CHAPTER 57:- Attack on Haruya (lossing confidence)
The first match had already run its full, punishing course.
Ninety minutes of unrelenting pressure, heavy challenges, and increasingly ragged breathing left the turf scarred and the players drenched. Hoshizora International's final goal—a sharp, low drive curled into the far bottom corner—came in the eighty-eighth minute and sealed it. The whistle blew. The scoreboard updated without ceremony.
*Hoshizora International – 20
*Kurogane Technical High – 11
Kurogane's name blinked once in red and disappeared from the bracket. Eliminated.
The stadium settled into a low, expectant hum.
The announcer's voice returned, carrying a fresh edge of anticipation.
"And with that, Hoshizora advances. But now we turn to the second match of the morning bracket: Sakura High versus Seiran Academy. The northern lions against the rising unknowns. One school carries a reputation built on years of dominance; the other arrives with a single, extraordinary difference. Let's see who claims the next match forward."
The words hung for a moment before the tunnel speakers crackled again.
Inside the Sakura High team restroom, the air felt thicker than usual.
Reina stood in front of a small whiteboard she had dragged into the center of the room, marker in hand, voice steady and measured.
"Seiran will press high from the start—4-3-3, aggressive man-marking. Their #8 and #10 will try to collapse the midfield quickly. M15, you shadow their left winger and block the channel to their #10. M12, stay wide and pull their full-back out of position. M32…"
She looked directly at Haruya.
"…you drop deeper when we lose the ball. Let them commit, then turn and find the vertical pass. We don't take risks with you. If anyone gets too close, we swarm immediately. Clear?"
Heads nodded around the room.
Saeko sat on the bench opposite Haruya, elbows on knees, chin resting on her laced fingers. She wasn't listening to Reina's tactical breakdown. Not really. Her eyes never left his face. She studied the faint line of concentration between his brows, the quiet way haruya breathed through his nose, the soft fall of his hair across his forehead. It was as though she were trying to commit every detail to memory before the match took him away from her line of sight.
She blinked slowly, once. That was all.
Across the stadium, in Seiran Academy's locker room, the mood was colder and heavier.
Captain Kira Hashimoto stood with her back to the lockers, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her teammates sat in a semicircle, silent, eyes on the floor or on her.
"We do not lose this match," she said, each word clipped. "We do not lose to a school that thinks putting a boy lie for attention makes them special. Our name means something. If we allow ourselves to be embarrassed today—if any one of you plays below the standard we've set—remember what waits when we return to school. I will make sure every single one of you feels it regret lossing against them."
She let the threat settle, then straightened.
"No mercy. No excuses. We end this win quickly as possible."
The referee's signal came through the speakers.
Both teams filed out of the tunnel.
Seiran emerged first—blue-and-silver kits sharp under the lights, formation tight and disciplined. The northern stands rose in a coordinated wave of chants. The jumbotron flashed their names, their stats, their history.
Then Sakura High stepped into the open.
The change in atmosphere was immediate and unmistakable.
A ripple of murmurs spread outward from the nearest stands. Heads turned. Phones lifted. A few gasps cut through the noise.
The jumbotron lingered on the group for several long seconds before settling—inevitably—on Haruya.
Black hair moving gently in the breeze, features soft yet composed, eyes calm and forward-focused. A boy. On a competitive field. In uniform.
The murmurs became a swell.
Then screams.
Pure, disbelieving delight when they see a boy.
"IT'S A BOY THEY REALLY DIDN'T LIE TO US!"
"HE'S REAL!"
"Look at him… he's so beautiful…"
The northern fans who had been drumming for Seiran now falteredon haruya charm. Some switched chants mid-breath. Phones flashed in waves. The energy of the stadium tilted visibly—thousands of eyes locked on one figure.
Even on the Seiran side of the pitch, several players froze for a heartbeat. A few stared openly, cheeks coloring, thoughts drifting to impossible after-match :Seiran players decide they will ask this beautiful boy number , for a quiet conversation.
Kira Hashimoto reacted in an instant.
She turned sharply and delivered a crisp, open-palmed slap to the cheek of the nearest teammate. The sound carried.
"Eyes front," she hissed. "If any of you lose this match because your head is in the clouds dreaming about that boy, I will personally make sure you regret it for the rest of your lives."
She faced the Sakura bench, voice rising enough to be caught by nearby microphones.
"They think we're weak enough to lose to a boy? That's why they brought him. They'll regret it."
The referee placed the ball at the center circle.
A short, sharp blast.
M7 from Sakura high kicked off.
The ball rolled forward, controlled.
Seiran's #6 stepped in quickly, intercepting and firing it back toward their half. Another blue shirt collected, turned, and sent a long diagonal toward the Sakura goal.
M15—Saeko—moved like instinct. She met the attacker shoulder-to-shoulder, forcing a heavy first touch. The ball bobbled.
M12 pounced, took one clean touch, then struck a rising volley from distance.
The keeper dove—fingertips grazed leather—but the ball clipped the crossbar and spun away. Corner.
Sakura reset.
Reina—M16—took the corner short, exchanged a quick one-two with M9, then lifted a precise ball into the box.
Haruya—M32—dropped off the last defender, received with his back to goal.
Two Seiran players closed.
He felt their momentum commit.
A quick step-over with the right foot dragged the ball left in a deceptive arc; the left foot snapped it right in the same motion—the elastico executed clean and sharp.
The first defender lunged and missed. The second slid—too late.
Haruya was through.
One touch to settle the spin. A glance up. Keeper slightly off his line.
He chipped it—soft, delicate, perfectly weighted.
The ball floated over outstretched gloves and dropped into the net with a thud.
1–0.
The stadium held its breath for half a second.
"Seiran team player can't able to process, what just happened right now infront of there eyes"
Then the roar came—louder, wilder, more astonished than before.
Akari, standing in the team section, allowed herself the smallest, proudest curve of her lips.
Yuzuki Arai beside her clenched her fist until her knuckles paled.
Coach Yamamoto, on the bench, simply nodded once, eyes bright.
Ayame leapt to her feet in the stands, hands cupped around her mouth.
"Haruya! HARUYA!!"
In the shadowed privacy of block C-3, row three—every surrounding seat deliberately empty—Miyahara Yume sat motionless beneath her cap and mask.
Her gloved fingers tightened on the armrest.
A single quiet breath escaped her.
"I knew it," she whispered, voice barely audible even to herself.
"My love is special. No boy in this world can match him."
---
—Reina defence haruya
The second half unfolded like a slow, inevitable unraveling.
Seiran's once-coordinated press dissolved into frantic, individual efforts. Passes that had been crisp in the first half now floated aimlessly or went straight to Sakura feet.
Midfielders hesitated before closing down, full-backs dropped deeper instead of stepping up, and even their keeper began punching clearances rather than distributing with confidence.
Every time the ball found Haruya, the score board converged in greater numbers—three, sometimes four—but the result was always the same: a quick turn, a subtle body feint, a clean pass, and another goal added to the board.
By the sixty-eighth minute the score stood at 13–0.
Sakura's eighth goal came from a simple sequence Reina had drilled earlier: a quick turnover in midfield, Reina threading the ball vertically between two Seiran center-backs, Haruya taking it in stride and finishing with a low, driven shot into the bottom corner. The keeper got a hand to it but couldn't keep it out.
The stadium had gone quiet in places—not from boredom, but from a kind of stunned disbelief. The northern fans who had arrived chanting for their lions now sat mostly silent, some filming on their phones, others simply staring like a stalker do.
Kira Hashimoto felt every second of it like needles under her skin.
Her breathing had turned shallow and sharp. Sweat stung her eyes, but she refused to blink. Every missed interception, every goal conceded, every time Haruya glided past her teammates felt like a personal failure she could not accept. She had spent years forging Seiran into a machine of dominance; now that machine was coming apart because of one boy who moved like the game was a private conversation between him and the ball.
She could no longer contain it.
During the restart after the 13 goal, as Haruya jogged back to the halfway line with his usual unhurried pace, Kira broke ranks. She stormed forward, cleats digging deep furrows in the grass, eyes fixed on him with raw fury.
"You're cheating!" she shouted, voice cracking across the pitch. "How can a boy play like this? It's impossible! You're all cheaters—hiding that you are a girl instead of a boy, using him or her as a shield! This isn't football!"
She accelerated, shoulder lowered, closing the distance as though she could physically intimidate the ball away from him—or force him off the field by sheer will.
Reina saw the movement three steps before it became dangerous.
She moved without hesitation.
Two quick strides placed her directly in Kira's path. Reina's hand closed around the Seiran captain's wrist before she can attack on haruya—with unyielding strength. The grip was precise, almost clinical, fingers locking just above the pulse point.
The stadium noise dropped away in an instant. A bubble of silence formed around the two girls.
Reina leaned in slightly, her face calm, eyes level with Kira's. Her voice was low—too low for most microphones to catch clearly—but the words carried the weight of absolute certainty.
"If your hand touches him," she said, "I will seprate it from your body."
No raised tone. No theatrical flourish. Just a quiet statement, delivered like a promise that had already been decided.
Kira froze.
Her wrist trembled in Reina's hold. Color drained from her face. A second later, warmth spread down the inside of her between her legs—her shorts, she make them wet in fear , The sharp, acrid scent reached the grass. Her knees buckled slightly; she would have fallen if Reina's grip hadn't held her upright for that brief moment.
The referee's whistle pierced the silence.
Play stopped.
Officials jogged over. The fourth official raised the red card almost before the head referee finished scribbling in his notebook.
"Direct red card—attempted violent conduct toward a protected participant," the announcer intoned, voice flat and official. "Seiran Academy captain Kira Hashimoto is dismissed. Due to repeated breaches of conduct and immediate safety concerns for a protected male athlete, Seiran Academy is disqualified from this tournament."
The northern stands—once thunderous—fell into stunned quiet. A few scattered boos rose, but they were quickly drowned by murmurs of shock.
Sakura High was awarded the win by forfeit.
The official final score was recorded as *15–0*—reflecting the margin already established before the incident.
Sakura advanced.
Reina released Kira's wrist the moment the red card was confirmed. She turned immediately to Haruya, expression shifting from cold resolve back to gentle concern.
"Are you okay?" she asked, stepping close enough that her voice stayed just between them. "Did she make contact? Any pain? I can take you to the medical room right now if you need it haruya."
Haruya shook his head, offering her the same small, warm smile he gave everyone who worried about him.
"I'm fine, Reina. Thank you—for stepping in like that. Really."
In his mind, a quiet thought passed: *Even if she hadn't reached me in time, I would have sidestepped. But I'm glad she was there.*
He kept it to himself.
The referee signaled the end of proceedings.
The announcer returned, steady despite the disruption.
"Sakura High advances to the next round. The upcoming match will feature Akebono Comprehensive versus Takara Women's Institute."
As the teams left the pitch, the stands remained abuzz—half in shock at the disqualification, half in lingering awe at what they had just witnessed.
In the team section, Akari's hands stayed clenched at her sides, nails digging half-moons into her palms. Her breathing was controlled, but the anger simmered beneath it like a low flame. If she ever learned Kira Hashimoto's full name outside this arena… the thought did not finish in words. It didn't need to.
In block C-3, row three—every seat around her deliberately empty—Miyahara Yume remained motionless beneath her cap and mask.
Her gloved fingers had not left the armrests since Reina's grip closed on Kira's wrist.
Her breathing stayed shallow, measured.
If anyone ever threatened haruya-sama again…
The rest of the sentence lived only in silence, heavy and final.
---
—After match end
The Sakura High team filed into the restroom beneath the stands, the door clicking shut behind the last player. The air still carried the faint scent of grass and sweat from the pitch.
Akari, Ayame, Yuzuki Arai, and Coach Yamamoto were already waiting—having hurried down from their viewing spots the moment the final whistle sounded. They moved as one when Haruya stepped inside.
Akari reached him first, eyes scanning him head to toe with quiet intensity.
"Are you okay?" she asked, voice low but firm. "Did she make contact? Anyinjury at all?"
Yuzuki Arai stepped up beside her, brow furrowed.
"Haruya—tell us honestly. That girl came straight for you. Are you hurt?"
Ayame hovered just behind, hands clasped tightly, eyes wide with worry.
"Haruya-sama… please. Even a little bruise? Anything?"
Haruya set his water bottle on the bench and shook his head gently, offering them all the same small, reassuring smile.
"No, really—I'm fine. She didn't touch me. Reina stepped in before anything happened. I'm not hurt at all."
He looked between them, voice soft.
"Thank you for worrying. But I promise, I'm okay."
The tension in the room eased slightly. Akari exhaled once, shoulders loosening a fraction. Yuzuki nodded slowly. Ayame's hands unclenched.
Coach Yamamoto gave a quiet, proud hum.
"Good lad. Now rest up. Next round's coming fast."
Haruya nodded, sitting on the bench as the others began to gather around—still watching him closely, still protective, but the immediate fear fading into quiet relief.
—To be continued…
---
Author's Note 🧾
Hey everyone, my dear readers,
I'm really sorry for not keeping my promise this time 😔. I said I'd make the chapter longer and dive deeper into the action, but honestly… I just ran out of fresh ideas for how to stretch this part without it feeling forced or repetitive. I hate when that happens to me, and I know some of you were really looking forward to more detailed match scenes.
So I've decided to speed up the pacing of this tournament arc a little. The next chapter will wrap it up properly—you'll get to see Haruya's team in the following match too like this one, so the arc doesn't end on a cliffhanger. I just want to make sure the story keeps moving forward and stays exciting instead of dragging in one place.
If anything in this chapter felt confusing (timeline, scores, character actions, whatever), please tell me in the comments. I read every single one and I'll fix or explain what I can. Your feedback honestly helps me more than you know.
Also… if you're a new reader who just started this story, it would mean the world if you could drop a quick review or even just a comment saying what you like so far, what confused you, or what you're hoping to see next. It really helps me understand how the story lands for fresh eyes and what kind of moments connect best. No pressure at all—just if you feel like it.
Thank you so much for sticking with me, even when I stumble. Your support (comments, likes, patience) is what keeps me writing every day.
Next chapter coming soon — promise it'll deliver the match energy you've been waiting for.
All my love,
—king_fuzu_