Final Chapter | Beyond the Miracle.

♢♢♢

I’ve always been on the watching side.

Admiring Tokyo Frontier, watching Makoto Kita’s exploits, dreaming that one day I’d play soccer here too, I kicked the ball.

“…Go in, please.”

The shot I unleashed from zero degrees struck the inside of the crossbar, sailed over the keeper’s head, and rippled the net.

For a moment, the stadium fell silent.

No wonder.

The play I just pulled off was beyond belief.

I’m aware enough to know I embodied the ideal move I’d pictured in my head.

What is this? It feels way too good…

[Tokyo Frontier 1 – 1 Koto University]

“Makijimaaaaa!”

Before I could even celebrate, a grinning Azaki leapt at me.

Only then did it sink in that I’d scored.

“Azaki… I did it, didn’t I?”

“No kidding! But what was that turn just now?! You’re usually terrible, but that was insane!”

“It’s all thanks to Ayane.”

“Love power, huh?”

“N-No… well, maybe not.”

“Ugh, you lovey-dovey types are so annoying.”

Since it’s just a tie, I head back to our half without a goal celebration.

As I pass by the Tokyo Frontier bench, my eyes meet Coach Kishihara’s.

I give a small bow, and the coach flashes a white-toothed smile.

I turn toward the Koto University away stands, clapping lightly to acknowledge their cheers.

This goal was my way of repaying Coach Kishihara and a gift for Ayane.

I can’t see her clearly from here, but she’s probably thrilled, right?

“Junior.”

Near the center circle, I cross paths with Makoto Kita.

“You remind me a lot of Shiro Takato.”

“Me, like Takato?”

“…You might just become like him.”

Kita takes the ball at the center circle and sets up.

Me… a world-class striker…

Nothing’s impossible, is it?

Then let’s start with this match… I’ll take the win.

♣♣♣

The moment Yutaro managed to keep the ball in play near the goal line, an image flashed through my mind.

The opposing defender closing in from behind Yutaro.

This situation… I’ve seen it in a video. The same as that team in the red uniforms.

The instant that thought hit me, Yutaro evaded the defender behind him with the exact same play I remembered, using a swift turn to break into the goal area.

“Makijima-kun, go for it!”

Yuzu-chan leans forward, shouting with all her might.

Go, Yutaro… score, my…

“Yutaro!”

Yutaro once said, “Only a true genius can score from a zero-degree angle in a real match.”

But if you have absolute confidence that you can do it, that you will do it, it transforms the impossible into the possible.

“In other words, only a true egotist can score from zero degrees.”

Yutaro dribbled in from the left zero-degree angle and unleashed a fierce right-footed shot.

It felt like time in the entire stadium froze for a moment.

That’s how captivated everyone was by Yutaro’s shot.

“…Go in.”

The shot struck the inside of the crossbar, bounced, and was sucked into the net.

Zero degrees—the realm of geniuses… a perfect goal that seemed to embody those very words.

It was the moment the genius talent of Yutaro Makijima, the one I fell for at first sight, fully blossomed.

“S-Sniff, Yutaroohhh~!”

“Hey, Ayane-chan! You’ve got a runny nose! Here, blow.”

Blow. “Oh, thanks, Yuzu-chan.”

“Don’t suddenly turn into a toddler, geez!”

I was crying my eyes out, not caring who saw.

As Yutaro returned to our half, he raised his arm and gave a light clap toward us.

Yutaro… when the match is over, I’ll praise you heaps and give you lots of kisses.

Because that’s what I can do for Yutaro.

…Though the part where I just want to is my little secret.

                           ♡♡♡

The first half, marked by an open, all-out brawl, came to an end, leading into halftime.

As we headed to the locker room, unusually, the coach silently ruffled my hair and gave me praise.

It was because Coach Murasaki stayed late for extra practice with me that I could pull off that shot.

“Repaying Kishihara with just that one goal isn’t enough, is it?”

“No, no matter how many goals I score, it won’t be enough.”

“…Heh, you’ve got guts for a first-year kid.”

Even though it’s the Emperor’s Cup, Tokyo Frontier brought their full-strength lineup.

Drawing 1-1 with their top-tier N1 squad in the first half is incredible by any standard.

This is the work of Koto University’s legendary coach, Murasaki—building the nation’s strongest university team by valuing individual clashes.

The players gathered in front of the whiteboard in the locker room as Coach Murasaki outlined the second-half strategy.

“The flow of the game showed we were too aggressive in the first half. In the second half, tighten the overall line, keep the distances between players close. Engaging in reckless counter-brawls and burning out our stamina will only favor the pros—it’s obvious. Focus on possession, and when the ball enters the vital area, break them down with direct play. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

There were no changes to the formation for the second half, and I took my position as the lone striker up top.

I gazed at a two-shot photo of me and Ayane tucked inside my locker.

Ayane…

I want to beat Tokyo Frontier and have Ayane welcome me with a smile.

Eat together, talk about something I need to discuss, and then sleep side by side.

“Makijima, time’s up, let’s go!”

“…Right.”

Called by Azaki, sweat dripping from his shaved head, I closed the locker.

“Azaki… what are you planning to do after the match?”

“Let’s see… I’ll probably call a few people to the hotel.”

“Even with that shaved head, you’ll get girls to come?”

“For guys, it’s not about looks—it’s about skill.”

Azaki is as creepy as ever.

“But you know, nothing beats the thrill of victory. Especially the ecstasy of a comeback win—that’s the ultimate high.”

“Yeah… can’t argue with that.”

I give Azaki a fist bump at the entrance to the pitch.

“You’re sweating buckets, but don’t get tired, Azaki.”

“You’d better watch it—keep thinking about Sasaki, and your shot might turn into a home run.”

This match, we’re winning it ourselves.

             ☆☆

What remains of the Emperor’s Cup third round is the second half’s 45 minutes.

If it ends in a draw, there’ll be an extra 30 minutes of overtime, and in about two hours, this match will be decided…

A win for Koto would be a massive upset. A win for Tokyo Frontier would preserve the pros’ dignity.

Before stepping onto the pitch, I scanned the stadium.

A lukewarm breeze swept across the field, while the overwhelming cheers of Tokyo Frontier sent shivers through my eardrums.

As I felt overwhelmed, someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

“Hey, Maki.”

“…K-Kishihara-san.”

It was Kishihara calling out from behind.

“Today’s match… are you enjoying it?”

“Yes! Thanks to you, Kishihara-san.”

“Heh, is that enjoyment more than the three years we spent together?”

“Kishihara-san… you’re sounding like a clingy girlfriend.”

“Shut it.”

Coach Kishihara said this while stroking his chin.

“Speaking of girlfriends… because of your girlfriend, my daughter’s been saying she’s absolutely going to be an idol. She’s talking about starting as a child actor and even auditioned for some theater agency or another.”

“The result?”

“She flunked spectacularly. And don’t you dare laugh—I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“Haha, with our current positions, kicking my ass would get you a red card.”

A casual, almost friend-like chat.

These are the days I’ve been waiting for, talking with Kishihara-san like this.

And at Tokyo Frontier’s home stadium, no less.

“Kishihara-san, even if I beat you, please don’t drown your sorrows in booze, okay?”

“Of course not. They say it’d be dangerous if I did.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… fatty liver.”

Fatty liver… huh.

I overestimated how serious it was.

“More importantly, Maki, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

“If Tokyo Frontier wins, let my daughter become your girlfriend’s apprentice.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a promise, got it?”

“Uh, sure…”

I’d offer to arrange it even if I win, but…

“Guess you’re pretty doting on your daughter, huh?”

“No father thinks his daughter isn’t cute. You’ll get it someday too.”

“I-I see…”

But this is so like Kishihara-san, in a way.

Still, just being able to have these kinds of conversations makes me happy.

I turn back toward the pitch.

“Well then, I’m off.”

“Right.”

Somehow, being sent off by Kishihara-san like this brings back that time.

Yes… it was a year ago.

The last match, when I couldn’t meet Kishihara-san’s expectations.

The final high school match, the Toyama Prefecture Tournament quarterfinals.

Trailing after conceding in the second half’s 45th minute, I managed to equalize with my only clear chance, only to lose in a penalty shootout.

“Maki… just lift your head.”

“…B-But! It’s because of me!”

“Lift your head!”

I couldn’t accept the result in front of me.

If I had been a striker who could score more goals, I could’ve taken Coach Kishihara to nationals…

The memory of those days when I was called the weakest number 9, unable even to reach the final championship…

“…But now it’s different.”

Coming to Koto, I tackled each challenge one by one.

Now is not like back then.

I will… become the strongest “number 9.”

♣♣♣

The second half, kicked off with Tokyo Frontier’s ball, turned into what could be called the Makoto Kita Show, with him touching the ball more frequently and starting to dictate the match’s pace.

A forward joining the midfield build-up… seriously?

Kishihara probably anticipated we’d play a more composed game in the second half and brought Makoto Kita, his frontline star, into the midfield construction.

“At this rate… Koto will collapse first.”

Koto has plenty of talented players, but whether that talent shines or falters depends on the midfield.

Our team’s attack hinges on the midfielder, Azaki, but while he was full of bravado before the pitch, he’s been wearing a grim expression since the second half began.

“Azaki…”

Throughout this match, Azaki’s been sweating buckets.

He’s been marking Kita, who drops into the midfield, and it’s clear he’s getting worn out from being dragged around.

I’d love to step in and take his place if I could…

Around the 18th minute of the second half, the game was halted when a Koto player’s head collided with an opponent’s, causing a break in play.

During this time, Azaki and the coach were deep in discussion near the bench.

A substitution, maybe?

As I watched Azaki, wondering, he approached me while glancing my way.

“Makijima.”

“Azaki… you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. If the coach told you to sub out—”

“If this keeps up, we can’t stop Kita. We’re switching to a 3-4-2-1 formation, and I’ll move to the attacking midfielder position.”

“Azaki, as the attacking midfielder…”

So that’s what he was discussing with the coach.

“But probably… like you said, I’ll be subbed off in a few minutes.”

“What…”

“Behind the bench, the senior attacking midfielder and defensive midfielder are already warmed up and ready.”

Sure enough, a senior looking ready to ditch his bib was waiting behind the bench.

“…So you’ve made up your mind.”

“It’s fine if I throw up. It’s fine if I look pathetic. But delivering the last pass to Yutaro Makijima is my job. Plus, it’ll be easier for me as an attacking midfielder.”

I’d secretly assumed we’d keep going with Azaki even into overtime.

“…Got it.”

The formation changed, and when play resumed, the moment the ball went to Kita, the three defenders’ gazes locked onto him.

Switching from a 2-back to a 3-back had completed the Kita containment net.

Kita tried to break through with his signature dribble, but in a physical battle, his smaller frame was at a disadvantage, and he attempted to pull the ball back.

“…Now’s the chance.”

My instincts sensed “it,” and I began preparing for a counterattack.

In soccer, choosing a negative option can be a matter of life and death.

There’s a saying, “End with a shot,” because reaching a shot is the ultimate positive conclusion in the game.

Failing to get to a shot and opting for a half-hearted back pass instead—that’s a dangerous move.

“Shoot—!”

Even the great Makoto Kita isn’t immune to mistakes.

It was a foul just shy of a penalty, happening right before the white line of the penalty area.

Azaki remained crouched in the right corner of the box, unable to get up.

“A… Azaki!”

Before I could rush over, a stretcher approached.

Azaki wore a pained expression.

“With your usual self, you’d have noticed a slide tackle from behind—why didn’t you?”

“Sorry, Makijima… my focus is shot. I deliberately took the foul thinking I couldn’t manage a pinpoint cross, but it looks like I twisted my ankle.”

Azaki gave a weak “haha” laugh before his face turned serious.

The pitch was in chaos over the red card decision.

Tokyo Frontier players swarmed the referee, protesting furiously.

True, the foul on Azaki wasn’t a clear goal-scoring opportunity (dogso), so a yellow might have been more fitting… but the dangerous tackle from behind undeniably justified the red.

While the protests escalated, Azaki received treatment, but the medical team signaled a cross to the bench, confirming his substitution.

As he was carried off, Azaki gripped my arm tightly one last time.

“Don’t lose, Makijima. No matter what.”

Azaki was then taken away on the stretcher.

At first, he was just an annoying guy.

From the pre-enrollment practices, he kept pestering me, throwing around crude jokes, acting like a show-off…

But if it weren’t for him, I’d still be floundering in soccer, and I might not have even met Ayane.

The mixer that turned my life 180 degrees wouldn’t have happened if Azaki hadn’t dragged me along.

My success story wouldn’t have started without Azaki.

He… gave me countless opportunities, not just in soccer, but in life too.

So———

“Makijima? What are you doing, facing the wall?”

“Senior, let me take this free kick.”

Azaki… with the last chance you gave me, I’ll settle everything with a goal.

Scoring is my job.

                       ♢♢♢

“C-Coach Kishihara… Yutaro Makijima is near the ball. Is there a chance he’ll take the free kick?”

“…”

I stood with my arms crossed, silently watching the pitch.

Maki shouldn’t have a free kick… or so I thought.

A free kick isn’t something you master overnight, nor is it something you can pull off on the spot like a comic book protagonist awakening mid-battle.

For three years, I drilled him in shooting and runs behind the defense, but I never taught him free kicks.

A free kick requires experience and instinct.

Only those who’ve learned from skilled players and practiced countless times can craft a perfect free kick.

So… Maki doesn’t have a free kick.

Based on the data, Koto’s free kicks are taken by either Azaki or number 10, Itsuhata.

With Azaki out, it’s undoubtedly Itsuhata who’ll take it… or so I thought.

The left-footed Itsuhata is setting up a run from the right, while the right-footed Makijima is approaching from the left.

Calm down, me… this must be a bluff suggesting Makijima might take it. Itsuhata’s the one kicking, for sure.

The moment the referee’s whistle blew, as expected, Itsuhata, who had set up from the right, started running first—!

“…!?”

Itsuhata ran past without taking the free kick.

So Itsuhata’s passing… which means…

Makijima, who had approached from the left, began his run, entered his shooting motion, and unleashed a fierce right-footed shot.

“No way…!”

The shot Makijima fired went straight into the wall of players, and the ball rolled toward the penalty arc directly in front of the goal.

“Could it be Maki’s plan was—!”

Was he aiming to hit the wall from the start to move the ball to his favored angle!?

But there’s no way Maki could pull off a stunt like that…!

Then, I remembered something I taught Maki back in his high school days.

             ☆☆

Kishihara-san taught me.

“Hey, Maki! This week’s extra practice is all about wall shots!”

“W-Wall shots… that’s just a kid’s game, isn’t it?”

“If you know where a shot will roll after hitting the wall or where the ball goes when the keeper punches it, you’d be unstoppable.”

“W-Well… that’s impossible, obviously.”

“Nothing’s impossible. You can make even that possible.”

That lesson from Kishihara-san back then is what’s connecting to me now.

I know how to strike the ball so it hits the wall and rolls toward the penalty arc.

So when I kicked it, I knew instantly it had worked.

The ball bounced off the wall in front of me and rolled toward the penalty arc directly in front of the goal. I retrieved it, pivoted on my right foot, and entered my shooting motion.

This is a mid-range shot distance-wise.

If it goes in, it’ll be a golazo; if I miss… it’s definitely a substitution for punishment.

A 10 or 0 gamble… and the kicker is my weaker left foot.

Unfavorable conditions.

But I… will turn the impossible into possible.

“…!”

I swung my left foot with all my might and fired the shot.

For some reason, my eyes drifted to my cleats at that moment.

Oh right, these cleats were a reward from Azaki after that mixer.

He knew my shoe size and even my favorite color.

Azaki… it’s tough and frustrating to think I won’t be playing with you for a while.

But if I keep relying on you, I’ll never become a full-fledged player on my own.

So.

“Make it…!”

Twisting my body, the arrow-like mid-range shot from my left foot flew straight toward the goal.

Even as I fell, I didn’t take my eyes off it.

This isn’t an easy shot.

But I’ve done tough things before.

In the match where Ayane first came to watch, I scored after crashing into the post, and in the showdown with the generation’s top forward, Ryushin Kanegawa, I barely edged him out near the sideline.

Even now… that’s right!

“…Go!”

A completely unexpected mid-range shot from a set piece.

The keeper, distracted by the free kick, couldn’t react in time.

“…!”

Even from this distance, I could hear it clearly.

The sound of the ball brushing the net.

“This is my current strength, Yutaro Makijima.”

“WAAAAAHHHHH!”

Cheers and screams echoed from the stands.

A tragedy for Tokyo Frontier.

But for Koto… a miracle.

I don’t remember what happened after I stood up.

“Shaaaaaaaahhh!”

I was lost in the roar of the crowd, just shouting uncontrollably.

[Tokyo Frontier 1 – 2 Koto University]

The rest of the match shifted to a strategy of protecting that one-goal lead, with Koto putting their bodies on the line to hold firm.

And then—

“It’s over…”

The final whistle blew in the frenzied Tokyo Frontier Stadium, and the exhausted players began collapsing one by one.

Of course… me included.

The stadium lights were so bright I had to squint.

“This is football, Maki.”

Kishihara-san offered me a hand as I lay there.

“Kishihara-san… I’ve gotten pretty good, haven’t I?”

“Still got a ways to go. Mishiro Takato was pulling off better plays at your age.”

“Bragging about your old student to cover your loss? Lame.”

“Shut it.”

Kishihara helps me up, and we face each other.

“Heard the U22 Japan coach, Percozinho, is here today. You made a hell of an impression, Maki.”

“No way, for real?”

As I ask, Kishihara flashes a toothy grin.

“Coach Kishihara! It’s bad form to hit the pitch before lineup’s done!” Kita Makoto chimes in from the side.

“Quiet, Kita. I’m talking to Maki.”

“Seijin Academy reunion, huh?” Kita says.

“Kita-san…”

“Congrats, kouhai. You win.”

I shake hands with Kita Makoto, the striker I’ve always idolized.

“Coach, why not make this kouhai a special designated player?” Kita suggests.

Me, a special designated player for Tokyo Frontier!? That’s a contract letting college players register for pro matches.

“No way. Maki’s not there yet,” Kishihara says, brushing it off and heading back to the bench.

“Kishihara-san!”

“What?”

“That letter you gave me said you wanted to work together.”

“…”

“I’ll get there soon. Wait for me.”

“If you’ve got that confidence, that’s enough for now, Maki.”

Kishihara leaves with that.

“Let’s line up,” Kita says.

“Yeah.”

After the post-match lineup, Koto’s players head to the away stands to greet fans.

“MAKIJIMA-KUN!”

Girls’ cheers ring out, but I’m looking for Ayane.

“…There she is.”

Ayane’s crying, getting her nose wiped by Aihara.

God, what a kid… She’s older than Aihara, too.

Like against Odawara United, I send a heart to Ayane. She returns one, crying but smiling.

Winning the match is great, but this feels even better.

“Makijima-san! Makijima-san!”

“Huh?”

As I grin to myself, a TV crew guy calls me over. I head to the interview stand with a female interviewer holding a mic.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Today’s MVP, Makijima Yutarou!”

“Me, really?”

The crowd laughs at my response.

“Anyway! Makijima-san, that zero-degree-angle shot for the first goal and the opposite-foot mid-range shot for the second—were those from practice?”

“Not exactly, but the buildup from practice paid off in the game.”

“Beating Tokyo Frontier in a giant-killing upset! You’re sure to hit the sports headlines. And with your looks, you’ll gain plenty of female fans, right?”

What kind of question is that? Ask me about soccer.

“I’d be happy if people see Koto’s soccer through me.”

“Thank you! Finally, you’re currently the Emperor’s Cup top scorer. Aiming for the scoring title and the championship?”

That’s more like it.

I grab the mic, facing Tokyo Frontier’s supporters.

“Absolutely. I’m going for the scoring title and the Cup—to repay Coach Kishihara, who mentored me, and one day, give back to Tokyo Frontier, who raised me until middle school.”

The Frontier fans give me a huge ovation.

“Makijima-kun! Go out with me!”

“Makijima, we’re waiting!”

“Pair up with Kita for a two-top!”

The cheers don’t stop.

☆☆

After the match, we return to Koto University for a quick meeting and disband.

They told us Azaki’s out with an ankle ligament injury—months to recover. Koto’s A-team revolves around him, so with the Emperor’s Cup and college tournaments ahead, it’s a big blow.

But on the flip side, it’s a chance to see how far I can go alone.

“Alright, gotta step up for Azaki.”

I pump myself up and leave the university.

It’s dark out now.

My goals are probably on the evening news.

“Yuu-taro?”

A voice calls from the shadow of the university gate.

Of course, it’s…

“Ayane! You waited!?”

“Yup!”

I ask excitedly, and she nods with a perfect smile.

I’m way too happy. Since the match ended, I’ve been dying to see her, and it’s got me hyped.

Ayane, in her usual disguise glasses, laces her fingers with my left hand, walking beside me.

“Yutarou, you were grinning at all those fangirls, weren’t you?”

“No way! You’re the most important to me. I don’t even think about other girls!”

“I-I know. I was just teasing, but you’re too serious!”

“You get jealous and misunderstand so easily.”

“I don’t! I know you only look at me.”

Walking home, Ayane suddenly pulls me in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wanna stop there?”

She leads me to the riverside where we slipped away during the mixer.

At night, it’s empty, quiet except for the faint sound of a passing train.

“When we first met, we escaped to this riverside,” I say.

“Only two months ago, but it feels like forever,” Ayane replies.

We’ve packed so much into that time, it feels longer.

A regular mixer, and I end up with a former top idol, a national treasure-level beauty. No wonder I was shocked.

“Yutarou, are you glad it was me?”

“Huh?”

“Happy you picked me up at the mixer?”

“Of course. Meeting you changed me. Thank you, Ayane.”

She grins, embarrassed, as I thank her.

“Oh, you said you had something to tell me after the match, right?”

“You did too, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yutarou, you go first. You’re the guy.”

“Fine, fine.”

Say it, Yutarou.

“I’m gonna make it pro, and…”

Tell her how you feel.

“When I do… let’s get married!”

I said it…

“T-That’s a proposal!”

“Yeah, I wanted to say it now. I’m serious about you, thinking marriage.”

“I know… I wanna be with you forever too.”

Her words nearly break my tear ducts.

“But if you, all lovey-dovey with me, start chasing other girls, I won’t forgive you. Especially Yuzu-chan.”

“I won’t! I swear!”

“What if you like Yuzu-chan’s chest more?”

“Yours is the best! Perfect shape, perfect size—”

“Don’t argue that so hard!”

Ayane pinches my cheek.

“Ow…”

“Pervert! No touching for a while!”

“Seriously?”

No need to get mad over that…

“So, what’s your thing? I said mine, your turn.”

“Y-Yeah… um…”

Ayane hesitates, then starts.

“I’m gonna work at an idol agency.”

An idol agency!?

“Like, producing idols?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you… worried about money?”

“It’s not that! I can’t move forward just living in hiding. You’re pushing ahead every day, and I don’t wanna be stuck standing still!”

“Ayane…”

“So, I want you to support me.”

She’s found her next dream.

“Got it. I’ll cheer you on.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You always support me, and I’m thrilled you’ve got a new goal.”

“Yutarou…”

Her eyes tear up as she grips my hand tighter.

“Hey, Yutarou, say ‘I love you’ ten times.”

“Love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you.”

“What do I want right now?”

“A kiss?”

“Bzzt! A kiss and a hug!”

She throws her arms around me, tiptoes, and presses her soft lips to mine.

Testing our love, she pulls back and kisses again, soon turning into a passionate makeout.

“W-We’re going too far, even if no one’s around,” I say.

“It’s your fault!”

“Don’t blame me!”

“Hmph… then we’ll continue at home, okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

We leave the riverside, holding hands again.

I went to that mixer for numbers and ended up with a former top idol, a national treasure beauty.

She’s an amazing singer, cute in looks and personality.

A pancake fiend, cooks like a pro but makes double portions.

She’s quirky, but that’s what I love.

“Yutarou, make me happy.”

“I promise.”

Life’s got its tough moments.

But with Ayane, I’m confident we can overcome anything.