Kicked Out of the Bottom Soccer Team, I Found My Strength Thanks to My Beautiful Junior Manager. What Began as a Simple Act of Kindness Turned into Her Coming Over Every Day.

Chapter 1: Ordered to Quit by the Third-String Captain.

“You. Just quit already.”

“…Huh?”

For a moment, Takumi couldn’t comprehend what he was being told.

After the practice match, Takumi—who was the only one in the team who commuted on foot—had parted ways with his classmates and was about to head home when he was stopped by Takeoka, the captain of Sakura High School’s third-string soccer team.

And then, without any warning, those words were thrown at him.

“U-Um… quit…?”

When Takumi asked back timidly, Takeoka let out an exaggerated sigh. He scratched the back of his head roughly with his large hand, looking annoyed, before fixing his gaze on Takumi.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? —I’m telling you to quit the soccer club.”

“……!”

Faced with the hatred burning in Takeoka’s eyes, Takumi was rendered speechless.

“Today’s goals against us were all your fault, weren’t they? You’re terrible, so I’ve told you so many times not to touch the ball. Do you have no skill and no brain either?”

“……!”

Takumi clenched his fists tightly, but he couldn’t argue back.

He couldn’t. Because it was an undeniable fact that his mistakes had directly led to those conceded goals.

“It’s not just today. The only time you ever stand out is when you make a mistake and get involved in a goal we concede. You’re the living embodiment of ‘more harm than good.’ Because of you, we lose matches and our evaluation drops too. You’re nothing but a nuisance.”

Takeoka looked at Takumi as if he were staring at garbage and spat those words out in disgust. Then, he curled his lips into a mocking sneer.

“Don’t tell me you still believe that if you just keep working hard, someday… Right? Let me be clear, Kisaragi. You’re one of those who were never chosen. Even if it wasn’t our school, you wouldn’t get playing time at any decent mid-tier school either. Between me—who can’t move up to the second string just because the coach there hates me—and you, who’s nothing but dead weight even in the third string, the difference in our caliber is obvious. It’s a gap in talent that effort can never bridge.”

Even as he was laughed at through Takeoka’s nose, Takumi could only bite his lip.

(I already know that… but still…!)

“I was hoping you’d eventually realize your limits and quit on your own… but I’ve reached my limit first. Besides, there’s one more reason I want you gone.”

Takeoka took a step closer.

A vulgar, sleazy smile spread across his face.

“—If I keep hanging around with trash like you, it’ll cause trouble for Kana too.”

“……!”

Shirayuki Kana.

Although she was only a first-year, she had already been exceptionally promoted to the second-string manager after just two months of joining.

Despite possessing idol-level beauty and a stunning figure, for some reason Kana had taken a liking to Takumi.

‘I like your play, senpai.’

Just the other day, she had comforted him when he was feeling down.

Even today, when they happened to meet before the match, she had encouraged him with a bright smile: ‘I’ll do my best not to fall asleep during supplementary lessons, so please do your best in the match too, senpai!’ However—

(I’m sorry, Shirayuki… I might already be at my limit…)

Takumi’s heart was already on the verge of breaking.

But Takeoka didn’t stop.

“Kana has a perfect face, body, and ability. She lives in a completely different world from someone like you. And if you keep showing off these pathetic displays, she’ll eventually get fed up with you, you know? She watches guys who are way better than you every single day. She seems to have a soft spot for you for now, so go ahead and struggle as ugly as you want. —Well, in the end, she just doesn’t see you as a man at all.”

With those parting words, Takeoka turned his back on him.

“Kisaragi, this is an order. Quit immediately.”

Don’t ever set foot on the pitch again—.

Spitting out those final words, Takeoka walked away.

Takumi could only stare blankly at his retreating back, unable to move for a long time.

“…Should I just give up already…?”

It was something he had been thinking about constantly lately, but this was the first time he had said it out loud.

The only time Takumi ever stood out was when he made a mistake and got involved in a conceded goal—. Takeoka’s words weren’t exaggerated in the slightest.

Even today, he had read the opposing defender’s reaction correctly. The moment he trapped the ball on the left flank, the opponent reacted exactly as Takumi had predicted. All he had to do was use a body feint and slip past.

But the instant he went for the feint, his balance collapsed. The ball was stolen effortlessly, and that sequence led directly to a goal against them.

He knew exactly what he should do, yet his body and technique couldn’t keep up. No matter how many times more he practiced than those around him, the gap only continued to widen.

No one understood the “gap in talent that effort could never overcome” better than Takumi himself.

When had it started? When had he begun letting out sighs while preparing for club activities?

How long had it been since he could smile innocently and think, “I get to play soccer again today”?

He had begged his father to let him take the entrance exam for Sakura High School because he wanted to join its soccer club. Because of that, he couldn’t just quit so easily. He had worked harder than anyone else.

(…But is there even any point in trying this hard anymore…?)

Lately, he couldn’t enjoy it or feel himself growing. He was simply piling up painful, suffocating days.

He no longer even knew if he could still call that “effort.”

(I just want to get better. I just want to play soccer and have fun… That’s all. So why does it hurt this much…?)

“……”

He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. If he didn’t, the tears would have spilled over.

He closed his eyes and let out a single, heavy breath.

“…Let’s go home.”

By the time he noticed, his enamel bag had slipped off his shoulder. He picked it up and began walking with heavy, dragging steps.

Whether he skipped, walked emotionlessly, or simply moved his feet, home would steadily draw closer.

He passed through the entrance of his apartment building, tossed his bag into his solitary second-floor apartment, and nearly collapsed onto the floor right there.

—Yet, before he realized it, his feet were carrying him toward the nearby park.

Right near the entrance, there was a bench tucked away behind a thick grove of trees. When he sat down, the metal let out a quiet, creaking kii sound.

Something cold touched the back of his neck. The sporadic raindrops soon turned into a steady downpour.

At this rate, he would catch a cold—.

Despite that calm, rational thought, Takumi’s body refused to move even an inch.