2002 World Cup Final — The giants of Europe, Germany, face off against the mighty Brazil.
[67th Minute]
Ronaldo Nazário dribbles past the defenders—
GOALLLL!!!
He smashes it into the back of the net, breaking the German defense wide open!
[79th Minute]
Another chance... and it's in again!
GOALLLL!!!
Two goals for Ronaldo in the final. A legendary performance. The world witnesses the rise of the greatest striker.
A little boy, barely 2 years old, sits beside his father. He doesn't understand much, can barely speak—but at that moment, he utters his first word:
"Gooal~."
"KUBO! Stop sleeping in the classroom!"
Chuck's voice echoed, his mouth full of chips.
"And you should stop eating before you turn into a planet-devouring monster," Kubo shot back, laughing.
From the playground below, a voice called out,
"Karao! Match starts in 15 minutes!"
"I'm coming!" Kubo jumped from the second floor window, landing on his feet. Another reckless stunt, just because he couldn't wait to play football.
"KUBO! Are you crazy?!" Chuck screamed in horror.
Kubo grinned and sprinted toward the field. He changed into his school's football kit—Karasawa Middle School—number 9 printed boldly on the back. On his arm, he wore the captain's armband.
"Karao Mitsujiki" — the name that led his team.
Karasawa Middle School vs. Fujinawa Middle School
The whistle blew. The match began.
Both teams were evenly matched, the ball racing across the field. Time ticked away quickly. By the 40th minute, tension soared.
The ball soared high—coming down near midfield. A foot stretched out, gently tapping it upward, lofting it past a defender. Kubo touched it down, shifted his pace, slicing through the defense.
One... two... then the final defender—nutmegged with ease.
Inside the box now—only the keeper to beat.
Kubo feinted, chipped the ball—cleanly over the rushing keeper.
It bounced once, then struck the net.
GOAL!!!
The crowd exploded.
"Karao! Karao! Karao!"
He raised his fist in the air, smiling wide.
That was for the dream.
The match ended 2-0. Both goals were his.
Just like his idol, just like that World Cup final.
Six months later...
Graduation Day.
"Chuck! What did you write on the shrine card that day?" Karao asked as the three friends walked out of the ceremony.
"Ah, you'll laugh at me..." Chuck muttered, hiding his face.
"Idiot, we laugh at almost everything," said Jono, striking a dramatic pose like always.
Chuck sighed.
"I want to be a chef."
His face turned redder than ever.
"A chef? That's actually pretty cool," Kubo said, struggling not to laugh.
"I knew it! You'll probably eat your own restaurant dry," Jono teased.
Chuck flared.
"I knew you'd mock me!"
"Hey, we're joking! C'mon Jono, your turn—what's your dream?"
Jono paused, then with rare seriousness said,
"I want to be a mangaka."
Chuck scoffed.
"With your chicken-scratch doodles?"
"You fat monster! Wanna fight?! ORA ORA ORA ORA!"
More JoJo poses followed, as usual.
Kubo laughed, then shouted,
"Chuck, Jono! I'm going to Kanagawa to join the academy. I'm going to be a football star! Let's chase our dreams and meet again after high school!"
They all grabbed drinks from a vending machine and raised them high.
"One, two, three—For Dreams!"
The next morning.
The sun tried to rise, but the sky stayed gray. Rain fell heavily.
At the bus stop stood Karao—suitcase in hand, football boots slung over his shoulder.
His parents stood beside him, quiet and proud.
Just before the bus arrived, Chuck and Jono showed up, Jono pulling a soaked Chuck on a bike, panting from the effort.
Jono handed him a JoJo star sticker.
"Stick it on your boots. It'll look cool."
Chuck handed him a packet of chips and a small lunch box.
"My first udon. Eat it on the ride."
Kubo smiled, eyes glassy.
He hugged them both.
His dad gave him a new pair of boots and some cash for the first month. His mom handed him hand-knitted socks for good luck.
There were notes and tiny gifts from his club members, classmates, and teachers.
As the bus rolled through the misty road, Kubo looked out the window, the ocean waves racing beside him.
The dream didn't feel far.
But the road ahead was going to be far harder than he had ever imagined.
As Karao slid the window open slightly, a cool, gentle breeze drifted in, calming his trembling hands. He was nervous—unsure of what lay ahead.
In his lap sat a folded application letter, the header reading:
"Congratulations on your selection to Murawa Shindo Academy."
A newly established football institution affiliated with a J2 League team.
He glanced at the fading view of his hometown as the bus rolled past. New places, new faces—a new life awaited.
The bus stopped at the edge of town. A girl stepped on board.
She wore a simple country dress, her long, jet-black hair cascading almost to her waist. Her eyes—deep blue, like the ocean on a cloudy day—met his for a brief second.
She looked about his age.
With a soft, gentle voice, she asked,
"Um... can I sit here?"
"Y-Yes, of course," Karao replied, shifting his bag. "Oh! I'm Karao Mitsujiki. On my way to become a football star."
The girl chuckled, amused by his confident introduction.
"Hana Taro," she said, smiling brightly. "I'm on my way to become a judo star."
Karao raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"You're going to Kanagawa Prefecture too?"
"Yes. To Murawa City. There's a judo club there called Shindo Kudo," she answered, settling into the seat beside him.
"Wait... I'm also heading to Murawa! To join their football academy!" Karao exclaimed, eyes wide. "What a coincidence!"
Hana smiled softly.
"Maybe... it's not just a coincidence."
They spent the rest of the ride talking—about football, about judo, about dreams they'd carried since childhood.
The 12-hour journey passed in a blink.
As they stepped off the bus into the fresh air of a new city, Hana turned to him.
"Want to meet tomorrow at a café nearby? I've visited Murawa once before. The coffee's good."
"Uh, sure! How about 4 p.m.?" Karao asked, trying not to sound too eager.
"Okay! See you tomorrow," Hana waved before walking off toward her rented place.
"See you!" Karao called back, then froze.
"Oh no—academy gates close at 9!"
He took off running, his bag bouncing behind him.
He reached the academy just as the clock ticked 8:59 p.m.
"Wait! I'm Karao Mitsujiki—I'm here to check in!"
A man at the front desk looked up from a clipboard. His badge read Assistant Coach.
"Ah, just in time. Let's see… Karao Mitsujiki... yes, here you are," the man said, checking the list.
"Go to the next campus building, Room 14B. Your roommate has already arrived."
Karao bowed slightly. "Thank you!"
"Oh, and I'm Samuel Unai. You'll see me tomorrow morning on the training pitch. Get some rest."
"Yes, sir!" Karao nodded before rushing off again.
Room 14B...
"11, 12, 13... 14—here it is."
He knocked. "Hey! I'm your roommate."
The door swung open to reveal a towering figure—almost 7 feet tall, with a buzz cut and dyed green hair.
A commanding presence.
"Ah! You're late. I'm Ryuji Orasa. Seventeen. Goalkeeper."
His voice had a slightly foreign lilt to it.
Karao grinned. "Sorry about that! I'm Karao Mitsujiki. Sixteen. Striker."
The room was spacious—two beds, two study desks, a shared wardrobe. Their high school classes would be held at Murawa High, just across the academy grounds. But that wouldn't start for two more months.
Right now, it was all about training.
Karao collapsed onto his bed, exhausted from the long journey.
Tomorrow—his first day on the pitch.
A new life was about to begin.