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Norihito has always known that he wasn't the best, his father had always been there to remind him of that fact. He nagged him for everything— academics, athletics, behaviour, lack of skills— basically, Norihito could breathe and his father would scold him.
Oh well.
He knew nothing he did would satisfy his father.
No matter how hard he tried, how much he reached, his father would still find a crack in his achievements.
Then he became a striker for Raimon in his first year and it felt good, like he was finally useful.
He loved running around the fake field and scoring goal after goal with his friend and fellow striker, Atsushi.
As the days passed, Norihito realised that Atsushi was just like him.
Someone who yearned to be useful, to be worth something. They were two sides of the same coin, two shells of humans that yearned to be seen, to be given the attention that they had never received before they joined Raimon's soccer club.
That made them grow closer. That vicious hunger to be the best above all.
Norihito strived to be the best and with each praise, his pride grew. He felt incredible during his first year. He finally felt like he belonged with his team. That even with his father's constant yelling and verbal abuse and his mother's neglect, he felt safe.
He felt at home.
But then he came.
Tsurugi Kyousuke.
The SEED sent by Fifth Sector to spy over them from the inside. That was his role. What he was supposed to be. Just a first year with too much anger, someone that he presumed was only working for Fifth Sector to be stronger, like most SEEDS.
Norihito ignored him at first, he thought Tsurugi would eventually leave or be told to leave by his superiors. But of course Matsukaze had a hand in stopping that. That damned brat and his meddling pissed him off.
Now, Tsurugi was a part of the team and Norihito had never felt more useless in his life. It was just like before, before he joined Raimon— before Junior High. Back when his father's words vexed him and his mother's inattention pained him.
That same crushing feeling settling inside him.
His Sindwinder didn't stand a chance against any of the goalkeepers of their opponents. He felt weak. He felt pathetic.
It was as if he was 10 years old again, his father berating him for every little thing he did.
And while he was left behind, looking down at himself who once had something to prove, Tsurugi ran forward, he strived in a way that Norihito had longed for all his life.
He couldn't remember any match recently where he even got close to the goal, let alone a shot. It felt as if any attempt he made was discarded and deemed worthless.
Hell, even Matsukaze scored more than him and he was a midfielder. Not only that but just weeks ago, he was a mere beginner.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Norihito can still recall his sarcastic comments to Matsukaze's unwavering optimism and determination, how he mocked the younger boy and his pathetic 'soccer is crying!' bullshit that would spew out of his mouth as if they were second nature to the naïve boy.
Now he shone, along with Shindou and Tsurugi. While he was left in the dust, wondering to himself how this had happened.
Though he never showed it, Norihito was jealous. Of Matsukaze, of Shindou, and of Tsurugi.
Especially of Tsurugi.
He was the ace striker now, and it stung.
It had already hurt him when Atsushi had left then suddenly reappeared as their fucking opponent. Now, it was just added salt to the wound when Tsurugi came and swooped his title from right under his nose. He was on the sidelines once again, watching as the first years got stronger and developed new hissatsu techniques, he remembers being like them once. Remembers being the one shining in the field as he improved his skills while the third years watched in awe and jealousy.
Everyone was getting better while he was falling behind. Norihito was chasing after Tsurugi but could never match the former SEED, he would always be better, wouldn't he?
Tsurugi was one of the greatest SEED from Fifth Sector, it was foolish of him to think he could ever catch up to him. But he wanted to, he was desperate to match Tsurugi's skills, hell maybe even surpass his strength, even if it was all wishful thinking.
But Norihito didn't care, he wanted to be better, to prove that he could still be someone useful and to get his father's stupid nagging out of his fucking head— god why couldn't that damned thing ever shut up?
He'd show his father, his team, those fuckass reporters, and those stupid comments that kept popping up in his feed, taunting him with each insult thrown his way and praise given to Tsurugi.
He was still the ace striker of Raimon, even if that title was never bestowed to him in the first place. It was Atsushi's title, but they shared it once, then it was Tsurugi's. Anyways, those details didn't matter to Norihito, he'll get better, he'll strive for what he wants.
So he did, every morning before school he would go out on the field, he'd practice his shots, his dribble, his passes. Hell, he even mastered a new hissatsu shot Bakunawa and a dribble hissatsu Snake's Venom.
He didn't allow himself to slack off, no matter the weather, he trained every single day. Because if Norihito was anything, he sure wasn't a quitter. He'd be willing to wait for it, just so he could feel the satisfaction of being better than anyone else rush through his veins.
Norihito was terrified of falling behind more than he already had, he couldn't allow himself to be a failure to the team. And he wouldn't. No matter what, he would do everything to match Tsurugi, even if he hurt himself in the process.
Yet, he was still overshadowed by Tsurugi. No matter how much he trained, how long he stayed up late, or how often he hurt himself, his skills were still not up to par with Tsurugi's.
Because no matter how much Norihito improved, Tsurugi grew better, stronger. It was futile.
He could never reach how high Tsurugi has flown, even if he reached for the clouds, he would still fall to the very bottom.
And so, as he sat there on the bench watching the match going on in front of him. There was loud ringing echoing in his head before he heard a voice taunting him, saying—
You seem pretty arrogant for a boy so weak, Norihito.
And maybe, just this once, that voice was right.
Because no matter how hard Norihito tried, Tsurugi would always be better than him.