Takumi sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. His reflection was barely visible in the black screen, but the thought gnawing at his mind was crystal clear. Am I good enough?
The training sessions had grown increasingly grueling. Despite his attempts to focus on the football, something was always off. Whether it was his first touch, his decision-making under pressure, or his ability to command the midfield, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was running in place. He'd been told to "control the game," but no matter how many times he tried, it felt like the game was controlling him.
Get it together, Usui, he thought, running a hand through his messy hair. No time to dwell. No time for doubts.
But it wasn't always that easy.
Takumi had been trying his hardest to block out his frustration, but when the lights of the academy dorm flickered and the echo of his teammates' chatter faded, it all came rushing back. He was stuck. And today, it felt heavier than ever.
His phone buzzed again, snapping him out of his spiral.
It was a message from Saki.
Saki: Hey, how's training going? You looked a little down yesterday. Everything okay?
A wave of warmth washed over Takumi. Saki's messages had become a small but significant part of his daily routine. He hadn't expected to hear from her so often, but since their brief interaction the other day, she'd been checking in regularly. It was as if she could sense his unspoken anxieties, offering a reassuring presence when he needed it most.
Takumi: It's... alright. Just been a tough few days on the pitch. I'm trying to keep up, but...
He hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. His pride was on the line here, after all. She doesn't need to know I'm doubting everything right now.
He sent the message before overthinking it too much.
Saki: You've been working so hard, haven't you? I can tell. But you've got to remember, it's okay to have bad days. Everyone has them. And, from what I've heard, you're doing great. Don't be so hard on yourself.
Takumi felt a small smile tug at his lips. It wasn't like him to share his struggles, but somehow, when it was with Saki, it didn't feel like a burden. Her words were like a gentle reminder that, outside of football, he was allowed to be human.
Takumi: Thanks, Saki. That means a lot. I guess I'm just frustrated with how things are going. I want to be better. I want to help the team. I just don't know if I'm good enough yet.
There. He said it. The truth he hadn't dared to acknowledge fully until now. The weight of those words hung between them, a silent confession of all the uncertainty swirling inside him.
Saki: Don't doubt yourself, Takumi. You've got so much potential. I can see it in the way you talk about the game. You're not there yet, but that's okay. You're working hard, and that's what matters. Keep believing in yourself, alright? You've already come so far.
Takumi read the message twice, then a third time. He wasn't used to hearing words like this—not from someone who didn't have an agenda, not from someone who wasn't a teammate or a coach. It was strange, in the best possible way. Saki's words didn't just lift his spirits; they made him feel seen. Not as the up-and-coming midfielder in a high-pressure football academy, but as Takumi Usui, the guy who sometimes doubted his own worth, but still tried his hardest.
A warmth spread through his chest as he typed a reply, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
Takumi: Okay. I'll try. Thanks for being so... kind.
Saki: Anytime. Just don't push yourself too hard, alright? Don't forget to breathe.
Takumi laughed to himself. Breathe. It was simple advice, but so rare in a place like Skyline FC. It felt like every day was a race, and every player around him was desperate to prove they were the best. Yet, here she was—someone outside that world—reminding him to just stop and take a breath.
He didn't know what it was about Saki, but something about her presence—virtual as it was—felt like a balm to the constant pressure of the academy. He could only hope that she didn't realize how much he was relying on her messages to ground himself.
That night, Takumi walked through the dimly lit corridors of the dormitory, still mulling over his conversation with Saki. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel this... normal. Outside of football, outside of the academy, Saki had this effortless way of making him forget about the weight of expectations.
And yet, Takumi wasn't sure where this feeling left him. Was he beginning to like her?
He paused at the door of the dorm's gym, where Shinji was waiting, his usual carefree smile plastered on his face. Takumi quickly pushed the thought of Saki aside—he couldn't afford distractions right now.
"Yo, Usui! You ready to work on that passing technique?" Shinji called out.
Takumi grinned and nodded. "Yeah. Let's get to it."
The next morning, Takumi woke up early, his body aching from the previous day's intense session. As he dressed in his academy uniform, he checked his phone for any new messages. There was one from Saki.
Saki: Good luck today, Takumi! I know you'll do great. Just remember, one step at a time!
Takumi smiled softly as he read the message. Her words were like a small dose of reassurance before every training session, a reminder that, no matter how hard things got on the pitch, there was someone who believed in him.
As he walked to the training pitch, Takumi felt a new sense of resolve. Today's session would be different. He wasn't just playing for the team anymore—he was playing for himself, too. For all the doubts, the pressure, the criticism, he would show that he was capable of overcoming it.
The session that day was a brutal test of their fitness, with Coach Sora pushing the players to their limits. The team was split into two groups, and Takumi found himself facing off against a particularly tough opponent in Ryuuji, a fast, aggressive midfielder known for his physicality and skill.
Takumi's first touch felt sluggish against the intensity of Ryuuji's pressing. Each time he received the ball, Ryuuji was there, closing down every option, forcing Takumi to make split-second decisions.
Despite the overwhelming pressure, Takumi held his ground. Don't rush it. Don't overthink. His mind repeated those words over and over, and slowly, the rhythm began to click. He began to feel more fluid with the ball, each touch more controlled. As the game wore on, Takumi found himself making quicker passes, anticipating where his teammates would be, and dictating the flow of play more confidently.
In one particular sequence, Takumi received a pass just outside the box. With a quick feint to his right, he slid a perfectly timed through ball to Shinji, who was making a run down the center. Shinji took it in stride, and in one smooth motion, fired the ball into the back of the net.
"Nice one, Usui!" Shinji yelled, grinning widely as he jogged back to the midfield.
Takumi couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. That's it. That's the kind of pass I need to make.
As the session ended, Coach Sora gathered the team for a debrief. "Good work today. Usui," he called, his sharp eyes settling on Takumi. "That pass to Tanaka was good, but don't get complacent. There's still room for improvement."
Takumi nodded, but inwardly, he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. It's progress. I'm making progress.
As he walked off the field, his phone buzzed again.
Saki: Hey, how did today go?
Takumi smiled, typing his reply quickly.
Takumi: I think I'm starting to get the hang of it. One step at a time, right?
Saki: Exactly. Keep going, Takumi. I believe in you!
As Takumi pocketed his phone, he felt a small but growing sense of hope. Maybe he was right. Maybe it really was just about taking one step at a time. And if he kept working hard—kept pushing—he might just get there.
With a final glance toward the horizon, Takumi walked back toward the dormitory, his mind already focused on the next step of his journey.