Kapitel 67: Ryuji's First Sprint

The energy on the field was brimming with both anxiousness and excitement, a living pulse that connected every player, every spectator, and every blade of grass beneath their feet.

Sota stood at the center of it all, his eyes scanning his teammates as they gathered around him on the sidelines. The moment had arrived—everything they had trained for, every ounce of sweat and determination, was about to be tested on this field.

He took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs, steadying the rapid beating of his heart. The jersey clung to his skin, a reminder of the weight he carried not just as a player, but as the leader—the quarterback. The king of plays.

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Sota's voice cut through the ambient noise, sharp and clear. The team turned their attention to him, their eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and anticipation. "This is our moment, but we're not going to rush it."

"We'll start by assessing the situation, get a feel for how they play. We're going on the defensive first—wait for them to show their hand, and then we strike. Still, that doesn't mean we'll be sitting ducks. If opportunity calls, we seize it."

A chorus of nods and quiet affirmations met his words. Sota looked each of them in the eye, seeing their resolve, their trust in him. This was the team he had been waiting for, the one that had the potential to shake things up, to prove that Seiryuu High wasn't just a name on a bracket.

"The wheels of fate had spun and we're in the crux of it," he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he locked eyes with Kaminari. "We stick to our game plan. Let's make every move count."

With a final nod, they broke the huddle and jogged onto the field, the weight of the stadium lights bearing down on them. The opposing team, Daikyo Academy, was already lined up, their confidence palpable. They were one of the top sixteen schools, a team with a reputation, and they knew it. But Sota wasn't fazed. This was just the beginning.

The ref's whistle echoed across the field, and the game began.

As the teams lined up for the first play, Sota crouched low, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze locked onto Daikyo's quarterback. Daikyo had won the coin toss and chosen to start on offense, just as Sota had hoped. He wanted to see how they moved, how they thought, before making his own moves.

He counted in his head, silently ticking off the seconds as the quarterback barked out commands.

"Three… two… one…"

Fwip~!

It was a clean snap, and the ball flew into the quarterback's hands. Sota didn't move immediately. He held back, watching, analyzing. His teammates stuck to their assignments, each defender glued to their man. The tension was thick, every muscle coiled like a spring, ready to explode into action.

But Kaminari was different. Even in the brief moments before the play began, Sota had sensed his teammate's restlessness, the way he vibrated with barely contained energy. Kaminari wasn't just here to play—he was here to make a statement.

Sota saw it happen before it even began. Kaminari's eyes narrowed, his body tensed, and then, like a bolt of lightning, he broke from his position. The decision was instinctual, a primal surge that propelled him forward. Kaminari didn't hesitate. He didn't second-guess. He just moved.

Daikyo's quarterback, confident and perhaps a little too relaxed, never saw him coming. Kaminari cut through the offensive line with a ferocity that stunned the crowd. The quarterback's eyes widened as Kaminari bore down on him, his footsteps pounding against the turf like the rapid beat of a war drum.

"Rghhh!" Kaminari's grunt of exertion was lost in the roar of the crowd as he closed the distance. The quarterback panicked, his calm demeanor cracking under the pressure. He had no choice but to throw, and throw he did—too early, too rushed. The ball spiraled through the air, a desperate attempt to salvage the play.

But Kaminari had already read him. In that split second, he knew exactly where the ball was headed. Without missing a beat, Kaminari twisted his body, changing direction with an agility that defied belief. His eyes locked onto the ball, tracking its trajectory, and time seemed to slow. Every heartbeat felt like an eternity, every footstep a measured calculation.

The crowd held its breath.

Kaminari's hands shot up, his fingers closing around the ball with a satisfying smack. He had intercepted it.

The stadium erupted in a cacophony of cheers and gasps as Kaminari pivoted on his heel, the ball cradled securely in his grasp. The world around him blurred, the only thing that mattered now was the end zone. He dug his cleats into the turf, muscles straining as he took off like a bullet from a gun. Every nerve in his body was alight with adrenaline, driving him forward, faster and faster.

Step. Step.

Sota watched in awe as Kaminari sprinted down the field. His teammate's speed was blinding, a blur of motion that left Daikyo's defenders scrambling to catch up. But it was too late—Kaminari had a clear shot to the end zone, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him.

Each step felt like a thunderclap, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. The sounds of the crowd, the pounding of his heart, the thud of his feet against the turf—all of it melded together into a singular focus. Nothing else mattered.

Ten seconds. That was all it took.

Kaminari crossed the goal line, the ball tucked securely against his chest. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, the adrenaline that coursed through him like wildfire. He had done it—he had scored a touchdown on the very first play.

TOUCHDOWN!

Kaminari skidded to a stop in the end zone, his chest heaving as he held the ball high above his head. The stadium lights glinted off his sweat-slicked skin, his eyes wide with the realization of what he had just accomplished. The silence before the eruption of cheers was electric, a split second where time seemed to freeze before the world exploded into sound.

"YEAHHH!" Kaminari's shout of triumph cut through the noise, a primal roar that echoed in the hearts of his teammates.

Right behind everyone, Sota couldn't help but grin, his earlier tension melting away. Kaminari had just sent a message to Daikyo Academy and to every other team watching—Seiryuu High wasn't here to be underestimated.

The rest of the team rushed to greet Kaminari, their excitement emphasized as they swarmed around him, slapping his back and shouting their congratulations. Kaminari, still breathless from his run, could only grin in response, his usual calm exterior cracked by the sheer joy of the moment.

With a huge smile that hugged the lower part of his face, Sota jogged over, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. "Nice job, Kaminari," he said, his voice steady but filled with pride. "That's how you make a statement."

Kaminari nodded, still catching his breath. "Just doing my part," he replied, his smile wide and genuine. "But I gotta say, that felt pretty damn good."

The team gathered around Sota, their adrenaline still high from Kaminari's unexpected play. "Alright," Sota began, his voice commanding their attention once more.

"We've drawn first blood, but this game is far from over. Let's keep our heads in it. Stick to the plan, and we'll make sure they know exactly who we are."

There was a collective murmur of agreement, the team's focus sharpening once again. The fire in their eyes was undeniable—they were ready to take on whatever Daikyo threw at them next.

As they returned to their positions, the reality of the situation settled in for Daikyo Academy. Their confidence had been shaken, their underestimation of Seiryuu High turned against them in the most spectacular way. The game was only just beginning, but the message was clear: Seiryuu High wasn't just here to play—they were here to win.

The rest of the match was going to be a battle, a test of skill, strategy, and sheer determination. But as Sota took his place on the field, the weight of the game felt lighter. He knew now, without a doubt, that they had the heart, the drive, and the talent to take on even the top teams.

This was their time.

And they weren't going to let it slip through their fingers.