Two Days Until Kickoff
Two days until the league opener.
I'd been training hard all this time to earn the starting running back job, and I'd even done my fair share of studying on the side.
And, of course, the team still treated me like an invisible man.
When I'd played those first JV games, they'd at least given me genuine awe—I'd been a mercenary brought in from outside, after all. But now I was a teammate. A competitor.
The roster was over fifty players strong, and my rivals at the same position seemed to rotate by the hour.
Since eleven men took the field on each side of the ball, there were twenty-two starting jobs between offense and defense—not even thirty once you counted special teams. It was a sport riddled with injuries, so the backup roster ran deep, but with more than fifty members in the club, the competition was vicious.
The moment Liam moved over to edge rusher, the running back spot suddenly looked winnable, and three more players threw their hats in the ring. And apparently Ronnie—the original starter I'd never even seen—was quietly working his way back from injury.
"You been talking with your teammates at all?"
After classes ended, I was called into the coach's office. Tyrone handed me a glass of water and asked as I sat down.
"No."
"Straight to the point, huh. Well, I've got eyes and ears, so I figured as much."
Don't tell me they'd bench me if I couldn't get along with the guys?
"Ronnie's coming back."
The words came out of nowhere. I just listened in silence.
"You've played it yourself, so you know—football is a team sport in the end. Chemistry between teammates matters enormously."
"Seems that way."
"The team's already buzzing about Ronnie's return. They expect him back on the field for the regular season."
"Hmm..."
As I nodded along, Tyrone let out a short laugh.
"The guys aren't freezing you out out of any real malice. They're just desperate—that's all there is to it."
Most of the current starters were upperclassmen. Come next year, they'd have to move on to college, which meant this season was a matter of survival for them.
Under those circumstances, whether to team up with a comet that appeared out of nowhere like me, or to play alongside the team's ace they'd trained beside all along—the answer had been decided before the question was even asked.
"So I'm the backup."
"If Ronnie comes back."
"Understood."
"Don't get too discouraged, though. We'll rotate you in. A football game—especially for a running back—is exhausting. It's hard to carry a full game alone."
That was a sensation I couldn't quite picture, never having played a full game.
Ah, that first game?
The ball never came to me once, I jogged in spurts, and with the Gift activated, I wasn't tired in the slightest.
"Also, college scouts will be showing up for this one, so watch your behavior."
"Don't worry. Who am I, after all?"
"Ugh."
Tyrone shook his head and ushered me out, conversation over.
Afterward came my usual one-on-one session with Sanders, and the day was winding down when—
"Whoa, Ronnie!"
"Hey, it's Ronnie! Ronnie's here!"
"You sunnuvabitch, what took you so long?"
The whole team swarmed toward someone sitting on the bench.
Popular guy, apparently.
So that's Ronnie, huh?
He looked a lot like Willie the receiver. Just shorter.
The way Westerners struggled to tell Asian faces apart, I had the same problem—even after years in America, I found it hard to distinguish faces by appearance alone.
"Ohhh, shiiit!"
Then the guy I took to be Ronnie spotted me, broke into a delighted grin, and came striding over.
What's this? He knows me?
"Yo, bro. What's up?"
"You know me?"
"'Course I do! You're the new running back with those slick-ass moves. Goddamn! I saw that video of you too!"
Unlike the guys who normally treated me like thin air, Ronnie greeted me warmly.
Ah, so that's why the boys were so excited.
He was clearly the type to lift a team's whole mood.
"You don't know how relieved I am you're here, bro. Thanks to you, I get to rest up real nice!"
"Aren't you coming back? You look fine to me."
"Tsk, bro. Today I'm just here to see the brothers. Figured I'd catch a look at that dirty mouth of yours while I'm at it. It ain't fully healed yet."
Then, out of nowhere, he clapped me on the shoulder.
"So, bro, I'm leaving it to you. Smooth, you know? You get what I'm saying, right? Huh?"
"Got it."
At my answer, Ronnie flashed a bright, braces-filled grin and sauntered back to his own circle of friends.
Honestly, the guy was pretty decent.
I'm curious what he can do, though.
I couldn't exactly ask a guy who was still injured to spar with me. A little disappointing.
But the real surprise came afterward.
Ronnie must have put in a good word for me, because starting the next day, the way the team treated me changed overnight.
"Hey, look, our running back's here."
"Opener's tomorrow—nervous? Nah, you were all over track meets back in the day, you'll be fine."
"I don't expect much. Just give us half of what Ronnie does."
These were the same guys who used to call me a monkey.
Football players did tend to be a foul-tempered lot, but hey—at least it made things easier.
Not that it mattered. I planned to run on nothing but my own two feet.
"Tomorrow we play."
It had been a short runway, but Sanders—who'd gathered every last player under his wing—began to speak. If I was honest, half the reason I hadn't been outright hazed was thanks to him.
"Prep time was short, but we look the part. We've finished breaking down the opponent, and I'd say we've done everything we can."
Sanders met each player's eyes, one by one.
And finally, mine.
He was staring awfully hard, wasn't he.
Staring won't get you anything, old man.
"You've all seen the starting list? And yes, I know some of you aren't happy. Kim Jaehyuk especially—this guy walks in out of nowhere and takes the starting running back job."
Whoa, wait—me?
Sparks had flown out of nowhere, and all I could do was stare up at Sanders in silence. But glances kept flicking toward me, one after another.
"Remember this. From tomorrow on, you are not each other's competition. You are one team."
Everyone nodded at Sanders's words.
Satisfied, he nodded along and pressed on.
"Last year's record was one and nine, wasn't it? How does a team even produce a record like that? Are you not ashamed?"
"......"
"Even if only to wipe away last year's disgrace, you're going to give it everything. And what's our goal, gentlemen?"
"The playoffs?"
Someone muttered it.
You gutsy little punk.
"The championship, you idiot. What playoffs?"
At my words, every head turned back toward me.
What, are we not supposed to win it all?
"Kim Jaehyuk, maybe that's a bit early coming from you—but you're right regardless. I came here to win. I came here to lift that championship trophy!"
It had been a while since I'd felt Sanders's ferocious energy fill the room.
He even ripped off his sunglasses and bellowed.
"I—myself—personally—became—head coach—of this school. So I'll ask again: what is our goal?"
"The championship, sir!"
"That's right, you sunnuvabitches! And if that's the goal, then how are we treating tomorrow's game against Derby?"
"We'll win, sir!"
"Win? No! That's not enough! We crush them! Flatten them into the dirt! You hear me?!"
"SIR, YES SIR!"
It was only a handful of lines, but the room was properly fired up now.
Even I couldn't contain the pounding in my chest, as if the Gift itself had activated.
I'd never once felt anything like this back in track.
"Now get your asses home and don't pull any more of your nonsense today. All of you."
"YES SIR!!"
As the players dispersed—
Sanders called me over separately.
Wondering what was up, I approached, and—
"Follow me."
Where Sanders led me was the indoor training facility. Artificial turf spread wall to wall; this was where most of our one-on-one sessions took place.
Toss.
"?"
Sanders suddenly threw the ball at me. I caught it lightly, and he started laying out cones on the floor.
"What's this about?"
"......"
He said nothing while he worked, and before long he stood at the far end, facing me.
Reading his intent, I couldn't fight the smile creeping across my face.
"You won't stop me this time."
"Try me, you brat."
I tucked the ball under my arm and set my stance.
A stable carry posture—nothing like before.
And for some reason, Sanders didn't look as towering as he had last time.
"Ready when you are."
"I was ready before you were. Let's go."
The instant the words left my mouth—
Sanders and I exploded off our marks.
"Huup!!"
Ziiiing—BOOM!
The satisfying crack of turf under my cleats.
And with it, the world flushed crimson.
Thump. Thump.
The Red Line, back after so long, writhed to life as if glad to see me again.
Three lines in total.
But none of them were thick. All faint, ghostly things.
Still, compared to that first day, when they'd been wiped out entirely, it was a leap forward. I had grown in that short span of time.
What I choose is—!
Nothing.
I chose nothing at all.
Ignoring the lines burning red in my vision, I simply ran straight ahead.
Target: Sanders.
Because I wasn't following the Red Line, my speed was no different from our usual drills—and at that sight, Sanders immediately moved to cut me off.
Thump!
And in that moment—
As if reading my will, the red lines forcibly carved out a path.
The instant I touched one—
My ordinary speed erupted without warning, hurling me forward. A trick play that baited Sanders right as he was growing used to my rhythm.
FWOOSH!
Faster.
This isn't enough. More!
"Hnngh!"
I could see Sanders twisting his body violently.
Like slow motion, my path was sliding right into his grasp.
But—
The trick play was never just one trick.
Tap!
I stepped off the red line.
Deceleration hit me like a wall—and the certainty on Sanders's face, the certainty that he had me, bled into panic as he shot past right in front of me.
Swish—
His fingertips grazed the hem of my jersey.
I flowed past the man toppling toward the turf and picked the red line back up.
FWOOSH!!
"Heh... heheheh."
Someone's hollow laughter drifted in from the side.
I slowed and glanced back—the coaching staff had been watching us the whole time.
"A juke move."
Jason, the offensive coach, murmured it.
A run built on sudden, brutal deceleration—deceiving the defender's balance entirely.
And it was a movement I'd learned from Sanders himself.
Layer the Gift on top, and what should have been a simple change of pace became something close to acrobatics.
"Uuungh."
Sanders hauled himself up off the ground with effort.
The coaches nearby rushed over to help him to his feet.
"Whew."
Man, that felt good.
Getting stripped of the ball by him last time had grated on me, after all.
Consider the debt paid in full.
"Well? Do I pass?"
"You irreverent little punk. Your master goes down and that's what you say?"
Even as he grumbled, Sanders was grinning ear to ear.
An unmistakable satisfaction was etched deep into that smile.
"You'd better deliver tomorrow too."
"Obviously."
***
The long-awaited opening of the KSHSAA regular season.
The day we'd all been waiting for had arrived.
It was the grand festival every high school across Kansas spent all year preparing for and dreaming about—and of all the sports, football stood above the rest.
So popular they said every American watched it. Some two hundred million people—sixty percent of the country—tuned in to the NFL, by statistic.
"I'm ready to go!"
"Alright! Let's head out!"
At Jaehyuk's house, the whole family was getting ready to go watch the high school football game.
Eunbi had packed a whole heap of things—outfits she planned to change into for the season opener.
A member of the marching band, she'd cheered for the Wichita North football team every year, and it had long since hardened into an annual family tradition.
"Have to come watch our daughter perform."
"Dad, you're supposed to be cheering for the team!"
"Eh, I'd rather just watch the college games. Haha."
Jaehyuk's family all loved watching football, and since each of them rooted for a different team, it made for some entertaining scenes around the house.
His father, Kim Kyungtae in particular, was a fan whose tastes ran the full spectrum, from college football on down.
"Do I really have to go?"
Just then, in shuffled the second son, Kim Minhyuk.
Like his older brother Jaehyuk, he loved exercise—but not sports. Just the gym.
"We're obviously going to lose. It's Derby High we're up against."
"You ARE coming!"
At his words, Eunbi's eyes went wide as saucers.
"Last year you told me not to bother coming, and now this year you keep begging me to come along? What gives?"
"You'll see when you get there. So you'd better come!"
Eunbi's voice was ironclad.
Watching her, her parents tilted their heads.
"Did you prepare something special again this time?"
"Yes!"
"Ooh, now I'm curious."
Not that it's anything I prepared.
Eunbi thought secretly to herself as she opened the front door.
For the record: the entire family remained in the dark about the fact that Jaehyuk had joined the football team.
He'd never mentioned it, and honestly showed no intention of ever bringing it up. At some point Eunbi had snapped at him over it, but—
Do our parents have any idea? The moment they hear I quit track for football, all hell breaks loose.
She'd had no comeback to that and let it slide.
Truthfully, when Jaehyuk had started track, the whole house had gone through a civil war of its own. For a while, there was total silence between Jaehyuk and his parents.
He'd barely scraped his way into track—and now he'd quit that to play football?
"Ugh."
Just imagining it was horrible.
Remembering the atmosphere in the house back then made him never want to go back to that place.
One more thing worth noting: since the second son Minhyuk attended a different high school, the only one who knew the truth about Jaehyuk was Eunbi.
Whew. But finally—today's the day.
She couldn't hide her brother playing football forever.
Just the day before, she'd heard at school that Jaehyuk had been named the starting running back, and her heart had been hammering ever since.
So the whole family piled into the car and headed for Wichita North High School, where the game would kick off.
Thankfully, this one was being played at Wichita North's home stadium.
Murmurmur—
By the time they arrived, the local residents had already streamed in and taken their seats.
"Barry Sanders! Barry Sanders!"
"It's Sanders!"
The crowd was showing flashes of outright madness before the game had even begun.
Looking around now, there were far more people than last year—and clearly, Barry Sanders was the reason why.
"I'm off to get ready!"
"That's our girl! Go get 'em!"
Eunbi peeled away for marching band duty, and the three remaining members of the family found seats of their own.
With wild shouting still erupting on all sides, the atmosphere was noticeably different from last year, and they found themselves getting excited despite it all.
"Wow, look over there. Must be folks from Derby?"
"Heh. They came ready, huh."
At Minhyuk's words, the parents turned to look.
Over there, a group of fans had matched their outfits down to the color scheme and were solemnly unpacking their cheering gear, one item at a time.
"Now that's commitment."
"Derby's a high school football powerhouse. They're always dead serious."
"Seems like our side's serious this time too, though?"
"No kidding. I've never felt the stands this hot before."
At Minhyuk's remark, the parents simply nodded along.
In truth, they weren't all that invested in high school football.
Yes, it was the school Eunbi attended, but the team's record had been dreadful, and there'd never been a player worth cheering for. They'd really just come to watch the marching band.
"Jaehyuk should be here by now, right? He left early this morning for track practice?"
At his mother Park Heewon's words, Minhyuk checked his wristwatch and nodded.
"We could go find him after the game ends. We can all head home together."
"Good idea."
Just then, the marching band took the field and struck up the music.
Leading the formation, Eunbi hoisted her flag and executed the choreography beautifully, and Kim Kyungtae filmed her with total devotion.
"Our Eunbi's the prettiest one out there!"
"She really practiced hard. How on earth does she remember all that?"
But beyond that, nothing out of the ordinary happened.
She'd said something to them before they left home, though, so they kept waiting, half expecting something more.
Then the Wichita North players took the field.
"Let's go, Mark! Show 'em what you've got!"
"LIAM! Liam, over here, look this way!"
"WOOOOO!"
Cheers, screams, and jeers poured down from both sides of the stands—
And then someone in the Wichita North section bellowed:
"Hey, little Asian kid! Try not running properly this time! Show us you've still got it like in that video!"
An Asian?
At words no one had expected, Minhyuk and the whole family began sweeping their eyes over the players.
Wait—there was an Asian on the team?
In football, a sport decided purely on physicality?
Then the family found the player the crowd was calling out to.
Jersey number 21.
A posture that somehow felt achingly familiar.
Arrogant eyes surveying the field.
That had to be—
"Jaehyuk? Big brother?"
"Jae—Jaehyuk? What... what is that?"
Why the hell is HE out there?!