The training ground looked normal. Same grass, same goals, same team. But something felt different to Takeshi as he arrived.
Ryo was late.
Not five minutes late, actually late. The captain usually arrived before Coach Tanaka, barking encouragement and setting the tone. Today he showed up ten minutes into warmups, quiet, head down, going straight to join the drills without his usual fired-up presence.
Takeshi noticed because he'd learned to notice things. Spent three years watching himself deteriorate, and now he could see it in other people. The small tells. The way Ryo's shoulders curved inward slightly. The way he wasn't talking to anyone.
During passing drills, he watched Ryo's positioning. Off. Not by a lot—most people wouldn't catch it. But Takeshi could. The captain was making decisions half a second slower. Missing easy angles. Running the drills on autopilot.
Sato caught his eye and raised his eyebrows. You seeing this?
Takeshi nodded slightly. Something was wrong.
Coach called out during a transition drill: "Ryo! Focus!"
The captain just nodded without his usual competitive fire. That wasn't normal. Ryo lived for football intensity.
"What's eating at him?" Sato whispered during water break.
"No idea," Takeshi said. But the adult part of his brain was already calculating. Not an injury—he was moving fine. Not fatigue from the match. Something deeper. Something outside of football.
I should probably check on him, Takeshi thought. But they weren't really close. Captain and teammate, not exactly friends.
Coach announced: "Good session. Rest tomorrow, back at it Thursday."
Then: "Ryo, stay back. Need to talk."
Takeshi saw something flash across Ryo's face. Anxiety. Maybe fear.
Everyone else packed up quickly, sensing the vibe shift. Takeshi pretended to tie his boots, lingering. Watching.
The scrimmage that followed practice was supposed to be light. First team vs second team, just to keep sharp between matches.
But Ryo's distraction was impossible to ignore now.
Fifteen minutes in, he misread an opponent's run. Almost cost them a goal. Yuta covered, saying: "Captain, you good?"
"Yeah, my bad," Ryo replied. But his voice sounded hollow.
Twenty-five minutes: He lost an aerial duel he normally won easily. The ball fell to Takeshi on the opposite team. Clear shooting opportunity. But Takeshi hesitated and passed instead.
Something was really wrong with their captain.
Coach was watching too. Takeshi caught him frowning, making notes on his clipboard.
When practice ended, Coach called Ryo over again. Longer conversation this time. Ryo nodding, not engaging, just listening. His jaw clenched the whole time.
After Coach left, Ryo just sat on the bench. Alone. Boots still on. Not moving. Not changing. Just... sitting.
Sato approached him first, but Ryo waved him off with a weak smile. "I'm good, man. Just tired."
Sato didn't believe it either, but he left anyway.
Takeshi was the last one changing. He took his time, watching Ryo from across the locker room. The captain stared at the wall like it had answers.
Following Ryo after practice wasn't intentional at first.
Takeshi just happened to be walking the same direction. Happened to see Ryo heading not toward home but toward the small park near the training ground. The one with the river running through it.
This is weird, Takeshi thought. But he kept following anyway. Felt like the right move.
Ryo sat on a bench overlooking the water. Didn't notice Takeshi approaching until he was already sitting down on the same bench.
Ryo flinched. "Oh. Hey."
"You're doing the thing," Takeshi said.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."
Ryo looked away. "I'm fine."
"You lost an aerial duel today. You never lose aerial duels."
Silence.
"You were late to practice. You're never late."
More silence.
Takeshi wasn't going to push harder. He knew that didn't work. You couldn't force someone to talk. He just sat there, existing beside Ryo, not making it weird.
After maybe two minutes, Ryo's shoulders dropped.
"My sister got into Tokyo University," he said quietly.
Takeshi waited.
"She's studying medicine. Really competitive school. Full scholarship because she's smart as hell."
Another pause.
"And I'm still playing second-division youth football after getting eliminated by everyone else in my age group."
Oh.
Oh.
Takeshi understood that weight. Not exactly the same situation, but the weight was identical. The feeling of being left behind. Of watching people you know succeed while you're stuck.
"That's... good for her though, right?" Takeshi offered carefully.
"It's amazing for her," Ryo said. His voice cracked slightly. "She's going to be a doctor. She's going to save people's lives. And I..."
He didn't finish.
"You're saving your team's life," Takeshi said. "Literally. If you fall apart, Tokyo FC falls apart."
Ryo let out a bitter laugh. "That's not the same."
"No," Takeshi agreed. "But it matters."
Ryo finally looked at him. Eyes tired. Like he'd been carrying something heavy for way too long.
"I don't know if I'm good enough," Ryo said. The admission seemed to cost him something. "Like, really good enough. To make it professional. To have a career like my sister will have. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just... wasting time."
Takeshi recognized that doubt. Had lived in it for three years.
"You made a final-round tackle yesterday," Takeshi said. "That save? If you don't make that play, we're in 0-1 and the whole team falls apart mentally. That wasn't wasting time."
"One play."
"One play that mattered."
Ryo was quiet. Then: "I'm scared."
"Yeah," Takeshi said. "Me too. Every day."
"But you... you seem like you have it figured out."
Takeshi almost laughed. "I died once, woke up as an eight-year-old, spent three years depressed, and now I'm trying to save a team from relegation while balancing an undefined relationship with a girl who scares me. I have nothing figured out."
Ryo actually smiled at that. Small smile, but real.
"I just know," Takeshi continued, "that the alternative to being scared is giving up. And you don't strike me as someone who gives up."
"My sister thinks I should focus on school. Safety net."
"What do you think?"
Ryo didn't answer immediately. Then: "I think I want to try. Even if I fail."
"Then try," Takeshi said. "And I'll try too. And we'll probably fail sometimes. But at least we'll know."
Ryo nodded slowly. Sat with that for a moment.
"Thank you," he said finally. "For... checking on me. I didn't expect that."
"Yeah, well. You checked on the team when we needed it. Guess I'm returning the favor."
They sat there by the river until the sun started setting, not talking much. Just existing. Ryo seemed lighter somehow. Not fixed—problems don't disappear in one conversation. But supported. Like he wasn't carrying the weight alone anymore.
Walking back, Ryo said: "Next match, I'll be better."
"I know," Takeshi said.
And he meant it.