A couple of days ago,
The familiar path from Sota's house to the gym felt different this time. His mind was clouded, not with pain or bitterness, but with something more introspective—an uneasy realization that gnawed at him.
It had been weeks since he'd started training with Coach Mercer, weeks of grueling, sweat-drenched sessions that tested the limits of his endurance and patience. The pain in his right leg was a constant reminder of the injury that had shattered his dreams, but something else was beginning to creep into his thoughts.
Regret.
As he rounded the corner, the gym came into view, standing like a monolith against the morning sun. Sota stopped in his tracks, his breath hitching as he stared at the building. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he bent over, hands on his knees, trying to steady himself.
'What am I doing?' The question had been bouncing around in his head for days, but today, it felt like a punch to the gut.
Sota forced himself to stand upright, wiping sweat from his brow. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but it wasn't from the exertion of the walk. It was something deeper, something that had been buried beneath layers of denial and stubbornness.
He walked slowly, almost dragging his feet as he approached the gym's entrance. The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the familiar scent of rubber mats and metal greeted him. Inside, the gym was relatively quiet, with only a few early risers working out.
With a hunch on his shoulders, Sota heaved a sigh as he made his way to the locker room, his movements sluggish as if his body was fighting him every step of the way.
In the locker room, he found his usual spot and sat down on the bench, his gym bag resting at his feet. He didn't bother opening it. Instead, he stared at the floor, his thoughts swirling like a storm.
Over the past few weeks, Coach Mercer had pushed him harder than anyone ever had. The man was relentless, demanding perfection in every movement, every lift, every sprint. But more than that, Mercer had forced Sota to confront the reality of his situation.
He could no longer hide behind excuses or blame his injury for everything that had gone wrong. The truth was, he had been running away—running from the pain, from the disappointment, from the person he used to be. And in doing so, he had lost sight of what really mattered.
Sota's mind flashed back to the confrontation with Koenji at the school gates. The anger in Koenji's eyes, the frustration in his voice—it all made sense now. Koenji had been right.
In all honesty, he really was wasting his talent, wasting the potential that had once made him the best quarterback in the region. But it wasn't just about talent. It was about the team, about the people who had believed in him, who had stood by him even when he had given up on himself.
He thought about Aiko, how she had tried so hard to bring him back, to remind him of who he was. She had never given up on him, not even when he had pushed her away. And yet, he had ignored her efforts, blinded by his own self-pity.
The weight of that realization hit him like a sledgehammer, and Sota felt his chest tighten. He had been so focused on his own pain that he had forgotten about the pain he was causing others. The people he cared about, the people who had cared about him—they had all been hurt by his actions, by his refusal to face the truth.
Sota leaned back against the locker, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating, but beneath it, there was something else—something that had been buried for far too long.
A sense of purpose.
"Man, I'm really doing this... after all this time."
For the first time in a long while, Sota allowed himself to think about football—not the injury, not the loss, but the game itself. The rush of adrenaline as he stepped onto the field, the thrill of the crowd roaring in his ears, the way the world seemed to fade away when he was in the zone. He had lost that feeling, but the memory of it was still there, lingering at the edges of his mind.
He thought about the team, about how much they needed him. Aiko had been trying so hard to keep things together, but he could see the strain it was putting on her.
And then there were the new members—Ryuji, Daichi, Ouji—each of them with their own struggles, their own reasons for joining. Well, some were just forced into it but that's another thing for the books.
Sota's mind wandered to the last time he had spoken with Aiko. She had tried to hide it, but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the worry etched on her face. She was carrying the weight of the entire team on her shoulders, and he had done nothing to help her.
The guilt gnawed at him again, but this time, it was accompanied by a surge of determination. He couldn't change the past—couldn't undo the injury or the months of self-doubt—but he could change what came next.
There was always time, time to stop running, stop hiding, and move forward while riding the wind.
Steeling his resolve, Sota stood up, stretching his broad shoulders as if he had just received an awakening. It was high time that he let go of the past and not let his injury define him.
Still, there was this gnawing fear in his heart, but that wouldn't push him back down anymore. For quite some time now, he had let his fear control him, limit his potential. But now, it didn't matter anymore.
As he left the locker room and headed towards the training area, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. The uncertainty and fear were still there, but they were no longer in control. He was ready to face them, to confront his own limitations and push beyond them.
Coach Mercer was already there, adjusting the weights on the barbell. He looked up as Sota approached, a knowing look in his eyes. "You're late," Mercer said, his tone gruff but not unkind.
"Sorry, Coach," Sota replied, his voice steady. "Had to take care of something."
Mercer raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, he handed Sota a set of resistance bands. "We're focusing on strength and stability today. No shortcuts, no excuses."
Sota nodded, taking the bands from Mercer's hand. "I'm ready, Coach."
Mercer watched him for a moment, as if searching for something in Sota's expression. Whatever he found must have satisfied him because he gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Let's get to work."
The next hour was a blur of intense exercises—pistol squats, single-leg deadlifts, lateral lunges—all designed to build strength and stability in Sota's legs. It was brutal, every movement a test of his endurance, but Sota didn't waver. He pushed through the pain, through the doubts that threatened to resurface, driven by the thought of his family, of Aiko, of the person he wanted to be.
By the end of the session, Sota was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from exhaustion. But despite the physical fatigue, he felt a sense of clarity, of purpose that he hadn't felt in months.
As he packed up his things and prepared to leave, Mercer called out to him. "Sota."
He turned, meeting the older man's gaze.
Mercer walked over, his expression serious. "You're making progress, but it's not just about the physical. It's about the mental too. You've got to believe in yourself, in your ability to come back from this. And by then, you'll see greater growth."
Sota nodded slowly, taking in the words. He had heard similar things from others before, but this time, they resonated differently. Maybe it was because he had finally stopped running from his fears, finally confronted the reality of his situation. Whatever it was, he knew Mercer was right.
"I'm working on it, Coach," Sota said, his voice firm.
Mercer gave him a rare, small smile. "Good. Now go get some rest. You've earned it."
Sota nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As he walked out of the gym and into the cool evening air, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. The journey ahead was still daunting, the challenges still immense, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could face them head-on.
As he made his way home, his thoughts drifted back to Aiko and the team. He still had a long way to go, but he was ready to start making things right. He was ready to stop running and start fighting—for himself, for his team, and for the game he loved.
And as the stars began to sparkle in the night sky, Sota Kazemachi knew that he was finally on the path to finding himself again.