Day 7 — Pre-Match (Morning)
The field smelled of cut grass and morning dew.
Gen, Sera, Tobita, Jirō, Akira, Yuki and Hina were already together by the sideline. Domon lingered a few paces behind, watching the others move like he always did.
They stretched in the half-light — loose and quick, nothing formal. Conversation came in little bursts, not full sentences.
"Any idea if he's actually coming?" Sera asked, rolling his shoulders.
"No answer yet," Hina said, eyes on her clipboard. "He said he'd try. That's all I got."
Akira snorted. "They always say that. People love to flake."
Jirō just chewed his lip, glancing toward the gate.
Yuki kept looking down the path, like he expected to see someone any second.
They kept stretching. Quiet jokes, low voices. The air felt nervous, more from hope than fear.
Then a figure came jogging up the track — messy hair, half-asleep posture, a towel slung around his neck. He moved with the loose, impatient steps of someone who'd been dragged out of bed.
Hayato slowed when he reached them. He looked around as if trying to read the scene, then gave a small, awkward wave.
"Morning," he muttered.
Akira and Jirō exchanged a grin. Akira stepped forward, clapped him on the shoulder. "Told you. He'd come."
Jirō laughed. "Bet you a juice he tries to run off at halftime."
Hayato winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "I— I'm here. Don't yell."
Gen watched, then nodded once. He called everyone over in a short voice.
"Right. Quick things before kickoff. Match is twenty minutes each half. Full rules — treat it like a real game. Tobita, you're in goal. Sera, hold the pivot. Akira and Yuki — you two press and finish. Jirō and I hold the back."
He looked at Hayato. "You'll be between Sera and us. Don't try to do too much. Slow their runs, track second balls. If it's messy, clear it out. Simple: delay, don't dive. Understood?"
Hayato blinked, swallowed, then nodded. "Yeah. Got it."
"Any questions?" Gen asked.
Hayato shook his head once. "No."
Gen gave a short, almost indifferent, half-smile. "Good. That's enough. Keep it simple. Play hard."
They broke into a small circle, hands in for a quick, muted huddle — not loud, not showy. Hina kept the clipboard tucked against her side, eyes on the field. Domon watched from the side, fingers worrying the hem of his shirt.
The mood eased a little. Nervousness was still there, but now it had focus. They were a team for a moment, however fragile.
Hina came over with the kit bag and passed two folded jerseys to Gen.
Gen turned first to Yuki, holding one out.
"Temporary or not — you're playing today. here take this" he said.
Yuki nodded and took it, noticing the #11 stitched on the back.
Gen turned to Hayato next.
Hayato hesitated a second before taking his jersey #15.
"Like I said earlier you don't have to do anything fancy," Gen said. "Just slow them down if they break through. Kick it out if you're unsure."
Hayato scratched his cheek, half-reluctant, half-curious.
"...yeah. I'll try."
Domon sat a little off to the side on the bench, hugging his bag, watching like always — not playing, but present.
The mood loosened slightly now that the lineup was complete.
They lined up to start. The pitch felt bigger than it had the day before, but so did their intent.