The score was a brutal eight to zero.
The numbers glared from the scoreboard, a testament to the vast difference between the Regulars and the First-Years.
Wakashi stared at them, his eyes unblinking, his body a silent monument of frustration.
His teammates, all smaller and less intimidating, already had the look of defeat in their eyes.
There was no more fire, no belief left in them. They had accepted their fate.
But Wakashi was different. He saw their resignation, and it filled him not with despair, but with a cold, terrifying fury.
He turned on his teammates, his voice a guttural roar that startled everyone on the field.
"What are you doing?! Hurry up! We still have a chance! The game's not over!" he yelled
His words a desperate, raw challenge to the accepted reality.
He would not, could not, accept this loss until the final whistle.
He would do everything he could to win.
One of the First-Years' defenders, his shoulders slumped in dejection, took a step towards him.
"What do you mean, 'we still have a chance'?"
he argued, his voice full of tired frustration.
"You're a waste! You haven't done anything all game!"
Wakashi flinched, his hands clenching into fists.
The words were true. He was a waste. He hadn't helped. But he would not accept it.
"Pheew"
The whistle blew, and Harada-sensei's voice echoed across the field,
"Play! Let's go!"
The ball was kicked off towards the First-Year midfielder
a boy whose eyes were still clouded with doubt.
"Give me the ball!" Wakashi roared
His voice a primal command.
Startled, the midfielder looked up, saw the burning intensity in Wakashi's eyes, and without thinking, launched the ball toward him.
Wakashi received the pass clumsily, the ball bouncing awkwardly off his foot,
But the Regular defenders were still out of position.
Seeing this window of opportunity, he began to run, his long legs devouring the ground, the ball stuck to his side by sheer force of will.
A defender rushed towards him, attempting to take the ball,
But Wakashi's immense power came into play.
He held the ball close, his massive frame a fortress.
The defender tried to push him off course, but Wakashi simply leaned into the contact, his body as unmovable as a boulder.
Seeing their teammate struggling, another defender came to assist,
But Wakashi simply fended them both off with his hands, holding them at arm's length. They were powerless to stop him.
A First-Year midfielder, seeing Wakashi pinned, yelled,
"Pass!"
Wakashi looked at him, and with a sudden touch of skill, pushed the ball forward.
The midfielder, with the help of a few other teammates, began to move the ball down the field
But the Regulars, now aware of Wakashi's terrifying presence, tightened their defense around the goal.
The midfielder's eyes grew dim.
He knew they couldn't compare. He knew their efforts were futile.
Wakashi struggled against the defenders near the post.
He felt the familiar despair creeping in, the thought that he was useless, that he was untalented.
He closed his eyes, thinking,
'I know I am a waste. I am not talented. I don't have skill.'
The doubt was a suffocating weight.
But then, a cold voice in his mind, fierce and unyielding, whispered
"So what?"
His eyes snapped open, blazing with a renewed intensity.
The dark fire that the old man had seen, a fire that would never be extinguished, roared to life.
"So what?!"
he screamed internally.
He roared to the midfielder,
"Give me the ball!"
The midfielder, hearing that guttural, monstrous cry, looked up.
He saw not a teammate, but a force of nature, a terrifying shadow.
Without hesitation, he launched the ball into the box.
The pass was too high, too long, impossible for anyone to reach.
Everyone thought it was going straight into the keeper's hands.
But as the ball flew, the goalkeeper saw a dark shadow, a demon, his eyes burning with dark fire.
Wakashi had not given up.
He started to run, his defenders still on his tail.
He launched himself into the air, a breathtaking leap that seemed to defy gravity.
The defenders tried to drag him down, but they were no match for his power.
He soared above them, a black silhouette against the sky.
With a thunderous thwack, he connected with the ball, heading it directly into the net.
The goal was met not with cheers, but with a stunned silence.
"pheeew"
The only sound was the sharp blast of the referee's whistle.
Wakashi landed, his body a lone, imposing figure in the goal box.
He clenched his fists, a dark aura radiating from him, his eyes still burning with that unholy fire.
The scoreboard flickered, then changed.
8 - 1.
A single word was all that could be heard from the shocked sidelines.
"...Goal."