The second half had barely begun when Hyoma Chigiri felt it—sharp, sudden, and merciless. A cramp seized his leg mid-run, and before he could adjust, his body gave in. He collapsed to the turf with a muted thud, clutching his thigh as pain radiated through his muscles. The stadium noise blurred into a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding in his ears and the sting of frustration rising in his chest.

“Chigiri?! Are you okay?!” Isagi shouted, concern cutting through the chaos.

He nodded, breath shallow. “Yeah… I just… have a cramp in my leg…”

It was humiliating.

The second half had just started, and already his body was failing him. He had trained, pushed, prepared—but it wasn’t enough. Not today. Not in the match that was supposed to prove everything.

As he sat on the field, the realization settled in like a weight on his shoulders.

"I can’t believe I’m out of stamina after this…" he thought bitterly. "All that time I said I was quitting soccer and trying to run away… What a waste…"

His mind spiraled.

"It’s come back to bite me at a critical time like this… How pathetic…"

He could almost see the chains—memories of hesitation, of fear, of the injury that once threatened to end his career. He had broken free from them once, but now they were back, dragging him down when he needed to rise.

Chigiri didn’t argue when the substitution was called. He didn’t protest when the coach gestured toward the bench. He simply stood, limped off the field, and accepted the silence that followed.

“Chigiri… You did well,” a teammate said gently.

He nodded, but the words barely registered.

On the bench, the sting of failure lingered. His leg throbbed, but the ache in his chest was worse.

“Hey,” Ego said beside him. “You got some complaints about being swapped out?”

Chigiri clenched his fists. His jaw tightened. But he didn’t lie.

“No… I don’t… !” he said, voice cracking with restrained emotion.

And then Ego Jinpachi spoke again. His voice was sharp, clinical, and unforgiving.

“If you feel like crying,” Ego said, “then show up to the field with a body that can run until the end, dimwit.”

Chigiri didn’t cry. But he felt it.

The burn.

The shame.

The fire.

That frustration—that was where he was now. And it was exactly where he needed to be.