The soccer field at Seika High was a patchwork of mud and memory, goalposts scarred from a season of near-misses and hard-won draws. Kai lingered on the sidelines after school, clipboard in hand as "team manager" cover—Sora's plea after the last practice debacle. The air hummed with the sharp crack of cleats on ball, shouts echoing like victory chants deferred. Haruto, the star striker, drilled shots with laser focus, while Riku barked drills from midfield. But the vibe soured fast: Coach Yamamoto, whistle dangling from his neck like a noose, stormed from the equipment shed, face thunderous.
"Stolen! The '92 championship trophy—gone!" His bellow cut the practice short, players freezing mid-dribble. The shed door hung ajar, cabinet rifled: pads scattered, cones toppled, but the glass case—empty. The trophy, a tarnished silver cup etched with Seika's lone glory from Coach's rookie year, vanished.
Sora jogged over, sweat-banded forehead creased. "Ghost again? Or lit club's prop raid? They did swipe our banners last spring."
Riku spat turf. "Rivals. Rengo High—lost to them last match, 3-2. Their captain swore payback. 'We'll take your pride,' he said. Petty."
Kai knelt by the cabinet, gloved finger tracing the lock—scratched, but clean. No pry marks; key job. Inside: faint dust outline where the trophy sat, and a single black feather snagged on the shelf edge. "Not ghost. Inside or keyholder. Feather—crow? Rengo's mascot."
Haruto snorted, stripping his shinguards. "Crow curse? Lame. But yeah—check the keys. Only coach, me as captain, and the equipment kid: little first-year, Miko's brother, Yuki. Shy type, always fumbling."
Yuki. Kai filed it: underdog benchwarmer, all elbows and enthusiasm, subbed once a game for "moral support." Motive? None obvious. But Emiko's radio silence since the bento bash felt like a held breath—next echo?
"Stakeout?" Sora suggested, eyes lighting. "Or interrogate the feather?"
Yumi and Aiko arrived as the team dispersed, Yumi's lit flyers fluttering like alibis. "Heard the shout from the track. Trophy heist—rivalry revenge classic."
Aiko sketched quick: cabinet as crime scene, feather exaggerated to raven wing. "Artistic license. But Yuki? Sweet kid—draws goalie gloves for me. Not thief material."
Kai pocketed the feather sample. "Start with keys. Coach's log—sign-outs?"
Yamamoto grunted, flipping his battered notebook. "Last seen post-match Friday. Keys with me till lockup. Haruto signed for gear check Saturday—alibi: cram school. Yuki? No log, but he helps unpack."
Haruto bristled. "Me? I'd melt it down before stealing. That's our blood—Coach's first win, before the knee blew."
The coach's eyes softened, a flicker past the fury. " '92... drought since. That cup's my anchor." Voice rough, but crack betrayed: retirement whispers, knee flaring worse each practice. Heartfelt undercurrent—trophy as talisman, not just silver.
"Trail the feather," Kai decided. "Rengo game footage—mascot props? And Yuki's alibi."
Practice reconvened half-hearted, drills sloppy as suspicion festered. Kai slipped to the bleachers, phone pulling Rengo's match highlights: crow banners, black feathers tossed in taunts. But no theft vibe—sour grapes, sure, but shed raid? Bold.
Yuki shuffled by post-drill, hauling cones solo, face flushed under his oversized jersey. Kai fell in step. "Hey—trophy mess. You unpack Friday?"
Yuki nodded fervent, cones wobbling. "Y-yes! All there—cup shiny on shelf. Locked up tight. I... I like it. Coach's story—underdog comeback. Makes me think I could... y'know, score once."
Underdog echo. Kai's suspicion softened—eyes earnest, no guile. "Feather in the cabinet. Yours?"
Yuki blinked. "Feather? Oh—from my backpack. Crow keychain, good luck charm. Ripped last week—must've snagged." He fished a mangled chain from his pocket: black feather dangle, half-torn. Match.
Sora bounded over, overhearing. "Luck charm? Cute. But keys—where were they?"
Yuki paled. "Me? No—Haruto-senpai had 'em for gear. Said 'quick check.' I waited outside."
Haruto? Captain alibi cracking. Kai texted Yumi: Captain's cram—verify. Reply pinged: LINE check: Posted 'study grind'—but geo-tag's off-campus café. Closer than school.
Suspicion swerved. Rivalry red herring; internal rift? Haruto—star pressure, Coach's fave, but Yuki's "score once" plea hung heavy. Bonds tested: glory hog vs. bench heart.
Confront at the café—neon-lit haven, steam fogging windows. Haruto hunched over flashcards, coffee cold. Kai slid in opposite, Sora looming. "Gear check Saturday. Keys—where'd you stash 'em after?"
Haruto's eyes narrowed, cards flipping defensive. "Shed. Locked. Why?"
"Feather trail to Yuki. But you held keys. Alibi fuzzy—café's five minutes, not cram hall."
Sora leaned in. "Spill, cap. Revenge on Coach? Retirement push?"
Haruto laughed bitter, but shoulders sagged. "Revenge? Nah. Gesture." He pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from his bag— the trophy, gleaming soft. "Coach's last season. Knee's done—docs say retire. Cup's his goodbye. I... borrowed it. Plan: engrave 'Underdog Forever—Yuki's Shot' on the base. Sub the kid in finals, let him score. Gift it back post-game. Team bond—soft spot for the bench."
Heartfelt twist. Kai's knack pinged true: suspicion's soft underbelly. "Engraver?"
"Uncle's shop—Saturday rush. Keys back Monday morn, pre-dawn. Forgot the log." Haruto's grin sheepish. "Rengo crow? I tossed a feather in—misdirect. Thought it'd rally us, 'us vs. them.' Lame captain move."
Sora fist-bumped. "Epic lame. But Yuki? Glow-up incoming."
Back at the field, dusk gilding the goals, they ambushed Coach with the reveal. Haruto presented the cup—base etched fresh, Yuki's name bold. "For the anchors. And the next."
Yamamoto's whistle dropped, eyes misting. "You pups... bonds like that? Win or lose." He clapped Yuki's shoulder. "Start Friday. Your shot."
Yuki beamed, cones forgotten. Team erupted—hugs, shouts, a ragged cheer.
Yumi and Aiko watched from the sidelines, Aiko's sketch capturing the glow. "Soft spot spotted. Kai's superpower."
Sora ruffled Kai's hair. "Next: Whose heart's next heist?"
Emiko's text: Bond mended. Rumor: swapped test answers? Or let glory linger?
Kai pocketed his phone, the field's mud a canvas of comebacks. Everyday: trophies, not just taken—but given.
End of Chapter 14
(Next chapter tease: A flurry of "swapped test answers" in math class ignites a cheating scandal suspicion, but peels back layers of a stressed student's quiet plea for help—challenging Kai to balance justice with a dose of overdue empathy.)