The Voice

The sun refused to wake up, choosing instead to sleep in under thick blankets of clouds. Its absence, along with a veil of smog, set a gloom upon Japan's capital, Tokyo. Cars chided one another with their honks, demanding to move forward. The chaos on the streets spilled into Fukushima High School's soccer practice. Twenty-two boys, clad in black and grey uniforms, jeered one another on to score. Number three began dribbling the ball toward the opponent's goal, only to miss his shot due to his shortness of breath.                                                                            

"Fumihiro! What was that dude?!" Gou, the haughty midfielder, began raising his voice. 

"Sorry...I'm just...tired" Fumihiro replied as he struggled to suck in enough air and steady himself. 

"No way! We cannot make nationals this year with weaklings like you on our team! You bring the rest of us down," Gou exclaimed accusingly.

"That's not-t true...if only I—" Fumihiro began protesting, only to be cut short by Haru. 

"Ay, makrinu, you dare to talk back to us seniors?" Haru inquired while glaring. The other freshmen on the field backed out from lending Fumihiro a hand fearing the backlash that they would receive. No, it's just that I don't think I'm playing the right position, Fumihiro thought to himself. 

"If only I could confidently say what's on my mind," he muttered to himself, "then I would not be looked down on this way." 

"What was that pipsqueak?" Haru began again, but this time, the captain, Benjiro, placed himself in the middle of the conversation douse the flames before they spread. 

"Alright, let's take a quick break before this boils over," Benjiro commanded firmly. 

During the break, none of the freshmen approached to talk to Fumihiro for fear of being targeted by Gou and Haru. Yeah right, just ignore me, Fumihiro fumed as he was left out by his "friends." If they hear about the strategies that I had come up with Dad, they'd be shook, he exclaimed in his head. Fumihiro could never raise his voice and meet the eyes of his seniors while talking to them. He and his dad had analyzed school teams nationwide and had found weaknesses that they could use to their advantage. After all, his dad had was the commentator for those soccer matches. However, he always felt speechless and defeated in front of his seniors. If only Dad were here, he thought to himself as he remembered his dad drawing his last breath after losing his battle with leukemia. He shook his head to keep himself from getting emotional and distracted and began sipping on some water. 

As he stared downward with his mouth full of water bulging up like a puffer fish, Fumihiro noticed a white flash out of the corner of his right eye. When he focused his gaze on the flash, he noticed a card dancing freely in the air. Upon plucking it from the air and inspecting it, he found it to be plain white on both sides. 

"How can this be? I just saw something on its surface" he wondered out loud. He held the card up against the sky and squinted at it, hoping that the dim rays emanating from the sun would help highlight what he had seen on the now blank card. As if hearing his wishes, the sun lifted it sleepy head barely enough to send a strong ray of light for a fleeting moment before falling back into its slumber. The light had illuminated the eight of diamonds he had initially caught a glimpse of on the card. By the time the light faded away, he emerged in a new world where a forest made up of illuminated trees and crystal rocks replaced the soccer field that previously lay before his eyes. A robotic voice emanated from far out in the horizon. Although the voice did not identify itself, it bellowed, 

"I am the Voice. This is my world, and you have no choice. I make the rules here. To return back to Earth, you will have to battle the creatures on this planet in soccer matches. Every victory counts, for every loss is fatal. I choose your opponents, and, if you survive, you have one day to recover before beginning the match anew against the next being occupying my planet. I will provide your food and shelter. Lastly, you are neither allowed to question, nor protest." 

The Voice was kind enough to offer Fumihiro a few minutes to take in his surroundings and process what he had heard before proceeding to say, "Now, let's begin." 

And so began his drill. He ate, slept, and played against garish creatures who had features that he believed to be unfathomable to mankind. With each passing day, the loneliness creeped deeper into his heart, and the atmosphere made him forget what having a home, family, and friends felt like. If only I had spoken up, if only I had protested and voiced my opinions boldly, if only...he kept repeating to himself everyday at every meal and before every match. For now, even when he had finally mustered the courage to shout and yell at the Voice, to say what he wanted to say, to complain, and to cry with anger and despair, the Voice paid no heed. 

Meanwhile, his absence was finally noticed. Haru, having failed to wake him, called out to the rest of the team to check up on him. When he remained unresponsive, his team began to panic. Gou, could not find a pulse and began resuscitating him. After a while, he whispered, 

"He's gone." 

"What?" Benjiro asked with a trembling voice. 

"He's just...gone," responded Gou. 

"How? Why? Is it because of us?" Haru questioned without receiving a response. The faces surrounding Fumihiro were stunned, confused, regretful, and guilty.

The realizations that hit both sides were too late, however. Fumihiro was long gone, his consciousness was stuck in other dimension while his body was left behind on Earth. There was no going back for Fumihiro and his team. Both sides were now left with a lot of if onlys. 

"I can't even remember what his voice sounded like," Gou mused a few years after the incident.