CLARITY ADMIST CHAOS

As the clouds parted, the sun's intensity seemed to double, casting a relentless heat over the field. The game had reached a fever pitch, every player pushing themselves to the limit.

The Kaiju, just meters from the goal, felt the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. His energy waned, creating a fatal moment of hesitation. Seizing the opportunity, the opposing team snatched the ball and swiftly scored, leaving the Kaiju reeling from the sudden shift in momentum.

With the sun's intense heat bearing down, each minute stretched into an eternity, and every hour felt like a lifetime. Yet, the Kaiju refused to let the oppressive elements break his resolve. He was determined not to quit.

Time and again, he made desperate attempts to secure a goal, each failure more disheartening than the last. While he had mastered the basics of moving in skates, the intricate art of the game remained an elusive mystery, frustrating his every effort.

In the opening minutes that followed, the opposition dominated, scoring goal after goal with ruthless efficiency. Their relentless assault, led by the formidable blonde captain, pushed the score six to one, leaving the Kaiju stunned by his own role in the chaos.

The Kaiju had consistently messed up, so much so that his teammates hesitated to pass him the ball. Their reluctance was well-founded.

Why?

Every time he aimed for the goal, he targeted the wrong one. Worse yet, he scored—again and again—for the opposing team.

Orenji, exasperated by the absurdity of the situation, could no longer contain his frustration. "Take it slow! Slow down!" He shouted desperately. "Don't overpace yourself!"

Aye, my heart can't take any more disappointments, the Kaiju groaned, panting for breath. What should I do? At this rate, I'm more worried about my heart breaking than the score. This was meant to be my chance to shine, but I can't even get my hands on the ball, let alone aim for the right goal post. If I press, they evade. Waiting it out won't get us anywhere. That strong sense of determination, where one thinks 'I'm gonna score,' speeds up the rhythm of the game.

Though that might as well be true...

It can be diabolical, he reasoned, a dawning realization taking hold. That's right! Speed can be diabolical. How had I not noticed before? Thoughts of that nature stiffen the body and only lead to mistakes. Once you make a mistake, it becomes a negative feedback loop. The more eager you are, the more mistakes you make, and the quality of your play deteriorates. Your vision narrows, your breathing becomes shallow. While you think you're forcing your opponents to suffer, you're actually dooming yourself.

As annoying as it is, he's right. You play smart, not hard.

With newfound conviction, the Kaiju slapped his hands over his face. Get it together, man. Focus. I need to take it slow. I'm going so fast that my attacks are becoming less effective, and I'm only tiring myself out more. His forehead dripped with sweat, his legs felt heavy, and his lungs burned.

Despite it all, one thought dominated his mind;

Get it together!

The Kaiju was labeled the game's weakest player, a title he unfortunately lived up to. Among his rivals, he was perceived as the vulnerable link. Whenever he gained possession of the ball, two opponents would swarm him, giving him no respite to settle and forcing him to hastily pass it away.

Orenji rallied his team with urgency, "Just one goal, everyone! More goals, and maybe we can survive this. Give it your all."

Survive?

Can we really survive this?

The Kaiju looked up at Orenji, a glimmer of hope sparked by their shared determination.

Funny how a single word can wield such enormous power.

During a critical moment, one of Orenji's teammates intercepted the ball from the opposition and swiftly launched an attack. She cut a striking figure—tall and thin, with weathered features and a gaze that seemed to pierce through the chaos of the game. Despite being of a similar age to Orenji, she exuded an unexpected air of sophistication. A beanie adorned her head, masking her dark blue-violet hair, save for a vivid streak of amaranth that boldly marked the left side.

Her attire reflected the punk street fashion typical of Undertown youth.

Every opening she sought was blocked, her teammates struggling to penetrate the formidable defense.

She analyzed the situation—a full-court man-to-man defense. This wasn't just any strategy; it was a calculated move by the opposition to apply relentless pressure. They shadowed her teammates closely, like persistent phantoms, denying them any space to maneuver. Even the most adept passer would find their skills hampered when every avenue was blocked. Without an open teammate to receive the ball, their offensive potential was severely limited, rendering their efforts only half-effective.

She came to a sudden realization; the opposition wasn't merely defending; they were strategically positioning themselves for another offensive strike. Caught in possession of the ball, she felt stranded, every passing second ticking away with no viable options in sight.

"Pass it!" A voice cut through the air, unexpected and urgent.

Suddenly pulled from her thoughts, she looked over to see Orenji, motioning urgently for her to pass the ball to a distant player—the only one left unguarded.

The one whom the opposition had evidently overlooked...

The boy in the yellow hoodie.

She shook her head disapprovingly, but Orenji stood firm, nodding with unwavering conviction. The standoff stretched on for what seemed an eternity until the sheer absurdity of the situation finally wore down her resistance.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered with obvious reluctance. The look in his eyes left her completely browbeaten, her resistance crumbling.

The Kaiju fixed his gaze on her, silent and unmoving, sweat beads stinging his eyes yet ignored.

His concentration was palpable, his furrowed brow a testament to his unwavering focus.

What flow!

"It's up to you now!"

As his teammate's throwing arm arched back and launched the ball forward, time seemed to stretch and slow. The Kaiju caught it, feeling the weighty cork ball hit his hands with a force akin to catching a mid-air punch.

He felt it first—a sudden weight in his hands—as he realized the ball was now securely lodged there. Without a moment's hesitation, he pivoted and moved with the precision of someone lying in wait. His grip tightened, threatening to splinter his fingernails against the red synthetic leather.

Receiving the ball, the Kaiju executed a lightning-quick jab-step with his right foot. He surged past an approaching defender on his left, leaving the opponent unable to react as the Kaiju's shift in center of gravity caught them off guard.

He moved swiftly, embodying the ferocity of an action hero on a quest to avenge his family's murder. More precisely, he resembled a predator, poised with hungry anticipation, ready to strike with all his energy, skill, and technique. Every move was calculated, every action driven by the hunger for that satisfying moment of the hunt.

One. 

Two. 

Each team fields twelve players on the track—six on each side. Here comes another...!

Dodge!

The Kaiju surged toward the opposition's goal, determination pulsing through his every fiber. The primary objective of the game was crystal clear—to score as many goals as possible within the allotted time. Such clarity was universal in all sports. He focused intently on their movements, gauging their strategies.

Four.

With the ball in his possession, he dodged and dribbled, not quite at a professional level but certainly enough to maintain momentum.

Five.

This is it!

His eyes glinted with a subtle blue hue as he closed in with confidence. The intensity surged through him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest.

I score here! This is where I survive.

He accelerated, mere steps from the goal, when a familiar voice thundered behind him.

"NO. NOT THAT ONE!" Orenji's bellow echoed across the field.

The Kaiju, who had been intensely focused on his opponents, whipped his head around in surprise.

He had envisioned himself scoring the elusive goal, defeating his adversaries, becoming the hero... What a triumph it would be!

Without warning, the Kaiju crashed to the ground, his arm scraping against the gritty dirt beneath him. The blonde opponent had blindsided him, delivering a sharp elbow to his face that sent him sprawling.

He struggled to catch his breath, watching as the blonde closed in. His scowl appeared to deepen, a testament to the Kaiju's evasive maneuvers thus far.

Did the blonde see him as a mouse cornered, ready to strike?

Sean stared down at him in silence, devoid of remorse, only a thrill lingering in his eyes.

Seconds later, he walked past as if nothing had transpired.

The Kaiju had maneuvered deftly through the opposition's defense—or so he believed.

Now, the reality of the game's structure flooded back to him—each team comprised six players, with a few substitutes. He had dodged...

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six...?

His vision blurred as blood dripped into his eyes from a scrape on his forehead, a consequence of his hurried roll.

Rather than a scream of pain or a wounded groan, the Kaiju let out a long sigh. That single sound spoke volumes—years of experience etched into every breath, his body so accustomed to pain that he had become almost numb to it.

He's relentless…

If there was a god, he would have prayed for mercy—not for himself, but for the fate he wished upon his assailant.

He felt the lingering sting of the blow on his skin and deep in the marrow of his cheekbone. Lying there, hooded, the Kaiju's frustrated grin transformed into a calm smile. As expected, he's quite something...

He admitted inwardly before letting out an involuntary laugh.

Ah, what is this sudden surge? This feeling... He glanced at his trembling hands. He's faster than me. Stronger, too. Facing Sean Brannigan Komatsu again, I see he truly is a formidable opponent. Yet, the idea of losing still frustrates me! Is it frustration, satisfaction, anger? What is this swirling emotion washing over me? The wild throb of my heart, this rush of sensation... He pondered, clutching his chest as it rose and fell steadily, an unfamiliar feeling gnawing at him.

It had been so long since he had felt this, and despite the pounding ache in his head, his gaze remained fixed on Sean's face as the realization dawned.

Such raw, destructive force matched with intuitive, unrefined play—truly, that's me.

He pressed each finger together, thumb to thumb, index to index, pinkie to pinkie, narrowing his eyes. Man, oh man, what an egoist! The Kaiju furthered with a manic grin. As suspected, he truly is amazing! They've given us quite the thrashing. Why, it'd be rude not to return the favor.

I'm breaking through on the next...

I want to crush them! Can't help even the gleeful anticipation spreading across my fucking face!