Beyond the Pitch

As the door swung shut behind Takeshi, the locker room remained silent. Gabriel's chest tightened as he processed what Takeshi had just said.

The captain.

Gabriel turned toward Takahashi, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, taping his wrist. Takahashi met Gabriel's gaze but said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Gabriel clenched his fists. "That's it?" he snapped. "You're just going to sit there?"

Takahashi sighed, finishing his tape and standing up. "What do you want me to say, Gabriel?" His tone was calm—too calm. "That I believe we can win? That we should all fight to the last second?" He shook his head. "This isn't some underdog story."

Gabriel grit his teeth. "So that's it? You're just accepting a loss before the game even starts?"

Takahashi looked at him evenly. "I'm just being realistic."

Gabriel felt his blood boil. "You're the captain. The team looks to you, and all you give them is 'realistic'? What about pushing them to be better? What about leadership?"

Takahashi exhaled, crossing his arms. "You don't get it."

Gabriel stepped forward. "Then explain it to me."

Takahashi studied him for a moment, then looked around the locker room. The rest of the players were watching—some uncertain, some nervous. Ryota, Kenta, and Daichi looked ready to back Gabriel up, but the others were harder to read.

Finally, Takahashi shook his head. "You'll understand soon enough."

With that, he turned and left for the field.

Gabriel stood there, fists clenched at his sides.

What the hell was going on with this team?

Why were they all acting like there was no point in fighting?

Why was everyone avoiding the truth?

A hand clapped his shoulder. "We're with you," Ryota murmured.

Gabriel glanced at him.

Kenta nodded. "Yeah. We're not just gonna roll over."

Daichi crossed his arms. "But we need more than just us."

Gabriel took a deep breath.

They were right.

If this team wasn't going to fight on its own—he will with or without them.

Out on the field, the practice was about to begin.

As Gabriel stepped onto the field, the tension from the locker room lingered in the air. The usual chatter among teammates was subdued, and even the seniors, who typically laughed and joked during warm-ups, were quiet.

Takahashi stood at the center of the field, watching as the team slowly gathered. Takeshi was already there, stretching near the sidelines, his expression unreadable.

Coach Emaon blew his whistle, signaling the start of practice. "Alright, listen up," he called out, his voice steady but firm. "We only have a few days until the match. I expect you to focus and push yourselves today. We'll start with some passing drills—pair up."

Players moved automatically, forming pairs, but Gabriel barely heard the instructions. His mind was still racing with everything that had happened in the locker room.

Takeshi's words. Takahashi's indifference.

This team was fractured, and nobody wanted to admit it.

"Gabriel," Ryota nudged him. "Snap out of it. We're pairing up."

Gabriel blinked, exhaling sharply before nodding. "Right."

They moved into position, passing the ball back and forth. Gabriel kept his touches sharp, his movements precise, but he couldn't shake the frustration simmering beneath his skin.

After a few minutes, Coach blew the whistle again. "Alright, enough. Full-field scrimmage. Takahashi, you take blue. Daichi, you take red."

Gabriel exchanged a look with Daichi as they moved to their assigned teams. He was relieved to be on the same side as Ryota and Kenta. At least he knew they would fight.

As the scrimmage began, Gabriel pushed himself harder than ever. He went after every loose ball, sprinted for every run, and challenged every pass. If his teammates weren't going to bring the fire, then he would.

But something was wrong.

No matter how hard he played, no matter how much effort he put in, there was something off about the team's movements. The passes weren't crisp, the runs weren't aggressive, and worst of all—Takahashi barely looked like he was trying.

Gabriel gritted his teeth as he won the ball from Renji and pushed forward, cutting through the midfield. He spotted Ryota making a run and sent a through pass his way.

Ryota got to it, but just as he was about to shoot—

Kirin barely challenged him.

Ryota hesitated for a split second, then shot. Joon blocked it easily.

Gabriel stopped in his tracks, his frustration spiking.

That should've been a fight for the ball. should've pressured Ryota. But they weren't even trying.

Not just one player. The entire team.

Gabriel turned sharply to Takahashi, who stood near the center, watching the play unfold with an eerily calm expression.

"You knew this was happening," Gabriel muttered under his breath.

Takahashi met his gaze but didn't respond.

Gabriel's patience snapped.

"You knew," he repeated, louder this time.

Takahashi sighed. "Gabriel—"

"Is this what you meant by 'being realistic'?" Gabriel's voice cut through the field, sharp and accusing. "You're not even trying. None of you are."

The other players hesitated. Some exchanged nervous glances other didn't care. some of the seniors shifted uncomfortably.

Takahashi's expression darkened slightly. "Drop it."

"No," Gabriel shot back, stepping forward. "This isn't about being realistic. This is giving up. And if you're the captain, then you're leading this team straight to failure."

A few players inhaled sharply.

Takahashi's jaw clenched. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me!" Gabriel challenged. "Tell me why the hell you're all acting like we've already lost!"

Silence.

Gabriel's heartbeat pounded in his ears. His breath was heavy. The weight of his words hung in the air.

Finally, Takahashi exhaled, shaking his head. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"Because we have."

Gabriel stiffened. "What?"

Takahashi looked him in the eye, and for the first time, Gabriel saw it—defeat. Not just doubt. Not just fear. Something deeper. Something unshakable.

"We lost this game before we even stepped on the field," Takahashi said. "Do you want to know why?."

Gabriel's fists tightened at his sides. "Its the only thing i want to know."

Takahashi hesitated. Just for a moment. But Gabriel caught it.

Then, finally, Takahashi spoke.

"Because this game doesn't matter, Gabriel."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "What the hell does that mean?"

Takahashi glanced around, as if debating whether to say more. The other players were watching, some shifting uncomfortably, others looking away entirely.

Then Takeshi, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "It means that even if we win, it won't change anything."

Gabriel felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Explain."

Takahashi exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "The school is going to shutting down the club." His voice was bitter. "Kagoshima Club is might be done after this season."

Gabriel stared at him. His mind reeled, struggling to process what he had just heard. "That's not possible," he muttered. "Didn't the team go to the quarter final in regional..?"

"Doesn't matter," Akira said grimly. "The club is in financial trouble since our defeat from last year. They're cutting all 'unnecessary' programs. And football isn't bringing in money like basketball or baseball."

Gabriel clenched his jaw. "So that's it? They're just throwing us away?"

Takahashi's expression darkened. "This match, this season—it's all just a formality now. Its just a question of time until its official" He let out a humorless chuckle. "So, tell me, Gabriel. Why should we keep fighting when we're already finished?"

"What's the point of playing if you've already give up?"Gabriel roared, his voice echoing across the field. "The thrill of competition is the fuel that keeps me going. Without it, there's no purpose!"

Silence.

Takahashi looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shook his head. "You don't get it, Gabriel."

"No," Gabriel shot back, voice fierce. "You don't get it. If this is really the end, then i'll fight alone."

He turned sharply and stormed off the field.

Behind him, the team stood in silence.

Finally, Ryota muttered under his breath, "Damn… he's got a point."

Takahashi exhaled slowly, watching Gabriel disappear toward the locker room.

"Yeah," he murmured. "He does."