Chapter 1: The Final Minute


    The cold breath of late autumn settled over the soccer field like a whisper, crisp and biting. Beneath the cloudless sky, the stadium pulsed with the energy of students packed shoulder to shoulder in the bleachers—scarves waving, voices rising, drums echoing like distant thunder. Their team, Seiryuu High, stood tied 1–1 in the semifinals of the regional championship. Time was running out.


    Ren Itou could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he sprinted down the left wing. The ball clung to his feet like it belonged there, responding to every shift of weight, every angle of his stride. His breath came in quick clouds, lungs burning. The crowd blurred around him. The defenders closed in.


    "Cut inside!" someone shouted from the sideline. Ren didn’t hear them.


    Instead, he dipped low, shifted left, then faked and cut right, letting the closest defender overshoot. The second defender lunged—too late. Ren tapped the ball ahead with the outside of his boot and wound back for the shot.


    His knee twinged.


    He ignored it.


    THUMP.


    The ball flew like a bullet, curving just over the keeper’s fingertips and slamming into the back of the net. For a split second, the stadium went silent.


    Then it erupted.


    Ren raised his fist to the sky as the wave of cheers crashed over him. His teammates sprinted toward him, arms outstretched—but Ren didn’t see them.


    Because his knee buckled.


    The pain struck with the force of a train—white-hot, sudden, unforgiving. He collapsed to the grass with a cry that barely registered through the roaring crowd.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    <hr>


    He lay there, hands clutching his knee, vision swimming. Boots thundered around him, voices rose in panic. Someone touched his shoulder.


    "Ren! Ren, are you okay? Stay with us!"


    He blinked. Everything tilted sideways. The sky seemed impossibly far.


    His world faded into white.


    <hr>


    Three weeks later.


    <hr>


    The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and boiled rice. Ren sat propped against a stack of pillows, his leg in a thick black brace. The TV was off. Outside the window, gray clouds loitered over the city skyline.


    He didn’t look at them. He hadn’t really looked at anything for days.


    A gentle knock preceded the door opening.


    Dr. Kawamura, a kind-faced man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, stepped inside holding a clipboard. "Morning, Itou. How’s the pain today?"


    "Tolerable," Ren replied, his voice flat.


    Dr. Kawamura smiled. "Good. That’s a step. Your MRI results came in—clean, but the ligament tear was complete. You’re lucky it didn’t do more damage."


    Ren didn’t respond.


    The doctor sat beside him. "With proper physical therapy, you’ll recover. It’ll take time, but you’re young. Your body wants to heal."


    "Will I be able to play again this season?"


    A pause.


    "…Unlikely."


    Ren looked away. His fingers dug into the blanket beneath him.


    "That’s not the same as never," the doctor added gently. "But your body isn’t the only thing that needs to recover."


    <hr>


    The next day, Ren returned to school for the first time since the injury. A wheelchair carried him through the main hallway, where classmates greeted him with awkward cheers and hesitant smiles. It wasn’t pity exactly—but it wasn’t normalcy either. Not anymore.


    Later, with crutches under his arms, he hobbled toward the gymnasium wing. His homeroom teacher had told him to check in with the counselor for a special rehab arrangement. What that meant, no one explained.


    He stopped outside the large glass windows that overlooked the school’s private rink—a luxury few public schools could boast. The air here was colder. Through the pane, white and pristine like a frozen lake, a single figure moved across the ice.


    She was almost unreal—hair like a silken ribbon trailing behind her, arms extended, body turning in perfect circles. Each movement was fluid, controlled, breathtaking.


    Ren’s breath caught.


    She looked like she was flying.


    And yet, her expression remained… empty. As if she wasn’t really there at all.


    He didn’t know her name yet. But in that moment, watching her dance alone in silence, something shifted inside him—like a door opening that he hadn’t known was closed.


    He didn’t know it, but his life had just changed again.


    And this time, it wasn’t ending.


    It was only beginning.