Next day...
Lucas:
"Okay, Mom! I'm leaving. Take care!"
Marie (from the kitchen):
"Okay, take care. Come home on time!"
Lucas (smiling):
"Sure, Mom!"
I headed off. First college, then high school. Same routine.
Or so I thought...
As I walked through the hallway of the high school, heading toward the locker room—
...something felt weird.
Everyone was staring at me. One by one. Like I had grown another head.
I gave a friendly wave.
Lucas:
"Hello~ Good afternoon!"
No response. Just... stares.
(They're definitely angry... probably about me challenging the boys' team.)
[Inside the Locker Room]
I pushed open the door and stepped in.
Lucas:
"Hello, Sir Victor!"
Coach Victor stood by the whiteboard... arms crossed... face stiff.
Didn't even blink.
(Uhhh... not a great sign.)
I tiptoed up to him and started bouncing up and down like an idiot.
Lucas:
"Hello~ Hello~ Hello~ Hello~"
Victor (growling):
"Hmmmmm... Hello, Coach."
(Coach? Ohhh boy. That's even worse.)
Lucas:
"What's wrong, Sir Victor? You mad at me?"
No response. Again.
I tilted my head, confused.
Lucas (thinking):
(What did I even do wrong?)
Victor finally let out a long sigh... the type you hear from tired dads in dramas.
Victor:
"Okay. Let me ask you something, Coach Lucas."
Oh no. Full name. This was serious.
Victor:
"Why did you challenge the boys' team... without our consent?"
Lucas (trying to lighten the mood):
"Ehh, it's just a friendly game! Are we scared of them or what, Sir Victor?"
Victor:
BAM! (He lightly punched my stomach.)
Victor:
"Sonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn... You still don't get it."
Uh-oh. That "son" was way too long to be affectionate.
Victor (frustrated):
"We're not mad because you challenged them. We're mad because you didn't INFORM anyone.
And worse—you didn't tell us you made a BET to leave the team if you lose!"
He glared at me like a tiger ready to pounce.
Victor:
"You said it's just a game, but for this team? For me? For those girls?
It's not. It's about respect. About trust.
You know what happens if we lose based on the records? 100% chance we go down.
So I ask again—what if you lose?"
I didn't flinch. I smiled instead.
Eyes locked. Voice low.
Lucas:
"If? That's cute."
I stepped closer.
Lucas:
"I don't gamble on fantasies, Sir Victor. I deal in certainties.
If the girls trust me... we're winning this. No doubt."
Victor (stunned):
"...You've changed. Are you really Lucas?"
Lucas (smirking):
"Haha. Call me God and trust me."
Victor:
"Alright, God. I trust you. But the team doesn't—yet.
You'll need to earn it. Only then will they give their 100%."
Lucas:
"I know, Sir Victor. And today... I'll win their trust."
Author Kuro (narrating):
Guess who's back? And yeah, I'm betting on this guy. Let's go!
[At the Ground – Moments Later]
The pitch was full.
Girls stood scattered around, murmuring.
Some looked confused. Others stared at me, visibly upset.
Lucas (thinking):
They're all waiting for answers.
Doesn't matter how good my tactics are...
If they don't trust me, we're nothing.
PHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!!
I blew the whistle hard.
Lucas:
"Line up! Three rows! I'll speak first, then you can ask anything."
They moved slowly... then faster...
Three rows formed. All eyes on me.
Some of them looked at me with serious expressions.
But behind those eyes...
I saw something I hadn't seen before.
Fire.
They were listening.
Good.
Lucas:
"I know why you're upset.
Why I challenged the boys."
I took a breath.
Lucas:
"They laughed at you.
They told me you were weak. That you were nothing. That you couldn't play like them.
They tried to kick me out for defending you."
The girls stirred. Some clenched their fists.
Lucas (louder):
"They say you're 'just girls' trying to play a man's game.
Good. Let them underestimate you."
I stepped forward, eyes burning.
Lucas:
"Let them laugh. Because the moment you walk onto that pitch...
You carry every little girl who was ever told she's too weak to dream."
Lucas:
"This isn't football. This is war."
I could feel the shift. They were really listening now.
Lucas:
"Every tackle? A statement.
Every pass? A rebellion.
Every goal? Proof that heart beats muscle every time."
Lucas:
"I don't care if they're faster. Or stronger.
You? You're hungrier."
I knelt, grabbed a handful of grass, and let it fall into the wind.
Lucas:
"This pitch doesn't care about gender.
It doesn't care about tradition.
It only cares about hunger.
Right now—they think they've already won."
I stood up straight.
Lucas:
"Let them stay comfortable.
Because we? We're starving."
Lucas (shouting):
"And today—WE EAT."
A pause. Silence.
Then—
"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The pitch exploded with energy.
Every single girl shouted in unity.
Fists raised. Eyes blazing. Doubt—gone.
Victor (from behind, smiling):
Thumbs up.
Lucas (clearing throat):
"Ahem! Alright! For today, we're doing passing drills, shooting drills, and twenty laps.
Tomorrow—I'll evaluate everyone one by one."
I smiled.
Lucas:
"For the next 20 days, we're going to train like hell.
So, are you ready?"
All Girls (shouting):
"YES, COACH! WE'RE READY!!!"
End of Chapter 7