Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/16818093087122434729/episodes/16818792437222343389
I spent half of my life in the hospital.
When I entered elementary school, I was diagnosed with an illness and was repeatedly admitted to and discharged from the hospital, sometimes able to go to school and sometimes unable to.
By the time I was in third grade, I was hardly able to go to school at all and just stared blankly out the window of my hospital room.
My father and mother tried to stay strong and cheerful, but seeing their faces grow increasingly haggard made me realize, even as a child, that I was causing them worry, and it was painful.
[Hi-chan! I’m here!]
My friends often came to visit me, but one girl in particular, Koganei Mihoshi, who had been my close friend since kindergarten, was special.
She came by twice a week, sometimes even four times.
That day, I think it was a Friday afternoon. The sky was overcast, and my parents had just left.
[Look, look! A soccer game!]
[Mihoshi chan… do you like it?]
[Hmm, I don’t know! But the team from the neighboring town is playing in the national championship!” They’re going to the national tournament!]
[Oh, really?]
It must have been amazing, but I had never played soccer before, nor had I ever seen it, so I didn’t really understand.
[This! This is the decisive match!]
It must have been borrowed from her father, the screen of the slightly worn tablet.
That was where I first learned about “him.”
“…He came back.”
Seeing him, I felt like crying. No, if I hadn’t held back, I would have burst into tears.
That’s how much the “him” in front of me was the first “him” I had ever seen.
“That’s amazing. He’s not just filling the gap, he’s handling three experienced players like children.”
“…Senpai is amazing.”
“Yeah, I know.”
His eyes sparkled, and he smiled. He was clearly enjoying himself.
Soccer, his favorite thing.
That made me happy. More than anything else.
“Eight minutes left. I wonder how this game will unfold. Even I can’t tell anymore.”
At the same time, a high-pitched whistle blew.
It was a signal that the score was now 1-1.
＊＊＊
If you don’t understand, if you can’t find it, think about it. Explore it, examine it.
If you don’t do that, you won’t win.
“It can’t be helped! Let’s move on!”
What Aota has that I don’t. It is, after all, that single-mindedness that seems almost foolish.
Even in a situation where one would normally suffer mental damage, he has the mental strength to laugh and encourage others like that.
“I wanted to be like you.”
“Huh? Did you say something?”
“No, nothing.”
Of course, everyone aspires to be the perfect protagonist.
However, people are only allowed to fight with what they have.
“I… don’t care if everyone likes me or not. I don’t care if they don’t like me. As long as you’re watching, that’s enough for me.”
The ball restarts at Aota’s feet.
The score is tied. In other words, neither side has an advantage in this situation.
The whistle blows, and Aota kicks the ball to the left side.
What’s his plan? Is he trying to break through from the side and finish it himself?
“No, either way, it doesn’t matter.”
After all, that’s impossible. I have no intention of letting him do that.
“Please, everyone. I believe in you.”
Our forward sprints toward where the ball is headed.
“Damn! That’s fast!”
In an instant, he closed the distance to the receiver of the pass.
“I didn’t like being on the receiving end of that, so I’ll do the same to you.”
High press. The tactic we were hit with at the start of the first half.
However, we chose this tactic for a different reason.
“Damn! Over here! Get the ball out of here!”
That’s how it goes. I dug my toes into the ground and started running.
The pass. The trajectory wasn’t bad. But it was a little short.
“I’ll take it, ball.”
The purpose of high pressure is to steal the ball. If that’s possible, it’s ideal. But its true essence lies elsewhere.
Control of time.
No matter how much skill or physical ability a person has, they feel stress under the constraints of time.
And there’s no such thing as a person who never makes a mistake when they’re feeling stressed.
Cut off the pass. Keep the ball and wait for your teammates to move up to your position.
“Amagami, come with me. I need your support.”
“Got it.”
I don’t have the power, sense, or talent to turn the game around on my own.
So.
“Give me a hand, everyone.”
I’m weak. I’m scared on my own.
Working with Amagami, using those around me, I move forward.
In soccer, moving forward means keeping pace with others.
“There’s probably no one else as good at coordinating with others as I am.”
For the past two years, I’ve been devoted to friend A.
“—Well, to be honest, this situation is tough.”
I knew it was coming. He probably can’t sense this situation.
“Alright, final round. Ren.”
“…The protagonist suddenly becomes the final boss.”
I can’t move forward. The passing lane closes in an instant.
It’s clear and simple. In other words, unless I get past Aota, unless I beat Aota, I can’t move forward.
“Aota.”
“What? Ren. Just so you know, I’m not holding back.”
“I’m not expecting that. …Well, you know…”
It felt like it had been a long time since we had faced each other like this. Ever since I quit soccer, I had felt a sense of inferiority toward Aota.
“Enough. Come on, Ren.”
That’s rude, isn’t it? Aota narrowed his eyes slightly, as if to say so.
“Yeah.”
I agreed.
There was no need for words here.
“Let’s go!”
First step. I lightly tapped the bottom of the ball and took off.
Scissors, Cruyff turn, roulette. There are many kinds of feints.
But none of them seemed to work on Aota.
Except for the one I was most skilled at and used the most.
“It’s been a while, so I’d be embarrassed if I messed up…
I straddled the ball and hid it slightly behind my left foot.
Then I swung my right foot behind my left foot.
“Ah! This is it!”
It was a combination of a pass and a feint.
A technique where I pass the ball to myself.
The technique I used most to outwit defenders.
“—Meia Rua. Also known as the back alley.”
I ran toward the kicked ball. Aota’s reaction was a split second too slow.
Once that happened, it was over.
“Not yet!!”
“Are you really going to keep up with this? That’s not normal.”
I had completely outpaced him. Or so I thought. But Aota was still hanging on.
He’s really something. The old me might have given up here.
The goal was already within sight. And there were only two defenders in front of me.
“I really wanted to score myself, but I guess I’ll have to give up on that.”
I pass the ball behind me.
I’ve been waiting for this moment.
“Amagami. This is it. Please.”
“Kuu!! That’s!!”
The ball rolls slowly toward Amagami, who is running up from behind.
“Nice pass, Hayami-san.”
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メイア・ルア -> This is actually “meia lua” (with L), the Portuguese for “half moon”. It’s a kind of popular feint/dribble well known here. You hit the ball by one side of the defender and run around him by the other side. It looks like you’re drawing a “half circle” with your steps and the ball trajectory.
I see, thanks!