Chapter 830: Post-Match

Fwee!

The final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 3-0, and the stadium erupted.

Hiro stood near the center circle and let it wash over him. His leg ached and his lungs burned, but he felt more alive than he had felt in a long time.

At the far end of the pitch, Shun was still on the ground.

He had gotten to his feet after the goal, but when the whistle blew, his legs seemed to give out, and now he sat on the turf in front of his goal, staring up at the net as if it had personally betrayed him.

His gloves were dirty, and his kit was damp with sweat, and nothing in his face gave away what he was thinking.

Hiro crossed the pitch toward him, his stride slower than it would once have been. He stopped a few feet away and held out his hand.

"Good game."

Shun looked up at him, and for a moment he didn’t move. Then he took the hand and let Hiro pull him to his feet.

"You scored on me."

"I did."

"That shot was ridiculous."

"I know."

Shun shook his head. "You’re impossible."

"You’ve said that before."

"Because it’s true."

They stood together on the pitch, two friends and two rivals who had been pushing each other since they were kids. The crowd was still roaring around them, but at that moment it felt as if they were the only two people in the stadium.

"That save on Julian," Hiro said quietly. "The header in the 88th. That was incredible."

Shun shrugged. "He headed it straight at me."

"He headed it hard and down, and you read it perfectly."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. You were brilliant."

Shun looked at him. "You mean that?"

"I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it."

Shun was quiet for a moment, and then a small, tired, genuine smile broke across his face. "Thanks."

"Don’t thank me. Just keep playing like that. I want to face you at your best."

Shun laughed. "At my best? I just conceded three goals."

"Two of them were unstoppable, and one of them was me."

For a moment, Shun couldn’t help but stare at him. Hiro was praising himself in his face. He wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have been concerned about him all this time.

But he discarded the thought as soon as it appeared.

Instead, he let out a sigh and said, "That doesn’t make it better."

"It should." Hiro squeezed his shoulder. "You’re the best keeper I’ve ever faced, and I’ve faced a lot."

Look at this man, sugarcoating his words. He thought. But for some reason, it appeared as if he were serious. Hence, he couldn’t help but stare at him. "You’re serious."

"I’m always serious."

"No, you’re not. You make jokes all the time."

"Only when I’m nervous."

"Were you nervous today?"

Hiro paused. "Terrified."

When did he get this honest and open? Before, he didn’t utter a lot, let alone open his heart out.

Shun blinked. "You didn’t look terrified."

"I know. That’s the point."

They stood there for a long moment while the noise of the stadium washed over them. Then Shun pulled him into a rough embrace.

"Don’t get used to scoring against me," he muttered. "Next time, I’ll save it."

Hiro grinned. "Next time, I’ll score twice."

Shun drew back and shook his head. "You’re a monster."

"I know."

Though the conversation lifted his mood to some extent, his complexion became pale as soon as he left Hiro.

Shun walked toward the away section.

In the corner of the Metropolitano, the small pocket of blue and white was still standing, still singing, still waving its flags. He braced himself.

Here it comes.

He had conceded three goals. Two of them had been unstoppable, and the third, Hiro’s, had been a moment of genius that no keeper in the world could have reached.

But none of that mattered, because goalkeepers were judged by numbers. For that reason, he expected jeers. He expected criticism, and the cold, hard truth that he hadn’t been good enough.

Then a voice cut through the noise, high and young and bright.

"SHUN!"

He stopped.

A boy of eight or nine was leaning over the railing, waving frantically with both arms. He wore a Real Sociedad shirt with Shun’s name printed across the back, a size too big, the hem hanging down to his knees.

"SHUN! YOU WERE AMAZING!"

Shun blinked. "What?"

The boy shouted again, louder. "YOU WERE AMAZING! YOU SAVED EVERYTHING! THAT GOAL WASN’T YOUR FAULT!"

Other voices joined him along the barrier.

"Yeah, Shun! You kept us in it!"

"Best keeper in La Liga!"

"We’re proud of you!"

Shun stood frozen as his throat tightened. They aren’t angry. They aren’t disappointed. Are they proud? He looked at the boy, at the earnest, shining face and the pure belief in it. He watched the whole match. He saw me dive and he saw me fight, and he thinks I was amazing.

He raised one hand in a small wave, a silent thank-you, and the boy beamed as though he had been handed the World Cup. Then Shun turned and walked toward the tunnel with his heart lighter than it had been a few moments before.

Maybe I was too hard on myself. Maybe I did okay.

The interview room was packed.

Journalists from every major outlet in Europe had crammed into the small space, their cameras and recorders pointed at the man of the hour. Hiro sat at the table, still in his kit, his hair dry by now and his expression calm.

The first question came from a Spanish journalist. "Hiro, congratulations on your return. How does it feel to be back on the pitch?"

Hiro smiled. "It feels like coming home."

"You scored on your return, and it wasn’t your typical goal. There was no dribbling and no sprinting past defenders, only a calculated, precise finish. How did you manage that?"

Hiro paused before he answered. "I’ve had a lot of time to think. When you’re injured, you can’t train your body, so I trained my mind. I studied the game, and I watched matches, and I learned to see things differently."

"So you’ve changed as a player?"

"Yes. I’m not the same Hiro who left the pitch three months ago. I’m something new, something different."

"And what is that?"

Hiro smiled. "I’m still figuring it out."

Another journalist raised her hand. "Hiro, your goal came against Shun, your childhood friend and your old teammate from Kawasaki Frontale. What was that like?"

Hiro’s expression softened. "Shun is one of the best keepers in the world, and playing against him is always a challenge. But today he was incredible. He saved shots that would have beaten anyone else, and if it weren’t for him, the score would have been much higher."

"So you’re saying he was the best player on the pitch?"

"I’m saying he was the hardest to beat."

Later that evening at Hiro’s apartment, he sat on the couch with his leg propped up on a cushion.

The television was off, and the room was quiet, with only the faint sounds of the city drifting in through the window. He reached out to the System.

[Quest: Return to the Pitch - Complete.]

[Bonus Objective: Master the Maestro’s Vision.]

[Progress: 1%.] ℴ

[Observation: Host’s injury healing at accelerated rate. Cause: Unknown. Further investigation required.]

He read the last line slowly. It was the same note he had seen before, patient and unexplained, and he knew he would have to find the answer eventually. But tonight he allowed himself to set the question aside.

Perhaps it was because of his determination. There are times when miracles happen because of determination, after all.

However, he didn’t bother to answer the question for now.

Maestro’s Vision. Master it.

He closed his eyes. One step at a time... One match at a time... One day at a time.

A smile settled on his face.

Unlike before, he wouldn’t rush it this time.