Blue Dream Trail (Soccer) - Episode 1:

The day when Ren Naoe was “kicking the ball alone” in his fifth year of elementary school (10 years old)

There was nobody on the ground.

It must have been 30 minutes since the school bell rang. The rain falling from the grey sky had already turned the ground into mud, and the white lines were becoming unclear.

But still, one boy was there.

“…One more time.”

A thin, low voice melts into the wind.

Ren, a fifth-grader, still wearing his wet uniform, slowly pushed the muddy soccer ball forward.

Without a run-up, lightly swing your right leg.

The ball spun, floated up, and was sucked into the top right corner of the goal.

No one was watching, but the precision was like that of a professional.

“It’s not going to be the same as a match.”

A pass that would normally go through gets intercepted by the opponent. Was it because my field of vision was narrow, or…?

He laughs regretfully, as if talking to himself.

It’s not just technique that keeps him kicking.

“Why didn’t you get in?” “Why didn’t you pass?”

To find the answer, he would think and repeat in the rain. No one had taught him this. But it was just natural to him.

A person was watching the whole thing from a distance, holding an umbrella.

The person in question was Matsushima, the coach of the U-12 team, a youth academy of a certain J-League club.

“…This is it.”

Images of lost talents from the past came to Matsushima’s mind.

Raindrops trickled down the edge of the umbrella and fell to the ground with a plop.

Matsushima thought. It’s not about technique or physical strength.

“Athletes who continue to question themselves” are what this country needs most and what it lacks most.

A glimpse of that was right here, right now.

A few days later.

After school, Ren received an envelope in the classroom. On the envelope was an unfamiliar logo and the words “Selection Information.”

The sender is the U-12 Selection Office, the youth academy of J-League club Yokohama Raybans.

“What is this…”

He only recently learned the name of the team. It was a prestigious club in the J1 League with a reputation for developing players. The name of the man who had been on the field that rainy day was also written on it.

“Academy Coach Matsushima Koichi.”

My mother was a little confused,

“Why don’t you try? It’s free to take the test,” and laughed.

My father just nodded silently.

A few weeks later, at the Yokohama Raybans U-12 selection venue.

An artificial turf field with the Yokohama Rabans emblem displayed.

Next to the bench is a list of reserve players and the coaches’ keen gazes.

Parents in the stands exchanged looks of mutual interest.

The eyes of nearly 100 boys gathered from all over the country crossed.

“What’s your name?” “What team are you on?” “Hey, isn’t that the kid who participated in a famous tournament?”

Tension, expectation, and an invisible sense of pride were swirling around.

Ren was standing just outside the circle, quietly tying his shoelaces.

“Everyone’s bigger than me…” or “…well, I’ll just give it a try.”

The atmosphere in the venue changed completely as the match-style selection began.

It’s fast. It’s good. It’s got a voice.

But Ren barely ran for the first five minutes. He didn’t pass the ball, and he didn’t even have the ball. He just kept his eyes on the movements of those around him, watching something.

“Hey, what’s he doing?”

The parents were getting noisy. But Matsushima was sitting on the bench with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

In the sixth minute, the ball rolls to Ren’s feet.

At that moment, his switch flipped.

The first touch shifts the opponent’s center of gravity, and the second touch makes a long through pass to the open side.

The receiver was surprised, but he ran and scored a goal.

The crowd was silenced by Ren’s ability to read his teammates several steps ahead and the way he used the “first five minutes” to achieve that goal.

“That pass… was that guy aiming for that?”

“How did you know there was a space there…”

“…Who is this guy?”

Some of the boys thought.

He’s not particularly big, nor is he particularly fast, but just having Ren on the pitch changed the flow of the game.

After the match, Matsushima called out to Ren.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Ren.”

“What were you thinking about today?”

“…I was watching how these people acted.”

Matsushima smiles with satisfaction.

“Okay. You passed. I’ve been looking for a player like you for a long time.”

Ren’s story begins with the “memory of the rain” of that day.