It was a minor injury

Chapter 1

The air was thick with the heat of the late afternoon, and sweat clung to Gakushuu Asano's brow as he sprinted across the field, every muscle in his body screaming for relief. His eyes flicked toward the scoreboard—two minutes left. The high school team was ahead by one goal. He could feel the pressure mounting, like an ever-tightening vice around his chest. His father's voice echoed in his mind, cold and precise.

"Never settle. Only victory is acceptable."

He gritted his teeth, pushing his legs to move faster. Every step was agony, his lungs burning as he strained to keep up with the older, more experienced players. But there was no room for excuses, no time to feel weak. He had to win. His entire worth was bound to this—winning was all that mattered.

The ball was passed to him, spinning perfectly through the air. Asano locked onto it, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He knew this was the moment he could change the game, equalize or even turn the tables. He could picture it already—their side celebrating, his father's approval hanging in the distance, always just out of reach but attainable, just this once.

Suddenly, a sharp shove hit him from behind. He stumbled forward, his ankle twisting as he landed hard on the grass. A searing pain shot through his leg, but he bit down on the cry that threatened to escape.

The referee's whistle blew shrilly, a red card raised for the offending player. Asano heard the cheers and jeers from the crowd, but it was all a blur. His ankle throbbed viciously, but he refused to let it show. He pushed himself up, ignoring the flash of pain that shot through his leg.

The referee approached, brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need to sub out? That fall looked bad."

"I'm fine," Asano cut in sharply, brushing him off. He could see his teammates eyeing him cautiously, some murmuring about how bad the injury looked. One of them stepped forward, hand hovering near his shoulder as if offering support.

"You sure, man?" his teammate asked. "You don't look—"

"I said I'm fine!" Asano's voice was harder than intended, and the teammate flinched, backing off.

Sub out? Absolutely not. He wasn't weak. He wasn't someone who gave up. He would finish this game.

But with every step, the pain in his ankle worsened. It burned, twisting deeper into his bones, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to ignore it. He was strong enough. He could push through this.

But his body didn't agree.

He was slowing down. Passes slipped through his fingers. The ball, so easy to control in his mind, seemed like it was moving faster than his body could handle. The high schoolers on the other team tore through their defense, and Asano could only watch as they scored again.

The final whistle blew.

They'd lost.

The other team erupted into cheers, while Asano's teammates looked around with exhaustion and disappointment. He stood frozen, staring at the field in a daze. His ankle was screaming in pain, but the real ache was deeper than that. He'd failed. He never failed.

His father's voice echoed in his head again, harsher this time.

"Never settle. Never accept defeat."

His teammates walked past him, offering tired reassurances—pats on the shoulder and weak smiles—but it didn't register. All he could hear was the roaring silence of failure. He was supposed to have won. There was no excuse.

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At home, the throbbing in his ankle hadn't subsided. If anything, it had worsened as the adrenaline faded, leaving him with nothing but the sharp pain and the gnawing frustration of losing.