Chapter 73 – Hollow Victory
The team they faced wasn't strong.
Everyone realized that within the first five minutes.
Their positioning was sloppy, their passes lacked power, and every time Southside pressed forward, cracks opened immediately. They weren't coordinated. They weren't sharp. Half the time they looked confused about where they were even supposed to be standing.
Normally, Southside would've crushed a team like this without thinking.
Today—
it still didn't feel right.
"Move the ball faster!" Hiroto shouted from midfield after intercepting another weak pass. "They're giving us space for free!"
Takumi received the ball near the sideline and pushed it forward immediately. A defender stepped up too late, letting him cut inward almost effortlessly before slipping a clean pass toward Yuma.
Yuma blasted it first touch.
GOAL.
"Finally," Yuma muttered while jogging backward. "At least somebody here knows how to score."
The opposing goalkeeper slammed the ground in frustration.
Southside barely reacted.
No celebration.
No energy.
Just reset.
The game restarted quickly.
Rain from yesterday still lingered in the field slightly, making the grass heavier than usual. Every sprint kicked up dirt and moisture beneath their shoes, but nobody really cared anymore.
The match felt automatic.
Mechanical.
Sora stole possession near midfield after another lazy touch from the opposing side. He pushed forward aggressively before sending the ball wide toward Ren, who crossed immediately into the box.
Yusuke jumped.
Header.
GOAL.
2–0.
"…Nice," Daichi said quietly.
"Yeah."
That was it.
The crowd watching from outside the fence clapped lightly, but even that sounded distant somehow.
Pambara sat on the bench watching silently.
Notebook in hand again.
Always watching.
Always writing things down.
"…You seriously taking notes during a random match?" Kaito asked while grabbing water beside him.
Pambara looked up quickly.
"…Oh. Yeah."
"That's weird."
"…Probably."
Kaito glanced toward the field again.
"…Still better than your first touch."
"…That's fair."
Back on the field, the opposing team barely managed to cross midfield before Hiroto shut another attack down completely. The ball rolled loose toward Takumi, who immediately started another counter.
Everything looked clean.
Controlled.
Easy.
But something was missing.
Everyone felt it.
Nobody said it.
Yuma charged into the box again, yelling for the ball.
"HERE!"
Takumi passed.
Yuma shot.
Blocked.
"TCH!"
Yuma kicked the ground aggressively.
"You gotta give that earlier!"
Takumi frowned immediately.
"You were marked."
"I was open enough!"
"You weren't."
The argument died almost instantly.
Not because either agreed.
Because neither cared enough to continue.
That was the problem.
Southside wasn't collapsing.
Wasn't imploding.
Wasn't losing control.
They just…
weren't alive.
The game continued.
Another attack.
Another goal.
This time from Sora after a defensive mistake gifted him space directly in front of goal.
3–0.
The opposing team looked defeated already.
Southside didn't.
They looked tired.
Yusuke stood near midfield waiting for the restart, breathing steadily while staring blankly ahead.
No excitement.
No adrenaline.
No satisfaction.
"…This sucks."
The words slipped out quietly.
Hiroto glanced sideways slightly.
"…We're winning."
"…I know."
Yusuke clenched his jaw slightly.
"…That's the problem."
Hiroto didn't answer.
Because again—
he understood exactly what he meant.
The final minutes dragged on endlessly.
The weaker team stopped pressing entirely. Their movements slowed. Their communication disappeared. Every attack Southside made looked dangerous now.
But instead of pushing harder—
Southside slowed too.
The rhythm died.
Pambara noticed it immediately from the bench.
His eyes moved carefully between everyone on the field.
Yuma forcing attacks.
Takumi overthinking passes.
Hiroto directing constantly.
Yusuke drifting quieter every minute.
And underneath all of it—
absence.
The whistle finally blew.
Full time.
3–0.
Easy win.
Nobody celebrated.
The opposing players shook hands quickly before leaving without much emotion. The small crowd outside dispersed almost immediately after.
Within minutes—
the field already felt empty again.
Yuma wiped sweat from his forehead aggressively.
"…At least we won."
"Did we?" Sora muttered.
Yuma frowned.
"…The scoreboard says yes."
Takumi grabbed his bag quietly.
"…Didn't feel like it."
Pambara watched everyone carefully again.
The silence after victory felt wrong.
Too heavy.
Too disconnected.
Yusuke walked toward the bench slowly before stopping near Pambara.
"…You writing more weird notes?"
Pambara blinked slightly.
"…Oh."
He looked down at the notebook.
"…Yeah."
Yusuke sat beside him quietly.
"…What'd you write this time?"
Pambara hesitated for a second.
Then slowly turned the notebook around.
Southside plays like they're waiting for someone.
Silence.
Yusuke stared at the words for a long moment.
Then quietly looked away.
Because deep down—
he knew exactly who they were waiting for.
To Be Continued.