Chapter 50 part 6 :— Match Day Morning (Deep guilt, sake of haruya)
The school grounds felt different that morning.
Not louder in a festive either—just tense, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
Students arrived earlier than usual. Much earlier. Even those who normally dragged their feet through the gates were already inside, gathering in small groups, eyes constantly drifting toward one place.
The football field.
Fresh white lines had been drawn carefully across the grass, straight and sharp, as if someone had measured them twice just to be sure. The goalposts stood firm, nets newly fixed, still stiff from being handled only minutes ago. Temporary seating had been set up along the sides for teachers and students, metal frames creaking softly as people tested them.
Everything looked official.
Serious.
This wasn't just a school activity anymore.
Whispers moved through the crowd like a low tide.
"Today decides everything."
"The winner goes to the Tokyo state-level match."
"Our school will be represented."
"This isn't practice anymore."
Some voices sounded excited. Others sounded nervous. A few sounded hungry.
From the main gate, Haruya walked in.
He wasn't alone.
Saeko was on his left, hands clasped in front of her, steps small but steady. Reina walked on his right, posture straight, eyes scanning the surroundings without hiding it.
The moment Haruya entered the grounds, the atmosphere shifted again.
Eyes turned.
The playful curiosity he'd seen before. Not the casual admiration.
These looks were different.
Focused. Measuring. Serious.
Some girls stopped mid-conversation. Others nudged their friends quietly, whispering behind hands. A few didn't bother hiding it at all, their gazes following him openly as he crossed the yard.
Haruya noticed.
Of course he did.
He felt it on his back, on his shoulders, on the way people unconsciously made space for him as he passed. The attention wasn't light anymore. It carried weight.
Expectation, Judgment, Hope.
He didn't shrink from it.
Instead, his grip on his bag tightened slightly, from excitement.
This is it.
His heart beat steadily, strong and clear. His mind wasn't wandering. It wasn't distracted.
It was sharp.
Focused.
He looked ahead, toward the field, toward the place where everything would be decided.
Saeko glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His expression was calm, but there was something different about it today.
Resolve.
Reina noticed it too. She didn't say anything, only stepped half a pace closer, subtly positioning herself as if to block the world from pressing in too hard.
Haruya breathed in slowly.
Just the quiet thrill of standing at the edge of something important.
The storm hadn't started yet.
But everyone on those grounds could feel it coming.
---
Rest Rooms: Two Teams, Two Worlds
The corridor leading to the rest rooms split the noise of the field into two distant echoes. One side carried nervous laughter and restless footsteps. The other felt heavier, quieter, like pressure trapped behind closed doors.
---
Haruya's Team — Rest Room
The door closed behind them with a dull thud.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Haruya stood near the lockers, rolling his shoulders slowly as he breathed out. The smell of grass, metal, and fresh equipment filled the room. It reminded him faintly of his old world. Of cramped locker rooms and cracked benches. Of excitement mixed with fear.
He set his bag down and looked around.
Nine girls. Saeko. Reina.
This is my team.
His thoughts moved quickly now, sharp and practical.
Positions. Coverage. Passing lanes. Pressure points.
If Nana pushes left, Reina needs to block the cut. If Rika presses high, Saeko can fall back and cover the gap. If Ayame breaks formation—
Haruya go inside changing room.
He exhaled slowly and reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head without thinking. Cool air brushed his skin.
…Huh.
He glanced down for a second.
Muscle definition. Not much, but enough. Four faint lines across his abdomen. Not his old body. Not even close. But it's changing.
Those days of brutal training. Of pushing past exhaustion. Of pain he'd learned to ignore.
It's working.
I can move now. I can keep up.
Haruya didn't notice. His focus was inward.
I can't rely on strength alone. I have to be smart.
He pulled his shirt back on, tightening the collar, and turned around.
Haruya came out of changing room.
Saeko was quietly tying her shoes, movements precise, her face serious in a way he'd rarely seen. No nervous fidgeting. No distracted glances.
Reina stood near the benches, arms crossed, eyes moving across the room, counting people, noting spacing, mentally placing everyone where they needed to be.
She wasn't loud. She didn't give orders.
But people looked to her anyway.
One of the girls laughed softly, trying to ease the tension.
"Ahaha… guess this is it, huh?"
Another nodded quickly.
"We'll do our best. Really."
Someone else added, almost shyly,
"As long as we don't mess up in front of Haruya…"
Haruya blinked. "You don't need to think like that," he said gently. "We win together. We lose together."
That only made their expressions more determined.
Saeko tightened the knot on her shoe and stood, her hands clenched briefly at her sides.
I won't fall behind him.
Not today.
Reina's eyes flicked to Haruya for a second, then back to the door.
Our motto is to Stay close. Stay sharp.
No mistakes.
---
Opponent Team — Rest Room (Ayame's Side)
The atmosphere on the other side of the corridor was completely different.
Silence pressed down like weight.
The suffocating kind.
The rest room smelled of rubber soles and cold metal. Lockers lined the walls like watchful sentries, their dull surfaces reflecting the tense expressions of the girls inside.
Kuroiwa Nana leaned against one of the lockers, arms folded tightly across her chest, jaw clenched so hard a vein throbbed at her temple. Shindou Rika paced back and forth in short steps, muttering strategies under her breath as if repeating them enough times might carve confidence into her bones.
But neither of them was the center of this room.
Ayame sat on the bench.
Still.
Too still.
Her posture was straight, almost perfect, but it felt unnatural, like she was holding herself together by force alone. Her hands rested on her knees, fingers curled inward. Her nails dug into her skin slowly, unconsciously, leaving pale crescents that deepened with every passing second.
She didn't feel the pain, all she could see was him.
Haruya's kick.
The sound it made when his foot met the ball.
The sharp snap of impact.
The way the ball blurred past defenders before anyone could react.
And most of all—
His face.
Calm. Focused. Almost gentle.
As if what he'd just done wasn't terrifying at all.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Why did I freeze…?
She swallowed, her throat dry.
She knew the answer, even if she didn't want to admit it.
---
Her thoughts drifted backward, pulled by memories she had buried for too long.
The first day she saw him.
The day Takahara Haruya transferred into their school.
He didn't arrive loudly. No dramatic entrance. No arrogance. Just a quiet boy walking into a classroom that didn't know how to react to him.
A boy who didn't belong in this world.
He bowed politely. His voice was soft. His smile gentle. His eyes held no hunger, no expectation, no sense of superiority.
In a world where boys were rare and treated like fragile treasures or distant idols, he was… human.
Too human.
Ayame remembered how her heart had skipped that day.
kind of attraction people talked about.
It was worse.
It was slow.
Quiet.
Unavoidable.
Like realizing something precious existed—and knowing you didn't deserve it.
She'd fallen then.
Quietly. Pathetically.
She never confessed.
Never even dared to meet his eyes properly.
Every time he passed by, her body stiffened. Every time he spoke, her thoughts scattered. She convinced herself it was just admiration. Just curiosity.
But it wasn't.
It was longing.
And so she tried to change herself.
She studied harder.
Stayed later.
Rose through the ranks of the student council.
Vice-president.
People praised her. Teachers respected her. Girls admired her discipline.
She thought—maybe then he would notice her.
But every step she took forward…
Reina stood closer to him.
Saeko smiled beside him.
They erased her efforts without even trying.
Her fingers trembled now, nails biting deeper into her skin.
Football had been her last gamble.
If I shine here… he'll notice me.
That was the thought that pushed her through bruises, exhaustion, and endless drills. The reason she trained until her legs shook. The reason she endured humiliation after humiliation in front of him.
But when the teams were chosen—
He didn't choose her.
The memory burned like acid.
Her gaze dropped to the tiled floor, eyes blurring slightly.
I'm against his team.
That fact alone hurt more than she expected.
But worse than that—
Whenever he came close during training… she couldn't do it.
She held back.
She didn't tackle hard.
Didn't press fully.
Didn't block his path when she could have.
Not because she was weak But because she was afraid, "I don't want him to hate me". Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.
Today is different This is the real match, The one that decides everything.
State-level selection. Prestige. Recognition.
Everyone wants to win, Everyone wants to shine.
But—
She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Can I really go all out against him?
Her heart whispered no.
The conflict tore at her from the inside.
Nana finally snapped her out of it.
"Ayame," Nana said sharply, turning toward her. "Focus."
Rika stopped pacing, eyes narrowing. "This isn't the time to drift."
Ayame lifted her head slowly, forcing her face into a composed expression. She curved her lips into a smile that looked convincing enough from the outside.
"I'm fine," she said.
Her voice didn't shake.
But inside—
Everything was collapsing The whistle outside blew once. Sharp. Final.
The sound sliced through the room Both teams stood.
Bags were lifted. Shoes tightened. Breath steadied.
Ayame rose from the bench, her legs feeling heavier than they ever had before.
And one boy standing at the center of them all.
The boy she loved, The boy she was about to face.
Whether she was ready or not.
---
The Whistle Cuts the World in Half
The field fell silent.
The kind packed tight with breath, eyes, and expectation.
Both teams walked out from opposite sides, cleats crunching softly against the grass. The freshly painted white lines looked almost too clean, like they hadn't yet accepted what was about to happen on them. The goal nets fluttered lightly in the breeze, still, unaware they were about to be tested.
On the sidelines, students filled the temporary seats. Teachers stood with crossed arms, trying very hard to look professional while failing to hide their interest. Conversations buzzed in low waves.
"Is that really him… A boy?"
"He's actually on the field…"
"I've never seen a boy play seriously before…
Crazy"
Haruya stepped forward with his team, rolling his shoulders once, grounding himself. His eyes moved across the field—not nervously, not searching for approval—just measuring space, distance, movement.
He felt good.
Across from him, the opponent team lined up.
Ayame stood slightly ahead of her teammates, posture straight, face composed—but her eyes were locked on Haruya.
With conflict.
She watched how he stood—relaxed but ready. How his gaze was steady, not arrogant. How he didn't look at the crowd at all.
Why does he always look like that…?
Saeko was close to him, tying her hair back with quick, practiced movements, sneaking glances his way whenever she thought he wouldn't notice. Reina stood on his other side, arms folded, body angled just enough to create space around him—subtle, territorial.
Ayame's jaw tightened.
They're always there.
Always.
Standing close to haruya Saeko and Reina
The referee raised the whistle
Ayame's thoughts spiraled.
If I play my best… will he notice me?
If I stop him… will he hate me?
If I let him pass… will he love me?
The whistle blew.
Sharp. Final.
The match began.
The ball shot forward as both teams surged into motion. Shouts filled the air—commands, warnings, encouragements. Cleats tore into grass. Bodies collided, not brutally, but with intent.
Haruya moved.
He received a pass, controlled it cleanly, redirected without hesitation. His movements were efficient, precise, almost deceptively simple.
From the stands, gasps rippled.
"Did you see that control?"
"He didn't even look down…"
Ayame reacted late—half a second too late—and cursed herself internally.
Focus. Focus!
What are you thinking Ayame!
She pressed forward, intercepting a pass, pushing the ball ahead with sharp touches. Nana and Rika moved with her, executing the formation they had drilled for days.
This is our rhythm.
She drove forward, muscles burning, vision narrowing.
Haruya stepped into her path.
For a heartbeat, the world shrank to just the two of them.
He didn't glare.
Didn't smirk.
Didn't challenge her with his eyes.
He just played.
He shifted his weight, tapped the ball sideways, slipped past her shoulder.
Ayame froze.
Again.
Why—?!
By the time she turned, he was already gone.
A murmur rolled through the stands.
Saeko's breath caught.
Reina's eyes sharpened.
Haruya passed, repositioned, received the ball again.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He struck.
The ball flew.
Fast.
Too fast.
It tore through the air between Nana and Rika before either of them could fully react, slammed into the net with a violent snap, and sent the goal shaking behind it.
For a split second—
No one moved.
Dust hung in the air near the goalpost. The net trembled, still vibrating from the impact.
Nana turned slowly.
Rika stared at the goal.
Ayame stood frozen, eyes wide, breath stolen.
What… was that?
Haruya blinked, genuinely confused, glancing around at the sudden stillness.
"…Did I do something wrong?"
That made it worse.
The crowd exploded a second later—shouts, cheers, disbelief crashing together in a wave.
Saeko felt her heart burst with pride, her face lighting up as if she'd scored herself. Reina exhaled sharply, a grin threatening to break through her controlled expression.
Ayame's chest tightened painfully.
That wasn't luck.
That wasn't chance.
That was skill.
Real skill.
And it terrified her.
For the first time since she'd stepped onto this field, her fantasy cracked.
This wasn't just about impressing him anymore.
This was about catching up.
About proving something—to him, to herself, to the world that had quietly pushed her aside.
Her fists clenched.
I won't lose
The match resumed, but the balance had shifted.
Everyone felt it.
And no one could turn back now.
---
When the Match Stops Being a Game
The match did not slow down after that goal.
If anything, it became sharper—more desperate, more serious.
Both teams pushed harder, breaths turning ragged, legs burning as the sun climbed higher. The field no longer looked clean. Grass was torn up under cleats, dirt smudged socks and knees, and sweat darkened collars. Shouts echoed nonstop—calls for passes, warnings, quick curses under breath when a play failed by inches.
From Haruya's team, the rhythm tightened. They moved with intent now, feeding off the shock he had created. Saeko ran harder than she ever had in her life, lungs screaming but heart racing faster, every successful pass making her glow with quiet pride. Reina played like a wall with eyes—cutting lanes, intercepting passes, snapping commands without raising her voice. She never strayed far from Haruya's position, always close enough to cover, always watching.
The opposing team answered in kind.
Nana became relentless, chasing every loose ball with clenched teeth. Rika adjusted quickly, reading angles, blocking lanes with sharp, almost brutal efficiency. And Ayame—Ayame changed.
She stopped hesitating.
At least, she tried to.
The score climbed slowly, painfully. One goal. Another. Then another. Every time one team pulled ahead, the other dragged them back. Cheers from the stands rose and fell in waves, excitement turning into tension as minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
Nineteen.
Nineteen.
The scoreboard glared down at the field like a judge.
One more point.
That was all it would take.
The referee wiped sweat from her brow. Even the teachers on the sidelines had stopped pretending to be calm. This wasn't what anyone had expected—not from a school match, and certainly not with a boy at the center of it.
Reina made her move first.
She stole the ball cleanly, pivoted, and drove forward with everything she had left. Her legs screamed, but she ignored it, pushing the pace, seeing the goal in her mind already. She struck—
And Rika stopped it.
Perfect timing. Perfect block.
The sound of the impact echoed, sharp and final, and Reina's jaw tightened as frustration flared through her chest. Around them, players slowed, shoulders sagging, exhaustion finally catching up. Some dropped to a knee for half a breath before forcing themselves back up.
Everyone was tired.
Everyone—
Except two.
Haruya and Ayame stood almost still amid the chaos, watching, calculating.
Haruya felt the strain now, deep in his muscles, his body reminding him again and again that it wasn't built for this kind of intensity. His breathing was heavier, sweat running down his neck, but his eyes stayed clear.
One chance.
That's all we need.
The ball rolled loose.
He took it.
Everything narrowed.
The noise faded. The crowd disappeared. There was only the field, the goal—and Ayame.
She moved fast.
Faster than before.
She closed the distance in a heartbeat, cutting his angle, positioning herself perfectly to stop him. For a split second, Haruya was sure she would. He saw it clearly—her speed, her timing, the way she had read him.
Then—
She didn't.
Ayame stepped in front of him… and slowed.
Not enough to look obvious.
Just enough because of some reason.
Haruya's eyes flicked up, startled.
Why…?
He passed her.
The opening was there.
Instinct took over.
He shot the ball hit the net the whistle blew.
The match was over.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then everything exploded.
Cheers tore through the stands. Girls screamed. Some laughed, some cried, some collapsed where they stood, unable to hold themselves upright anymore. Saeko dropped to her knees, hands over her mouth, eyes shining. Reina let out a sharp breath she hadn't realized she was holding, a small, fierce smile breaking through her composure.
Haruya stood there, chest heaving, staring at the goal.
We… won?
The realization came slowly.
Around him, his teammates swarmed together in exhausted celebration. Across the field, Nana and Rika turned on Ayame immediately.
"What was that?" Nana snapped, disbelief and anger mixing in her voice.
"You had him," Rika said, sharper. "You could've stopped that."
Ayame didn't answer.
She just stood there, staring at the grass beneath her feet, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
She knew why.
And that knowledge weighed heavier than any loss.
Haruya looked back at her once, confusion flickering across his face.
She could have stopped me.
Why didn't she?
The question followed him even as the crowd kept cheering, even as the coach raised an arm to signal victory.
Because for Ayame, the match had never really been about winning.
And that truth was about to change everything.
---
After the Whistle (What Was Left Unsaid)
The locker room was quiet in a way that hurt.
Not the calm kind of quiet. Not the peaceful kind either. This was the heavy silence that pressed down on the chest, the kind that made every small sound feel too loud.
Ayame sat on the bench with her shoulders slumped, her elbows resting on her thighs. Her jersey clung to her back with sweat, but she didn't move to peel it off. Her head was bowed, bangs shadowing her eyes, gaze fixed on the tiled floor as if it might give her answers.
Around her, lockers creaked open and shut. Shoes were kicked aside. Someone laughed weakly, trying to lighten the mood, but the sound died quickly. No one pushed Ayame. No one spoke to her again.
They didn't know what to say.
She replayed the moment over and over.
The opening.
The hesitation.
The way she'd stepped aside.
Her fingers curled into fists.
Why did I do that…?
The truth sat in her chest like a stone.
Because when she'd seen Haruya up close—sweat on his temple, eyes focused but gentle—her body had refused to move the way her mind demanded. She hadn't seen an opponent then.
She'd seen him.
And she'd chosen him.
Her throat tightened, vision blurring as something warm spilled over. She wiped at her eyes roughly, annoyed at herself, embarrassed by the weakness. She didn't want to cry here. Not now. Not where anyone could see.
That was when footsteps stopped behind her.
She stiffened.
A hand touched her shoulder—light, careful, hesitant.
Ayame flinched, breath catching sharply. "Ah—"
She looked up.
Haruya stood there.
Close enough that she could see the rise and fall of his chest, the loose strands of hair stuck to his forehead, the faint flush on his cheeks from exertion. He looked tired. He looked real.
For a second, her mind went blank.
"H-Haruya…?" The name slipped out before she could stop it.
He pulled his hand back slightly, as if afraid he'd overstepped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
She shook her head quickly. "N-No, it's fine."
There was an awkward pause.
He scratched the back of his neck, eyes drifting away for a moment before returning to her. "You were really fast out there," he said honestly. "I didn't expect that. You almost had me."
Her heart skipped painfully.
"I… I did?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded. "Yeah. You're really good."
The words landed harder than any shout of praise from the crowd ever could have.
Ayame's lips trembled.
"Oh," he added, as if remembering something important. "And congratulations… well, to us, I guess. We're going to the state-level match."
She forced a smile, though it wobbled at the edges. "Y-Yeah… congratulations."
Another pause.
Haruya hesitated, then spoke again, softer this time. "If you want… you could come watch. The state match, I mean."
Her breath caught.
"R-Really?"
"Of course," he said simply. "You played seriously. I think you deserve to see how it goes."
Her vision blurred completely now, tears spilling over before she could stop them. She ducked her head, shoulders shaking as she tried to hold it together.
"H-Hey—" Haruya panicked slightly. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No!" she said quickly, wiping her cheeks. "I'm just… happy. Really happy."
He relaxed a little, relieved. "That's good."
She swallowed hard, then gathered every ounce of courage she had left. "Um… Haruya. I was thinking… would it be okay if we… stayed in touch?"
He blinked. "Stayed in touch?"
"I mean—" she rushed on, words tumbling over each other, "as friends. Just friends. I don't want to be weird. I just—"
He smiled.
Not polite. Not distant.
Warm smile.
"Sure," he said. "I'd like that."
He pulled out his phone. "I can give you my number."
The world tilted.
Her hands shook as she took her own phone out, barely able to unlock it. When his contact appeared on her screen, something inside her finally broke—not in pain, but in overwhelming relief.
This is real.
She looked up at him again, tears still clinging to her lashes. "Thank you," she whispered. "Really."
Haruya chuckled softly, embarrassed. "It's nothing."
But as he turned to leave, Ayame watched his back with a complicated expression—joy tangled with guilt, hope tangled with fear.
She hadn't won the match.
But she hadn't lost everything either.
And somewhere deep inside her, a dangerous thought quietly took root.
If I can get closer like this…
Maybe next time, I won't hesitate.
— To be continued…
---
Author Note 🧾
Sorry for the late update, guys 😅
It's already 9:11 PM while I'm uploading this chapter. Yes, I know. Night gang again.
And congratulations, my dear readers 🎉
You just witnessed the birth of a new harem member.
Yes.
You're not imagining things.
You're not delusional.
You're not reading between the lines too hard.
Ayame has officially entered the harem.
Please welcome her warmly. Or dramatically. Or with popcorn. Your choice.
And before anyone panics in the comments—
No, I did not forget about Miyahara Yume 👀
She is very much alive. Very relevant. And very lovely female lead in her own way.
She'll return at the right time. Trust me.
As always, thank you for reading, staying patient with my chaotic upload times, and enjoying this emotional mess I proudly call a story.
More drama coming soon.
— king_fuzu_ (your lovely author ❤️)