A New Tradition
"Hello there! Joseph Baker, moving up from the middle school division! My primary position is running back. I look forward to working with all of you!"
Clap clap clap.
After class ended, the club activities began in earnest, and one by one, the new freshmen introduced themselves.
Fifteen newcomers had joined this time.
It was quite a sight, all those faces wound tight with nerves.
"Whee-whee!"
"That's right, that's it. Be ready to run until the soles of your feet catch fire!"
"Try anything that'll dirty the good name of Wichita North running backs, I dare you!"
The returning members teased the fledglings, snickering and trading jokes like they'd been waiting all year for this exact day.
Once the white freshman Joseph Baker finished his introduction, Quinton—the dark-skinned newcomer from that morning—stepped forward next.
"Quinton Gibson. From Miami."
"Hey, that kid······."
"No way. That Quinton Gibson?"
As Quinton's introduction went on, the club members murmured among themselves, and the freshmen who'd joined alongside him stared up at him with nothing short of reverence in their eyes.
What the—so he was famous?
Of course, I had no idea.
Come to think of it, though, I'd figured he was pretty good—good enough to go toe-to-toe with our starting receiver for a freshman.
"Wow, Mateo Rodriguez and Quinton Gibson? When did our school become a powerhouse?"
"And our team captain's an Asian guy, by the way. Heh heh."
I walked over to the chattering senior.
"Hey."
"Ah, it's a joke! A joke! You're not mad, right, Jaehyuk?"
"No, that's not it. Is that kid actually famous?"
"Quinton? Absolutely! You're not American if you don't know him."
He said that, then stole a careful glance at my face.
"Ahem. I keep putting my foot in my mouth today."
"So he's pretty famous, huh."
"He's got over 200,000 followers on social media. I'd have to check for the exact number, but yeah. He's been known as an athletic prodigy since he was a kid."
"Really?"
"Yep. He's a freshman, but he'd probably beat most of the seniors."
So that's why he oozed confidence like that.
And sure enough, Quinton was glaring at me right then. Ever since our little one-on-one earlier, he seemed to have a competitive fire burning all on his own.
"What happened, by the way? He's been staring at you this whole time."
"Gave him a little run for his money."
"What? Don't tell me—a one-on-one?! Who won?!"
The members who'd overheard all swung their heads toward us. The freshmen were in the middle of nervously introducing themselves—what was wrong with these guys?
"Kids, pick a better moment. Focus."
"You're telling us later, right?"
"We'll see."
Soon the fifteen freshmen finished their introductions, and Barry Sanders stepped up to walk everyone through the day's training.
The moment Sanders appeared, the freshmen's eyes lit up so hard they looked ready to shoot lasers.
"Ba-Barry Sanders······."
"I used to fall asleep watching his highlight reels every night······."
Kids. They came here thinking it's a vacation.
I followed Sanders once his explanation wrapped up, already plotting how I'd grind the lot of them into the dirt starting day one.
"Positions don't matter today. Every freshman trains with me."
"Wooooo!"
"Aw, crap. You guys are all dead."
"Work 'em to the bone, boys!"
The returning members cheered at my announcement. They'd watched my training before, and suffered through it alongside me—they knew exactly what was coming.
The freshmen seemed to guess as much from the members' reactions, their expressions stiffening with tension.
Let's see how well you keep up, then.
"Heh—heh—"
"I'm dead. I'm actually dead."
At first, the sheer thrill of training alongside the team captain—that legendary Redline—had them buzzing with excitement.
But one hour into the workout, Joseph and the rest of the freshmen were little more than puddles on the field.
It had only been a single hour, yet the intensity was so brutal that just keeping up was a struggle.
Even the famous Quinton lay sprawled flat on the grass, staring blankly at the sky.
Fortunately, Jaehyuk's stamina wasn't infinite either—his breathing came heavy too. But it wasn't long before he rounded the kids up again.
"Up. We're not done yet."
And so, while the freshmen were being worked to death from their very first day, a group of reporters had gathered on the far side of the field, camera in hand, to cover Wichita North.
An undefeated league season and a state championship.
Somewhere along the way, the school had risen to stand among Kansas's elite, and this year its roster had grown even more fearsome. Last season they'd been called a one-man team carried entirely by Redline—now they had the supernova Mateo Rodriguez, plus the freshman Quinton Gibson, assembling a downright luxurious offensive lineup.
To reporters, it was a school impossible to resist.
"Joseph, look, look! The reporters are here!"
"Yeah, I see them. I'm getting nervous."
So the football season is really almost here.
People from outside are flooding in like this······.
The reason not a single freshman dropped out despite the punishing session was, in truth, thanks to those reporters.
"The new semester's kicking off—energy's running hot today."
"You can really feel that powerhouse atmosphere now. The coaching still looks like it's being thrown together on the fly, though······."
These were football industry insiders and journalists who had entered with the school's official permission.
They interviewed the head coach and staff, filmed the players' drills, and observed from the sidelines. The moment training began winding down, they rushed in to grab interviews.
"What is Wichita North's goal this season?"
"Is there a rival school you consider your chief competition?"
"A significant portion of your roster has been replaced compared to last year. How do you feel about that?"
"What's the best thing about Wichita North? Do you consider yourselves a powerhouse high school now?"
Despite the barrage of questions, the players happily obliged the interviews—when else would they get the chance?
But the three players attracting the most attention were, naturally, the same three.
Jaehyuk, Mateo, and Quinton.
The reporters swarmed around them like hyenas, clamoring for quotes. Unfortunately, none of the three were exactly warm and fuzzy about it.
Quinton especially—normally he loved interviews and welcomed the spotlight, but not today.
"Cap!!"
The instant training ended, Quinton went hunting for Jaehyuk with fire in his eyes, the crowd gathering around him apparently beneath his notice entirely.
"Let's go again!"
"Heh. This kid's adorable."
Jaehyuk nodded and finished up his stretches.
"Get ready."
"Okay, Cap."
Everyone's eyes blazed at the prospect of the two squaring off.
Quinton Gibson had grown up under professional football coaching that began before he'd even set foot in elementary school.
He'd spent his childhood in Miami chewing through record after record, obliterating them one by one.
And now he was facing Redline 21—a player with barely a single year of football under his belt.
Yet in that single year, Jaehyuk had pulled off the outrageous feat of claiming a 5-star running back title and the #4 spot among the nation's high school running backs.
Talent against talent.
It went without saying that every eye present—players, coaches, outsiders alike—was locked on the matchup.
There were over a hundred ordinary students watching from the sidelines, too.
"Mateo."
"Yeah."
And the man throwing the passes was Mateo Rodriguez. All things considered, there was a lot to see in this one-on-one.
"Whew."
Quinton was worn out from the grueling practice, but he refused to show it. The training had hit Jaehyuk just as hard—harder, even, since he'd been the one setting the pace for everyone else.
I got careless earlier.
Careless wasn't quite the word. He'd been complacent.
Overflowing with pride in his own ability, Quinton had assumed that no matter how legendary Redline's reputation, he could beat a running back who was merely from Kansas.
But Jaehyuk was a player worthy of his 5-star billing.
Maybe—just maybe—the rumors out of that camp earlier this year had all been true.
"Begin."
The instant Jaehyuk spoke, Quinton slipped into a subtle off-beat rhythm.
No carelessness. No complacency.
Everything he had!
Tuk—duduk!
Quinton moved his body to an uncanny rhythm, then exploded forward with blistering speed.
"Whoaaa······."
"Holy crap. He's insanely fast."
The speed was shocking enough to startle every spectator—and the movement itself was beautiful.
But.
Tak!
There was Jaehyuk, chasing at Quinton's side as if it were nothing at all.
Pabak!
Pabak!
Quinton cut his direction. Jaehyuk stayed with him.
He threw a juke. Nothing.
He spun. Still nothing.
As if he'd predicted every single move, Jaehyuk shadowed him with monstrous reaction speed.
Around that point, a single thought began surfacing in the minds of everyone watching.
Wait—is it actually okay for him to play defense like this?
He's not just good at running back, is he?
Jaehyuk hadn't always been this good.
Back in his first one-on-one with Liam, he'd been sloppy, mistake-prone. Now he moved like a seasoned veteran.
Above all else—
The him from back then and the him of today had different stat lines entirely.
The attributes boosted by his Gift's rewards had layered overwhelming power onto a foundation that had already been sharpening itself with every step of the line.
And then, at last—
Turup!
"Aagh!"
"Interception."
The pass Mateo had thrown for Quinton landed in Jaehyuk's hands.
"Damn it."
Quinton had nothing to say. Mateo's pass had been flawless—the fault lay in his own inadequacy.
Everyone watching the scene was stunned.
Even those who already knew Jaehyuk had privately guessed he'd win. What none of them had expected was a victory this utterly one-sided.
Which made the reactions around them all the more dramatic.
"Quinton Gibson couldn't even touch him."
"Jaehyuk's really that far ahead of everyone?"
"What did I tell you? Jaehyuk beat Raysheen Guillory too, remember?"
Amid the murmuring crowd and the awestruck cries of the student onlookers, Quinton was wrestling with an emotion he had never once felt in his life.
"Get up. Your turn to defend now."
At Jaehyuk's merciless words, Quinton dragged himself to his feet, wobbling. But there was no surrender anywhere in his expression.
Soon the sides switched, and offense became defense.
Jaehyuk hauled in the pass at a speed far beyond anything Quinton could match.
Turup.
He won with almost insulting ease.
Everyone who watched felt it: this was strength from a different dimension altogether.
"That's the #4 high school running back in the nation? Doesn't seem right to me."
"Rankings made by people who don't know better, probably. The way I see it, Jaehyuk's #1."
When the one-on-one ended, Jaehyuk tossed the ball to Quinton. The sulking freshman caught it and lowered his head.
"Every day from now on, Cap. Until I beat you."
"Fine by me. I'm starting to like you."
For an influencer hailed as a prodigy since childhood, he showed no arrogance at all.
And he refused to quit, no matter what.
Those qualities left Jaehyuk feeling more than a little satisfied.
"Um······."
Just then, Joseph, who'd been watching from the side, raised his hand.
"What."
"Can I challenge you to a one-on-one too, sir?!"
What is this, a boss-rush gauntlet?
The thought flashed through Jaehyuk's mind, but a snort of laughter escaped him anyway.
"Anyone, any time. Come at me."
"Thank you, sir!"
And so, a new tradition took root at Wichita North.
All across America, excitement was at a fever pitch.
The football season was about to begin.
And at a certain school in Kansas, with only days left until opening night······.
"NOOOOOO!"
"Why?! Why US?!"
"Why of all draws······!!"
KSHSAA Football, Group A.
And there, sitting fat and pretty in the bracket, was Wichita North High School.
Every school drawn into the same group was collapsing into despair, howling cries of anguish and groans of misery.