"I've heard of them."

Seated in the blindsight of the main field conducting the annual Sports Festival, I held my phone to my ear, engaged in conversation with Rin-Rin.

"You have?"

"The 'Beautician Boyz', right?" Rin-Rin said. He was currently on break between recording for his new album, which left him a lot of time to answer my arbitrary questions. "They're involved with plenty of Japanese celebrities. A bunch of my colleagues mention how flawless their work is. Even my stylist even looks up to the work of one of the members. I think it's because they're so young, they're a popular spectacle. Popular or not, though, they're still ways away from being entirely wedged in the industry."

I hummed. Kiharu had mentioned them being involved with celebrities, but I hadn't actually expected it to be true.

"Why're you asking about them, anyway?" Rin-Rin said. "You usually don't care about stuff like this."

"I don't," I agreed. "Just, a classmate told me about them yesterday. Apparently they all go to my school—two of them are even my classmates—which couldn't help get me thinking, you know."

He was quiet for a moment.

"That doesn't make me very happy."

"Huh? How come?"

"If you're surrounded by that many amazing people, where does that leave me? I thought I was a head above everyone else. But I can't compete with them if they're actually by your side every day!"

I giggled at the prospect.

"You worry about the weirdest things, Rin-Rin. It's not like I'm actually close with them."

"There's no guarantee you won't be in the future!"

I imagined him with his puffed up cheeks—a habit of his from old times. I smiled. How was it that simply chatting with him on the phone, he could make my days so much brighter?

"Even more reason for you not to worry." I tugged my knees to my chest and planted my cheek upon my kneecaps. "I have no intention of loving or supporting any celebrity as much as you."

"R—really?"

"Really."

"You'll only show me your affection?"

"As much of it as you want."

"Yay! You're the best, Shii!" he cheered, back to full spirits.

I laughed again, picturing his ear-wide grin. He'd forever be a simpleton.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you, okay? I'll do my best to make sure you don't regret supporting me. I'll make it so that you won't ever want to look at anyone else but me!"

I wanted to tell him that was my current reality, but he'd already been summoned by someone else, leaving him to say goodbye and end the call there. I eyed his name on my screen long after it ended. He was giving it his all. I needed to, too. I couldn't go on feeling sorry for myself forever.

I'd make the most of what I had in the present, instead of thinking ifs and buts.

"Shiina."

I glanced up to find Tsumugi poking her head into the area I'd stowed away at.

"The final round for the soccer tournament is about to start."

Shoving my device into my bag, I scrambled to my feet. "O-oh, yeah. Sorry. You didn't have to come get me."

Tsumugi smiled. "It's fine. I don't mind. By the way, Kiharu said if you don't get to the field within the next minute, you're going to be stuck polishing everyone's sneakers."

"Wh-why didn't you say that sooner?"

I dashed at that. Considering my long legs and athletic aptitude, I made it there in ten seconds, with no air in my lungs and my heart an erratic mess.

"Look who's finally here," Kiharu, the captain of the class 1–B team, stood front and centre to the row of girls who looked at me like a piece of gum stuck underneath their shoes. "If you're not serious about this tournament, why'd you sign up?"

Although I could've mentioned it was Hachi and Naru who had scribbled my name since I told them to sign me up for whatever, but I decided against it. Instead, I said, "Doesn't matter. Let's aim for the win."

"Don't steal my thunder as captain," Kiharu rebuked and faced the girls. "We made it this far. Only one game to go. Let's aim for the win, team!"

Cheers resounded. They elevated their fists in accordance with Kiharu. Rolling at my eyes at the obvious difference in treatment, I slunk towards the benches where everyone had unloaded their belongings. I guess I should be grateful I wasn't on the boys team for once. As a school wide function, my peers weren't given much of a choice, so they were stuck with me. Not that I particularly minded. No matter what I was signed up for, I agreed to go along with it. So far, the other matches in the first year soccer tournament had ended in victory for our class, but I'd been benched all preceding games. I'd probably be benched for this game, too. Oh, well. I'd just eat an early lunch while the rest of them worked a sweat to win this thing.

At least, that was what I was convinced of. So when the game commenced, I slipped out what I'd prepared this morning and began to stuff my face in the blindsight of the supervising teachers. Unfortunately, the moment I took my third bite, the whistle blew, and I learned—rather awkwardly—that amidst my piggy behaviour, one of the members of my team had sprained her ankle in a tackle for the ball. She had to be carried to the bench by multiple people, and upon arriving, all of them had given me—the girl with two sandwiches halfway down her throat—the most disgusted look in existence.

I was smacked mercilessly at the back of the neck.

"Dumbass! What're ya' doing at a critical time like this?"

It was Kiharu. And she'd singlehandedly caused me to choke and suffocate.

"Wash it down with water." She tossed a bottle at my face. "Yer playing offence. Put on a pinny and get in."

She didn't wait for me to gulp down the water and clear my airways, and for me to regain my breath. I scowled at her immensely but with all the pointed stares in my direction, I was left no choice but to switch into the appropriate colour jersey and jog onto the field.

"You have a nasty personality," I told Kiharu once arriving to her side.

"Like I haven't heard that one before," she scoffed. "Don't be deadweight, all right? I want gold."

"I've seen you play. You should be more worried about yourself holding this team back."

Kiharu spat.

The referee huffed into the whistle, and an ear-piercing squeal resounded. As we had the kickoff, Kiharu passed me the ball. I hadn't expected it, seeing how badly she was mouthing off to me right before, so I fumbled. My hesitation cost us the ball—the other team shoving past me with precise coordination.

"As soon as I tell ya'!" Kiharu snapped, booking to intercept it.

Head scalded my cheeks. She was seriously so hard to read. She was so hostile a few seconds ago. If she wanted to rely on me, she should've been a lot clearer. Then again, the fact that she relied on me—could I take it positively? Had she thought we could win if she passed it to me then?

Dammit. Kiharu Shino'oka sure knew how to play with my sense of responsibility. Putting every ounce of strength into every stride of my legs, I speared the ball clear with my foot before it could dare surpass defence. And from there, I turned the tides of the game.

Though I said what I said, Kiharu was a great player. The best I'd seen in a long time, really. Being the athletic goddess she was, it was no surprise she'd clinched the role of captain and carried the team this far in the tournament. She carried the ball with the poise of a professional. Nobody could keep up with her pace. Goal after goal, her pace and skill was unmatched. Although I prided myself in my athletic nature, Kiharu made me rethink it all—struggle to try and match pace with her.

However, the other team was fierce—and with the majority of them on the school's official girls soccer team, they contested that passion with equal vigour. They didn't allow us the chance to catch a break.

Soon enough, only thirty seconds remained, and the score was tied. The next one to shoot would win. And if it ended in a tie, both teams would share gold.

Beads of sweat travelled down my face as I sprinted across the expansive field. The sun beamed through splotches in the thin white clouds above, shouts buzzing in my ears around me. The most obvious was the call of my name coming from directly ahead.

"Shiina!"

The cause was Kiharu, currently being bombarded by a brigade of girls in red jerseys. In their hindsight, she skillfully rolled the soccer ball to the heel of her foot before giving a forceful passthrough kick between the legs of the girls closing in on her. All eyes were on the ball soaring through the air, both red and yellow jersey players dashing to receive it. But with a huge grin painting my face, I sped past them, caught it on my thigh and allowed it to roll down to my feet.

I dashed forward at that, taking large strides and keeping the ball to myself the best I could. Two girls stood largely in front of me, guarding their net.

"There's no way we're losing to a beanstalk," one shouted, taking a defensive stance.

"Admit defeat already, you giant," the other agreed.

Although that'd typically sting, right here in this moment, my lips quirked up at the challenge. Perspiration caused my hair to cling to my neck and cheeks, but the cool air aided in relaxing me. My pounding heart, and the minimal air in this stifling heat, was the least of my worries. First and foremost, my priority was getting through these opponents and making the score 6–5.

Only ten seconds remained on the clock.

When I was in close enough range, one of the girls stormed at me first. I tipped the ball over her charging feet, swivelling around her body. The second girl was waiting right behind. She shot out her leg to kick it clear back to the middle of the field.

I made a split-second decision that sealed my fate. Moving fluidly, I lunged to the left then quickly cut to the right.

Both collapsed onto their knees.

The black and white ball at my feet continued to move with me as if we were connected. I winded my leg back. My foot contacted it with a crisp, hollow sound. It flew across the grass, past the goalie who dived for it, and right into the pole.

My heart dropped to my gut. Cries of disappointment ran out.

I missed—