Chapter Text
Growing up, your dad loved taking you to sporting events; volleyball, baseball, basketball, and even tennis. It had started out as a way to bond, but quickly turned into a genuine love for sports. No matter the weather, the two of you could always be found cheering from the sidelines.
The bond between the two of you was much needed as your mom had passed away giving birth to you. The little you knew about her came from your dad's stories, the pictures in the family album, and the golden bracelet your mom had passed down to you. The bracelet was engraved with tiny marigolds and you made sure to take good care of it.
After your mom’s passing, your dad, and in turn you, had been shunned by your maternal grandparents. They left your dad to fend for himself with a newborn. There wasn’t much your paternal grandparents could do besides send care packages as they lived all the way in America.
Nobody else would be there for you two. It was you and your dad against the world. It could be lonely when he left for business trips, but you knew he was working hard to provide for the two of you.
That’s why it was so important to your dad to spend quality time together. Sports just happened to be the medium. He didn’t just bring you to watch; he made you part of the experience. He taught you the game's rules, positions, strategies, and each player's strengths, and weaknesses.
Being around athletes your whole life sparked something in you. You admired the player's dedication, camaraderie, and their drive to be a part of something bigger. Soon you found yourself wanting to cheer them on, not just from the stands, but on the field or court.
You were given the opportunity to join the cheer squad as a flyer back in junior high; an opportunity you quickly took hold of. You absolutely loved it. Seeing the awe in the audience’s eyes and the morale boost it gave players made it all worth it. Not to mention the ego boost it gave you.
Cheerleading became your way of living out the excitement you once watched from the stands. It was your way of being part of the action, of contributing to the electric atmosphere you fell in love with.
National High School Soccer Championship: Saitama Prefectural Finals
The energy in the stadium was more infectious than normal, with people screaming and cheering on their respective schools. The amount of time left in the game was slowly ticking down. You had always loved the last few minutes of a sports game. The energy shifted and it made your skin tingle.
Matsukaze Kokuo High School was up 1 – 0 against Ichinan High School. Despite Ichinan’s reputation as a soccer powerhouse, not a single member of the Matsukaze cheer squad seemed remotely worried. Each member was fully confident in their team’s ability to pull out the win.
And why wouldn’t they be?
Matsukaze had Kira Ryosuke; Japan’s Crown Jewel. His name was plastered all over sports blogs and news highlights. Hell, there was even a rumor floating around that he had been invited to join the national youth team.
Personally, you had always thought the nickname was a little much. He was talented, no doubt about it, but the nickname didn’t sit right with you. The media seemed too eager to name the next generational prodigy like they had done with Itoshi Sae.
They were setting Kira up for failure. You truly believed that.
How did that saying go again? Oh yeah.
‘The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall.’
Your thoughts swirled, making you too distracted to notice what was happening on the field.
And then - whoosh - a blur of movement.
Ichinan’s #11 had taken possession of the ball. The crowd’s cheers dimmed to a low hum in your ears. Your heart skipped a beat. When had he even gotten the ball?
Technically, you were supposed to be rooting for Matsukaze. But your eyes kept drifting to Ichinan’s #11. He had the kind of raw, unpolished brilliance that sent a shiver down your spine.
As he closed in on the goal, your heart betrayed your team just a little. You wanted him to make it. You wanted to see if he could finish what he started.
So while everyone around you held their breath for a save, you were secretly hoping for something else. Not because you wanted your team to lose, but because sometimes, the most exhilarating moments came from the players no one saw coming.
“Crap! He’s way too close right now!!” one of your teammates anxiously yelled out. Suddenly, Ichinan’s coach erupted from the sideline. He was shouting at #11, but his words were swallowed by the noise and distance. Still, whatever he said hit its mark.
Something shifted in #11’s expression, a flicker of hesitation flashing across his face.
In that split second, everything changed.
Instead of taking the shot himself, he made a split-second decision and passed to #9. You couldn’t help, but be a little disappointed.
#9 wound up and struck, aiming to tie the game up.
The ball soared, a clean arc through the air, and missed. #11 had given up his shot for nothing. He had submitted to his coach’s pressure and let it override his instinct.
The cheer squad burst into action, voices rising in unison as the captain threw up the signal for the offense chant, one of your favorites. You could feel your voice straining, but you didn’t care.
The tension crackled in the air as Matsukaze countered. In a flash, they regained possession, and the ball found its way, almost inevitably, into Kira’s possession. He sent the ball soaring into the net with one final, powerful kick.
Goal!!!
The stadium and cheer squad exploded into a frenzy of celebration. There was no holding back; jumping, screaming, hugging, spinning, you were all caught in the pure joy of victory.
Matsukaze had won and with that, the cheer team was also headed to nationals!
As the final whistle echoed across the field, the crowd surged with excitement. Everyone rushed to get a closer look at Kira, who now stood at the center of a small media swarm. Apparently, the rumors were true. He was invited to join the national youth team.
You moved to join the celebration, pulled by the energy of your teammates, but your gaze drifted toward the other side of the field. Toward Ichinan’s players.
They stood scattered and quiet, some with hands on their hips, others crouched low to the ground, heads hung.
A quick pang of sadness hit you, but it faded as easily as it came, swept away by the roar of the crowd. Such was the privilege of the winners.
All that was left for the losers was the sting of what could’ve been.
You felt so incredibly full. The soccer team had invited the cheer squad out to a local BBQ spot to celebrate their hard-fought victory, and you hadn’t hesitated to join. You were a bit of a glutton. You definitely overindulged, but you considered it a reward for your hard work. After all, your voice was hoarse from cheering so loud and hard during the game.
Slowly, your mind wandered back to something that had stuck with you during the meal. The team had been teasing Kira about one of his post-game interview answers.
“He says, ‘I’m only here because I have everyone on my team.’ Can you believe this guy!?” Inaba, the goalkeeper, had laughed, and given Kira a friendly punch on the shoulder.
Kira just smiled, unfazed, and simply said, “But it’s true.”
Honestly, you shouldn’t be questioning Kira. He was a great guy, always friendly when you crossed paths in school. It’s not like he did anything wrong either. The sentiment was nice, sweet even, but something about it bugged you.
Thinking about it, all you wanted to see from him was a little ego. A little fire that said, ‘I can do this because I am the best’. Could someone even succeed in professional soccer without being egotistical?
No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought. It clung to the edges of your mind like an annoying fly, buzzing just out of reach, darting back the moment you thought you’d finally swatted it away.
Maybe you were overthinking it. Soccer is a team sport, after all. Eleven players, working as one.
Maybe it wasn’t even about him. Maybe it was about what it said; about the fine line between humility and cowardness. Between being selfless and fading into the background.
“I’m home!” You cheerfully call out as you enter your house. It felt so nice to be back home after such a long day. Your muscles ached and all you could think about was taking a hot bath before wrapping yourself in blankets and disappearing into your bed.
“Welcome home! How was the game?” your dad’s voice boomed from the living room, warm and familiar. You could practically picture him already. Half-reclined on the couch, snacks in arm’s reach, eyes glued to the TV screen.
Chances are, he was deep into the latest batch of American ‘pro-wrestling’ matches. At first, the two of you had watched ironically. You poked fun at the dramatic entrances, over-the-top acting, and flashy outfits. Neither of you was willing to admit how hooked you were on the totally staged wrestling.
You lazily strolled into the living room. Without hesitation, you flopped onto the couch beside your dad, limbs sprawled like a starfish. One look at the TV confirmed what you already suspected. You made a mental note to watch the match later after your bath, maybe with a snack in hand.
“Our school won! We’re going to nationals,” you said, unable to hide the pride in your voice. You lifted your hand, palm up, waiting.
Your dad’s face lit up as he eagerly leaned in and smacked your palm with a loud, satisfying high-five, followed by a loud whoop.
“I knew you would win!” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Even if the soccer team played like they had two left feet, the cheer squad would’ve kicked them into overdrive with sheer power alone!”
That was the thing about your dad. No matter how old you got, no matter how many matches or performances you went through, he was always your biggest supporter. You were lucky to have him.
His grin faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful frown, like he’d just remembered something important. ‘Was something wrong?’
“Oh! I almost forgot,” he said, patting his thigh distractedly as he leaned forward. “A letter came in the mail for you.”
“A letter? Who’s it from?” you curiously asked. You weren’t expecting anything in the mail anytime soon.
“It’s around here somewhere…” he mumbled, shuffling toward the kitchen counter where unopened mail tended to collect. You stayed seated, watching as he sifted through the clutter until his eyes lit up with a small, triumphant glint. “Ah hah! Here it is.”
He ambled back toward you, letter in hand, brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at the return address. “Says it’s from the Japan Football Association?”
Huh?