Morning came too fast.
The field looked the same as always. Same uneven patches of grass, same worn goalposts, same empty air before training started. But something about it felt off. Like there was a gap no one could ignore, even if they weren't saying it out loud.
Ten players.
One missing.
Everyone knew it.
No one said it.
Hiroto stood near the center, arms folded, scanning the field like he always did. Takumi stretched quietly on the side, precise as ever. Sora tapped the ball lightly under his foot, restless. Yuma paced back and forth, already irritated before anything even started.
"Where is he?" Yuma muttered.
No one answered.
Because they knew.
Footsteps approached.
Light.
Uncertain.
Not familiar.
Everyone turned.
A boy stepped onto the field.
Average height. Slight build. Messy hair that didn't look styled, just… there. His expression was soft, almost too soft, like he wasn't used to being looked at this much.
He stopped a few steps in.
Raised a hand slightly.
"…Uh… hi."
Silence.
Hiroto spoke first.
"…You're late."
"…S-sorry," the boy said quickly. "I got a bit lost trying to find the field."
Yuma clicked his tongue.
"…Great. We got a lost puppy."
A few heads turned away immediately.
Disinterest.
Dismissal.
The boy forced a small smile.
"…My name's Pambara."
No reaction.
"…I was told I'd be training with you guys from today."
Sora scoffed lightly.
"…Training, huh."
Takumi didn't even look up.
"…We're not a charity."
Pambara's hand lowered slowly.
"…Right."
He nodded once.
Still smiling.
Even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Line up," Hiroto said flatly.
"Warm-up starts now."
They moved.
Pambara followed.
Half a step behind.
Always just slightly out of sync.
Jogging drills.
Simple.
Routine.
Everyone fell into rhythm.
Except him.
"…Pick it up," Yuma snapped as he passed him. "You're dragging the pace."
"…Sorry," Pambara said, quickening slightly.
It still wasn't enough.
Passing drills came next.
Short range.
Quick touches.
Clean movement.
The ball moved smoothly between the players.
Then—
it reached Pambara.
He received it.
A bit stiff.
Adjusted.
Then passed.
Too soft.
Kaito stepped forward to collect it, annoyance already showing.
"…Put some weight on it."
"…Got it," Pambara said quickly.
Next time—
he overhit it.
The ball rolled past Sora.
Out of reach.
"…Are you serious?" Sora said, not even trying to hide it.
"…I'll fix it," Pambara replied.
Still polite.
Still calm.
Yuma laughed under his breath.
"…Yeah, do that."
The drills continued.
Mistake.
Correction.
Mistake.
Correction.
Every time Pambara touched the ball—
something went wrong.
Not huge.
Not catastrophic.
Just… off.
"Focus," Takumi said once, finally speaking directly to him. "You're disrupting the flow."
"…Right," Pambara nodded. "Sorry."
He kept saying that.
Sorry.
Over and over.
Scrimmage started.
Nine against nine.
Pambara filled the empty slot.
The game kicked off.
Fast.
Sharp.
Immediate pressure.
Pambara moved.
Tried to keep up.
Tried to find space.
No one passed to him.
He called once.
"…Here!"
Nothing.
Called again.
"…I'm open!"
Still nothing.
The ball moved around him.
Through him.
Like he wasn't there.
When it finally came—
it wasn't intentional.
A loose touch.
A bad deflection.
It just ended up at his feet.
He froze for a second.
Then pushed forward.
A defender stepped in.
Clean.
Took it immediately.
"…Too slow," Ren muttered as he moved past.
Pambara turned.
Ran back.
Didn't complain.
Play continued.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He tried to adjust.
Moved earlier.
Called louder.
Stayed closer.
Still nothing.
"…Why is he even here?" Yuma said openly this time.
"He's just getting in the way."
Pambara heard it.
Of course he did.
But he didn't react.
Didn't argue.
Didn't push back.
He just kept moving.
Another pass came his way.
This time from Hiroto.
Sharp.
Fast.
Testing.
Pambara received it.
Clean.
For once.
He looked up.
Saw options.
Took a breath.
Then hesitated.
Just slightly.
That was enough.
Kaito stepped in.
Took it.
Gone.
"…You had that," Hiroto said flatly.
"…I know," Pambara replied quietly.
Yuma threw his hands up.
"…Then why didn't you do anything?!"
Pambara didn't answer.
Because there wasn't one.
The scrimmage ended.
No whistle.
Just players stopping.
Walking off.
Done.
Pambara stood where he was.
Breathing slightly heavier.
But not exhausted.
Just… still.
No one looked at him.
No one said anything.
He walked over slowly.
Stopped near the group.
"…I'll do better next time," he said.
Genuine.
Soft.
Yuma laughed.
"…There won't be a next time if you keep playing like that."
Silence.
Pambara nodded once.
"…Got it."
No frustration.
No anger.
No pushback.
Just acceptance.
Hiroto turned away.
"…Training's over."
Everyone started leaving.
One by one.
No one stayed.
No one talked.
Pambara remained on the field.
Alone.
The ball rolled slowly to a stop near his foot.
He looked down at it.
Then up at the empty field.
"…Okay," he said quietly.
Then—
he stepped forward.