Chapter 824: Unexpected Message

Hiro didn’t answer for a long while. He just sat there staring at the screen.

He thought of the matches he had watched from this same bed, the goals and the celebrations and the joy on his teammates’ faces as they piled onto one another by the corner flag. Do they really miss me? Or have they already learned how to be happy without me?

"They don’t need me," he wrote at last.

Diego’s reply came almost at once. "That’s not true."

"It’s okay if it is. I want them to succeed, even without me."

The pause that followed was even longer than before, and Hiro pictured Diego somewhere in the quiet of his own evening, phone in hand, a man who knew from his own playing days what it was to be shut out of the game.

When the message finally came, it arrived in one long block.

"Hiro, listen to me. The team is winning. They’re good because they fight, and because they believe in one another. But they are not the same without you. They are not complete."

"You’re just saying that."

"I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re not only a player. You’re the soul of this team, and souls don’t get replaced."

Hiro read the message once, then read it again, and found that he had no idea how to answer.

His thumbs hovered above the keyboard until the screen dimmed and then went dark. He set the phone on the nightstand and looked up at the ceiling, where the last of the evening light was slowly draining away.

The soul of the team.

He turned the words over, and the thought beneath them rose too, quiet and unwelcome.

But what happens to a team when its soul is sitting alone in a hospital room, so far from the pitch?

Hiro didn’t respond after that. He just put his phone down and sat with his thoughts like he had been accustomed to.

The next morning, he received another message. This one was from Lee Kang-In, and it surprised him.

"I scored again yesterday. Did you see?"

Just as he read the message, his brows lifted. Did he just text to brag?

Hiro smiled in spite of himself, the corner of his mouth lifting before he could stop it. "I saw. Great goal."

"It was for you."

His thumb stilled above the screen. "What do you mean?"

"The celebration. I pointed to the sky. To you. I don’t know if anyone noticed, but it was for you."

Hiro’s throat tightened, and for a moment the sunlit room blurred at the edges. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I wanted to. You’re still part of this team, even if you’re not on the pitch."

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. "Thank you, Lee."

"Get better soon. We need you."

"You don’t need me. You’re doing fine without me."

"We’re winning, but we’re not complete. There’s a difference."

Hiro didn’t know how to answer that.

He set the phone down and looked at his leg, still wrapped and still healing and still not ready. Not complete, but winning all the same. The thought sat strangely in his chest, a comfort and an ache at once, and after a while he picked up his notebook and began to write.

That evening, long after the clinic had emptied for the night, Elena found him in the therapy room.

He was working through a new exercise, a series of slow movements meant to rebuild his balance and stability, and the strain showed on him.

Sweat ran down his temples and dripped from his chin onto the mat, and his injured leg shook with every shift of his weight. The overhead lights had been dimmed, and the machines along the wall hummed quietly in the half-dark.

"You’re pushing yourself again," Elena said from the doorway.

"I have to."

"Why?"

He kept his eyes on the line he was following across the floor, his jaw set. "Because the world isn’t waiting for me."

Elena studied him for a long moment. "No," she agreed. "It isn’t."

She crossed the room and stopped at his side. "But that doesn’t mean you have to tear yourself apart trying to catch up."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Focus on what you can control, which is your recovery, your mindset, and your preparation. The rest will follow." Her voice was gentle but steady, the voice of someone who had said these words to many patients and meant them every time.

"You aren’t racing the world, Hiro. You’re racing yourself. The only question that matters is who you want to be when you cross the finish line."

He turned to look at her, still breathing hard. "I don’t know yet."

"Then figure it out."

She gave him a small nod and left, and the sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor. Hiro stood alone in the therapy room with the machines humming around him and the sweat cooling on his skin.

Who do I want to be?

He had no answer to give. But as he stood there, he realized he didn’t have an answer to give. Hence, he just stood there, contemplating.

Perhaps he should just heed the words of his doctors and take it one step at a time.

However, what happens if he misses his mark?

What if he can’t make it to the pitch before the World Cup kicks off? What if he misses his spot because he didn’t push himself hard enough?

He didn’t want to give up on the World Cup.

Even if this World Cup were to be his last one, he still wanted it.

He clenched his fists as he thought about it, a dim spark of determination kindling inside him.

Whatever the cost, he wouldn’t give up on this World Cup.

Even if he had to burn all the fire inside him, he would do so. But giving up wasn’t an option.

In that instant, he had figured out what he wanted to do.