The locker room didn't feel like a place after the match.
It felt like the match had followed them inside.
The air was thick.
Heavy.
Not loud at first.
Just… tense.
Boots hit the floor harder than usual. Bags were dropped without care. No one made eye contact. The silence wasn't calm it was the kind that came right before something snapped.
Yuma broke first.
"This is a joke," he said, dragging a hand through his hair before slamming his locker shut. "Eight goals. Eight. That's not just losing that's getting humiliated."
"Then stop losing the ball every time you touch it," Takumi shot back instantly, not even looking up as he pulled off his jersey. "You gave them half their chances."
"Oh yeah?" Yuma turned, stepping forward. "At least I was trying to do something. You just passed backwards the whole game."
"That's because forcing it got us destroyed," Takumi snapped, finally looking at him now. "Or did you miss that part?"
"Both of you, shut it," Hiroto said sharply from across the room, his voice cutting through the rising heat. "Arguing doesn't change the score."
"No, but pretending we did anything right won't either," Yuma fired back. "We got walked over. Start calling it what it is."
Sora leaned back against the bench, arms crossed, eyes low. "He's not wrong," he muttered. "We weren't even close."
"Yeah," Daichi added quietly, sitting down heavily as he unlaced his boots. "Every time we adjusted, they were already ahead of it."
Ren stayed silent near the wall, staring at the ground, replaying the same sequences in his head. Every run. Every missed step. Every moment he thought he had Theo contained only to be bypassed again.
Kaito exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not just one person," he said. "They read everything. Every move. Every pass."
"Because we're predictable," Takumi said bluntly. "We play the same way every time, and they figured it out in the first ten minutes."
"And what?" Yuma snapped. "We're just supposed to magically not be predictable?"
"No," Takumi said, his voice dropping slightly. "We're supposed to be better."
The room went quiet again.
Not calm.
Just… heavy.
Hiroto leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. "We tried to fix it mid game," he said. "We slowed down. Held shape. But it didn't matter."
"Because we were already behind," Sora replied.
"No," Hiroto said quietly. "Because we didn't understand what we were fixing."
That sat there.
Uncomfortable.
Across the room, Yusuke sat on the bench, leaning forward with his hands clasped together, still breathing slower than before. His eyes weren't on anyone. They were fixed somewhere else. Somewhere distant.
"…That last play," Daichi said after a moment, glancing toward him. "How'd you even do that?"
Yusuke didn't look up.
"…Didn't think," he replied.
"That's not helpful," Yuma muttered.
"It's true," Yusuke said. "I didn't outplay him. I just took it."
"…Yeah," Kaito said quietly. "And it worked. Once."
The word hung there.
Once.
That was all it had been.
A moment.
Not a solution.
Not a comeback.
Just… something.
Riku sat further back from the group, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hanging loosely between them. He hadn't spoken since they walked in. Hadn't reacted to anything. Not the arguments, not the blame, not even the silence.
He had just listened.
Watched.
And thought.
"…We're not on their level," Sora said after a while, the words coming out quieter than before. "Not even close."
No one argued.
Because no one could.
Yuma let out a sharp breath, pacing once before stopping. "…So what? That's it? We just accept that?"
No answer.
No one had one.
The room settled again.
Heavy.
Then
Riku moved.
Slowly.
He stood up.
The small sound of his shoes against the floor was enough to draw attention. One by one, heads turned toward him. The arguing stopped. The movement stopped. Even Yuma went quiet.
Riku looked at them.
Not quickly.
Not briefly.
He looked at all of them.
Really looked.
"…I've got something to say," he said.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it didn't need to be.
The room held still.
Waiting.