Kickoff (2)

Welcoming Tottenham to Anfield, the Liverpool players finally grabbed the opening goal at home, seizing the momentum.

"It's over."

"Is added time about three or four minutes? It'll be hard to turn that around."

Only about five minutes remained. Tottenham bombarded Liverpool for the rest of the match, but they couldn't break through a Liverpool defense that had parked all ten men in their own half. The match finally came to an end. Perhaps because it was an opening match between two title contenders, sparks had truly flown.

With about thirty minutes left until our own match, I was quite satisfied to have finished warming up and returned to the dressing room just in time to catch the decisive moment of such a massive fixture. As I bent down to retie my boots, feeling pleased, a voice spoke.

"Who are you staring at so intently? Is it because someone from your country is playing?"

It was Saka, standing beside me. But how did he know? Did he know I had reincarnated? No, even if he did, I had never let slip that I was originally from Korea.

"...Huh?"

"Nakajima, I mean. Aren't you from Japan?"

"Nakajima? Who's that?"

"Huh? If he played in the Primeira Liga until last year, shouldn't he be pretty famous in Japan? I thought there weren't many Japanese players in Europe."

"Sorry, but I don't know every minor player out there."

But it was just a needless worry. Sure enough, on the opposite side of the pitch from the player I had actually been watching, there was an Asian player in a red shirt: Nakajima.

Nakajima was playing as Liverpool's attacking midfielder. With Alonso, who had played central midfield until last season, transferring to PSG, Gerrard had dropped a line deeper, leaving the attacking midfield role to this Nakajima.

Honestly, I had no idea who he was. He was a player I had never heard of during my own playing days, and his face was completely unfamiliar.

His face did look vaguely familiar, like a team legend I might have seen once or twice at an event during my time at Urawa. But there were so many Nakajimas in Japan that I couldn't be sure if he was that guy. Besides, I wasn't the type to pay close attention to the faces of such obscure players, so I couldn't say for certain.

In my memory, I had never seen a Japanese player like him playing for Liverpool. I couldn't help but suspect he was a character created by the author just to pander to Japanese readers.

Because of that, the player I was actually focusing on in that match was, of course, the pride of South Korea, 'Sonny'. His name in this world was Hyung-min. Having looked it up before, the name change didn't surprise me. In fact, since the names of almost all the top-tier players had been altered, it felt somewhat prideful.

We had never played together on the national team, so we weren't close. I wasn't the type to fawn over seniors either, so our relationship was more of a polite nod when we crossed paths—somewhat awkward.

Still, seeing him start in the Premier League, a league teeming with superstars, made me feel proud. It seemed there was still a piece of Korea left in my heart. Moreover, the fact that he was winning the battle for a starting spot even after Tottenham signed Dembélé—a future Ballon d'Or winner—this season was highly impressive.

Well, seeing a familiar face is much better than some random Japanese player who somehow ended up at Liverpool. And beating out Dembélé for a starting spot is genuinely impressive.

Granted, the Dembélé of this world was still just a twenty-year-old greenhorn. But with Bale holding down the opposite wing, and Dembélé being Dembélé, the competition for a starting spot must have been fierce. He truly lived up to his reputation as Korea's best.

Tsk. Look who's talking.

Seeing a compatriot senior, with whom I wasn't even on great terms, performing so well suddenly made me feel a bit depressed. One of us had beaten out a Ballon d'Or winner to secure a starting spot, while the other was starting on the bench, unable to even displace Van Persie.

Actually, it wasn't just Van Persie. I hadn't been able to displace Walcott or Ljungberg either.

Honestly, given my age, I had expected to start like this. But having a glimmer of hope when Henry got injured, only for it to be snatched away, made it feel much worse than I had anticipated.

But he'll still sub me in, right?

I stared intently at Wenger, who was discussing today's tactics ahead of kickoff.

"Looking at their starting lineup, they are highly likely to play a back three. As we discussed repeatedly during training, they are severely lacking in midfield numbers. Prioritize the midfield battle, and have the fullbacks overlap aggressively to destabilize their defense. And..."

But Wenger remained focused on his explanation, seemingly oblivious to my intense gaze. He was only doing his job as a manager, but considering how hard he had recruited me before I signed, it felt a bit cold.

No, I'm on the bench. I just need to show him what I can do when I get on.

I had been fine until now, but with my actual debut looming, the old depression from my injury days threatened to rear its head. I shook myself out of it.

It was only one match, and the season was long. With my skills, I could easily break into the starting lineup.

"This is the opening match we've prepared so hard for, and it's a home game. Go out there and show them who you are."

"Let's go, boys!"

Vieira, the captain, roared in response to Wenger's words.

"Let's go!"

The other players joined in Vieira's shout. I, too, shook off the lingering gloom in my mind and yelled along with them.

And so, the match began.

Wolverhampton met us with a back-three system, just as their starting lineup with three center-backs had suggested.

While I wanted the team to win, a small part of me hoped we wouldn't score until I came on, so my debut could happen sooner. But that hope was short-lived.

Just one minute in, Duarte, playing as the right center-back for the opposition, tackled Walcott as he attempted a dribble. With Henry out, Bergkamp, who had been designated as the free-kick taker, stepped up to take it.

Ah, I should have been the one taking that...

It was just outside the penalty box—my absolute favorite spot. As I was lamenting the missed opportunity, the commentator's voice rang out.

Bergkamp's sublime free-kick tore into the back of the Wolverhampton net.

"Waaaaah!"

"Yes!"

"Wow, what a strike."

I found myself marveling at the opening goal scored barely two minutes into the match, but a pang of regret quickly followed. Since I was starting on the bench, my ideal debut scenario was for the attack to struggle, forcing the manager to sub me in, followed by me putting on a masterclass to carry the team to victory, leaving Wenger and the coaches to apologize for doubting me...

Tsk, if that's how it is... No, in that case, it might actually be better if we blow them out. That way, the starters can get some rest. We have the Munich match in a few days, after all.

If so, even if I couldn't steal the spotlight, I had no choice but to hope we scored a flurry of goals so the substitutions would be made earlier.

However, even that thought proved premature. Around the fifth minute of the first half, Wolverhampton intercepted Ljungberg's dribble and launched a counterattack. Moreno, playing as the opposition's left wing-back, sent in a cross. Tierney tried to head it away, but it skimmed off his head and fell straight to Traoré.

"Uh, watch out!"

"Block him! Block him!"

Traoré brought it down with his chest, creating a perfect one-on-one opportunity.

And the shot went straight...

...into the back of our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠net. Just like that, it was a draw.

So this is the Premier League...

The left-back position, which had been highlighted as our relative weakness, had ultimately cost us.

I felt a brief surge of excitement realizing that the player who had triggered the counterattack was my rival, Ljungberg. But I quickly focused back on the game to keep up with the relentless back-and-forth. Time flew by, and around the twentieth minute, Touré capitalized on a corner delivered by Bergkamp to put us back in the lead.

Not long after, Bergkamp received a throw-in and whipped in a cross aimed at Van Persie. Before the cross could even reach its target, it deflected off an opposing center-back and shook the net once more.

Well, Bergkamp's definitely getting Man of the Match today.

I had fantasized about scoring the winning goal and winning Man of the Match, but Bergkamp was proving why he was considered one of the best in the Premier League. He already had a goal, an assist, and had forced an own goal.

Bergkamp was completely dominating the match. Even if I were to come on as a sub, there was no way I would steal the spotlight. Still, we were winning, which meant the likelihood of me getting subbed on was steadily rising.

Even at 3-1, as if to present a gift to the home fans who had come for the opening match, we didn't let up on the attack. Our shot tally kept rising. I breathed a sigh of relief every time my rivals' shots missed the target.

The tempestuous first half, which saw a total of four goals, came to an end. We had the match firmly in our grasp.

"Right, let's keep the same intensity in the second half..."

Although we had the Munich match in just four days, Wenger didn't seem to be considering any halftime substitutions. The lineup remained unchanged.

"Hey, if you can't handle it, just ask to be subbed off."

"Pfft. Just sit on the bench and watch."

I tried to needle Van Persie, who hadn't scored a single goal despite taking three shots, but all I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠got in return was a sneer.

Damn it, just sub me in already!

Just like in the first half, I sat on the bench and watched my teammates play. But I couldn't just sit still. To remind Wenger of my presence, I began to warm up near him, even though he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't told me to.

While I was warming up, the match flowed at a slightly slower tempo compared to the goal-frenzied first half.

Peep!

Ljungberg drew a foul, and a free-kick was awarded near the penalty box once again.

"Dennis! Let me take this one...!"

With the free-kick in a very promising position, Van Persie begged Bergkamp, the designated taker. Surprisingly, Bergkamp put his pride aside and handed the ball over to him.

Please, please miss.

I silently cursed Van Persie as he prepared to take the kick.

Yes!

Van Persie's free-kick missed the target by a good three or four meters.

"Luka, Jake. Get ready."

Finally, Wenger called my name. Seeing that he had also called Jake Wilshere, it seemed he intended to rest Cesc Fàbregas as well in preparation for the Munich match.

As the clock ticked past the sixty-minute mark, the bench finally signaled for the substitution.

The player I was replacing was Van Persie, who had hogged the free-kick only to end the match without a single goal.

Peep!

The whistle blew, and Van Persie walked off the pitch with a stony expression.

"Hey, who told you to play in such a rush?"

"Shut up."

Well, Van Persie's skills were decent enough, but his downfall today was his impatience. With Henry out, he had been desperate to prove his worth, making his play feel rushed. A world-class manager like Wenger was never going to miss that.

So, there was only one thing I needed to keep in mind: don't get impatient like him.

I glanced toward the director's box where the club had allocated seats. My family was there, waiting to cheer me on.

"Do your best, Luka!"

...and Haruka, shouting in Japanese, her voice cutting clearly through the noise.

Honestly, it would have been incredibly embarrassing if I had invited someone I wasn't even close with only to sit on the bench the whole game. I was glad that wasn't the case.

"Old man! Feed me some passes! You already got a goal today, you know? Let's help each other out here."

"We'll see how you do."

I made my pitch to Bergkamp, who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seemed to be in excellent form today, as I walked toward the center-forward position.

I have to play well today so I can start against Munich, no matter what.

It was finally time for my dream debut.