Captain Tsubasa: The Striker

The next morning, Kaito was back at his usual spot under the bridge. The air was colder than usual, his breath visible as he exhaled between shots. He had been there for hours, shooting relentlessly. Each strike sent the ball crashing into the wall with a sharp thud. The rhythm was comforting, predictable. It drowned out the noise of the world around him.

But this time, something felt different.

As the ball bounced back, Kaito hesitated for a moment, gripping it tightly. His mind wandered back to the conversation from the day before. "You've got real talent. You could probably join a team and go far with that kind of shot."

He shook his head and placed the ball back on the ground. He didn't need a team. He didn't need anyone. All his life, he had relied on himself, and he wasn't about to change that now.

Kaito stepped back, positioning himself for another shot. He planted his foot beside the ball, swung his leg back, and struck it with all his strength. The ball rocketed forward, hitting the wall with such force that a small chunk of brick crumbled to the ground.

"Wow. That was even better than yesterday."

The voice startled him. He turned sharply to see Tsubasa standing a few feet away, arms crossed and smiling. Behind him, Ishizaki and Ryūzaki were there too, watching with wide eyes.

Kaito frowned, annoyed by the intrusion. "What are you doing here?"

"We were on another run," Tsubasa said, stepping closer. "I thought we'd stop by and see if you were here. Guess I was right."

Kaito grabbed the ball, turning his back to them. "I'm busy."

"Busy getting better, right?" Ishizaki said, his usual enthusiasm spilling over. "Man, you've got some serious power. I bet you could break a goalpost with a shot like that."

Kaito didn't respond, but Tsubasa wasn't deterred. "Kaito," he began, his tone softer now, "you said you don't need a team to get better. But have you ever actually played with one? Do you even know what it's like?"

Kaito's grip on the ball tightened. "I don't need to."

"Why not?" Tsubasa pressed, his voice genuine. "Soccer's not just about being good on your own. It's about working together, trusting each other, and pushing yourself in ways you can't do alone."

"Trust?" Kaito scoffed, finally turning to face them. His crimson eyes were cold, almost angry. "Trust is useless. All it does is make you weak."

The words hit Tsubasa like a brick. He stared at Kaito, unsure how to respond. Even Ishizaki and Ryūzaki looked stunned by the harshness of his tone.

"Who hurt you, man?" Ishizaki blurted, earning a glare from Tsubasa.

"It doesn't matter," Kaito said, his voice dropping. He turned back to the wall, bouncing the ball on the ground. "Just leave me alone. I don't need anyone."

Tsubasa hesitated, but Roberto, who had been watching silently from a distance, stepped forward. "Kaito," he said, his deep voice cutting through the tension.

The boy froze, recognizing the authority in Roberto's tone.

"You're wrong," Roberto continued. "Trust doesn't make you weak. It makes you stronger. If you want to be great—not just good, but truly great—you need to learn that. Soccer isn't a solo game. Even the best players in the world had teammates who pushed them to be better."

Kaito turned slightly, just enough to glance at Roberto. "And what if I don't want to be great? What if I just want to be strong enough to survive?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Tsubasa stepped forward, his voice steady. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you. But... surviving isn't the same as living. If you ever decide you want more than just surviving, our team will be here."

Kaito's eyes met Tsubasa's, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something else—doubt, maybe even curiosity. But he didn't say anything.

"Come on, guys," Tsubasa said, turning to his teammates. "Let's go. We've got training to do."

As they jogged away, Kaito watched them go, his mind racing.

---

Later that afternoon, the Nankatsu team was in the middle of their practice session. Tsubasa was leading a passing drill, weaving through cones and firing accurate passes to his teammates. Roberto stood on the sidelines, arms crossed as he observed.

"You seemed pretty determined to get through to him," Roberto said, his tone calm.

Tsubasa nodded. "Yeah. I just… I can't stop thinking about how much potential he has. He's got the kind of talent that could change a game. But it feels like he's trapped in his own head."

Roberto's expression softened. "People like Kaito have their reasons. He's been hurt—probably more than you realize. Breaking through to someone like that takes time."

Tsubasa sighed. "I know. But I can't give up on him. Not when I know he could be so much more."

---

That evening, Kaito found himself standing outside a park, watching a group of kids play soccer on a worn-out field. They were laughing, shouting, and cheering each other on as they passed the ball back and forth.

For a moment, Kaito imagined himself out there with them, running alongside a team, feeling the energy of the game. But the thought quickly faded.

He turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked home. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, Tsubasa's words stayed with him: "Surviving isn't the same as living."

For the first time, Kaito wondered if he had been wrong all along.