The Pirates and The Turtle 08

Kame Hama derived its name from the renowned Turtle Beach on their island, with "Kame" representing "turtle" and "Hama" translating to "beach" in Japanese characters. Founded in the picturesque shores of the island, Kame Hama wasn't among the league's top contenders, lacking any significant trophies to boast.

Despite their modest standing, their loyal fan base, was testament to the nearly three hundred away supporters who made the journey by ferry, filling the north section of the stadium with enthusiasm. However, their cheers were dwarfed by the boisterous support of the pirates of Hinami. They may not be the best team in Shinrin, but some firmly believed they were the loudest.

As Reo emerged from the tunnel onto the pitch, heading towards the substitutes' bench, he was immediately struck by the palpable energy and excitement pulsating through the air. Even before the starting players took to the field, the passionate fans of the Hinami Pirates waved their flags with pride, filled the air with spirited songs, and synchronized their claps to create an atmosphere reminiscent of a crew sailing into battle. Like a team of seasoned veterans and young spirited captains of mischief, the fans had set the perfect stage for the players to give it their all.

“🎶 WE ARE HINAMI, NA NA NA! WE ARE THE PIRATES, NA, NA, NA, NA! 🎶 ”

As Reo sat, he was simply flabbergasted by the sheer power the particles in the air commanded, as if fueled with an unknown sort of energy.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” The boy with the weird purple haircut, Umio Sekine smiled blissfully at the scene. He was seated next to Reo, as they were both out of the starting lineup. The stands extended seemingly out onto the sky behind them, and even from where they sat, the chants coming from the crowd were audibly powerful.

“It’s weird… I never thought I’d see support like that during a high school match.”

“Idiot! It’s way more than JUST a high school match!” Isamu, the twin with the short temper, snarled as he butted in.

If Reo had heard that comment a few minutes prior to witnessing the stadium ambience, he would have probably scoffed. But after this breathtaking display of support, he could feel these words were not product of mere exaggeration.

The thirst of the fans was actually contagious, and the former football genius’ knees trembled slightly.

Seriously… what the heck?

“A most splendid display of passion. Worthy of a player such as myself.” A haughty long haired, and lanky young man merely smiled cockily. While the other three simply ignored him, the teenager with the doll-like face, held his nose high. He fixed his long hair in place, and trained his yellow eyes forward.

That was Koichiro Mizuta. A really… self-centered hothead that was too full of himself. He played in midfield and although he was good, he wasn’t as good as he made himself out to be. Or at least that’s what Reo had deduced.

“Is that why you’re on the bench, Mizuta-kun?” Shuna waltzed before them with an air of confidence, yet her smile betrayed hints of excitement. She was just as raring to go for the match just like any other fan out there.

“Ghk…” The haughty young man winced at the well-placed jab, but didn’t dare talk back.

“A-Ah, you think we’ll manage?” Standing beside him, a reserved young man with long, obsidian bangs partially obscuring his eyes shifted uneasily on the spot. His name was Souta Inoue. A tall figure next to him offered a reassuring pat on the back, accompanied by a warm grin.

“Have faith, Souta. We can’t lose with that kind of support!”

The man in question was the substitute keeper, a first year who recently joined alongside Reo. His name was lost on the young man, however. Kenta… Miura? Kenta something…

“O-Okay… Oribe-kun.”

So it was Oribe.

Tension hung thick in the air, palpable and taut, like a set of finely tuned strings ready to snap at the slightest touch. As the two teams of eleven players emerged from the tunnel, the crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause, amplifying the already charged atmosphere.

The Pirates, the home team, sported sleek black jerseys accented with crisp white detailing on the sleeves and shoulders, complemented by a retro-style white collar. Each player's distinctive number, emblazoned in white, adorned their chests and backs, while the gleaming crest on the left side of their chest stood out proudly in the golden sunlight.

“Goooo! Kaizoku!”

“Fightoooo! Show them who we are damnit!”

The air was thick with loud cheers of sheer anticipation, echoing throughout the stadium as the ground seemed to tremble beneath the multitude of spectators rising to their feet.

On the other side stood Kame Hama, adorned in pure white shirts with a prominent light blue horizontal stripe dominating nearly two-thirds of the front. The players, bearing the turtle crest with pride, marched onto the field. Their numbers, along with sleeve and collar details, were in a deep blue hue.

As the teams entered the pitch and the referee conversed with the two captains, Takasaki Housen and Yonemura Nanami, the spectators of Hinami exhibited a peculiar behavior in Reo's unaccustomed observation. Standing in unison, each one of them raised their hands into the air, some with scarves, others with flags, and the rest simply waving their arms about. Yet, despite the various methods, the gesture held a grandeur that transcended its simplicity.

In synchrony with the crowd, a marching tune echoed through the speakers, prompting everyone on the bench to rise as if compelled by an irresistible force.

“Heh, it’s starting!” Umio’s face shone with excitement, while Reo gulped slightly.

“What’s starting…?”

As if the crowd en masse gave a reply to Reo’s question, they all raised their voices. In tune to the melody, everybody’s voice became one. It was a rendition of what seemed to be an anthem, the kind you don’t usually here out on the street.

“Oh, Jolly Roger…”

Instead, where it was mostly used, was in occasions such as these: a declaration of love to a deeply supported football team.

“… Waving true…”

As the crowd began to sing, with some stumbling over the English lyrics, a reflection of Hinami's less-than-stellar grasp of the language, Reo could merely stare.

“Oh, Hinami, we fight for you!”

The sound of the emotional melody weaved in through the air, and as the song played on, everybody’s voice continued harmonizing. Umio joined in, his hand clutching his Hinami jacket tightly.

“May our spirit never break…”

While numerous black and white flags danced in the wind, and the hands in the air looked as if they were holding onto a fragile little thing, Shuna boldly seemed to lead the bench’s signing.

“…Through stormy seas we'll find the way!”

The crowd seemed to pause for a second, before coming back to sing yet again, this time even louder than before.

“With hearts aflame, we'll face the fight!”

As if to match each other’s intensity, the Hinami residents cried out onto the evening sky. Their voices a single shout, their hearts seemingly beating as one. Reo looked out at Shuna, as she sang her lungs out, eyes boldly turned forward.

He thought she looked more dazzling than ever.

“In black and white, we show our might!”

The music seemed to be drowned in a sea of voices, or perhaps it had stopped altogether, now the melody beating harder in everybody’s soul, louder than any speaker. Almost as if they meant to say everything was built up to this very moment, every person on their feet stood proud and tall, and shouted at their top of their lungs.

“Oh, Jolly Roger, waving true…

In Hinami our hearts’ with you!”

With the music now stopped, the supporters shouted yet again, in a final blaze of glory. Although the first part was a bit shaky, this last rendition sounded so fluent you’d never realize you were in Japan. Perhaps it was because all of those people, from young to old had heard and sung it so many times, language was but a mere step they had unknowingly surpassed.

Amidst the radiant floodlights and the descending sun, Hinami poured its hearts and soul into the song, as they always did. A reminder for the players, to always know, what exactly it was they were playing for.

No matter what happened next, Hinami would face it as a single united front.

Reo felt a shiver run down his arms, his hair tingling in response, as if it too were caught up in the fervor of the crowd.

As the song winded down, the fans clapped and cheered once more. With resolute gazes as sharp as blades, the Hinami players looked at each other in powerful silence.

“HI – NA – MI! HI – NA – MI! HI – NA – MI!”

A final shout from the loudest of fans, and a thunderous round of applause from the rest ensued.

Like an excited little girl, and a crazy old man altogether Shuna cupped her palms around her mouth and shouted, her voice carrying onto the field like an eagle taking flight.

“IKEEEEEE! FIGHTOOO!”

It was a simple cheer, but the passion in her voice wasn’t lost on anyone.

With a smile Reo silently realized. Shuna, like all the other people in Hinami, was crazy about the sport. And even more crazy about the pirates themselves.

With a deep inhalation, the referee blew the whistle sharply, like a horn announcing the commencement of battle. It was a war, where only one side would emerge victorious in the end.

A simple but significant war of resilience.

Hinami was ready, and the stadium was on its feet.

As the match began, the bench that had risen almost in muscle memory, sat back down.

“I didn’t know there was a song dedicated to the team…” Reo commented, while Umio smiled smugly.

“’Course there is! The pirates are the best team in the land!”

“The only team in the land, if you’re aware of geography…” As Koichiro was making his usual sarcastic comment, the fervor on the stands seemed to rise.

“Ah!”

The crowd gasped, cutting the little chat along the bench short. The spectators held their breath, as Akihiko, true to the tactical plan, found himself in a good position outside the enemy’s box. With a strong resolute strike, he rocketed the ball off the grass and towards goal.

“OH…!”

But the Kame Hama goalkeeper managed to save it with a spectacular dive.

“Damn it! Concentrate you idiots!” The same keeper shouted in an attempt to snap his defenders out of their trance. Playing against such a fervent crowd was no easy task, especially for those who hadn't experienced the electrifying atmosphere of Hinami before. Meanwhile, Gonda was visibly energized, bouncing on his feet with raw adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Nice shot, Akihiko! Good first touch, Tora! Keep it up!”

He cupped his hands and shouted orders. As composed as he was during everyday life, football was the one thing that got Takehiro Gonda bouncing off the walls. Constantly talking, constantly moving.

Akihiko, the maestro, went off to the side to collect the ball. While he walked, a few fans seated in the nearest stand shouted in unison.

“GAMBARE! HATATE-KUN!”

“Tsk, that pompous ass…”

In the face of the younger girls cheering for Akihiko, Umio, ever the jealous one, clicked his tongue.

That must be the fan club Totori talked about… Reo deduced, noticing even the weird hairdo with the tied bangs standing at attention.

A corner kick was a method of restarting play in soccer when the ball went out of bounds over the goal line, last touched by a defending player. During a corner kick, the attacking team kicks the ball from the corner of the field, aiming to send it as close the enemy goal as possible.

This gives the attacking team a strategic opportunity to score a goal directly from the kick or create a scoring chance with a well-placed pass or header by a teammate. Naturally, instances like these, gave the opportunity for even defenders to push up field, since they usually boasted the tallest of heights in a team, and Housen was such a beacon. Although the equally tall Toraichi wasn’t so easily outdone.

Thus, Akihiko, as composed as ever took the kick, crossing the ball into the box.

The ball soared into the sky, curved gracefully towards the goal, and dropped perfectly into the penalty area. Housen, the team captain, leaped into the air as if propelled by a trampoline, connecting with the ball using his head with precision and power, aiming for the goal.

“AAAH!”

Another gasp from the crowd, everybody in the bench felt like jumping, but the ball just whizzed past the upper post.

“Damn it!” Housen clicked his tongue, as he ran back to get into position. When the attacking team put the ball out of play over the goal line, the defending team restarted the game from their goal uninterrupted. The so-called goal kick.

As Kame Hama was regrouping, a thin, unathletic figure stayed in the box alongside his defenders, eying his keeper with caution.

He spoke in a tone far too low for Reo or anyone to hear, but seemed to indicate they all should calm down. His demeanor wasn’t all that commanding, yet his symmetrically cut black bangs framed a small face and a pair of sharp blue eyes.

Kame Hama, passed the ball around their own half of the field, and managed to break through Hinami’s pressing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Gonda threw his hands up. Breaking through pressing plays meant that the team that pressed high, would be left vulnerable in defense, since they committed too many players in attack, in order to trigger the press in the first place.

Sakanami Yuzuru, their number 6, calmly trapped the ball between his feet, and passed it around from the prowling, mountainous Ishiguro towards a tall athletic player. He had a weird brown Mohawk, and appeared to be as fast as lightning.

“That’s Nanami!” Umio clicked his tongue. “As much as I don’t like cheering for him… Don’t let him past you Hatate!”

The short young man, albeit begrudgingly, cheered on for his teammate. Thankfully, Akihiko used it as fuel, and tackled the ball out of play before Kame Hama became too dangerous.

“This isn’t looking great…” Gonda muttered a little, and jotted down on his notepad.

It was nearing the end of the first half, and Yuzuru Sakanami was reading Hinami like a book once again. Bypassing midfield wasn’t an easy task, and two out of three long balls coming from defense never reached the intended target.

No matter how much they had trained for this type of play, it was still very difficult to actually make it happen in such a high stakes match.

❖ ⚽ ❖

Hinami was completely shut down in the first half, with the score still tied at zero for both sides. Despite the challenging situation, the conversation in the dressing room remained much the same. Once again, the Hinami players rallied and motivated each other, gearing up for another round of action on the field.

This time they wouldn’t return back to the dressing room without a clear winner between the two teams.

It was all or nothing.

Gonda looked skeptical at the start of the match, but finally, as if God himself had smiled upon the Pirates, Kame Hama committed a mistake in defense. The pressing finally worked.

“GO TORAAAA!”

The craziest fans mounted atop the high fence gates separating the pitch shouted with all they had, as Toraichi capitalized on the mistake, stole the ball and was through on goal with the keeper.

“Come on! Toraaa!” Umio, Reo and the rest of the bench ran to the front line, anticipating the moment half of them had even dreamt of last night.

Toraichi looked between the goal and the keeper, his eyes resolute and his posture not betraying a single hint of anxiety.

He was composed.

He struck the ball with force, and it sailed past the keeper. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have saved that!

Time seemed to freeze in those fleeting seconds that passed. The ball sliced through the air, and finally, reached its destination.

Clang.

The ball collided with the post, shattering the hopes of the players and fans alike. It felt as though the goddess of fate had transformed their anticipation into bitter disappointment, leaving the crowd and bench to exhale collectively in defeat.

Αρχή φόρμας

“Aaah…”

“Damn it! Damn it! Shit!”

The usually composed Toraichi kicked at the grass and ruffled his hair. He knew as a striker that he should have scored. However, the small but passionate Totori gave him a friendly slap on the back.

“Don’t mind it, Take! You’ll score the next one!”

If there was a next one.

The mighty Tora thought, before shaking it off and continuing.

“Right!”

Like the crowd had sensed the back and forth, everybody started raising their voices once more. The stadium was on its feet once again, reawakened by the big chance. Hinami was out for blood.

“HI – NA – MI!”

“KAI – ZO – KU!”

Yet no matter how fervently the fans cheered, their collective wishes seemed insufficient to guide the ball into the net. Kame Hama managed to evade conceding a goal by the narrowest of margins several more times, adding to the tension. As the clock ticked towards the 80th minute, the sense of urgency grew even more palpable for the Pirates.

Only ten minutes to go. Only ten minutes away from being…

Eliminated.

The overall score from the last game was still 2-1 after all. If things stayed like that then Hinami…

Gonda was sweating, and Shuna was just about ready to jump in and grab someone by the neck.

The coach exhaled, and turned back to the bench.

Yuzuru Sakanami had read all of his players. He had seen through their movements, their skills, everything, Hinami needed someone unpredictable. Someone fast and clinical.

A star. A hero of the hour.

As his eyes fell upon a single blonde player, the middle aged man’s eyes shone with a newfound excitement.

“Umio, you’re up.”

“Yessir!”

One of the two already warmed up players nodded, and got to wearing his uniform. With the number 17 on his back, he was ready to step onto the pitch.

“Oh, and…” Gonda walked up to the boy. The ace up his sleeve. “Reo, you’re up too.”

It was time. Reo thought, his knees almost ready to give out from the anticipation.

“Shuna, give him a jersey!”

“Right!” The girl quickly moved to the team’s big duffle bag. “Uh…”

“What is it?”

“We only have this one…” She offered a wry smile as she unpacked a black Hinami jersey. Displayed prominently on both the back and front was a double-digit number, carrying known significance for the team.

“The number 10?!” Umio almost chocked.

Historically, the heaviest number of all. It was the number many stars of football had shone while wearing. From the best Argentinians, to dazzling Brazilians, from English superstars to the top of the world’s stage…

Number 10 was the best there was.

“Give it to him, we don’t have time to waste.”

As Reo received a shirt that was more than worth its weight in gold, his heart just wouldn’t stop pounding a hundred miles per second.

The young man looked back onto the weary scoreboard.

84th minute. 0 – 0

Reo couldn’t contain his smile.

He knew what he had to do.

A/N:

Takasaki Housen visual up on the showcase! Akihiko Hatate or Umio Sekine next?