Takeshi woke with his entire body screaming. His legs hurt. His arms hurt. Even his fingers hurt, which didn't make sense until he remembered spending an hour yesterday just kicking balls at a wall while thinking about nothing and everything simultaneously.
He lay there staring at the ceiling for exactly sixty seconds—the maximum amount of time his brain allowed before spiraling into calculations about eight games and climbing four positions and whether that was even mathematically possible.
Yesterday's vote kept replaying: "Fight together or die together."
That was actually pretty cool. Didn't sound cool when he was living it, but looking back? Yeah. Pretty cool.
Dragging himself downstairs took longer than it should have. School uniform, breakfast, the whole routine. His mom was already at the table with coffee, and his little sister was being insufferable about some guy she liked. Normal stuff. Weirdly nice to just... exist in normal for a second.
His phone buzzed.
Akari: "Morning. You okay?"
Simple message. But she'd been checking on him a lot lately. Ever since the Daichi match. Ever since she'd held him on that pitch while his world was collapsing.
Him: "Yeah, getting there"
Akari: "Good. See you at school"
He stared at those words longer than necessary. She was being nice. Taking care of him. And he hadn't really... done anything in return except show up late to class and disappear to train. That probably wasn't fair to her.
I should fix that soon, he thought, but filed it away. One crisis at a time.
The walk to school was cold. Tokyo winter doing that thing where it cuts right through your clothes. His mind was already running calculations—eight games left, need to climb four positions minimum, so what, five wins? Six? His adult brain kept trying to solve the puzzle while his fifteen-year-old body just wanted to sleep.
He was thinking about Elsa's words from the 2 AM call. "Find the 8-year-old who laughed." What did that even—
The world tilted.
His vision blurred like someone had put a filter over everything, and suddenly there was a blue window just... hanging in the air in front of him. In the middle of the street. Where anyone could see it.
Holy shit.
The system was back.
⚠️ EMERGENCY QUEST DETECTED
ANALYZING CURRENT SITUATION...
TOKYO FC SURVIVAL STATUS: CRITICAL
13TH PLACE / 13 TEAMS
GAMES REMAINING: 8
RELEGATION: IMMINENT
Takeshi froze on the sidewalk. People walked around him like he wasn't there. He probably looked insane, but he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe properly.
Then the voice. Not a voice exactly—more like something speaking directly into the center of his brain.
"You failed before. Real Madrid. The choice that broke you."
His hands clenched into fists.
"Three years wasted in darkness. Three years I stayed silent."
I know, I know, I—
"Almost gave up after one loss to Daichi Suzuki."
"But you're still here."
The pause that followed felt like forever.
"Still fighting."
The screen exploded with text:
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
⚠️ SURVIVAL ARC INITIATED ⚠️
QUEST: KEEP TOKYO FC IN THE LEAGUE
CURRENT STANDING: 13th / 13 teams
REQUIRED STANDING: Top 9
GAMES REMAINING: 8
FAILURE CONDITIONS:
❌ Tokyo FC relegated
❌ Season ends below 9th place
❌ You quit or give up
FAILURE PENALTY:
💀 System permanently deleted
💀 All skills locked forever
💀 TIME RELAY removed
💀 Return to normal human
💀 No second chances remain
SUCCESS REWARDS:
✨ [LOCKED - COMPLETE QUEST TO REVEAL]
✨ Major Rank Evolution
✨ Special Ability Unlock
✨ [??? ??? ???]
THIS QUEST CANNOT BE DECLINED
ACCEPTANCE: AUTOMATIC
TIME UNTIL FIRST MATCH: 4 DAYS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Takeshi just stood there. Staring at letters that were basically telling him this was his last life. His last chance. His last everything.
He'd been given two lives already. The first one he wasted until thirty-four, dying alone with nothing to show for it. The second one, he'd almost thrown away after one match.
This was it. Win or the system deletes itself permanently. No more powers. No more TIME RELAY. No more second chances ever again.
"Okay," he said out loud. A random passerby gave him a weird look and hurried past. "Okay. I accept."
The screen flashed once.
QUEST ACCEPTED. GOOD LUCK, TAKESHI YAMAMOTO.
Then it faded like it never existed.
But he could still feel it burning in his head. The weight of it. The absolute, crushing weight.
His feet carried him toward school automatically while his brain ran through scenarios that didn't look good.
Eight games. Climb four positions. The math was brutal. If they won five and drew twice, they'd get maybe seventeen points? But the teams above them would be earning points too. It wasn't just about winning. It was about winning more than everyone else.
They'd just lost 5-4 to first place.
They were dead last for a reason.
Smallest budget, youngest squad, basically no real talent except him and some desperate kids who actually believed they could do the impossible.
But.
Remembering yesterday's meeting. Ryo's speech. Sato's absolute loyalty. Kenji crying and then nodding anyway. All of them saying yes to fighting together.
The Ajax Six had made promises as kids. Tokyo FC was making promises as survivors.
Maybe that was enough.
Training after school was different. The whole team showed up—no one skipped, which was already crazy. Coach Tanaka stood at the center of the pitch with his clipboard, face serious in a way that made everyone shut up immediately.
"Eight games," he said. "That's our season. First match in four days against 11th place. It's a must-win."
Takeshi stepped forward before anyone else could.
"Coach, I want to run extra drills. Morning sessions. 5:30 AM. Starting tomorrow."
The team looked at him like he'd suggested they all run into traffic.
Then Sato stood. "I'm in."
Ryo nodded immediately. "Me too."
One by one, every single player. Even Yuta, still haunted by Daichi, pulled himself up and said yeah.
The training itself was cold and precise. Takeshi's mind was operating differently now—not just playing, but teaching. Showing Ryo better positioning. Helping Kenji understand angles. His adult tactical knowledge pouring out naturally through demonstration, not explanation.
During the scrimmage, he made a pass that shouldn't have worked. The angle was impossible, the timing tighter than it had any right to be. Ryo looked shocked when the ball landed perfectly at his feet. Perfect weight, perfect pace, perfect placement.
Coach Tanaka's eyes narrowed as he watched.
This wasn't luck. This was something else. Something colder. More calculated.
By the time practice ended, something electric was hanging in the air. This wasn't the same broken team from last week. They were hungry. Desperate but determined. The underdog story writing itself in real time.
Coach called them in. His clipboard was covered in notes, but he wasn't looking at it.
"Something shifted today," he said simply. "I don't know what it is yet. But keep it."
Gathering in their circle, hands stacked in the middle.
"Eight games," Ryo said, voice steady. "We do this together."
"TOGETHER!" Everyone screaming it like a prayer.
The system notification popped up quietly:
FORM: RISING
TEAM MORALE IMPACT: +13%
Walking home alone, the city was dark. Takeshi's phone buzzed.
Akari: "You okay? Haven't seen you since lunch"
Him: "Yeah, just training late. Sorry."
Her: "Don't overdo it, dummy. You need rest too."
He stared at that message. She'd been checking on him. Taking care of him. And he'd been disappearing every chance he got, focused on nothing but football and survival quests and impossible odds.
That wasn't fair to her.
Him: "I'll try. Thanks for checking on me."
Her: "Always."
That one word hit different. Simple. Certain. Like she meant it.
Then another notification appeared:
QUEST UPDATE:
DAYS UNTIL MATCH 1: 3
TEAM MORALE: 68% → 81%
YOUR INFLUENCE: RISING
WARNING: This quest will test everything. Are you ready to lose everything to save everyone?
Takeshi looked up at the Tokyo night sky. Stars barely visible through city lights and pollution, but they were there.
He thought about his past life. Thirty-four years old, dying alone.
Then this life. Fifteen again. Surrounded by people who believed in him. A girl who checked on him. A best friend who'd fight without question. A team that voted to survive together.
The choice was obvious.
"Yeah," he said to the empty street. "I'm ready."
The system went silent.
But the quest remained, burning at the edge of his vision like a brand.
Eight games to save Tokyo FC.
Eight games to prove second chances actually matter.
The survival arc had begun.