Chapter Three | Golden Week Training Camp

♢♢♢

While the rest of the world was getting all hyped up for Golden Week, we kicked off the first day of our training camp.

As is apparently the annual tradition, the Golden Week training camp had us players gathered at the university at 4 a.m. to head to Chiba, all because of expected road traffic.

In contrast to me, who’d gone to bed early to prepare, Azaki—whose hair was even messier than usual—was rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“You gonna be okay like that, Azaki?”

“Come on, man~ Yawn I was having fun with a girl until just a bit ago, so cut me some slack, alright?”

“Dude! Do you even get how important these next three days are?!”

“Ugh, so loud! Your virgin jealousy’s such a drag.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

God, this guy’s total lack of urgency always ticks me off.

Sure, he gets serious when it’s time to play soccer, but until then, he’s just way too laid-back…

The soccer team gathered in front of the university, and once the coach arrived, we piled onto the bus and headed for Chiba.

Azaki, Aihara, and I ended up sitting in the back row, a five-seater.

I gave Aihara the left window seat, fully expecting Azaki to call dibs on sitting next to her.

“Makijima, take a seat.”

For some reason, he offered me the spot next to Aihara instead.

“What’s up with you? That’s not like you at all.”

“Well… it’s, y’know, embarrassing to let a girl I like see my sleeping face.”

Azaki smoothed down his messy hair, looking oddly shy.

A playboy acting all maidenly at a time like this? Seriously?

“If you’re that worried, you should’ve actually slept beforehand.”

“I didn’t think I’d get to sit this close to Aihara-san! If I’d known, I would’ve stopped at round four last night.”

Yeah, I can’t stand this guy. Can we dissolve our partnership right now?

Azaki stretched out across the three empty seats on the right and started napping like some elegant prince.

“Aihara, mind if I sit next to you?”

“U-Uh, no, go ahead!”

I sat down, kind of like a divider between Azaki and Aihara.

“You not sleepy, Aihara?”

“Nah, I’m used to waking up early to watch overseas soccer.”

“Impressive. I’m weak in the mornings and at night, so I always record overseas games to watch later.”

“Actually, I’m not great with nights either… I’ll leave the TV on and just pass out sometimes.”

“Totally get that. You wake up to the streaming site’s logo and a black screen looping forever, right?”

“Yeah, exactly! That streaming site doesn’t even shut off when you fall asleep. Plus, the lights are still on, so you feel twice as guilty!”

“Right?!”

As our conversation heated up, Azaki, who’d been napping with his head on my thigh, suddenly bumped me with the back of his head.

And then, in a low whisper, he muttered, “You girlfriend-stealing jerk.”

We were just talking about soccer, man!

“Makijima-kun, you’ve been doing some weird special training with Azaki-kun lately, right? Something about a free-kick option?”

“Oh, uh, that… It’s not a big deal or anything. Just thought it might work out, y’know, maybe.”

I glanced at Azaki, who was already fast asleep with an eye mask on.

That guy told me to keep the free-kick move a secret from the others for now.

“By the way, Aihara, did you go to the last Tofuro match?”

“Yeah! The first half felt like we were gonna lose, but that direct volley from Kitasan in stoppage time pulled off the win. So good!”

I was following the second half via text updates because of Sasaki, but it sounds like it was an amazing shot.

“All thanks to MIZUKI showing up as the goddess of victory for the halftime show, huh?”

“M-MIZUKI…”

Just hearing her name makes things kinda awkward.

“Makijima-kun, you a fan of MIZUKI?”

“Uh, well, I guess about average?”

“Really? Then have you heard the new song she uploaded to the video site yesterday?”

“New song?”

“Yeah! If you haven’t… wanna listen together?”

Aihara offered me one of her earbuds, plugged into her phone.

I’m not exactly into MIZUKI… but it’d be rude to say no…

I took the earbud and listened to MIZUKI’s song with Aihara.

“You were the brightest star in the sky, admired by all. Compared to you, I’m just some empty can lying around…”

Man, MIZUKI’s voice is seriously good.

“Waiting for you at the station…”

Hold up, that lyric.

“You came up, shyly hiding your face…”

Wait, wait… no way, is this about my date with Sasaki…?

Even after figuring out Sasaki is Kiraboshi, she used that date as inspiration for a song?

Talk about some serious guts, especially after a fight or breakup with someone.

“I’m just a hopeless, good-for-nothing guy…”

Okay, the guy who’s supposed to be me keeps getting called an “empty can” and a “good-for-nothing”…

It’s pretty clear MIZUKI’s pissed at me over that whole thing.

“You grabbed my pinky like always, and I turned red—”

I don’t always do that!

And my face wasn’t even red!

“Makijima-kun, what’s wrong? Your face is all red.”

“It’s not—! I’m not red, okay?!”

“?”

Getting forced to listen to this song in front of Aihara—what kind of punishment game is this?! Is there a hidden camera for a prank show or something�?!

Sigh…

Listening to a song based on my date with Sasaki with another classmate—a girl, no less—is, like, Azaki-level messed-up when you think about it.

“S-Sorry, Aihara!”

I yanked out the earbud and handed it back to her.

“I-I’m actually kinda bad with love songs, y’know?”

“Huh, you’re surprisingly pure, Makijima-kun? That’s kinda cute.”

Aihara laughed, and my face got even hotter.

I really don’t want Sasaki hearing this song.

♣♣♣

Today, I took the green car on the local train to Chiba to watch Makijima’s match, then hopped in a taxi from the station to arrive at a multi-sport stadium about 20 minutes away.

I sat down on the rickety, poorly maintained spectator seats and looked out over the pitch.

I can’t wait to see Makijima in his uniform.

Opening my phone, I gazed at a photo of Makijima I’ve cherished for three years.

“Whoa… that’s a nostalgic photo you’ve got there, missy.”

“Eek!”

A gruff voice came from beside me, and I quickly closed my phone.

There was no one next to me a moment ago—when did this guy show up?!

“Hey! Don’t peek at my phone! Wait, mister… don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Hm? Oh, you’re that missy from back then.”

“?”

“Y’know, we met at the hospital before. Been a while, hasn’t it, shiruko black-mask missy?”

Black mask, sure, but… shiruko?

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who are you?”

“Come on, you can’t forget a tacky old guy like me with these dorky sunglasses and ratty neck warmer!”

The old man got all huffy, then took a labored breath, wiping his foggy sunglasses.

In that moment, I saw his eyes.

Th-This guy…

“Mister, are you Kishi—”

“Hm?”

“N-Nothing! Never mind!”

No mistake—this is him…

Three years ago, when I visited Seijin Gakuen High School, there he was, holding a one-cup sake during practice—the legendary high school soccer coach… (I remember thinking, “This guy’s a legend? High school soccer is wild.”)

The once-renowned coach is now hiding behind dark sunglasses and a tattered neck warmer that covers everything below his nose.

Why’s he hiding his face…? There’s gotta be some kind of story behind it.

“So… judging by that photo, missy, could it be…”

Did Kishihara-san figure out I’m Kiraboshi—

“You’re a fan of Yutarou Makijima?”

…He didn’t. Phew…

“…Y-Yeah, something like that.”

“Haha, so that guy’s finally got himself a fan, huh? Well, he is pretty cool.”

“Y-Yeah!”

Kishihara-san pulled down his neck warmer, took a flask from his pocket, and brought it to his lips.

“Hey, mister! No drinking here—”

“It’s fine, it’s just barley tea.”

“Barley tea?”

“I got sacked from my last job ‘cause I drank too much and passed out. Been sober ever since.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Huh? What’s with that know-it-all tone?”

“N-Nothing, nothing at all!”

Phew, almost slipped up there.

“So Maki’s got fans now, huh… Guess recommending Koutou was the right call.”

“W-Wait, mister, you know Makijima-kun?”

Knowing he’s Makijima’s mentor, I asked the question, and Kishihara’s face turned serious as he took another sip of barley tea from his flask.

“Nah? I’m just… an old guy who likes amateur athletes.”

Kishihara said it with a distant, lonely look in his eyes.

I don’t know what he’s up to these days, but he’s definitely here to watch Makijima’s match too.

“Hey, missy, here comes Maki.”

“Huh?”

A strong wind blew.

Riding that wind, the crimson number 18 appeared at the center of the pitch.

Just like three years ago, I pointed my phone’s camera at Makijima.

                             ☆☆

The first practice match of the Golden Week training camp was against a Chiba amateur team.

Under a clear blue sky, the pre-match meeting began, and Azaki and I were selected as starters for the B team.

In a 4-3-3 formation, Azaki was assigned as a defensive midfielder, and I was tasked with playing center forward (CF).

I let out a sigh of relief at making the starting lineup.

If I couldn’t even get a starting spot, there’s no way I’d be recommended for the A team.

“Makijima. No dangerous plays like last time, got it?”

“…Yes, sir.”

The coach laid down the law, and I nodded reluctantly.

“If you show even the slightest sign of concussion-like symptoms again, you’re out on the spot. Understand?”

Concussions are a common risk in soccer, but in the worst case, they can be deadly. The coach is probably being extra cautious.

Still, the fact that he’s starting me, fresh off an injury, is proof I earned a lot of trust in the last match.

The meeting wrapped up, and the players headed to the pitch.

“Makijima-kun.”

Aihara, the team manager, stopped me, holding the whiteboard from the meeting.

“Don’t rush things. If you get injured again, you’ll have to endure even tougher times.”

Maybe because she used to be a player herself, Aihara really got how I felt.

The time spent sidelined by injury—imagining everyone else getting better while you’re stuck—makes you restless with a creeping sense of anxiety and isolation. Being left behind is the worst.

Even with the fun times I had with Sasaki, this past week was honestly rough.

“But I have to make the first team. I’m going to join the A team and play in the Emperor’s Cup.”

“The… Emperor’s Cup?”

“That’s why I’ve gotta make an impression today, even if it means pushing myself!”

As I fired myself up, Aihara suddenly grabbed my arm firmly.

“That’s absolutely not okay. If you want to move up, you especially can’t overdo it. Got it?”

“Aihara…”

“As the team manager, I can’t let reckless behavior slide.”

“…But—”

“Do you want a slap in the face or a push forward? Pick one.”

“A s-slap?!”

“I’m that serious. If you keep this up, Makijima-kun, you’ll definitely push too hard and end up…”

Aihara’s usual gentle eyes were gone, replaced by a fierce, determined gaze.

                             ☆☆

Honestly, until just now, I thought pushing myself was unavoidable. But if I can’t even protect my body, there’s no way I’ll make Koto University’s A-team.

“Soccer players live by their bodies. Take better care of yourself, Makijima-kun,” Aihara says.

Every time I get reckless, she steers me back. An injury now would ruin everything. Facing Odawara United’s Kinugawa Ryushin is a once-in-a-lifetime shot—if I crash out, I won’t even get to challenge him. My body’s my weapon. Now’s not the time to rush.

“Got it, Aihara. I promise I won’t overdo it.”

“Good boy,” she says, giving my back a firm push toward the pitch.

My shoulders relax. Thanks, Aihara.

“Right side, higher up! Center-backs, match my positioning. I’ll join the buildup from the middle!” Azaki barks orders pre-match.

This guy’s a slacker off the field, but in soccer? Dead serious. (If only he’d stick to soccer forever.)

The match kicks off with Koto B’s possession. I pass the ball to Azaki and sprint forward. Bring it, Azaki.

As our team pushes the line up, Azaki lingers at the center circle, rolling the ball under his foot like he’s toying with it.

“Standing around, college kid? Mocking us adults?!” an opponent shouts.

Normally, the player receiving the kickoff boots it forward, but Azaki’s testing the ball’s feel, provoking the other team. Cool as ice, he dodges charging players with one-touch, two-touch moves, advancing like he’s in a hundred-man sparring match, mowing down foes.

Then— “Makijima!”

His voice hits me from behind. Azaki’s long feed, carried by the wind, arcs toward the enemy’s penalty area. My instincts kick in—I’m already moving.

“Number 18, check—wait, where’d he go?!” an opponent yells.

I’ve caught Azaki’s feeds in practice countless times. Speed, timing—it’s muscle memory. His pinpoint pass, skirting the offside line, lands at my feet in the penalty area’s left corner.

Three minutes into the first half. A perfect offside-trap break, leaving me free. The enemy’s backline raises hands like schoolkids at a crosswalk, signaling offside, but the assistant referee’s flag stays down.

One-on-one with the keeper.

“This is my favorite situation!”

As a kid, I scored easy tap-ins in pickup games, earning the nickname “Goal Thief.” In Tokyo Frontier’s junior youth team, I kept racking up those “gimme goals,” but got no respect—labeled a poacher, I never made the youth team. Still, I couldn’t quit soccer and joined Seijin Academy. I thought my “gimme goals” would be dismissed there too, until one person believed in me.

“Mak, you’re Seijin’s Number 9,” he said.

I swing through the ball with all my momentum.

“Hey, Mak, know the keeper’s least favorite spot?”

“Uh, between the legs?”

“That’s one, but the real answer—”

“Right by the face!”

The ball rockets past the keeper’s head, slamming into the net.

☆☆

“Yo, kid! Mak scored!” Kishihara shouts.

“Incredible…” I gasp.

Makijima slips through the defenders, takes Azaki’s pass from that mop-head, and buries a ferocious shot. A lightning-fast strike. So cool!

I’m spamming my phone’s camera without realizing.

“Kid, you’re overdoing the burst mode,” Kishihara says.

“You’re not taking pics?! Such a waste!” I retort.

“Guys photographing guys? Nah. Plus, I’m married.”

“Huh? You’re supporting your family okay?”

“Rude! I’ve got a job! And an elementary school daughter!”

Wow, he’s got a family. Quitting coaching and watching a match midday, I thought he was unemployed.

“Mak’s coming this way,” Kishihara says.

Makijima, celebrated on the bench, scans the bleachers before heading back. Our eyes meet, and he pauses. I hold his gaze. Time feels frozen. His determination radiates, even without words.

“Keep it up, Makijima,” I whisper.

He flashes a smile and jogs back to the pitch.

“Nice, kid. Fan service from Mak, huh?” Kishihara grins.

“Y-Yeah, haha.”

The first half ends with Makijima’s lone goal. At halftime, Kishihara’s on the phone, arguing. “What?! You record it! Battery’s dead?”

Sounds like trouble. “Damn it… Kid, can you watch my stuff? Gotta step out.”

“Sure.”

As he leaves, a photo slips from his pocket—a family picture, maybe his daughter’s school entrance ceremony. A suited Kishihara, a pretty wife, and a young girl between them.

“Wait… I know her.” It’s Shizuku, the kid who recognized me as Kiraboshi Ayane! Those big eyes and round face—definitely her. So she inherited her dad’s sharp instincts? Makes sense, but I kinda don’t want it to.

☆☆

Tweet-tweet-tweet. The final whistle blows. Players catch their breath and line up.

A 3-0 rout. I scored again in the second half off Azaki’s assist, finishing with two goals. Azaki had one goal, two assists. I’m still riding his skill, but results are results.

I glance at Sasaki in the bleachers. This time, I showed her a proper goal.

“Good work, Makijima,” Azaki says, slapping my back.

“Nice job, Makijima-kun,” Aihara adds, handing me a towel.

I drape it over my head. “First goal was big, and the second was a clean finish,” Aihara says.

“Nah, the second was another gimme goal. Not much for scouts,” I reply.

“No way! Azaki-kun’s pass had no angle. Your positioning made that goal,” she insists.

“See? Aihara-san’s praising you. Just swoon already,” Azaki teases, pinching my cheek and whispering, “Assist me with romance too.”

“Oh, Aihara? Azaki was great too, right?”

“Y-Yeah! His passes created tons of chances, and you two were in sync.”

“Hear that, Azaki?” I grin.

“Fufun~ So, Aihara-san, wanna come to my room for tea or games tonight?”

“Uh… no thanks,” she says flatly.

Shot down hard. Azaki’s eyes roll back, and he slinks off. Scores on the field, strikes out with his crush.

“You didn’t get hurt, Makijima-kun. I’m relieved,” Aihara says.

“Still worried about that?”

“Of course! Coach and I were freaking out, thinking you’d try another diving header and break your promise!”

“S-Sorry for the scare. Thanks for the towel.” I fold it and hand it back.

“Keep it up for the rest of the matches,” she says.

I nod confidently, but due to concussion recovery, I’m limited to short substitute appearances for the next two games. Day one ends with two goals.

☆☆

Day one’s schedule wraps, and we bus from the stadium to the team hotel—a nice place with a pool, hot spring, and good food, I hear. Back in high school, camps were at rundown seaside facilities, sleeping ten to a room on the floor. This time, it’s three per room with beds—way less stressful.

Or so I thought.

Entering my assigned room, I find Azaki combing his afro and a tall guy lounging on a bed.

“Random room assignments, and I’m stuck with you?” I groan.

“C’mon, Makijima, let’s have fun together,” Azaki smirks.

“And the other guy…”

“Yo, Mak-chan! Long time!” The tall guy leaps up, hugging me.

“Ch-Chan-senpai, been a while.”

“You know this giant?” Azaki asks.

“He’s a senior, show respect!”

“It’s fine, we’re all friends,” Chan says.

At 200 cm, Chan Gumin-senpai, a second-year, is Koto’s A-team starting goalkeeper. A Korean-Japanese hybrid, he was a star in Tokyo Frontier’s junior youth team, one year above me. Unlike me, he made the youth team but struggled with growing pains and injuries. At Koto, his dynamic saves secured him the B-team keeper spot as a freshman.

“Mixing A and B teams for rooms, huh? Feels rigged to stick me with Azaki,” I mutter.

“Didn’t rig nothing! C’mon, let’s go—hot spring time,” Azaki says.

☆☆

Azaki drags me and Chan-senpai to the hot spring. In the changing room, I toss my clothes in a basket and wrap a towel around my waist.

“Chan-paisen,” Azaki whispers to him.

“Gimme a sec.”

Azaki’s muttering something shady, as expected.

“Azaki-kun, no peeking!” Chan scolds.

“Why’d you snitch, Chan-paisen?!”

“Knew it,” I sigh.

“C’mon! Aihara-san won’t fall for me, so I gotta sneak a peek at her… assets,” Azaki whines.

This guy’s hopeless. “With a two-meter senpai here, it’s like the universe is begging you to climb the wall and peek.”

“Chan-senpai, punch him,” I say.

“But Mak-chan, if I hit him, his nose would snap!” Chan laughs.

“That’s scary, Chan-paisen!” Azaki yelps.

Still, he won’t drop the peeking plan. I ignore him and head to the open-air bath. Stone tiles line the misty area, and a sunset sky glows above. There’s a carbonated spring too—perfect. I grab a shower spot among the row of bath chairs.

Other Koto players are washing up, but some, like Azaki, are scheming by the wall separating the men’s and women’s baths. I give them a cold stare and pick up the showerhead.

☆☆

After reaching the hotel, we managers haul baskets of used uniforms to the laundry room. Tossing them in with detergent, we chat. While talking with a friendly senior, another manager brings up a topic.

“Hey, what’s the plan this year?”

“The hot spring? Last year, some idiots used Chan-kun to climb the wall and almost peeked,” the senior says.

“Peeked at what?” I ask, confused.

“Our team’s full of morons. Last year, some tried spying on the women’s bath,” she explains.

Peeking… at the hot spring?

“Azaki’s the type to try it this year,” one says.

“He was staring at me like a creep at the mixer. I’m on his radar,” another adds.

“He’s so gross, right?”

They trash-talk Azaki. Sure, he’s… a lot, but…

“Um!” I start.

“What’s up, Aihara-chan?”

“Azaki-kun’s…” Gross, yeah. But… “Yeah, he’s pretty gross.”

“Sorry, Azaki-kun, I can’t defend you,” I think.

“Let’s trick Azaki and the others with the plan,” a senior says.

“The plan?”

“There’s another hot spring nearby. Wanna use that instead?”

“Great idea! Aihara-chan, you in?”

Azaki might actually peek… “I’m in,” I say.

“Cool, after laundry, let’s go.”

☆☆

After Makijima’s match, I check into my reserved hotel. I wanted to talk to him, but Aihara was nearby, and I couldn’t. Manager, huh? Must be nice. I kinda wanted to try it too, but with my identity, it’s impossible. One slip, and I’m exposed.

“Whatever! It was hot today, and I want a bath.” The hotel’s open-air hot spring sounds fun, but if it’s crowded, that’s risky. “I’ll check it out. If it’s packed, I’ll use the room’s bath.”

I grab my stuff and head out. A hot spring… how long’s it been? Since becoming an idol, I’ve avoided public baths. Maybe a footbath or two on shoots, but that’s it. “Hope it’s empty…”

“Sasaki-chan?!” a voice calls.

I freeze. That voice… Aihara? I turn, and there she is, in her red jersey, holding a big bag.

“She your friend, Aihara-chan?” another manager asks.

“Yup, my friend!” Aihara says.

“We’ll head in first,” the two other managers, also in red jerseys, say, entering the women’s bath.

“You’re here too? Cheering for Makijima-kun?” Aihara asks.

“K-Kinda,” I reply.

“Cool! I’m thrilled you’re into university soccer, not just high school.”

Her pure, dazzling smile hits me. Sorry, Aihara, I’m not into soccer… just him.

“You’re here for the hot spring, right?” she says.

“Uh…”

“C’mon!” She grabs my hand, pulling me to the women’s bath.

Oh no! I got too excited and came to a busy hot spring. This is backfiring big time. Loud, chatty aunties—tourists, probably—fill the changing room. Not many young people, so my identity’s probably safe, but I need to stay cautious.

Aihara leads me in, and we stow our stuff in lockers side by side. “It’s been ages since I hit a hot spring. You too, Sasaki-chan?”

“Y-Yeah, a while.”

“I hope there’s a bubbly bath! And a sauna, right?”

I nod, starting to undress. Stripping to my underwear, I remove my glasses and mask, wrap a towel around myself, and check my reflection. My hair’s a different color from my idol days, and it’s been over a year since I retired. Unless someone’s a diehard fan, I should be fine. Summer’s coming, and I can’t wear a mask then anyway, so this is practice for acting normal around Aihara.

“Sorry for the wait, Sasaki-chan. This towel’s tricky to wrap,” Aihara says, approaching.

She stares at my bare face. It’s fine… I’m fine…

“No glasses or mask—you look so fresh!” she says.

“R-Really…?”

She doesn’t seem to recognize me. Guess she’s not big on Kiraboshi Ayane. Phew.

“Hey, hot springs are bigger than regular baths, so it’s easy to get lightheaded. If you feel off, tell me right away, okay?” Aihara says.

“Thanks.”

She’s too nice. Always looking out for others, even younger than me—she’s like an older sister. This is bad. A spark of rivalry flares up.

“Naked bonding, huh? Haha,” Aihara laughs.

Her warm personality, soccer obsession, and… that figure. When she unzipped her red jersey, out popped a Fuji-sized bounty.

♢♢♢

Makijima’s got that stashed in his dresser—actress-level… big…

“S-Sasaki-chan, don’t stare!” Aihara notices my gaze and covers her chest.

“Sasaki… chan?” I stay silent.

“Stop with the silence!”

“…”

“Say something!”

I keep staring at her Fuji-sized assets, sitting on the bath chair as we shower. What does she eat to get that big?

“Hey, can I use your shampoo? It always smells so good,” Aihara says.

“Sure,” I reply, handing her the travel-sized bottle.

“Yay!” She sniffs it. “Wow, it’s like fancy salon shampoo.”

“Is it?”

“Totally. You’re amazing!”

She’s charming, genuine, and stacked. I’m jealous—she gets to live a normal college life. If I wasn’t an ex-idol, I could show my face around Makijima all the time…

“Sasaki-chan, you okay?” Aihara peers at my face, concerned, as the shower sprays.

“I-I’m fine! Just eager to soak,” I blurt.

“Let’s wash each other’s backs then!”

“Uh, but—”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

She angles her bath chair toward me, prompting me to turn. I reluctantly shift my chair, showing her my back.

“Here we go,” I mumble.

“Got it! Wow, Sasaki-chan, your back’s gorgeous. So fair and smooth!”

“D-Don’t touch too much—eek!”

“Sorry, is your back sensitive?”

“…Y-Yeah.”

Aihara grabs my body towel, lathers it, and scrubs my back. “Any itchy spots, miss?”

“Nope.”

“Can I tickle you then?”

“No! I said my back’s sensitive!”

“Haha, sorry, sorry!”

We finish washing each other and head to the open-air bath. The night sky is stunning—I never want to use a cramped bath again. Submerged to my shoulders, I stare at the rising steam.

“Feels great, right? The breeze is nice out here,” Aihara says.

“Yeah,” I murmur. If I wasn’t so paranoid, I’d enjoy this more.

“Hey, Sasaki-chan,” she says.

“What?”

“Today’s match… did Makijima-kun invite you?”

“Kinda… but I wanted to watch him play. Seeing him out there gives me energy.”

“Oh, I see,” she says, pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Well…” She hesitates. “Do you and Makijima-kun—”

“Aihara-chan!” The two managers who came with her call out. “We’re heading out. We’ll chill by the entrance, so take your time!”

“Okay!” Aihara replies, waving them off.

“You’re a soccer team manager, right? You’re killing it,” I say.

“Thanks! The seniors are nice, and it’s fun. Wanna join, Sasaki-chan?”

I’d love to, but… “Nah, I don’t know enough about soccer. Plus, I need time for my hobbies.”

“Oh, right, café-hopping, yeah? Pancakes are your thing?”

“Yup! I try all kinds of cafés. The one I went to recently had these fluffy, melt-in-your-mouth—”

I catch Aihara’s curious look and stop. “S-Sorry, I got carried away!”

“No, it’s fine! You’re so cool and mature in class, but you get all cute talking about your passions.”

“Cute?”

My face heats up, unrelated to the hot spring. “I-I’m heading out!” I stand, hiding my blush.

“Aww, you’re embarrassed!” Aihara teases.

“I’m not—!” I start, then slip. My vision blurs—did I overheat? I stumble toward Aihara.

“Sasaki-chan, you okay?!” she cries, catching me as I nearly fall into the water.

My face lands in her chest, and she holds me tight, saving me. “S-Sorry, Aihara-san…” I mumble, trying to stand.

Her face is inches from mine. This is the first time since retiring as an idol that someone other than Makijima has seen me this close.

“Sasaki-chan…” she says.

She knows… My heart races.

“You’ve got such a tiny, cute face. I’m jealous!”

“R-Really…?” Phew, she didn’t figure it out.

I stand, blinking. I’m fine—no dizziness. Must’ve just slipped.

Aihara doesn’t seem to suspect anything. This was… insightful.

“You look like…” she starts.

“Huh?”

“Don’t people say you resemble Kiraboshi Ayane, the ex-idol?”

A chill runs through me. She’s probing. “N-Nope, never heard that,” I say lightly.

“But you really look like her,” she insists, staring into my eyes with a serious expression. She’s definitely suspicious.

Only Makijima and that café owner know I’m Kiraboshi Ayane. If more people find out, it’ll be chaos. I can’t let this slip. “I-I’m feeling flushed. Kinda dizzy, so I’m heading out.”

As I stand, Aihara rises too. “It’s not safe alone. I’ll go with you.”

I can’t refuse her kindness, so I nod, and we leave the hot spring together.

☆☆

Sasaki-chan’s eyes… When she fell, those gem-like, wide eyes pulled me in. Drying my hair beside her, I glance at Sasaki-chan as she carefully dries her medium-short locks. With her mask and glasses off, she looks so different. She has to resemble Kiraboshi Ayane—her mole, her eyes. But Kiraboshi Ayane here? We’re the same year, so it doesn’t add up.

We finish changing and leave the hot spring. “How you feeling, Sasaki-chan?” I ask.

“All good. Thanks.”

She stops. “I’m staying at this hotel, so I’m heading to my room. Sorry for the trouble, Aihara-san. You probably wanted to stay longer.”

“No way! I was about to head out anyway to meet the senior managers. Don’t worry.”

“…Okay, goodnight.”

“Night!”

Sasaki-chan walks to the elevator. She seemed panicked… maybe she’s related to Kiraboshi Ayane? A cousin or long-lost sister? Nah, she’d tell me. I shake off the suspicion. Sasaki-chan’s just Sasaki-chan. I head to the lobby to meet the seniors.

☆☆

“Phew, that was nice,” I say, leaving the hot spring, my body warmed to the core.

Azaki, with Chan-senpai’s help, tried peeking but saw only “wrinkled old ladies” from a tour group. Defeated, he slunk off. Chan-senpai’s still soaking, planning a sauna stop.

“Makijima-kun?” someone calls by the elevator.

“Oh, Aihara. Were you out somewhere?” I lean in as she gestures.

“Well…” She explains how Azaki’s peeking plan led her and the managers to a nearby hot spring.

What a pathetic guy, causing trouble just by existing.

“Elevator’s here,” I say.

We step in, just the two of us. A sweet, vanilla-like scent from Aihara’s hair tickles my nose. It’s… like Sasaki’s? Maybe they use the same shampoo or conditioner. They’re seminar buddies, so maybe they swap beauty tips.

“What’s up?” Aihara asks, peering at me.

The scent grows stronger as she leans closer. “N-Nothing,” I stammer, looking out the window.

“Your head’s okay for tomorrow’s match?”

“Yeah, no issues. Coach says I can play full matches.”

“Really?! You gotta shine then!” Her big eyes sparkle.

“I hear there’s a meeting soon about tomorrow’s schedule. Another amateur team?”

“A senior manager said it might be high schoolers, like usual.”

“High schoolers?” My motivation dips. Beating younger players gets you “it’s just high schoolers,” while slipping up means “you lost to kids.” No upside for us.

But as B-team, I can’t complain.

We reach the seventh floor and head to the meeting room. Most players are already there, including Azaki, sitting quietly at a long table.

“Thought you’d be slacking off, Azaki,” I say, sitting beside him with Aihara.

He’s silent, unlike his usual self. “I get you saw something traumatic in the hot spring, but a playboy like you shouldn’t be this down,” I tease.

“Shut up,” he mutters, eyes narrowed. Not angry, but… off.

Aihara and I exchange worried glances. “Azaki-kun?” she tries.

He doesn’t respond, his face unusually serious.

Coach walks in, stroking his white beard, and the meeting starts. “Everyone’s here?”

He counts us. “Tomorrow, we’re playing the A-team.”

The A-team?! B-team rarely faces the first-stringers directly.

“Morning practice is now a match. The A-team coach wants to see you, especially Azaki.”

“Yes, sir,” Azaki replies.

“Ninety percent of this is for you,” Coach adds.

Figures. Azaki’s the only freshman consistently playing. The A-team’s got high hopes for him. Is that why he’s acting weird?

“Everyone else, use Azaki as your ticket to shine. Seniors, you know the deal—post-Golden Week, A-team rosters shake up. For fourth-years, this is your last shot.”

The seniors’ eyes sharpen. Stuck in B-team in their final year? They’re desperate. But I’m not backing down.

We review tomorrow’s schedule and watch today’s match footage, then the meeting ends.

“Azaki,” I call as he stays serious. Aihara watches, concerned.

“You knew about the A-team match, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, Chan-paisen told me,” he admits.

“What, you nervous?”

“Wanna hear the truth?”

“Go for it.”

“I’m freaking pumped. More than any hookup. I can’t wait to crush the A-team.”

His serious gaze turns into a wild grin. Knew it.

Azaki’s not just a pervert—he’s a freak in everything. In soccer, he draws defenders to dribble through them, trains like a maniac, and grows relentlessly. He’s gross but strong.

“Imagine tearing through A-team’s beasts. It’s gonna feel so good,” he says.

“You say that, but they’re the two-time university league champs.”

“We’ll do it—you and me, wrecking their backline.”

He taps his fist on my chest, brimming with confidence. “Plus, we’ve got that sign play.”

The sign play—a trick to catch the enemy off guard and score. It’s solid, but… in front of the A-team coach?

“Is that the thing you mentioned on the bus, Makijima-kun?” Aihara asks.

“Yup, Aihara-san. Our camp-special, made for ‘M-for-Makijima’ play,” Azaki says.

“I’m not an M!” I snap.

“Oh, you are. Hiding that hot teacher fan—”

“Shut up, idiot!”

And so, day one ends, setting the stage for a brutal showdown.