The Vow of the Stampeding Bulls

Steve, the head coach of Derby, glared at his tablet with bloodshot eyes.

Its screen was packed wall-to-wall with Wichita North's game records and strategies.

Even while playing matches against other schools, he had collected and analyzed information at every spare moment.

First place was never mine to keep anyway.

Derby currently stood at three wins and two losses. Judging by the trend, unless Kim Jaehyuk got injured in Wichita, there seemed to be no path to blocking them from the top spot.

So what Derby had to aim for, in the end, was the wildcard.

In other words, the second-place seed with a high point total.

"We have to win. Losing isn't an option. Neither is a tie."

Even just to claim that second-place seat.

This game against Wichita North was critically important.

And as it happened, this was their home ground.

A stadium with facilities and a field so far beyond Wichita North's that comparison was laughable.

It was also the place where Derby's players bled and sweated every single day.

"Coach, it's time to go."

Hopkins approached, fully suited in his protective gear, gripping his helmet as he spoke.

Hopkins' eyes, like Coach Steve's, blazed with burning ambition.

The resolve that he would absolutely not lose this time. And a seething competitive fury — the debt of his earlier humiliation, to be repaid without fail.

After his showdown with Jaehyuk.

Hopkins, who had eaten that brutal stiff arm, had seen his rating fall from 4-star to 3-star prospect.

But not a single person in Derby's organization believed Hopkins was a player who deserved to fall to 3 stars.

It was simply that Kim Jaehyuk, that day, had been a rabid monster.

"Right, let's go. Where are the boys?"

"They're all waiting for you."

Steve followed Hopkins out.

Derby's players filled the corridor from the locker room all the way to the field.

A smoldering heat radiated from them.

Their ironclad will to avenge the last defeat came through, fierce and unmistakable.

Seeing the fire in every one of their eyes, Steve nodded and called out.

"Let's go, boys!"

"YES SIR!!"

The players roared their answer and followed the coach down the corridor.

Several reporters waiting along the passageway were cowed by the sheer momentum and scrambled back against the walls.

"Whew!"

They passed through the doors onto the field—

and Derby's field opened up before them amid the roaring cheers of the crowd.

"WOOOAAH!"

"Hopkins! If you can't stop him this time either, there's no mercy!"

"Hudson, we're counting on you! Smash 'em to pieces!"

Home ground, indeed.

Legions of Derby High School fans filled the stands.

Across the way, a decent crowd had already arrived in Wichita North's section as well.

"We do not lose today."

Steve muttered as he glared across the field at the opposing bench, where Wichita North's coaches and players were clustered together, having entered first.

Jaehyuk — the one he most needed to watch — was visible there too, but no matter how high he flew, Steve was confident he could win strategically this time.

Last time, his carelessness had been the real culprit.

This time, he intended to wall them off completely.

"Hm?"

Just then, Jaehyuk turned his gaze this way.

His face overflowed with composure.

Let's see just how far that composure carries you.

"Hopkins. Crush them."

"Yes sir!"

The coin toss followed, determining who would receive first—

and the game began with Wichita North on offense.

Thud! Thud!

CRACK!

Redline was running wild once again.

It started with the linemen.

Astonishingly, Sanders had swapped James into the starting lineup right before kickoff.

"We've got the ball first, so let's break their spirit right out of the gate."

Derby's home field.

And an opponent whose morale was boiling hotter than ever thanks to their defeat last time.

To stun them right at the opening whistle, Sanders had called on James, who had been showing strong results in recent scrimmages.

"Whoo. Whoo."

James steadied his breathing against the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nerves.

But from the very first snap of the game, he did his job more than well enough.

WHAM!

With the quarterback's cadence, the ball snapped.

James crashed head-on into the opposing lineman and unleashed the same monstrous strength he'd shown in practice.

"GUAAAAH!!"

James drove his man backward relentlessly.

Thanks to his surge, a hole opened in the line—

and Jaehyuk, taking the handoff, charged straight ahead with everything he had.

Powang!

Pure, unadorned running. No trickery at all.

And that very simplicity made his acceleration explosive.

Defenders who had lined up ready for Jaehyuk were simply overwhelmed by his speed, shoved aside one after another.

"STOP HIM!!"

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠last one left was Hopkins.

But Jaehyuk didn't force a one-on-one collision with him — he simply ran laterally across the field.

That turned it into a chase, back and forth, like a game of tag where the runner would never, ever be caught.

And the result—

"TOUCHDOWN!"

Twenty seconds into the game.

Wichita North drew first blood with a touchdown.

Right after the touchdown.

One player who had chased me all the way to the end zone stood glaring at me, breathing hard.

"Hey."

"?"

"I'm scoring two more touchdowns from here on out."

At my words, his eyes shifted, and he swaggered up close to me.

I answered his bravado with a smile and brushed past him.

Sorry, but I've got a mission to clear.

I had never once failed a mission before.

This one, though, felt a little iffy.

Granted, I was confident I could score a touchdown if they just gave me the ball — but the odds were high that the ball wouldn't come my way at all.

Still, I've already got one in the books, so two more should be doable, right?

As I headed back to the bench with that thought, the players slapped my helmet as they passed.

"BOOM! A touchdown right off the whistle!"

"That's it, Redline!"

"Wahaha! Jaehyuk! I did it! I drove my man back, I swear!"

The players had been a little cowed at first by the sheer grandeur of the stadium, so unlike anything back at Wichita North.

But once they'd put points on the board, the tension seemed to drain right out of them.

"It's my turn this time."

As I returned to the bench, Liam spoke to me.

I didn't answer, just sat down and wet my throat with a bit of water.

"It's my turn this time."

Liam repeated himself, apparently convinced I hadn't heard. Yeah, yeah, your turn. Go get 'em, champ.

But the pestering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't limited to Liam alone.

"Jaehyuk! No, seriously! Did you see me out there? No — of course you couldn't have missed it! The path I carved is the one you ran through!"

The extra point kick was done,

and the moment a thoroughly amped-up James came back to the bench, he started bragging my ear off.

Excuse me? I'm the one who scored the touchdown and I'm sitting here quietly. What's he so proud of?

"Good. Keep doing exactly that."

"WAHAHAHA! Yes! Leave it to me, Jaehyuk!"

Soon the game resumed, and this time it was our defense's turn.

Frankly, Wichita North's defense was nothing to write home about.

We had no lightning-fast cornerback like me, our last-line safety wasn't exactly a savant, and the linemen were thoroughly average.

Liam had been making plays lately, but take him out of the equation and the defense was pure middle-of-the-pack.

What a shame.

Honestly, if the defense held up properly, we'd have nothing to worry about.

As things stood, no matter how much I dominated on offense, it all rang hollow if the defense couldn't hold the line.

What was the point of me scoring a touchdown

if the other team scored one right back?

Since our second game, we hadn't once held an opponent scoreless. Even in wins, we always seemed to gift them at least one touchdown.

And without Liam, who knows how many points we'd be hemorrhaging.

Whiish—

"Uh-oh."

James let out a nervous sound.

And his dread hit the mark dead-on — a gorgeous pass play unfolded before us.

Twenty yards gained.

Not a bad play.

"We're not gonna lose, are we?"

"Ow! You little—!"

I smacked the back of James' head at his anxiety-drenched whining. First start, so he was losing his mind a bit.

From then on, though, Liam came through for us properly.

Sack number thirteen of the season.

He'd become an absolute maniac averaging two or more sacks per game.

"WOOO!"

"Hell yeah, that's it, that's what I'm talking about!"

Apparently James wasn't the only nervous one — the players watching from the sideline leapt up from their seats and cheered.

The opponent's drive sputtered along feebly before finally ending in a field goal.

The score stood at 7–3.

As long as we didn't give up a touchdown, we were in no trouble whatsoever.

"Mark!"

Before heading out onto the field,

I called for Mark.

He turned to look at me.

"Just throw the ball straight to me. Every time."

"I make my own reads."

With that single line, Mark strapped on his helmet and headed out to the field.

"Tsk."

Right — I still had a mission to clear.

Because the penalty for failure worried me more than anything, I wanted to clear it no matter what.

Frankly, it was the penalty that scared me more than the stat boost.

Back on the field, Mark called a pass play at the line.

A pass? Fine by me.

All I wanted was for the touchdown to be mine.

"Ready, ready! HUT!"

THUD-THUD-THUD!

Amid the thunderous clash of linemen,

Jaehyuk— no, I followed the called sign, selling a run like a halfback play and cutting in the opposite direction.

Derby's entire defense was locked onto me, every nerve firing. But I was the decoy.

Whiish—

The ball soared through the air in a beautiful parabola.

Unfortunately, it sailed just a hair off target.

"So close!"

"Good job, good job. Let's go again!"

Encouragement poured out among the teammates.

Soon we had the ball again and ran the next play.

"Blue-7, Y-stick, cutter."

Oh? Another pass play—

Wait. For me?

A call I'd never once heard before.

A pass play thrown to me.

Exactly as advertised: I'd run a route like a wide receiver and catch the ball. A play call straight out of left field.

Trying to catch them off guard, are we?

"Ready, ready. HUT!"

WHAM!

The ball snapped again, the lines collided.

I took a few steps forward and shoved aside a blitzer gunning for the quarterback.

Thwack.

"Nngh."

I'd run along the black line, so I managed to hold up — but only just. I was definitely getting driven back.

Didn't matter, though.

I used the force shoving me to slip right past him and ran my assigned route.

And if I glanced back over my shoulder right about now—

Whiish—

The ball from Mark arrived, timed perfectly.

Through the narrow tunnel of my ball-focused vision, I caught a glimpse of Mark taking a vicious hit — but thankfully, the pass landed clean in my hands.

Thwup!

"Whew."

Of all things, why was I sweating over this?

Catching a pass felt ten times more nerve-wracking and difficult than just running with the ball in my hands.

Sssss.

Thump-thump.

The moment I secured the catch, the Gift activated.

The red line flickered faintly, wavering in the air.

Having caught the ball from a dead stop, it wasn't easy to build speed the way it was for the defenders already charging toward me.

But—

Out of my way, you pieces of trash.

Vitality flooded through my entire body.

From the instant the Gift activated, it felt like I could do anything.

Crrrunch.

I stomped down on the turf with everything I had,

and pivoted on the spot!

"Ughk."

A defender spun in place as he lost me, letting out a strange strangled sound.

One man dealt with. I dropped my stance slightly, then launched off the spot and ran.

Reading my posture, the next defender threw a low tackle.

He took the bait.

I'd drawn the low tackle out of him deliberately.

I vaulted straight over him.

"Huagh!"

Listening to his startled gasp, my feet hit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ground and I was off again. The commotion faintly rising behind me said the defense had gotten themselves tangled up.

"Huf, huf, huf!"

But that last one.

With that grating, ragged breathing, he glued himself right to my side.

Already at peak acceleration, he was running far faster than me.

It was the same pest from before, clinging to me with an obsession that bordered on infuriating.

"Huf!"

Once we were well within arm's reach, he thrust his hand out at me — and I slammed on the brakes and swatted it away.

"Nngh!"

Running along the Gift's line, I was in a state brimming with monstrous strength and vitality.

The defender whose arm I'd swatted away slammed to a stop and scrambled to catch up — but I had already changed direction.

But wait. There's more.

One more fake.

A cutback to switch direction again, another feint, and even a spin move mixed in.

Thud.

Trying to adjust to my erratic movement at full speed, he lost his footing entirely and went down.

After that, no one stood between me and the end zone.

Because in the meantime, our team's coverage had held up, wiping every last defender off my path.

Ta-da-da-DAM!

"Touchdown."

"WOOOAAH!!"

"Holy crap, he's insane! Watching you is the only reason I bother with high school ball, Redline 21!"

"What the hell was THAT? Who do you think you are, an NFL player?!"

"An NFL player couldn't even do that! What kind of monster IS this kid?!"

The crowd's cheers and gasps carried all the way over to us.

Even from within Derby's own stands, feverish applause came pouring out.

Even by my own standards, that was a dominant performance.

That sequence had been flawless — flawless enough to make the enemy fall in love with it.

"Whew!"

But something about the atmosphere felt suddenly, bitterly cold.

I turned around to see people converging on one spot.

Where Mark had been.

And Mark lay sprawled on the ground, showing no sign of getting up.

"Jae—Jaehyuk! Mark's hurt!"

James sprinted over in a panic to deliver the news.

I'd seen him take that hit right after the throw, sure — but injured?

"I—It looks like it's over. This season."

"What?"

"Mark's out with an injury! We're finished, we're done!"

Our quarterback out injured?

What kind of godawful curveball was this?