The Breaking Point

The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the tournament grounds as Haruto and his team prepared for their third match. 

The air was tense, the weight of their previous victories pressing down on them like a heavy blanket. 

They had come this far, but the road ahead was only getting tougher. 

Their next opponents were the reigning champions of the region—a team known for their flawless coordination and relentless drive. 

They had won the tournament three years in a row, and they weren't about to let an underdog team from Hanamura stand in their way. 

As Haruto watched them warm up, he couldn't help but feel a pang of intimidation. 

Their players moved like a well-oiled machine; their passes were precise, and their movements were fluid. 

They were everything Haruto's team aspired to be—and more. 

"They're good," Riku muttered, his usual bravado tempered by unease. "Good." 

"They're just players, like us," Haruto replied, though even he could hear the doubt creeping into his voice.

"We've beaten tough teams before. We can do it again." 

The players nodded, but their expressions were strained.

The pressure was mounting, and Haruto could see the cracks beginning to form. 

The match began, and it was clear that the champions were on another level. 

They moved the ball easily, their attacks relentless and their defense impenetrable. 

Haruto's team struggled to keep up, their usual rhythm disrupted by the sheer intensity of their opponents. 

In the 15th minute, the reigning champions broke the deadlock. A well-rehearsed set piece caught Haruto's defense off guard, and their striker capitalized with a precise shot into the top corner—unstoppable.

As the ball hit the net, a wave of frustration rippled through Haruto's team. Some players dropped their heads, while others exchanged uneasy glances.

Haruto took a deep breath and clapped his hands sharply, his voice cutting through the silence. "Heads up! It's just one goal. We've come back from worse. Stick to the plan, stay sharp, and we'll turn this around."

But the plan wasn't working. The champions were too fast, too strong, too organized. 

Haruto's team fought hard, but they were constantly on the back foot, their attacks stifled before they could even begin. 

In the 35th minute, disaster struck. A miscommunication in defense led to another goal, and the champions celebrated with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. 

The players looked to Haruto, their faces filled with despair. Haruto felt a surge of frustration, but he forced himself to stay calm. "We're not out of this yet. Keep fighting!" 

The second half was even worse. The champions scored twice more, their dominance is undeniable. 

Haruto's team was crumbling under the pressure, their movements sluggish and their spirits broken. 

Then, in the 75th minute, Riku went down. 

It happened in an instant—a hard tackle from behind, a cry of pain, and Riku was on the ground, clutching his ankle. The referee blew the whistle, but the damage was done. 

Haruto rushed onto the field, his heart pounding. "Riku! Are you okay?" 

Riku grimaced, his face pale. "I… I think it's bad." 

The team gathered around, their expressions filled with worry. Riku was their star player, their driving force. Without him, they were lost. 

The medics arrived and helped Riku off the field, his weight supported by Daichi and Sora. Haruto watched them go, his mind racing. They were already losing 4-0, and now their best player was out. 

The players looked to Haruto, their faces filled with despair. Haruto felt a surge of frustration, but he forced himself to stay calm. "We're not out of this yet. Keep fighting!" 

But the fight was gone. The champions scored again in the 85th minute, and the final whistle blew with the score at 5-0. 

The players slumped to the ground, their faces filled with defeat. Haruto stood on the sidelines, his notebook clutched tightly in his hands. He had never felt so helpless. 

As the champions celebrated their victory, Haruto's team gathered in a huddle, their heads bowed. 

"I'm sorry," Haruto said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I let you down." 

The players looked up, their expressions filled with a mix of anger and sadness. 

"You didn't let us down," Daichi said, his voice low. "We let ourselves down. We weren't ready for this." 

Haruto shook his head. "No. I'm the manager. It's my job to prepare us. And I failed." 

The players were silent, the weight of their defeat pressing down on them. 

As they packed up and headed back to the van, Haruto stayed behind for a moment, looking out over the field. 

The sun had set, and the lights of the stadium cast a harsh glow over the pitch. 

He felt a surge of frustration, but also a renewed determination. 

This wasn't the end. It couldn't be. 

But as he turned to leave, he noticed something—a figure standing in the shadows, watching him. 

It was a man in a suit, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on Haruto. 

"Haruto Takeda," the man said, his voice calm but commanding. "I've been watching you. And I think we need to talk." 

Haruto froze, his heart pounding. Who was this man? And what did he want? 

The man smiled faintly. "Don't look so worried. I'm here to help. But first, you need to answer one question." 

Haruto swallowed hard. "What question?" 

The man's smile widened. "How far are you willing to go to win?"