Monday morning arrived with celebrations that felt earned.
Takeshi walked into school to a hero's welcome. Classmates congratulating him in hallways, mentioning the 4-2 win, the beautiful football, the safe zone reached.
"9th place! You guys are safe now, right?"
He'd been smiling at first, nodding. "Yeah, pretty much."
The school newspaper had the team celebrating on the front page. Local heroes surviving the impossible.
Yuki slapped his back during lunch: "So you can relax now?"
Takeshi: "Got two matches left but yeah, mostly."
In the classroom, Sato was bouncing around: "BRO WE'RE NINTH!"
Still riding high from yesterday. Teachers even congratulated him between classes. The math teacher mentioned he could now focus on exams. The history teacher said the performance was impressive.
Everything felt different. Lighter.
Then at lunch, Akari showed him a sports notification on her phone: "10th Place Yokosuka Wins, Closes Gap."
Both of them seeing it.
The brief shadow crossing their celebration.
"We're still three points ahead," Takeshi said automatically.
Akari squeezed his hand. "Yeah. Just don't get too comfortable."
"I won't," he promised.
But would he?
After school, the team arrived at training loose and laughing.
Yesterday's win still fresh. Energy relaxed, almost casual. Players stretching half-heartedly. Sato joking with Kenji. Ryo smiling more than usual. Everyone expecting a light recovery session after the intensity.
Coach Tanaka watched from the sideline, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable.
Then the whistle came. Sharp. Loud. Cutting through the chatter.
"Gather up. Now."
The tone was serious. Team jogging over, confused, standing in a semicircle.
Coach Tanaka scanned their faces. Not angry, but stern.
"9th place," he said. "Congratulations."
Brief smiles flickered.
"You earned that. Yesterday was beautiful football."
The smiles grew wider.
"But if you think the season's over," his voice hardened, "you're about to learn a painful lesson."
Silence descended.
"Two matches remain. Six points available. You have 38 points. 9th place."
He pulled out paper with standings.
"10th place: Yokosuka FC. 35 points. They won yesterday. 3 to 0. Dominant."
The paper passed through hands.
"11th place: 34 points. 12th place: 33 points."
Looking at each player individually.
"If we lose both remaining matches, we finish with 38 points. If Yokosuka wins both, they finish with 41 points. We drop to 10th. Maybe 11th depending on others."
Letting that sink in completely.
"9th place isn't guaranteed. It's current."
Yuta protested: "But Coach, we'd have to lose BOTH—"
"Can you guarantee we won't?"
Silence answered him.
"Our next opponent is 6th place. Final match is against 4th place. Both better than us on paper. Both will be fighting for their positions too."
Ryo's jaw clenched, understanding the real danger.
Takeshi's adult mind kicked in: He's absolutely right.
Coach Tanaka's voice became quieter but more intense.
"I've been coaching 20 years. Seen teams celebrate too early. Seen 9th place become 12th in two weeks. I've seen promising seasons implode in the final stretch because players got comfortable."
His eyes fixed on Takeshi specifically.
"You've fought too hard to blow it now."
"So here's what happens: Training intensifies. Today. Now. We treat these two matches like our lives depend on them. Because they do."
"Understood?"
"Yes, Coach," came the unified response. But it was subdued. Reality settling in.
Post-training, the team sat in a circle, sweating from the intense session.
Coach wasn't joking about intensifying.
Ryo led the discussion as captain: "Coach is right. We got comfortable."
Nods around the circle confirmed it.
"Two matches. Both tough opponents."
Kenji asked: "What if we win one, lose one?"
Takeshi did the math aloud: "Depends on Yokosuka's results."
"Best case: win both. We finish 7th or 8th. Realistic: win one. We finish 9th, probably safe. Worst case: lose both. We could drop to 11th or 12th."
The numbers hung in the air as everyone absorbed them.
Sato: "So we actually could still get relegated."
"If everything goes wrong? Yeah," Takeshi confirmed.
System notification appeared only for him:
SURVIVAL QUEST: MATCHES 7 to 8 REMAINING
CURRENT: 9TH PLACE (38 points)
MARGIN: 3 points above 10th
THREAT LEVEL: Moderate
COMPLACENCY DETECTED: Team morale too relaxed
COACH ASSESSMENT: Correct
Survival incomplete until Match 8 final whistle
Ryo's voice brought him back: "So we don't celebrate yet. We finish the job first. Then we celebrate properly."
Everyone agreed.
Different energy now than this morning. Not joyless, just focused.
Yuta: "Two more matches. That's it. Then summer break, U17 prep, freedom. We can do two more."
Takeshi: "Together. Like we've done all seven."
Fist bump circle, all of them connecting.
"Together," they said in unison.
Walking to the station with Sato afterward.
"Coach scared me a bit," Sato admitted.
"Me too."
"Good scared though. Needed it."
"Yeah. We were getting sloppy."
Both understanding the deeper truth: success makes you soft. You can't afford soft with two matches left.
That evening, Takeshi met Akari at their park.
She was already sitting on their bench, waiting. He joined her, sitting close.
She immediately noticed: "Training was intense?"
"Coach reminded us the season's not over."
Akari nodded. "He's right, you know."
"I know."
Taking her hand.
"This morning I was celebrating like we'd won. Tonight I'm realizing we could still lose everything."
Her perspective was clear: "You're allowed to be happy about 9th place. You earned that. Team earned that. But don't get comfortable."
"Exactly."
She squeezed his hand.
"Two more matches. Then you're actually safe. Then we can celebrate for real."
"Then WE can celebrate," he corrected.
"I'm holding you to that," she smiled.
They sat in quiet moment, just existing together.
Takeshi: "We're almost there. Almost survived. Almost redeemed the second chance. Almost proved everyone wrong."
Akari turned to face him. "Almost is a dangerous word."
"What do you mean?"
"Almost means not yet," she said carefully. "Almost means you still have to fight. Almost means you could fail at the final moment."
Him: "When did you get so wise?"
"Been watching you fight all season. Learned that giving up at 'almost' is how you lose."
Takeshi pulled her closer.
"You're right. Again. How are you always right?"
"I'm not. I just care about you. People who care see clearer."
"Two more matches," he said.
"Then actual safety."
"Then U17 World Cup."
"Then whatever comes next."
Akari placed her hand on his chest where his heart was beating.
"One step at a time."
"Yeah. One step."
She looked at him seriously.
"Promise me something."
"Anything."
"These last two matches, win or lose, you gave everything. Don't hold back. Don't play scared. Play like you did against Kanagawa. With joy. With confidence."
He started to protest. "Coach just told us to be careful—"
"Careful isn't scared," she interrupted. "Careful is smart. But scared is how you lose. You need both things: joy and focus."
Takeshi absorbed that wisdom.
"I can do that."
"I know you can."
Walking her home, at her door he said: "Two more."
"Two more," she confirmed.
"Then we're actually safe."
"Then you're actually free."
Quick kiss goodnight.
"Text me after training tomorrow."
"Always."
Walking home alone, her words echoing. Almost isn't enough. Have to finish.
That night, Takeshi sat at his desk looking at the remaining schedule.
Match 7: versus 6th place team. Tough.
Match 8: versus 4th place team. Very tough.
Both winnable but not guaranteed.
His phone buzzed. Team group chat.
Ryo: "Early practice tomorrow. 6 AM. Everyone."
No complaints came back. Just confirmations.
They understood now.
System showed:
MENTAL STATE: Refocused (78 percent to 85 percent)
TEAM MORALE: Recalibrated (appropriate caution)
COACH WISDOM: Integrated
AKARI SUPPORT: Active
MATCHES REMAINING: 2
STATUS: Almost safe (not safe)
DIRECTIVE: Finish what you started
The story isn't over at "almost"
Messages on his phone:
Elsa: "Saw the standings. Don't get comfortable heart emoji"
Sato: "6am practice gonna suck but we need it"
Akari: "Sleep well. Two more fights heart emoji"
He typed to the team chat: "Let's finish this right."
Setting his alarm for 5:15 AM.
Lying down.
Not anxious. Not celebrating.
Just focused.
Almost isn't enough.
Two more matches.
Then actual freedom.
Then real celebration.
Until then: work.
Sleep found him.
Tomorrow would bring harder training.
Next week would bring the final tests.
The story needed proper finishing.
Not celebrations at "almost."
But triumph at complete.