"And that's It…!"
"FRANCE WINS THE WORLD CUP!"
The commentator's voice explodes, carrying a wave of pure, unbridled ecstasy.
"And after twenty four years, under the leadership of a great player, France are the champions of the world once again!"
Inside a small dimmy room of an apartment, the only light coming from was from the tv screen, broadcasting French players celebrating their hard fought victory in the finals of the Football World Cup 2042.
A boy was sitting motionless on the couch with a blanket draped over his shoulder and top of the head. His eyes were barely visible beneath the shadow, as he kept staring blankly at the TV screen.
The room around him was a complete mess, his stuff like books and clothes were scattered all over the floor.
The boy continues to stare blankly at the glowing screen, watching the team celebrate their hard-earned victory.
There was complete, suffocating silence in the room, with only the sound of the team's ecstatic celebration echoing loudly across the dark, shadowed space…
…
The sun rises, casting a warm glow inside a small apartment. The space wasn't much, with just two rooms and a third holding a tiny kitchen with a small dining table set on the floor of the kitchen.
In that tiny kitchen a woman in her late thirties moves fluidly, skillfully frying eggs, pouring tea and toasting the breads. Her movements were smooth and practiced.
With the scent of the breakfast filling the air she sets the table and calls out.
"Harumaa! you are getting late for school!"
The door opened and a 17-year-old boy named Haruma came out, his eyes swollen, his hairs messed up, his movements sleepy and lazy, forcing his body to move.
He came and settled down on the breakfast table, his eyes barely opened.
The elderly woman, who was the mother of Haruma, was looking at him with eyes soft and filled with worry
"Haruma?" She calls out gently.
But in response she heard nothing. Haruma remains quiet.
Looking disappointed, she slowly shook her head, and sat beside him and placed a reassuring hand on his back.
"Haruma, It's fine, I know how hard you are trying, and I'm sure one day your hard work will pay off."
There was still no response from Haruma.
His mother then let out a sigh and stood straight back up. She then moved across the room, wore an additional long coat and picked up her bag.
"I'm getting late for work, but we will talk once I get back."
She leaned down and pressed a kiss on top of Haruma's head before walking away, exiting the apartment, leaving him sitting alone in silence…
Later on, on a small football field, a boy shoots the ball with brute force sending the ball flying towards the nets.
The goalkeeper dived wide, stretching his arm to its absolute limit, but the ball brushed past his fingertips and struck the back of the net.
The modest stand, holding no more than a hundred spectators, erupted into loud applause and cheers. Students, teachers, and parents from the same schools waved their school flags, one side celebrating joyously while the other fell silent in disappointment.
The striker who scored, took a triumphant sprint towards the spectators and hit his celebration before the crowds who all were roaring in admiration.
The teammates of the striker celebrated joyously, jumping on him, ruffling his hair, all laughing out of pure excitement.
The striker then broke himself free from the celebratory huddle, and with a big smile across his face, he raised his hand high toward the dugout, signaling for some hydration.
Down in the dugout, a hand swiftly gathered a clutch of water bottles and a few towels before a figure quickly dashed out onto the field, running hard toward his teammates.
The boy carrying the water bottles was none other than Haruma, clad in a substitute bib.
Wearing a substitute bib he quickly came, offered towels to the team before quickly opening the lids of bottles and started handing to each one of them.
One player turned to that striker who scored and said, "That was one heck of a goal Toru!" admiration clear in his tone.
After taking a quick sip of water, the striker named Toru wiped his mouth and replied casually, "Aahh, that was nothing."
Another player, brimming with excitement chimed in, "Well the good thing is we are leading the scoreboard, we just need to defend for thirty more minutes and then, we will secure our spot in the top sixteen of the All-School Cup!"
All the players giggled proudly, radiating confidence, While Haruma remained silent, his expressions blank and emotionless.
One player turned to Haruma and asked, "Haruma, did the coach give any advice?"
Staying quiet, Haruma simply shook his head in denial.
The player nodded and casually tossed his towel at Haruma, which landed squarely on his shoulder. Haruma then slightly adjusted the towel against his neck, then methodically collected everyone else's discarded towels and empty water bottles before sprinting back toward the benches.
In a rush, he set the items down by the dugout before quickly sitting back down on the hard bench, his pale face locked ahead on the field.
Beside him, a boy named Masaru sat quietly, glancing at Haruma before letting out a soft sigh.
"Come on, Haruma," he said. "At least smile a little. We're about to qualify for the biggest school tournament."
Haruma didn't respond, and kept his eyes fixed on the match ahead.
"Oh, come on," Masaru continued. "Don't tell me you're still upset about not getting subbed on. Our striker's in the form of his life right now. Toru's been an absolute monster."
"I'm not angry!" Haruma shot back sharply, his voice firm but not loud, his irritation clear, while Masaru kept looking at him with a mix of both confusion and disappointment.
Haruma let out a slow breath before speaking up. "Sorry... I was just upset about something else."
"Ohhh..." Masaru murmured in understanding. "Don't worry. We've still got time. I'm sure you'll reach that feat before the Super Sixteen begins."
Haruma remained silent, his expression tight with unease while his eyes stayed fixed on the match ahead..
That same night, beneath the soft yellow glow of the park lights, Haruma stood in silence with a football resting at his feet. His eyes were closed as he drew a long, steady breath.
Then he opened his, burning with determination. He then burst forward and struck the ball with all his strength, sending it hurtling toward a wall where a goal had been marked.
Standing in front of the makeshift goal was Masaru, filling in as the goalkeeper. He read the shot early, dived across with ease, and caught the ball cleanly before it could reach the target.
Haruma clenched his fists and let out a frustrated roar.
Taking the shot again, Haruma ran forward and shot the ball again, but this time missing the target by far.
Shot after shot, Haruma kept on trying, pouring everything into his strikes, yet none found the target marked. Some drifted wide, others crashed into the wall, and every decent attempt was calmly claimed by Masaru.
After catching another shot, Masaru tossed the ball aside and sighed.
"That's enough for today, Haruma," he said. "It's getting really late."
Haruma was standing at a distance drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged, exhaustion and frustration clear on his face.
Masaru then began walking away from the wall marked as the net.
Haruma's expression slowly shifted, the tight lines of his frustration melting away into a quiet, heavy sadness.
Before long, Haruma and Masaru were now seated side by side on the grass, a long, thick silence stretching out between them.
"Damn, It's really happening" Masaru break the silence, "Our School will play in the All-School-Cup"
Haruma sat motionless, his head lowered and his face blank, showing absolutely no emotion.
Masaru glanced over at him and let out a disappointed sigh before giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Come on, cheer up now."
Haruma slowly turned his head to look at Masaru, his eyes filled with a deep, crushing sadness that spoke louder than any words.
"Masaru, why can't I score a simple fifteen-yard goal?" Haruma asked, his voice heavy with sadness. "I'm a striker… I'm supposed to score… then why can't I? You are not even a goalkeeper, yet you stop my goals like it's nothing. What am I lacking?"
Masaru let out a long sigh and looked straight ahead, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ummm, let's see… You lack speed, strength, and your technique is totally off. Honestly? You lack pretty much everything a striker is supposed to have."
Haruma's face darkened with sadness as the tears were almost about to spill over when he quickly pressed a hand to his eyes, struggling desperately to hold them back.
"Well, the good thing is that you have improved from worst to bad!" Masaru said blithely.
The words struck Haruma like a bolt of lightning. Stunned, frozen in sheer disbelief, he turned his head toward Masaru who was staring blankly up at the sky.