The cold, metallic training area buzzed with tension. After the brutal game of Tag, nobody wanted to waste time—they all needed to get stronger.
One by one, players took turns shooting at the goal. Some had raw power, others had precision, but only a few stood out.
And then there was Sora Himekawa (#294).
A quiet, disciplined striker. But nothing special.
Kaito Isagi sat on a bench, exhausted but watching. He wasn't the only one.
Kuroka Bachira leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Sora with bored eyes.
Sora adjusted his stance and took a deep breath. The ball rolled toward him.
He swung his leg back—
—and completely missed.
His foot hit nothing but air.
His balance shattered.
WHAM!
Sora fell flat on his face.
The room went silent.
Then—
"Pfft… AHAHAHAHAHA!"
Kuroka's laugh echoed through the air.
"Are you serious?! That was pathetic!" He clutched his stomach. "Dude, just quit already!"
Sora's hands clenched into fists against the cold ground.
Kuroka smirked. "Face it, Himekawa. You're useless. You should just stop pretending to be a striker."
Sora's fingers tightened. He slowly pushed himself up.
Then, he turned to Kuroka—his calm eyes burning with quiet rage.
"Shut up."
Kuroka raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
Sora wiped the dirt off his face. "You think I don't know how weak I am?" He stepped forward. "I know I suck. I know I'm the lowest of the low."
His voice trembled—but not with fear.
With fire.
"But that doesn't mean I'll stop. I didn't come here to quit."
He grabbed a ball, setting it down.
"I came here to become the best."
Kuroka scoffed. "Yeah? Then prove it."
Kaito watched silently.
Sora took a deep breath, rolled the ball forward—
And kicked.
It wasn't strong. It wasn't fast.
But it hit the net.
A goal.
Sora turned back to Kuroka, his eyes sharp.
"I'll keep kicking until I don't miss anymore."
The room was silent.
Then—
"Tch. If you want to see what a real striker looks like, pay attention."
Kuroka walked up to the ball, lifted it lightly with his foot, and flicked it up into the air.
Then—
He jumped.
His body twisted mid-air, his wild, purple-shaded black hair whipping around him.
In one fluid motion—
BAM!
His foot connected with the ball in a devastating bicycle kick.
The shot rocketed forward, fast and powerful, smashing into the net.
The goalposts shook.
Everyone stared, stunned.
Kuroka landed gracefully, brushing the dust off his shorts. He turned to Sora with a cocky grin.
"That's the difference between you and me."
Sora clenched his fists, eyes locked on the goal.
But instead of looking discouraged—
He looked hungry.
Kaito smirked to himself.
"Yeah… Sora's not giving up anytime soon."