Chapter Text
Minamisawa Atsushi was two years old when his parents divorced.
His mother had been yelling at his father for a long time. Atsushi didn’t understand why. He just sat quietly on the living room floor, clutching his ball in his tiny hands and staring at them with frightened eyes. His mother cried and shouted louder and louder, while his father stayed silent.
And then, quietly, he pulled a bag out of the large wardrobe and started packing. The little boy watched as he threw clothes into the bag, put on his shoes, and picked up his car keys.
Atsushi walked up to him on his small, unsteady legs and grabbed onto the leg of his pants. The man looked at him for a moment, then gently patted his head and moved his little hand away. A moment later, the door closed, and his mother broke down crying even harder.
The boy sat by the entrance and patiently waited for his father to come back. After all, he always came back whenever he said he was going to work. But time kept passing, and he never returned. Eventually, Atsushi started crying too. He reached his little hands toward the door, calling for his father through tears. And when his mother tried to hug him, he pulled away from her and kept crying.
__________
Atsushi was five years old when his father took him on a trip. The boy was so excited that he couldn’t sit still from the very morning. He ran around the apartment in his socks, tugged on his mother’s sleeve, and kept asking every few minutes when his dad would arrive. They hadn’t spent time together in a long while.
What he didn’t understand was why his mother didn’t look happy about it, and why she wasn’t coming with them. They were going to the beach, to swim and play ball together. That was supposed to be something fun.
His father said he had a surprise for him. Atsushi immediately lit up. He thought he was going to get a new toy, just like every time his father visited him. Maybe a robot? Or a huge stuffed tiger? But the surprise wasn’t a toy.
“Atsushi, this is your younger brother,” his father said, gesturing toward a little boy whose hand was being held by some unfamiliar woman.
Atsushi frowned. Brother? What did that mean? Babies came from their mother’s stomach. And his mother had never had a big stomach. Never. He would have noticed. So where had a brother suddenly come from?
His father started explaining something, but Atsushi barely understood any of it. He said that the lady was the mother of the boy with the grey-blue eyes. They did look a little alike, actually. But it was still weird. How could they be brothers if they had different mothers? Atsushi tried to sort it out in his head, but the more he thought about it, the less he understood.
What was even stranger was that the boy called his father “dad.”
The strange lady, who had the same eyes as the little boy and smiled very warmly, led them into a small room filled with toys. Atsushi had just started walking toward a shelf full of toy cars when he suddenly noticed something moving near the wall.
“IT’S A DOGGY!” He immediately ran toward the animal, which started wagging its tail the moment Atsushi crouched beside it in delight and began petting it.
Atsushi had fun with the boy. They built blocks together until their tower collapsed right onto the dog, petted the puppy, drew on sheets of paper and a little on the table too, and after lunch, his father and the strange lady took them to the beach.
Atsushi stared with wide eyes at the golden shore stretching endlessly ahead of him. He had never seen so much sand in his life. The sandbox near his home only had a tiny pile of it, but here there was enough sand to build a million and two castles! He ran across the beach so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet. Sand slipped into his sandals, the wind tangled his hair, and the waves roared so loudly that it was hard to hear his own thoughts.
The boy his father called Tenten could swim really well. He ran into the water without fear, laughed loudly, and splashed water everywhere around him. Atsushi wanted to play too, but he was scared to go in, and every time the waves touched his legs, he immediately backed away.
The strange lady crouched beside him and asked if he wanted to go in together. When he nodded, she held his hand tightly and helped him step into the water. The waves splashed against their legs, then their stomachs, until the boy started laughing so loudly that he startled the birds sitting nearby.
It turned out that the strange lady was really nice. And she could swim very fast. Atsushi watched her with admiration as she moved through the water so easily, as if she wasn’t afraid at all. He wanted to be like that too.
As soon as they returned from the trip, he ran straight to his mother to tell her everything. About his new little brother, the strange lady, the huge waves, and the sandcastles. But the longer he talked, the quieter she became. Her face looked strangely tense, and her gaze grew emptier and emptier.
Wasn’t she happy? Why not? She always said she wished Atsushi had someone he could play with.
Atsushi wanted to cheer her up, so he pulled out the pretty seashell he had found on the beach. He had carefully carried it in both hands the entire way home so it wouldn’t get damaged. But his mother snatched it from his hands and threw it against the wall. She said something in a trembling voice that he didn’t even understand, and then quickly walked into the other room and slammed the door shut.
With tears in his eyes, Atsushi knelt on the floor and gathered the shattered pieces of the seashell.
Why didn’t his mother like the gift? It was the prettiest shell on the entire beach, and when he had asked the strange lady about it, she told him it used to belong to a crab. Atsushi had immediately thought of his mother, because she liked eating crabs.
Maybe she was just in a bad mood…?
__________
Minamisawa Atsushi was seven years old and hadn’t seen his father in two years.
Every time he asked about him, his mother would get angry, sometimes she even cried. She would say that his father didn’t love them anymore, that he didn’t need them, that he preferred his new family and his new child.
But that was impossible. His father always said that he loved Atsushi more than anything in the world. Once, he told him that even if they didn’t live together anymore, Atsushi would always be the most important person to him.
At first, his father still called sometimes. He would ask how he was feeling, whether he had been behaving, whether he listened to his mother. But then the calls slowly became less frequent than before.
Every day when Atsushi came home from school, he would glance at his mother’s phone. Sometimes he deliberately sat beside it a little longer, waiting for it to ring. He would imagine his father’s voice on the other side. There were so many things he wanted to tell him.
Like how he had been the first in his class to learn how to write his name, and how his teacher praised him for it. Or how he threw the ball the farthest during sports class. Or about the new friend he met at the playground. Or how-
But the phone stayed silent.
One time, he asked his mother to call his father herself. Maybe he had forgotten? His father worked, after all. Adults were busy. That was what his mother always said.
But she never did.
She only pressed her lips together more tightly and coldly told him that his father was busy with his new family and didn’t have time for him anymore.
In the evenings, the boy would lie in bed more and more often, trying to remember the sound of his father’s voice, though with every passing day it became harder and harder.
At first, Atsushi was still happy about having a brother. He liked remembering that day at the beach. The puppy. Playing together. For a while, he even thought that everything would turn out alright. That maybe they would become a family again, just a slightly bigger one.
But over time, those memories started turning bitter.
Because ever since that boy appeared, his father had disappeared and completely forgotten about him.
The more Atsushi thought about it, the sicker he felt.
Why did he take him away from him? Couldn’t he find his own father?
That was his dad.
He had him first.
__________
Atsushi needed a family photo for class, so despite not being particularly proud of what he was doing, he quietly slipped into his mother's bedroom to look for an album.
Lately, whenever the topic of family or his father came up, it always ended in shouting, followed by a heavy, uncomfortable silence that could last for a week. During those times, his mother would barely speak to him at all. She drifted through the apartment like a ghost, an empty look in her eyes and a cigarette between her fingers, as if she didn't even notice Atsushi standing beside her. He didn't want to cause that again, so he didn't even try to ask for permission.
After all, he saw how much she was suffering. The way she reacted to happy families, to children holding their parents' hands, or couples strolling through stores together. He wanted to protect her from all of it, but what was he supposed to do? He was only twelve years old.
The dusty album was hidden deep inside one of the drawers. It looked as though nobody had touched it in years. Neither his mother nor Atsushi had ever been particularly fond of taking photos, so the fact that the album still existed felt a little strange. They didn't even have framed memories or family pictures hanging on the walls.
As he flipped through the pages, one photograph caught his attention. It showed two people, probably on their wedding day. The woman's chestnut curls were pinned into a loose bun that complemented her white dress and bouquet of colorful flowers perfectly. A man with burgundy hair had one arm wrapped around her waist, while the other held a glass of champagne. They both looked incredibly happy.
That man...
He looked almost exactly like Atsushi, only older. The same eyes. The same facial features. Even their smiles were similar. Atsushi felt an unpleasant knot tighten in his stomach. It was like looking into a mirror. As if someone had used a time machine to take a picture of him in the future.
It was... strange.
The people in the photo were his parents. But his mother hadn't been that cheerful woman for a very long time. The smile on her lips had been replaced by a grimace, and the playful spark in her eyes had long since given way to tears and permanent dark circles beneath them. Strands of gray now ran through her long hair, and Atsushi suspected they had little to do with age.
What caught his attention the most, however, wasn't the photo's content but its condition. It was clearly damaged, torn into pieces and then hastily taped back together in a crooked panic. In some places, the image had faded and warped, as though it had been soaked by something.
It wasn't hard to guess what had happened.
His mother was still suffering, and he had no idea how to help her.
Atsushi couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her genuinely happy. She was always working, and when she came home, she'd lock herself in her bedroom, often without saying a single word to him. He was the one who did most of the cleaning, shopping, and household chores, trying to take at least some of the burden off her shoulders. He did his best to behave, not wanting to add to her troubles.
Still, he knew it wasn't enough.
More than once he'd seen her sitting alone at the kitchen table, a glass of alcohol in her hand. She would mutter under her breath about a "fucking slut" and "her messed-up brat," staring blankly into the glass as though it might hold the answers.
Every time, the sight broke his heart.
He loved his mother more than anything in the world and would have done absolutely anything to see her smile again. But because of them, that was practically impossible. If it weren't for that woman, if it weren't for that kid, his father wouldn't have left them.
It was all their fault.
Granted, Atsushi didn't know the whole story. He had never asked, afraid of how his mother would react. Still, he could guess what had happened. And his father was definitely to blame as well. It didn't matter whether that woman had manipulated him, hypnotized him, or whatever else she'd done. That didn't mean he had to abandon them, turn his back, and pretend they never existed.
Why hadn't he reached out even once in all these years? Why hadn't he checked to see how they were doing?
Had the great love immortalized in that photograph really meant so little to him?
How could someone look at a woman with such tenderness, the way he did in that picture, and then completely destroy her? How could someone tell a child they'd always be the most important person in the world and then simply disappear?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if his father had gotten rid of those two just as quickly. Whether that boy would one day be sitting alone too, wondering why his dad didn't love him anymore. The thought was strangely satisfying.
Atsushi snapped the album shut and quickly put it back where he'd found it. He didn't have the strength to keep looking through the photographs. At worst, he'd come up with an excuse or just tell the teacher he wasn't prepared.
__________
His mother had said he was looking more and more like his father.
She'd said it casually, quietly, more to herself than to him, but Atsushi had heard it anyway.
Lately, he had been catching her giving him strange looks more and more often. She would stare at him for a little too long before suddenly looking away, as if she had just remembered something she desperately wished she could forget. As if, for a moment, she stopped seeing him and saw that man standing in his place instead.
Sometimes he wondered whether, if he had his father's face and his father's eyes, then maybe somewhere deep inside he was like him too. Maybe the same selfishness ran through his veins. The same ability to hurt people and walk away without ever looking back. The thought disgusted him so much that he could spend several minutes standing in front of a mirror, staring at his own reflection with growing resentment, as if trying to find something, anything in his face that belonged only to him. Something that didn't remind him of his father.
He didn't know how yet, but Atsushi was going to prove to her that he wasn't like him.
And he never would be.
__________
Atsushi had heard that it was easier to get into a good high school if you played for your middle school's soccer club. He didn't entirely understand why football was considered so important, but honestly, he didn't care all that much. If it could help him earn better grades, stronger recommendations, and better chances for a successful future, then he intended to take advantage of it. He needed good grades, good results, and a good future. He needed to get a decent job and take care of his mother.
Because if not him, then who?
That was why, despite never having been particularly interested in sports, he signed up for Raimon's soccer club on his very first day of school.
At first, he treated practice as an obligation, just another item to check off his daily list between classes, cleaning the apartment, and making sure his mother ate something other than cigarettes and alcohol. Before long, however, he discovered that he had a talent for the game. He was fast, aggressive, and surprisingly skilled with the ball. Despite being a newcomer, he was promoted to the first team during his very first year, something that most people would have considered a source of pride.
That was also when he learned about the Fifth Sector, about fixed matches and corrupt schools. At first, he thought it had to be some kind of joke. Then he realized he probably should have expected it. Adults always had to ruin everything. They always turned everything into a business, a means of control, or a way to make money. Even something as simple as school football. He didn't like the fact that adults were interfering with school competitions. He thought it was pathetic. At the same time, though, he saw no point in fighting the system.
What for?
Football was only a means to an end.
If the Fifth Sector wanted to control matches, then let them control them. If schools wanted obedient players, then so be it.
As long as it gave him better results, better prospects for the future, and a chance to provide his mother with a normal life, he didn't care how rotten the entire system was.
__________
The third year at Raimon Junior High had begun.
Just one more year, and all his hard work would finally pay off. Soon, he'd be able to breathe again. To stop worrying. With the extra points from sports on his academic record, he'd get into a good high school, then a good university, and eventually give his mother the life she deserved.
Training was underway when the gym doors suddenly slammed open and a breathless student came rushing inside. He claimed that some first-year had single-handedly beaten the entire reserve team.
Without a moment's hesitation, Shindou sprinted off to deal with the situation, and the rest of the team followed almost automatically.
Atsushi felt a cold chill spread down the back of his neck before they even arrived. Everything seemed to stop the moment his eyes landed on the field. The color drained from his face. His body locked up so abruptly it felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down his back. His legs became heavy. So damn heavy. Every step took effort, as though something invisible was pressing him harder and harder into the ground, refusing to let him draw a full breath. The air caught somewhere in his throat, and his heart began pounding so hard it hurt. Each beat sent a sickening pulse of panic through his entire body until he felt nauseous.
No.
No no no no no no no.
That's impossible.
Atsushi had expected to see anything.
Really anything.
Honestly, he would've expected an UFO to descend from the sky and steal the moon before he expected to see him and those eyes. Those eyes he'd tried so desperately to forget. Those eyes that had burned themselves into his memory like a brand.Those eyes that reminded him every single night of what had been taken from him before he'd ever been given the chance to hold onto it.
For a second, he genuinely thought he was dreaming. That his exhausted brain was playing some cruel joke on him. Because none of this made sense. What was he doing here? Why was he at Raimon? Why now? Hadn't he already caused enough chaos in Atsushi's life?
Questions battered against his skull like a skipping record, growing louder and faster until they started to hurt.
Maybe it was a mistake.
Yes.
It had to be a mistake. He was supposed to be in Okinawa. Anywhere else. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but standing in front of him.
"I am Raimon Football Club's captain, Shindou Takuto. And the players standing around me" He paused dramatically, and the entire team stepped forward as one. "are Raimon's eleven."
Shindou's voice reached Atsushi as though through water. His entire focus was fixed on the brown-haired boy standing in the middle of the field.
The first-year looked visibly startled. For a moment, he ignored the boy standing in front of him and instead let his gaze drift across Raimon's players one by one.
Then his eyes landed on Atsushi. The boy froze. His mouth fell open. He actually took a step backward, looking as though his eyes might pop right out of his head.
Their gazes met for only a second.
Atsushi looked away almost immediately.
His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug painfully into his palms. He pretended to pay attention to whatever exchange was happening between the captain and the kid dressed in purple, but his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
There was no doubt about it. He'd been recognized. But how? They'd only met once. Ten years ago. Ten fucking years. Atsushi barely remembered himself from back then, so how the hell could that kid possibly remember him? Then something clicked. The resemblance to that man. Anyone would stop and stare if they suddenly saw someone who looked so much like their own father.
The thought made him feel even sicker.
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, grimacing when his fingers snagged on a knot, and bit down on his lip, trying to ignore the tightening knot in his stomach.
It didn't help.
The harder he tried to calm down, the worse the tension became.
He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to see him. But of course fate had decided to mock him.
Why wouldn't it?
First his father destroyed their lives and now his other son had suddenly appeared right in the middle of everything Atsushi had spent years desperately trying to hold together. Why the hell had he come back into his life? After everything, didn't he deserve even a moment of peace?
No. He needed to focus on more important things. Like the reserve team that had just been crushed. Or the arrogant Seed standing on the field. Not stand here feeling sorry for himself.
As it turned out, the agent had been sent to eliminate Raimon's football club entirely.
Tch. Following orders had supposedly guaranteed their safety, but clearly something had changed. The question was what. They had played exactly as they were told. Last year, they had even been allowed to reach the Holy Road finals. So what had suddenly changed the Sector's attitude?
Unable to stop himself, Atsushi glanced toward the younger brunette, who was clearly struggling to follow the conversation unfolding around him.
That confused expression irritated him far more than it should have. Like a speck of dust blown into your eye with the wind. Tiny, insignificant, yet irritating every exposed nerve. And even after it was gone, the burning remained.
He wasn't even sure when he'd stepped onto the pitch. Everything happened too fast. It felt as though his body had begun moving on its own, completely disconnected from the chaotic storm of thoughts still circling a single problem.
Atsushi narrowed his eyes at the boy in purple standing across the field. What was his name again? Tsurkugi? Tsurugi? Something like that. Whatever. If it weren't for the lump in his throat and the ugly tension crawling beneath his skin, he probably would've made a comment about the outfit. Because seriously. It looked ridiculous. Everyone else wore normal team uniforms. Meanwhile, this guy strutted around in a dark-purple cape like he was the protagonist of some cheap drama. Did being a Seed come with special fashion privileges or something? Sure, it wasn't an official match, but he still looked completely absurd next to everyone else.
The game started surprisingly well.
Atsushi and Shindou cut through the opposing side's defense with ease, but when the third-year finally took a shot, it was stopped with such absurd ease that it looked less like football and more like a child swatting away a toy. Shindou muttered something under his breath. They should've used a hissatsu from the start. After that, Atsushi barely touched the ball.
At least not with his feet.
One by one, Raimon's players hit the ground. Bruised. Shaken. Terrified. Some didn't even try to get back up. As if merely looking at their opponents was enough to paralyze their entire bodies. Calling it a match felt generous. An execution was probably closer. The gap between the two teams was overwhelming. But the worst part wasn't even that.
It was the mockery. The sneers. The obvious delight the opposing players took in hurting people. The venomous smiles. The amused eyes looking down at them as though Raimon were nothing more than a pack of pathetic amateurs.
Sure, there was a difference in skill. A massive one. But Raimon had never been expected to improve. They had only been expected to obey. And now those same people had suddenly decided they weren't good enough anymore. That they would simply be replaced by a specially trained team.
The whole thing was a fucking joke.
Atsushi wiped sweat from his cheek and winced as pain pulsed through his shoulder after yet another brutal collision.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Coach Kudou speaking to that kid, the one who had, of course, shown up like some stray mutt where nobody wanted him.
Then the coach suddenly stood.
Atsushi already had a feeling this was about to piss him off.
"Substitution!"
The coach's voice cut through the noise.
"Minamisawa Atsushi is coming off. Replacing him..." He paused dramatically, as if the match wasn't stressful enough already. "Matsukaze Tenma."
The moment those words left the coach's mouth, Atsushi narrowed his eyes. His hand immediately flew to his hair, gripping it harder than it should have.
This had to be some kind of joke. The coach had barely paid attention all game. He hadn't intervened once. Hadn't offered a single piece of advice. And now he suddenly decided to make a substitution? And not just any substitution. Instead of pulling weaker players off the field or the ones who could barely stand, he chose him. The team's ace.
For who?
Him?
Why?
The coach couldn't possibly know. Hell, Matsukaze wasn't even a member of the club! Hadn't he already caused enough trouble? Was destroying Atsushi's family not enough for him? Now he had to force his way into his team too? Was making other people's lives miserable some kind of sick hobby?
"Tch. I'm sure you'll do just fine now." His own voice came out cold and sharp. Inside, however, he was boiling.
Clenching his fists, he walked off the field, ignoring Shindou calling after him.
He could feel the kid's gaze on him. But he had absolutely no intention of looking back.
And then they lost.
What a surprise.
If it wasn't for Shindou awakening his keshin the team would cease to exist.
In the end, a lot of people left the club. Atsushi wanted to do exactly the same. To quit. To walk away from all of it and never set foot on a football field again. But he couldn't afford that. It would look bad on his academic record. And he hadn't spent years working himself to exhaustion just to throw everything away because of his emotions. Even if that guy ignored Shindou.Even if he somehow passed the entrance exam.
Atsushi could endure one more year. As long as he stayed out of his way, everything would be fine. Even if he had to ignore everyone in the club. He wouldn't break.
Though it would have been a lot easier if the idiot had failed the test.
__________
That night, Atsushi couldn't sleep.
He'd already tried everything. Counting his heartbeat to quiet his thoughts. Slowing his breathing. He'd even drunk a glass of warm milk. Nothing helped. Despite his exhaustion, all he could do was toss and turn from one side to the other.
His body was tired, but his mind seemed to disagree entirely. It was working at full speed, replaying the same scene over and over again, as though trying to dissect every tiny detail, as though it were the most captivating moment in an action movie. The way that piercing gaze seemed to follow his every movement, no matter how small. The way he moved almost soundlessly across the ground. The way those delicate facial features looked like a mirror image of that woman.
Why was he taking this so hard?He wasn't an emotional person. Usually, he relied on logic. Being this shaken didn't suit him. And yet that encounter had awakened something strange inside him. Something he had thought had died a long time ago had suddenly decided to remind him of its existence. Something that twisted his stomach into knots, that left a bitter lump lodged deep in his throat, that made his breathing quicken without warning. Something that made his eyelid twitch whenever he thought about the brunette, that brought on a growing headache he couldn't get rid of.
Whatever it was, it simmered beneath his skin. Burned him alive from the inside out. He didn't want it. But the more he thought about it, the worse it became. It spread through him like a disease. Was it anger? Jealousy Hatred? He had no idea.
Even though he knew that school awaited him the next day or perhaps later that same day already. The clock sat on the bedside table right beside him, yet somehow it felt too far away to reach for and check the time.
Even though his body was desperately demanding rest, Atsushi doubted he'd be closing his eyes anytime soon.
__________
“Minamisawa-senpai.”
Atsushi bit the inside of his cheek so hard he could almost taste blood.
He had barely tolerated Matsukaze's presence throughout the entire practice. Just knowing that he was somewhere nearby, that he was running across the same field, breathing the same air, looking at him with those same gray-blue eyes that made Atsushi's stomach twist was irritating enough.
And now he'd decided to approach him, as if he had nothing better to do.
“Can we talk?”
The locker room was filled with the usual post-practice chaos. Someone was laughing near the entrance. Amagi was complaining about sore muscles. Hamano was arguing with Hayami over a water bottle. The heavy smell of sweat and damp towels hung in the air.
Talk. The word sounded almost absurd. About what? About how his very existence was getting on Atsushi's nerves more than the entire Fifth Sector put together? About how, ever since he'd shown up at Raimon, Atsushi hadn't managed a single peaceful night's sleep? Or maybe he wanted to brag about his wonderful life and his loving family?
No.
He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to listen to that voice any longer than absolutely necessary.
“I'm busy.” When he finally answered, he didn't even look at him. His own voice sounded foreign. But that was better. Better coldness than the ugly tremor of emotions that kept spreading through his chest.
Atsushi pulled his shirt over his head a little too forcefully, as if the movement alone could cut him off from the conversation. From him.
“But-”
The brunette hesitantly raised a hand, as though he wanted to stop him or touch his shoulder, but in the end it simply lingered awkwardly in the air.
“No.” This time, his voice came out sharper.
The conversations around the locker room died instantly, but the third-year didn't have the energy to care. He was tired. So fucking tired. Tired of pretending none of this affected him. Tired of the irrational fear that tightened around his throat every time Tenma appeared nearby.
“Leave me alone.”
Atsushi shoved his belongings into his bag. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the zipper shut, which only irritated him even more. He strode past Matsukaze without so much as brushing against his shoulder. Only when the locker room door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang did he finally allow himself to let out a heavy breath.
“What was that about?”
Several people exchanged awkward glances.
“Matsukaze.” Sangoku placed a hand on the younger boy's shoulder and offered him an apologetic smile. “Don't take it personally. Minamisawa isn't exactly the most sociable person around.” He said it lightly, trying to ease the tension, but even he looked concerned.
“Ah... it's okay.” Matsukaze mumbled the words unconvincingly, never taking his eyes off the door through which the older boy had just disappeared.
“What did you want to talk to him about, anyway? Maybe one of us could help.”
“Oh. Um...” The boy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and lowered his gaze to the floor. “Senpai has really powerful shots, so I thought maybe he could give me some advice.”
Shindou frowned. Matsukaze was obviously lying. But why?