guy who bumped into him blinked. "S sorry, man!"
Yusuke didn't react much. Just looked at his phone.
"…you're good."
But the group didn't move on.
They were staring.
One of them stepped forward. Tall, messy brown hair, energetic eyes.
"Wait," he said. "Do that again."
Yusuke sighed. "…nah."
"That wasn't normal, bro," another guy said. "You caught that with your foot like it was nothing."
"Yeah, that was clean as hell."
"Were you a player or something?"
Yusuke paused for a second.
"…was."
The group exchanged looks.
The brown haired guy grinned. "Perfect timing then."
Yusuke raised an eyebrow.
"Our team's missing a player," he said. "One of our guys quit last week. We've been looking for someone."
"Join us," another one added. "You've clearly got skill."
Yusuke shook his head.
"Forget it… I quit."
They went quiet for a second.
Then
"Quit?" one of them said. "Bro, you don't just quit with skills like that."
"Yeah, that's a waste."
"What happened? You get injured or something?"
Yusuke pushed himself off the gate.
"…just don't feel like playing anymore."
The brown haired guy frowned. "That's it? You 'don't feel like it'?"
"Yeah."
"Cap," another one said. "Nobody moves like that and just quits for no reason."
Yusuke didn't respond.
He just looked away.
"…look," the brown haired guy said, tone softer now. "We're not asking you to go pro or anything. Just come play. One practice."
"No pressure," someone else added.
"You can leave whenever you want."
"Yeah, if you hate it, just dip."
Yusuke stayed silent.
Their voices kept coming.
"Come on, man."
"We need a striker."
"You'll fit right in."
"Better than half of us already, not gonna lie."
A few of them laughed.
Yusuke exhaled slowly.
"…annoying."
"Huh?"
"You guys are annoying."
They grinned.
"So that's a yes?"
Yusuke rubbed the back of his neck.
"…I said I quit."
"Yeah, yeah," one of them said. "We heard you."
"But you still caught your phone like that," another added.
"…that was nothing."
"Exactly. That's the problem."
Silence again.
Yusuke looked at his phone.
Then at the ground.
Then at them.
"…tch."
He clicked his tongue.
"…alright fine."
The group lit up instantly.
"LET'S GO!"
"I knew it!"
"W pickup!"
The brown haired guy pointed at him. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Yusuke sighed. "…don't get excited."
Too late.
"Alright!" the brown haired guy said. "Meet us at practice tomorrow at 10!"
"Don't be late!" another added.
Yusuke waved them off slightly. "…yeah, yeah."
As they started walking away, still hyped, one of them looked back.
"Yo, what's your name?"
Yusuke paused.
"…Yusuke."
"Alright, Yusuke," the guy grinned. "Welcome to the team."
They left.
The gate closed again.
"Tch, I never said I was joining…" Yusuke muttered to himself.
Silence returned.
Yusuke looked down at his phone.
Then at his foot
"…just one practice," he muttered.
But deep down
something that had been quiet for three months,
finally moved again.