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Will raw talent always beat hard work?
Wanderer had always despised those who possessed raw talent: people who never knew the definition of effort, of sweat and tears that must go into tasting true victory.
Wanderer made it his life's goal to crush those with raw talent.
"Takaoka. Kickoff!"
Takaoka High.
Wanderer clicked his tongue, glaring at the back head of the player that had just lost the round of rock-paper-and-scissors to determine the start of the game. His twintails seem to flinch in the air, the ends of his hair standing at their edge as he feels the cold glare piece his skull. Venti turned around with a sheepish grin, placing his hands together in apology.
Wanderer rolled his eyes, saying nothing more to his teammate's poor performance. But his glare was soon redirected towards the enemy team, specifically towards the player with the number 11 plastered boldly on their back.
[Name] [L. Name].
The famous prodigy of Takaoka High. The single student everyone praises for their pro-like movements on the field—a shining diamond among dull pebbles. But above all, they were a vessel of talent. Their personality was known to be anything but friendly—which, Wanderer likes to argue, is nothing similar to his own—and were infamous for being as much a 'Heartbreaker' as 'King on the Field.'
But none of that mattered to him, never mattered to him, because all he was focused on was crushing this so-called genius.
"Venti!"
He began slowing his pace, changing his route and beginning to run towards the other side of the field. No further words needed to be exchanged; Venti stopped his dribbling, trapping the ball before swinging his feet under, following through in a perfect arc.
The enemy team watched with dumbfounded expressions upon witnessing Venti's flawless pass, unconsciously slowing their steps as they stared at the ball swerving in the air.
All except for one.
[Name] did not stop their pace for a single second, rushing towards Wanderer at a relentless speed. Despite his initial surprise, Wanderer did not falter either, speeding up as much as possible in order to reach the ball first.
The crowd watched the scene with bated breaths—the bleachers fell silent on either side of the field. Everyone watched as both players closed-in on the airborne ball, eyes locked onto their figures as they rushed to be the first.
But in the next moment, the entire field let out sounds of astonishment.
Wanderer watched in disbelief as Number 11 leaped into the air, successfully intercepting the ball's trajectory with their chest and re-trapping the ball with their heel before twisting their foot to land it in front of them.
