The Start

Go son, you can do it!!!" A middle-aged man with black hair and blue eyes, undeniably charming, and a woman with white hair and green eyes, even more beautiful, were shouting towards a fourteen-year-old boy. The boy stood out due to his height and was about to defend a penalty kick.

The referee blew the whistle, signaling for the striker to take the shot. The boy ran towards the ball and kicked it with all his might towards the left corner of the white-haired boy. The boy guessed the direction, stretched out, and managed to touch the ball with his fingertips, preventing the goal.

"GOOD JOB, SON!" could be heard from the stands, directed at the white-haired boy who was on the verge of tears.

"What's the point of all this? There are only seconds left in the game, and we're already down two to zero. Plus, one of our defenders lost his head and made a reckless tackle on the opponent's striker and got sent off..." thought the white-haired boy, who then heard the referee's final whistle and saw him pick up the ball and head to the locker room.

The white-haired boy leaned against the goalpost, contemplating the sky and drifting off into a daydream.

"So, this is how it ends... From sixth grade all the way to this moment, I thought we could win because we finally got past the qualifiers, but we couldn't match the level at nationals," he thought, being brought back to reality when he heard a teammate calling him to shake hands with the opposing team to conclude the match. Then, the players went to their respective locker rooms to change and head home.

"Hey, kids, you should be proud. We accomplished a lot just by qualifying for nationals. Our little Sakuraba Middle School had never reached this point before, but thanks to your hard work, we did it," said an old man who seemed to be the team's coach.

"And finally, don't give up on your dreams. Soon you'll be in high school, keep playing, and I'm sure if you continue training and putting in the effort, you'll achieve great things," concluded the coach.

After the pep talk, the white-haired boy headed towards the stadium exit and met his parents, who were waiting to take him home.

"Don't be like that, Hiroto. You know you did a great job in that game. If it weren't for you, your team might have lost by double digits. You made some incredible saves and showed you're a great goalkeeper," said his father.

"I know, Dad, but all these accomplishments mean nothing without a victory. They're just empty compliments that don't change the game's outcome. If I were better, I could have stopped all the goals. I failed..."

"Stop it," said Hiroto's mom, giving him a light slap on the back of his head.

"OW!"

"That's what you get for putting yourself down. I saw how hard you trained with your dad for this moment, and you did everything you could. You stopped many dangerous shots, led your team, and believed in them until the end. Your efforts were worth it. Winning isn't everything. You're still young and have plenty of time to show who Hiroto Fukuda, son of Naomi Fukuda, really is," said Hiroto's mom confidently.

"HEY! Why didn't you include Kenzo Fukuda in your little speech?" Hiroto's dad asked, feeling left out.

"WHAT? All you gave him were those blue eyes and height. Everything else he inherited from me."

"NO WAY!" Kenzo replied.

Hiroto smiled, albeit a bit downcast, watching his parents bicker as they drove home. They arrived in the late afternoon, and Hiroto went straight to his room to lie down and wait for dinner.

"Man... I really failed. I've been at Sakuraba Middle School since sixth grade and only made it to nationals once. In sixth and seventh grade, we got knocked out in the Tokyo prefectural qualifiers quarterfinals. In eighth grade, we made it to the finals but lost, and in my ninth and final year, we reached nationals, which ironically were held in Tokyo. So we didn't even get the thrill of traveling to another prefecture. Besides, I'm about to start high school, and I don't plan on staying at this school. If I want to aim higher, I need to go to a school with a good football team. The problem is, even though I always play well and I'm tall—1.86m (6'1'')—I only made it to nationals once and got knocked out in the first round. I doubt I'll get any offers from top-tier schools, so I'll have to study like crazy for the entrance exams to get into a school with a strong football team and then try out for their team," Hiroto thought as he lay on his bed, feeling his phone vibrate beside him. He saw a message from Kei, a friend and teammate.

"Sorry about today. I shouldn't have gotten that red card and messed everything up," said Kei's message.

"Dude, don't worry about it. We were already beaten."

"Still, I'm sorry," Kei continued.

"I told you it's fine. Now I'm off to dinner," Hiroto replied, sending a meat emoji to Kei before heading downstairs to eat.

"Hey Hiroto, now that the nationals are over, are your football club activities done?" his mom asked.

"Technically, yes, since we graduating students need to focus on the entrance exams. But I'll keep attending some practices to help the younger members because, despite everything, I'm still the team captain. They need me," said Hiroto. After finishing dinner, he returned to his room and played on his phone until nightfall, then went to sleep.

P.S. This isn't just a football story. Follow the next chapters to see what happens to Hiroto.