Chapter Three | The Promised Match

♣♣♣

“Work hard at practice!”

“Yeah, you work hard on that report too.”

I part ways with Sasaki in front of the library and head to the practice field.

On the way, I spot a familiar head of natural curls trudging along listlessly and call out.

“Yo, Azaki.”

“…O-Oh, Makijima.”

His face looks gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes.

Azaki’s blatantly out of it today.

Bet he’s still hung up on yesterday.

He was whining on Lime about his “pickup fail (crying)” after the mixer, wasn’t he?

“Feeling down ‘cause Aihara rejected you?”

“Obviously! Listen, man, I took a good look at Aihara-san yesterday, and it hit me. Her face is stupidly cute, she smells amazing, and her boobs are huge! That girl’s definitely gonna be Miss Koto! Ugh, I so wanted to take her home and hook up!”

“H-Hook up? Dude, you were just after that?”

“C’mon, when you’ve got a catch like Aihara-san, every other girl just fades away. But I’m not giving up—I’m definitely making her mine!”

Azaki’s all fired up when it comes to girls.

Everyone else “fades away” except Aihara, huh?

Guess that “Sasaki” girl, who the world calls a national treasure, didn’t even register in your sights.

Then again, Azaki judges girls by their chest size…

“Speaking of, what happened with you and that extra girl with the glasses and black mask?”

“You mean Sasaki.”

“Oh, right, right. That was her name.”

If this guy didn’t have soccer talent, he’d straight-up be a total sleaze. Who forgets the name of someone they met yesterday?

“So, how’d it go? Don’t tell me you already took her to your place and hooked up.”

“Nothing happened. Like I said on Lime, I was just her excuse to ditch the mixer.”

“Pfft! Can’t even charm a plain Jane like that? You’re the ultimate soccer nerd, Makijima-kun~!”

Azaki slaps my shoulder, getting all up in my face with his annoying teasing.

“I’ll set up another mixer for you, my fellow soccer nerd! Look forward to it!”

“I’m good, thanks. More importantly, about that reward from yesterday—”

The moment I bring up the reward, Azaki cuts me off, throwing an arm around my shoulder.

“You’re way too stressed out, man. It’s about time you found a girl to help you chill and take some pressure off your soccer game.”

A girl to… help me chill.

“Work hard at practice!”

The first face that pops into my head is Sasaki’s… W-Wait, no way, she’s just been dragging me around, right?

“Hey, Makijima. Wanna know why I turned down a pro offer to come to this university?”

“…Huh? You turned down a pro offer to come here?! That’s news to me!”

“Wanna hear the reason?”

I always thought Azaki was one of the best among our peers, even during pre-enrollment practices, but to think he passed up a pro contract straight out of high school to come here?

Of course I wanna know the reason…!

“Tell me, Azaki.”

“Alright… Here’s the deal.”

Azaki stops walking and looks up at the sky.

“I wanted to hook up with Koto University’s brainy, busty chicks—”

“What?”

Hearing that utterly trash reason, I’m left speechless.

I’m done calling this guy my best friend, forever.

♡♡♡

The afternoon practice, held under a cloudy sky, focused mainly on game simulations.

With the match just two days away, everyone’s motivation was at its peak. To make the starting lineup, you had to impress the coach here—but as a reserve, I was stuck on the bench, watching my teammates dominate the pitch.

After a grueling four-hour session packed with intensity, the first-year players who weren’t starters, except for Azaki, were tasked with cleanup.

I was in charge of counting equipment. After checking the cold sprays, I turned to the ball cart to count the soccer balls.

…Wait, we’re one ball short.

Come to think of it, during the scrimmage, Senior Tanaka, the keeper, blasted a punt kick that went way off course.

If it flew past the entrance and ended up on the outer track, that’d be bad. Better check if it’s stuck in a ditch or something nearby.

“Ugh…”

With a reluctant sigh, I drag myself up and head in that direction, relying on memory.

I search along the path connecting the field to the outside, using my phone’s flashlight to light the way.

Humming to myself while looking for the ball, my eyes glued to the ground, I suddenly hear a voice call out, “Makijima-kun?”

I look up, and there’s Aihara.

Her side-up hair sways in the breeze, and I catch a whiff of her citrusy perfume.

“Oh, Aihara. Been since yesterday, huh?”

Aihara, probably on her way back from university, has a white canvas tote slung over her shoulder. Unlike at the mixer, she’s wearing glasses today.

“Hey, Makijima-kun. Humming a tune? You seem in a good mood. Something nice happen?”

“Nah, I’m not exactly in a good mood… Haha.”

She heard me humming? Embarrassing.

As I give an awkward laugh, Aihara tilts her head, pointing at my phone.

“Why’s your flashlight on? Practice is over, right?”

“Yeah, it’s done, but we’re missing one ball, so I’m looking for it.”

“That’s rough! If you lose even one, won’t the seniors chew you out? Like, making you run a hundred laps or do a thousand sit-ups?!”

“I don’t think the punishment’s that harsh…”

“I’ll help you look!”

“Nah, that’s okay. You’re heading home from uni, right?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!”

“But…”

“It’s fine! I’m used to looking for balls!”

Aihara’s stubborn insistence leaves no room for argument.

If she’s that determined, I guess I’ll take her up on it.

So, I end up walking along the ditch with Aihara, both of us using our phone flashlights to search.

“I was thinking about this during the mixer yesterday, but have you ever played soccer, Aihara?”

“Yup! I played from elementary school all the way through high school.”

“Wow, that’s way longer than me—I only started in middle school.”

“Hehe… But I was super bad, always stuck on the bench. And when I couldn’t even make the bench, I was out picking up balls. That’s why I’m so good at finding them!”

Aihara’s cheerful tone hides a hint of reluctance as she opens up about her past.

“Didn’t you ever think about quitting soccer if you couldn’t play in matches?”

“Nope, never. I mean, I love soccer. No matter how tough or unfair things got, as long as I could play, I was happy.”

Hearing that, I genuinely think Aihara’s amazing.

That kind of mental strength—enduring any unfair treatment just for the love of soccer—is something I don’t have.

Honestly, I’m not even sure if I love soccer.

Back in middle school, a friend convinced me to try out for a pro team’s junior youth squad, and that’s when I started this whole “competition” called soccer.

“I used to dream of becoming a striker like my idol, Mikami,” Aihara says.

“Mikami…”

“Yup, I was a forward! A pretty pathetic one with zero goals in official matches, but I was working hard to be like Mikami!”

Takato Mikami—the greatest prodigy in Japanese soccer history, a 28-year-old pro who wears the number 9 for the Spanish powerhouse Barsamico FC and won last year’s Ballon d’Or. He’s the absolute ace striker representing not just Japan but the world.

Like Aihara, I looked up to him too. Every soccer player in Japan—no, every player—sets their sights on being like him.

“But… I ended up quitting soccer in high school. I wanted to live like a normal girl for once, and when I got to college, I wanted to find all sorts of fun things to do. Soccer’s not just about playing—it’s fun to watch too, so I don’t have any regrets.”

“I… I see…”

I’d assumed Aihara, with her great style, cute looks that even a guy like Azaki can’t shut up about, and brains to get into Koto University, had cruised through life without a hitch.

Between Sasaki and Aihara, it seems like the cuter the girl, the more struggles they’ve got.

“Uh, sorry! I got all weird and started talking about myself, didn’t I?!” Aihara says.

“Nah, you’re impressive, Aihara. You really know yourself.”

“You think so?”

“Compared to you, I’m still totally lost.”

“Makijima-kun…”

If I could’ve quit soccer as cleanly as Aihara did, life would be so much easier…

I’ve had plenty of chances to walk away, but I could never pull the trigger, still clinging to this dream of going pro.

A dropout like me from high school doesn’t stand a chance at going pro, though…

“Hey, um, changing the subject!” Aihara says, her voice brighter, probably trying to shift the mood.

“You left the mixer early yesterday, right? Did something happen?”

“Uh? W-Well, it’s…”

Everyone at the mixer saw me ditch with Sasaki, so if I explain, I’ll have to bring her up.

“I was talking to Sasaki, and we kinda hit it off, I guess.”

I blurt out the first semi-plausible excuse that comes to mind.

“Hit it off? About what? Soccer?”

Crap, I didn’t think up an excuse for that question.

Why did I hit it off with Sasaki?! …Wait, no, I didn’t! We didn’t hit it off at all!

Maybe because I’m wiped from practice, my brain’s not firing, and the best I can come up with is:

“…It’s, uh, a secret.”

Lame dodge.

“Hmm.”

“…”

“…”

Aihara’s giving me a suspicious look.

“Hey, sorry if I got this wrong, but are you and Sasaki-chan—”

Just then, I point my flashlight at the green chain-link fence around the field and spot the ball stuck in the ditch.

“Hey! There it is!”

“Nice, Makijima-kun!”

“Yeah, thanks for helping me look, Aihara.”

Phew, close call. I managed to dodge that one, somehow.

After thanking Aihara and parting ways, I walk back to the field through the now-dark night, ready to dive into solo practice.

♡♡♡

The morning of the match, 6:00 a.m.

The alarm blares, and I snap awake.

“Ughh, already six?” I yawn.

Rubbing my sleepy eyes, my blurry vision clears up.

Wait, why did I set my alarm this early?

I don’t have a first-period lecture, and I quit being an idol ages ago…

“…Oh, right. Today’s Makijima’s match.”

I leap out of bed, slip off my favorite fluffy pajamas I bought recently, flip on the electric kettle, and head to the bathroom.

Gotta get ready fast.

I take a shower, wash my hair, and grab my bunny-shaped body sponge to scrub myself from head to toe.

“Is the tub full yet~?”

After rinsing off the soap, I check if the bathtub’s filled.

Right on schedule—five minutes flat. Speedy water-heating for the win. I toss in some bath salts and ease in, starting with my toes.

“So warm…”

Soaking up to my shoulders in the hot water—this morning routine is something I’ve kept up forever.

Mornings aren’t my thing, but I never skip this.

As my body warms up and I get all fuzzy and relaxed, I stare at the rising steam.

“Is Makijima nervous?”

Our promise pops into my head.

If he scores a goal, I’ll treat him to a special dinner. If he doesn’t, he has to do one thing I say, no matter what.

“The dinner’s already planned, so that’s fine, but if he doesn’t score… what then?”

Makijima doing anything I say…

What should I make him do?

“Maybe carry my bags on a weekend shopping trip? Oh! Or drag him back to that café! Those soufflé pancakes were so good.”

…But, if I get the chance, it’d be nice to pick something that lets him relax.

If he’s pushing himself to the point of overtraining, he really needs to rest his body.

“Hmm… Well, I’ll just decide based on how I feel!”

I slowly climb out of the tub, dry off with a towel, and slip into navy underwear and my cozy loungewear. After drying my hair with the blow-dryer, I grab a light breakfast, brush my teeth, and start picking out today’s outfit.

“What should I wear?”

Being a former idol is such a hassle. Too cute, and I’ll stand out; too frumpy, and my pride won’t let me.

I want something in-between—mature, casual, with a calm vibe…

How about pairing a black top with a brown camisole dress?

“Yup, this’ll do!”

Once my outfit’s decided, it’s time for makeup.

I mean, I’ll be wearing a mask, so no one’s gonna see much of my face anyway, but… Makijima might see me after the match, so I better do it right.

If Makijima ever thought, “She was cuter as Ayane Kiraboshi,” my pride as Ayane Sasaki would never forgive him.

“Alright, makeup done! It’s not even eight yet, so I can take my time.”

Humming to myself, I change into the outfit I picked, sling my canvas tote over my shoulder, and head out of my apartment.

♡♡♡

A little past eight, I arrive at the station nearest to the university, adjust my mask and glasses one last time, and head to the soccer field.

When I reach Koto University’s fairly large soccer field, the stands are already open.

“…Huh? There’s hardly anyone here.”

Having only seen packed domes during my idol days, this sight makes me question my eyes.

The stands are mostly empty, with just a few people who look like Koto University staff or maybe a cheer squad.

Makijima said it’s a B-team match, so maybe that’s why no one’s here…

“Where… should I watch from?”

As I wander around the stands, someone suddenly pokes my shoulder from behind.

Oh, could it be Makijima?

“C’mon, Makijima, you don’t need to worry about me—”

I turn around, and there’s…

“S-Sasaki-chan? That’s you, right?”

“…Oh, Aihara-san.”

It’s Yuzu Aihara from my seminar, wearing a floral dress with a denim jacket, her chest noticeably… prominent.

“Phew, good thing I got that right. Would’ve been so embarrassing if I mixed you up!” she says.

Didn’t she mention before that she played soccer through high school?

“Sasaki-chan, you here to cheer for Makijima-kun too?”

Too? So Makijima’s involved…?

Is that guy, despite all his talk, trying to make a move on Aihara-san?

Okay, time to do some digging.

“What about you, Aihara-san? Did Makijima invite you?”

“Huh? Oh, um, not exactly.”

Wait, Makijima didn’t invite her…?

“I just love soccer. Plus, the day before yesterday, I was talking to Makijima-kun on my way home, and I really wanted to cheer him on.”

“Oh… I see~” I say, my voice flat.

So she does have a thing for Makijima… Wait, what’s this about “on the way home”?

“And you, Sasaki-chan? Did Makijima-kun invite you?”

“…Uh, well? Kinda?”

“Oh, cool.”

Truth is, I was the one who said I’d come watch, but saying that might make things complicated… It’s just a slight twist of the truth, so it’s fine, right?

“Hey, Sasaki-chan, since we’re both here, wanna watch together? I was feeling kinda lonely by myself.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

Guided by Aihara-san, I sat down next to her in the central seats with a great view of the entire pitch.

Honestly, I’m the one who’s grateful to have Aihara-san here.

If I were alone, I wouldn’t even know where to sit, and I know next to nothing about soccer, so this is a huge help.

“Makijima-kun’s starting on the bench, but I bet he’ll definitely get subbed in during the second half!”

“The… second half…”

He said he’d score no matter if he started or came off the bench, but I wonder if he’ll really be okay.

I’m the one who proposed that deal to get him fired up, but now I’m starting to worry a bit.

As I stare at the pitch, the players come out and start warming up.

Of course, Makijima’s among them, his eyes locked in with a serious intensity I haven’t seen before, stirring a mix of hope and anxiety in me.

“Makijima…”

Promise or no promise, I don’t want to see you give it your all and not get rewarded.

♡♡♡

After the pre-match warm-up, I head back to the locker room where the manager has prepared our uniforms.

Hanging in my locker is Koto University’s traditional crimson uniform.

A single white stripe runs across the shoulder, with the brand logo and Koto University’s emblem on the chest.

My jersey number—18. Normally, that’d be a number for a near-ace player, but for us, the coach assigns numbers 11 and up randomly, so it doesn’t mean much.

Next to me, Azaki’s changing at his locker, sporting number 10. As the B-team’s ace, he’s currently sprawled on the bench, lazily fiddling with his phone.

“Azaki, you’re starting, right?”

“Hm? Yeah.”

“You sure you can afford to be that chill?”

“It’s fine. If I can’t stay relaxed at this level, I’ll never make it pro.”

“If you wanna go pro, you should’ve skipped college and signed after high school.”

“Shut up. I wanted to score with girls too!”

“Gross.”

This trash of a guy is our ace… the world’s gone to hell.

“Whatever. Talking to a loser like you is just pissing me off.”

“Come on, Makijima, don’t be so cold.”

Just as I’m about to walk away from Azaki, the coach strides into the locker room.

“Everyone, sit.”

Coach Minei, head of Koto University’s B-team soccer squad.

At seventy years old, he’s a veteran coach with long white hair covering his eyes and a thick white beard built up over decades.

“Go hard from the start today. Don’t let the back line drop. Azaki, as the defensive midfielder, you’re in charge of balancing the lines.”

“Got it,” Azaki replies in his usual carefree tone, even to the intimidating coach.

Fearless bastard.

After a quick five-minute meeting, we pack up and head out to the field.

I put on the green bib handed to me by the manager and take a seat on the bench.

Oh, right—Sasaki said she’d be watching.

The pitch is close to the stands, so you can actually make out the faces of the people in the crowd.

I stand up from the bench and scan the stands. There, in the middle, is a girl with medium-short brown hair and a black mask.

“Of course she’d show up.”

I’d bragged to Sasaki that I’d definitely score, but deep down, part of me felt weak, thinking, “I don’t want her to see me mess up.”

The whistle blows, and the match finally kicks off.

It’s the third round of the league featuring B-teams from various universities. The showdown between Koto University and Komagome Business University begins.

The early minutes unfold calmly for both sides, but Koto, with its high defensive line and Azaki as the linchpin, starts dictating the pace with fast, vertical soccer.

It’s hard to believe this is the same Azaki who was smirking at his phone earlier—he’s a different beast on the pitch, showing intense focus and a clever side.

He barks precise instructions to the upperclassmen without hesitation and even pulls off sly, calculated fouls to draw calls.

Koto dominates possession and creates chance after chance, but today, they lack the finishing touch.

Azaki fires off four mid-range shots, and the team racks up eleven shots total, but none find the net. Before we know it, forty-five minutes fly by, and the first half ends in a 0-0 draw.

At halftime, the players head back to the locker room. The coach grabs a whiteboard and starts talking to Azaki about something.

I’m on bench duty, helping the manager hand out squeeze bottles to the players, but I can’t shake the feeling that their eyes keep darting my way.

What the hell are they talking about?

After a bit, the coach walks over to me.

“Azaki’s throwing a fit.”

“A… fit?”

“Makijima, you’re going in for the second half.”

I glance at Azaki, and he’s grinning.

This guy… anything goes with him, huh?

♡♡♡

Watching a soccer match from the stands for the first time, I couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at the pitch.

The game itself is kind of boring—Koto University’s just passing the ball around endlessly. My eyes keep drifting to Makijima, who’s warming up behind the bench.

Makijima’s preparing properly.

Soccer doesn’t seem to allow as many substitutions as basketball, so like Aihara-san said, he’s probably coming on in the second half? Honestly, I don’t really get the rules, so I’m clueless about why the game keeps stopping sometimes (especially that “offside” thing).

When the first half ends, I’m still gawking at the pitch when Aihara-san pokes my shoulder.

“Do you watch soccer a lot, Sasaki-chan?”

“Uh, here and there? (I can’t exactly say I’ve only seen the high school championship final from a TV studio once.)”

“Really? So, do you have a favorite team?”

“Uh, um…”

I don’t know a single soccer team!

Come on, think of something, anything… Oh, right!

“Uh, Seijin Academy, maybe?”

“No way, a high school soccer fan?! Sasaki-chan, you’re such a connoisseur!”

“Haha…”

High school soccer fan? Is that even a category?

“…Oh, I get it! That’s why you and Makijima-kun ditched the group date together!”

“Huh?”

Why’s she bringing up the group date now?

“Makijima-kun’s from Seijin Academy, right? You must’ve bonded over being a Seijin fan! That’s it, isn’t it?”

“…Y-Yeah, something like that.”

We didn’t bond at all… but I’ll just nod for now.

“I see, I see! The day before yesterday, Makijima-kun was being all cryptic, so I thought you two had some weird thing going on. But it makes sense now—you’re connected through soccer too!”

Aihara-san nods to herself, totally convinced.

Did I somehow play that off smoothly? But… what the heck did Makijima say to her to sound so “cryptic”?

“Oh, the second half’s starting!”

“Second half? —Wait.”

There he is, number 18, shedding the green bib and stepping onto the pitch in a crimson uniform.

I let a small smile creep under my mask.

Until now, I’ve always been the one pushed forward, so I never knew, but the thrill of seeing your favorite person take the stage must feel something like this.

“He’s finally out there, Makijima-kun,” Aihara says.

“Y-Yeah!”

Makijima steps onto the pitch, talking with the curly-haired number 10.

He feels… different from the usual Makijima.

His lean, athletic frame.

His expression is dead serious, his gaze sharper than usual, and honestly, kind of cool.

This is Yutaro Makijima, who spent three years without making it to nationals and ended up here at Koto University—

“Makijima, you got this!”

☆☆

Since starting university, there have been three matches so far, and this is my second time playing.

In my first college match, I botched a trap, leading to a short counterattack and a goal against us, making me the scapegoat.

So today, there’s no way I can screw up.

Halftime ends, and I step back onto the field under a clear blue sky.

The spring breeze brushes the grass, and the players’ energy pulses in front of me.

Before the second half starts, the substitution is announced: number 9 out, number 18 in.

“Makijima.”

Azaki comes up from behind, sliding his hand across my butt with a sleazy grin.

“Hey! Quit doing creepy shit!”

“Just thought you were nervous. You should be thanking your best friend, you know.”

You got demoted from “best friend” to “trash guy” in my head a long time ago.

“If I hadn’t thrown a fit, you’d still be warming the bench, twiddling your thumbs.”

“That… might be true.”

“You saw Aihara-san in the stands, right? And that black-mask girl you took home from the group date… her name was, uh, Asakura-san?”

“It’s Sasaki. Your memory’s nonexistent, huh?”

“I can’t remember girls below an F-cup!”

“You’re unbelievably rude.”

“Anyway! Sasaki-san’s here too, so you better show off!”

Does this guy only see soccer as a way to look cool…?

That’s so Azaki, though.

“Show off, huh?”

I glance toward Sasaki.

Maybe she sensed me looking, because she meets my gaze and suddenly raises her index finger.

Feels like she’s saying, “Go score a goal, idiot.”

“Azaki, I’ve got a favor to ask. Cool with that?”

“Whoa, what’s with the serious tone? That’s rare for a goof like you.”

“You mean straight man. You’re the goof.”

“Huh?! I’m the goof?!”

“Shut up, you’re too loud.”

“So, what’s the favor?”

“You switch gears fast, don’t you?”

I clear my throat and lower my voice.

“Use me as the spearhead up top, no holding back. Grounders that hug the turf, loose floaters—doesn’t matter. I just want to make things happen in front of the goal.”

Azaki says, “Got it,” and walks off.

The whistle for the second half blares across the field, a mix of urgency and nerves, and the match resumes with the opponent’s kickoff.

I’ve got no luck and no talent.

I got into Seijin Academy, a soccer powerhouse, but in three years, I never once stepped onto a national stage.

Still, I didn’t give up. I kept working, sweating twice as hard as anyone else, shedding just as many tears.

It didn’t make me a pro, but it got me into Koto University, a top-tier soccer school.

These four years at university are my last shot at going pro. If I don’t do something here, it’ll be a repeat of high school—

“Why’s a scrub like Makijima Seijin’s number 9?!”

“Letting a guy that bad be the ace? Seijin’s really fallen.”

“Can’t even make nationals, let alone win? What a loser.”

I’m not going through those three years again…!

“Azaki! Get it to me!”

“Coming right up!”

The ball comes to my feet from Azaki as I position myself between the enemy center-backs.

The moment I receive it, the opposing captain, marked by his armband, barrels into me with force.

“Ugh…”

Even in a B-team match, a guy with the captain’s armband has serious core strength.

“Makijima, don’t overdo it!” Azaki calls out, lazily jogging up from behind as I battle for the ball.

Says the guy acting like it’s no big deal.

“Azaki!”

I pass it back to him and turn forward.

“Nice post-play, Makijima!”

Azaki takes the ball, drifts to the right flank with a dribble, and shakes off one, then another pursuing defender.

I cut diagonally to the left, scattering my markers and carving out space in front of the goal.

It’s only been a few weeks since we joined, but you’ve been with me the whole time, Azaki—you should know exactly what I’m thinking.

Come on, Azaki, get that ball to me!

Sensing my intent, Azaki slows his dribble and swings into a kick with his right foot.

“It’s coming in! Cover the near and far posts!”

Even from this far, it feels like Azaki’s only got eyes for me.

Here it comes!

A razor-sharp cross from Azaki’s right foot rockets toward the goal.

The ball’s coming right at my head.

Azaki, you nailed it—perfect pass!

“Hey! Number 18 at the far post is free!”

This is the short counter we worked on in practice. Azaki cuts in from the flank, drawing the defense, while I slip behind the center-backs with a diagonal run.

Can’t believe it worked this smoothly.

Thanks, Azaki… I knew my best friend had my back.

Now, I’ll head it into the net—

A white shadow suddenly flashes into my vision as I track the ball from the right.

A dull thud rings out, and the ball slips past the keeper’s hands, flying into the net.

My first college goal…!

“Hell yeah… huh?”

As I register the goal, a sharp pain shoots through my head.

My head feels heavy, and my vision starts spinning.

What’s this? I feel sick…

I glance around, and it’s weirdly chaotic.

Well, yeah, I scored, so of course it’s loud—but something’s wrong.

I look down and see red staining the green grass.

“Makijima! Hey! Call the medics, now!”

Azaki? Why’s he looking so serious?

More importantly, I scored—

Wait, my consciousness… it’s slipping away…