Fwee!
The final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 3-0, and the stadium erupted.
Hiro stood near the center circle and let it wash over him. His leg ached and his lungs burned, but he felt more alive than he had felt in a long time.
At the far end of the pitch, Shun was still on the ground.
He had gotten to his feet after the goal, but when the whistle blew, his legs seemed to give out, and now he sat on the turf in front of his goal, staring up at the net as if it had personally betrayed him.
His gloves were dirty, and his kit was damp with sweat, and nothing in his face gave away what he was thinking.
Hiro crossed the pitch toward him, his stride slower than it would once have been. He stopped a few feet away and held out his hand.
"Good game."
Shun looked up at him, and for a moment he didn't move. Then he took the hand and let Hiro pull him to his feet.
"You scored on me."
"I did."
"That shot was ridiculous."
"I know."
Shun shook his head. "You're impossible."
