The Return of Deja Vu
Up until now — including the previous game — Wichita North had never once allowed a trailing opponent to come back and take the lead.
But today, they had finally met their match.
8:7…
The championship final. A formidable enemy. The last game of the year.
Tony Garcia felt his hands trembling with tension. He'd held up well enough until now, but the limit had finally arrived.
People don't change in an instant.
All this time, it had been because of Jaehyuk — trusting only Jaehyuk, throwing the ball thanks to Jaehyuk's encouragement and advice.
But then, all of a sudden—
Watching Marcus's play, Tony had let the doubt slip out.
Could today be the first time we ever lose?
“Tony!”
“Ah.”
Lost in a daze, Tony snapped back to reality at James's call. Only now did the roar of the crowd pouring down like white noise come into sharp focus.
Gulp.
Seen again, the sheer number of people was staggering.
The stands, packed to full capacity, were absolutely seething.
If I mess up here, all of them will see it. Not just them — countless more watching through the broadcast.
“Haah, haah.”
His breathing grew ragged.
He slapped his own helmet, forcing himself to focus.
Get it together!
Glancing around, he saw players waiting for the play call. Somehow, quite a bit of time had already burned away.
Tony turned his gaze to the opposing team.
There was Jordan Watts glaring back with murderous eyes, and beyond him enemies still bristling with fight.
“Turbo 8 Yellow! Turbo 8 Yellow!”
Like a reflex, he shouted the cadence.
In the middle of the chaos, drilled-in habit had spilled out of him on its own — the fruit of never slacking in practice.
But then—
Having called the play, Tony went deathly pale.
Turbo 8 Yellow? Wait — what was that again?
There was no time left, though.
Drag it out any longer here and they'd take a delay-of-game penalty.
“Ready, ready! Hut!”
A sensation like his mind wiping itself pure white.
Even the feeling in his fingertips was fading away.
Whish.
Thud.
Flustered, Tony nearly fumbled the snap James delivered. He secured the ball shakily — mercifully, it stayed in his hands.
Oh! It's a run fake, then a pass!
His heart slammed wildly at the near-mistake. At the same time, he finally remembered what play call he himself had just given.
The problem was how much precious time he'd burned doing it.
BOOM!!
“Ghhk!”
“Uuugh!!”
With the violence of colliding bodies, groans spilled from the line of scrimmage.
Watching it all, Tony fumbled through his motions, making as if to hand the ball off to Jaehyuk.
“What are you doing?!”
Jaehyuk roared as he closed in.
Tony should have long since faked the handoff, squared his stance, and thrown — instead he just stood there frozen, ball still extended.
And in that moment—
CRASH-!!
The Monster had finally broken through, charging in with terrifying momentum.
Ah…
It's over. This play is dead.
I'm giving up a sack, he thought, bracing for the impact to come.
Then — a fierce resistance in the ball still clutched in his hands.
He turned his head and saw eyes gleaming with a feral, glistening madness.
“I've got it.”
No scolding. No lecture.
Just a low, grave voice — and smoldering within it, a heat that flickered like open flame.
Jaehyuk had grabbed the ball.
Tony surrendered it to him without a second thought. The instant he did, every defender's target shifted to Jaehyuk.
“Ah—!”
Only then did Tony wake, as if from a dream.
Wait… is this déjà vu? Haven't I lived through this exact moment before?
Ball in hand, Jaehyuk bolted.
But the direction was a little strange.
Thump!
His heart pounded hard.
Tony watched Jaehyuk as if he were the one running.
Tatatatak!
Jaehyuk — no, Redline — was cutting in the opposite direction, dodging the defenders who had already smashed through the line.
The Reverse Field.
At that strange yet familiar sight, Tony held his breath. The first game Jaehyuk had ever played after joining the football team.
That game was being replayed before his eyes, all over again.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Somehow, even in this dangerous moment, expectation swelled up inside him.
That's right — if it's Redline…
He's going to take it all the way to the end zone. I know it.
Whoosh!
KWADANG.
Redline tore through defenders without slowing, shrugging off every tackle thrown at him as he ran unopposed toward his own end zone.
Lose the ball here and the other team scores on the spot — yet he looked utterly fearless.
“COVER!! Cover Redline!!”
James bellowed.
But even before the shout left his mouth, the teammates were already moving, naturally falling into coverage around Redline.
The enemy, too, chased him with fire in their eyes.
“OPEN A LANE!!”
“RUN, REDLINE!”
“STOP HIM! JUST TACKLE HIM!”
“EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO DIVE!”
Friend and foe alike—
Every player on the field ran with their eyes locked on one man alone.
At some point, even Jordan Watts — the so-called Monster — had been forgotten. It looked as though he'd gone down diving for a tackle near the end zone.
“GET OFF ME!”
“MOVE!”
It was pure pandemonium.
Every player on the field, friend and foe, was tangled together in an indiscriminate heap.
“WAAAAAH!”
Tony threw himself into the frenzy too, sprinting to block for Redline — and slammed his body into a defender chasing at Redline's heels.
WHAM.
The guy couldn't have caught up anyway, but pride in having done his part washed over him as he sprawled across the field, watching Redline's back recede into the distance.
It was just like that day.
Redline weaved past defenders as if reading an invisible path no one else could see.
And behind him, a red afterimage lingered, faint and shimmering.
“RUN, REDLINE!! I'M SORRY I EVER DOUBTED YOOOOU!!”
“Tony, you okay?”
One of his teammates, sprawled beside him, asked carefully —
— while Redline, at explosive speed, ran alone through a suddenly empty field.
Nothing stood in his way.
“WAAAAAAH!!!!”
“Holy crap…”
“YESSS!! THAT'S IT!!”
“YOU F**KING GOOD JESUS!!!”
“WHEEEW-!!”
Then, to a roar that shook the entire stadium, he stepped lightly into the opposing team's end zone.
A beautiful touchdown.
Standing alone in the end zone, Jaehyuk turned around and extended the ball toward his teammates.
Grin.
“WAAAAAAAH!!”
“JAEHYUK! I KNEW YOU'D DO IT!!”
“COME ON BRO!! LET'S GO WICHITA LET'S GO!!!”
“YOU CRAZY SON OF A B**CH!! HOW FAR ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE THIS?!”
Still flat on the turf, Tony felt, for some reason, tears welling up.
Thank God for the helmet.
Redline — no, Jaehyuk —
had never once lied.
Even when a teammate fumbled, he turned the mistake into a chance to run. A madman who actually enjoyed it.
…And in the end, the guy who handed victory to everyone.
That was Jaehyuk.
“Whew.”
So he felt it all over again.
As long as Jaehyuk was on this team—
this team would never lose.
“Ahem, ahem.”
The KSHSAA broadcast team — which had been screaming since the moment Jaehyuk reversed field with the ball — coughed violently.
They had shrieked so hard their throats burned and stung.
At the final touchdown especially, both commentators had leapt out of their seats in such excitement that everything on the table toppled and crashed to the floor.
Then — roughly a minute of silence.
Having calmed themselves, the two settled back into their chairs.
“Haah, haah… I'm truly sorry to say this, but in my entire career, I have never once seen a player like him.”
Ryan spoke while still gasping for breath; seeing him like that, Thomas nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Same here. Sitting in this seat, you get to see countless promising players every year. Among them, five-star recruits all the way up to guys already playing in the NFL — too many to count.”
“Exactly. But I can say this with certainty: that play transcends ratings. Four-star, five-star — those labels mean nothing here. It was a heart-stopping performance. It's as if he's performing a one-man art show through the sport of football itself.”
“And it isn't just this play. He delivers a dramatic moment like this in every single game. And he has never failed. Not once.”
As they spoke, the heat crept back into their voices.
That was how fiercely the touchdown had set fire to both commentators' chests.
Of course, the flames didn't stop at the broadcast booth.
The chat window flooded with passionate responses.
Nobody cared what the commentators were cussing about; they were too busy talking over each other about the play they'd just witnessed.
“Ahh — are they actually setting up a two-point conversion?”
“Wichita North is indeed lining up for the two-point conversion! Riding a wave of momentum! Can they pull it off?”
“Oh? The instant I said that — it's a quick snap! Wichita North's quarterback Tony hands the ball to Redline and… oh?”
“Ahh, it was a fake! Tony Garcia! He's keeping it himself and running! And he crosses into the end zone! Two points on the board!”
“Woo! Blue Valley looks completely disoriented. It's as if the only thing they can see is Redline 21!”
“Understandable. This is a monster of a player who's already turned both of his carries into touchdowns — each one a highlight-reel stunner.”
The score became 15:8.
Points erupting left and right before the first quarter was even half over.
Neither team's defense was exactly soft, either — which meant the only ones having a feast were the fans watching.
“HOO-WEE! Your son is remarkable! How did you train him? Did you coach him systematically from a young age?”
“Honestly, an Asian kid playing a skill position — a scoring position — is already impressive enough, but THAT kind of insane performance?! Your boy is something else!”
Kim Kyungtae fought to keep the corners of his mouth from curling upward as compliments about his son rained down from every side, and offered his thanks to everyone.
“Jaehyuk did it all himself. As a father, I haven't given him much. I'm simply proud of him.”
“Oh, come off it! Whatever you say — you've got one heck of a son!”
“I'm jealous. When I have kids of my own, I want them playing football too. I'll have to ask for your advice someday, I mean it.”
Wiggle, wiggle.
While Kyungtae's mouth kept twitching at the corners, chaos had broken out in the marching band where Eunbi sat as well.
Their seats were close to the sideline, so they'd watched with their hearts in their throats from the moment Jaehyuk took off running in the opposite direction — and when the touchdown landed, some of them were weeping with joy.
“Eunbi! Eunbi! Your brother did it!”
“KYAAAAH!! A TOUCHDOWN! That man just scored a TOUCHDOWN!!”
“E-Eunbi… 'that man'? About your own brother…?”
“Sniff… Eunbi, please tell your brother I said thank you. Waaah.”
From students crying their eyes out, to kids bouncing up and down, to others shrugging and just playing their instruments — total mayhem.
And when the two-point conversion succeeded on top of it, even the marching band's director stormed out, exhilarated, and ordered the band to play.
Bah-bah-BAH-bah-BAHM-!!
DUM-dum-DUM-dum-DUM!!
“GO! GO! WICHITA NORTH!”
In the stands, the students chanted a hastily improvised cheer along with the band's music.
Hottest heat the stadium had ever known — and it had all spread from a single performance by Jaehyuk.
With that, the game resumed.
Blue Valley clawed back with relentless tenacity, as if to prove they were no pushover.
15:15, 22:15, 22:21, 29:21, 29:28, 35:28…
Each team had failed a two-point conversion once along the way, and so the score stayed neck and neck.
Both defenses threw everything they had at the opposing aces, but stopping them proved easier said than done.
And so it became a true clash of spear against spear, and before anyone realized it, the score stood at…
49:49.
A deluge of points had driven both teams toward the 50-mark — dead even.
Roughly two minutes remained.
The end of the state championship was drawing near.