The next morning, Sota still couldn't forget Aiko and her offer. The thought of joining the flag football club nagged at the back of his mind, refusing to be silenced. Her enthusiasm, the way she saw potential in him—it all felt like a challenge he wasn't ready to accept.
As he went through his classes, everything seemed to blur together. Lessons came and went, teachers droned on, and classmates chatted around him, but Sota barely registered any of it. His mind was elsewhere, stuck on memories he'd rather forget and possibilities he didn't want to consider.
By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Sota felt a sense of relief wash over him. He quickly gathered his things and made his way out of the classroom, eager to leave the school behind. As he walked through the hallways, he couldn't shake the persistent thoughts of Aiko and the flag football club.
As he stepped outside and headed toward the school gate, he suddenly found his path blocked by a red-haired, hot-headed-looking guy. The stranger was a couple of centimeters taller than Sota and stared at him with an intense, almost challenging expression.
"Hey, Kazemachi," the guy said, his voice sharp. He pushed a football into Sota's chest, forcing him to take it. "Throw it at me. Full force."
Sota's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? Why?"
The red-haired guy scowled, his frustration evident. "I'm Hinokami Koenji. I threw that football at you yesterday, the one you caught without even looking. I want to see if you're really that good. Throw it at me, full force."
Sota shook his head, pushing the football back toward Hinokami. "I'm not interested. Leave me alone."
Hinokami's expression darkened, and he stepped closer, his stance aggressive. "What's wrong? Afraid you can't do it? Or maybe you're just too scared to show everyone what you can really do."
Sota felt a surge of anger. He had spent months trying to distance himself from football, and now this guy was dragging him back into it. "I said no," he repeated firmly.
Hinokami's frustration boiled over, and he shoved Sota back. "Don't walk away from me, coward!"
Sota stumbled but quickly regained his balance, his own temper rising. "Back off, Hinokami. I'm not going to fight you."
"Too scared to face the truth, huh?" Hinokami sneered. "You're just a washed-up wannabe."
The words stung, and Sota clenched his fists, trying to keep his cool. Just as the situation seemed ready to escalate further, a voice cut through the tension.
"Hey! What's going on here?" Aiko appeared, her eyes wide with concern. She quickly stepped between the two boys, her presence instantly diffusing the hostility.
Hinokami glared at her, his anger still simmering. "Stay out of this, Tachibana. This is between me and Kazemachi."
Aiko shook her head, her expression firm. "No, it's not. You can't just go around picking fights with people. If you have a problem, there are better ways to handle it."
Sota took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He appreciated Aiko's intervention, but he also felt a pang of guilt for causing a scene. "It's fine, Tachibana-san. I'm leaving."
Aiko turned to him, her eyes pleading. "Kazemachi-kun, don't let him get to you. You don't have to prove anything to anyone."
Sota nodded, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Tachibana-san." He then glanced at Hinokami, his expression serious. "I'm not interested in playing your games. Leave me alone."
With that, Sota turned and walked away, his heart still pounding from the confrontation. He could hear Aiko trying to reason with Hinokami behind him, but he didn't look back. All he wanted was to put as much distance between himself and the football drama as possible.
Just as he thought he had made his escape, he heard a shout behind him. "Kazemachi!"
He turned just in time to see Hinokami hurl the football at him with full force. Instinctively, Sota's training kicked in. "Full Absorb," he muttered to himself. His hand shot up, catching the ball in one fluid motion, absorbing the impact effortlessly.
Anger welled up inside him. Without thinking, he planted his feet, arched his back, and launched the ball back at Hinokami with all his strength. The football whizzed through the air like a bullet. Hinokami barely had time to react before it zipped past him and crashed through one of the school's windows with a resounding shatter.
The courtyard fell silent. All eyes were on Sota and the broken window. Aiko gasped, her hands covering her mouth. Hinokami stood frozen, disbelief etched on his face.
Within minutes, a teacher stormed over, his face a mask of fury. "Kazemachi! Hinokami! Both of you, to the guidance office. Now!"
Sota's heart sank as he followed the teacher, knowing that he had let his emotions get the better of him. Aiko watched them go, worry evident in her eyes.
As he walked to the guidance office, Sota couldn't help but think about how his past continued to haunt him. No matter how hard he tried to move on, football always seemed to find a way to pull him back in.
—
As Sota and Hinokami were led toward the guidance office, a man watched from the shadows of the school's corridor. His yellow hair seemed to glow under the flickering fluorescent lights, and his bright orange eyes were fixed intently on the scene unfolding before him. His presence was nearly imperceptible amidst the chaos, a ghostly figure observing the confrontation with a mix of fascination and intrigue.
The man's lips curved into a thoughtful smile as he watched the football soar through the air and shatter the window with incredible speed. "Beautiful," he murmured to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. The throw was not just powerful—it was a testament to precision and skill that he could appreciate deeply.
He took a moment to savor the sight of the shattered glass, his eyes reflecting a glint of excitement. His gaze followed the trajectory of the ball, noting the perfect arc and the effortless way Sota had controlled it.
"I... I think I can catch that," he said, his tongue briefly darting out to lick his lips as if tasting the very air of possibility. His expression was one of eager contemplation, the kind of intense focus only seen in someone with a deep, personal connection to the sport.
The man's mind raced with calculations and plans. He was a player, a connoisseur of the game, and this display had sparked something within him—a challenge, perhaps, or an opportunity. Either way, he was determined to explore it further.
With a final glance at the direction Sota had gone, the man turned and disappeared into the maze of school corridors, his thoughts already on how to approach the newcomer. The game was on, and he was ready to play his part.