Kang Junho's soccer ball was not a toy.
The soccer ball was his friend, his diary, and another version of himself that conveyed the words he held in his heart.
On good days, the ball seemed to stick lightly to his toes. On frustrating days, no matter how hard he kicked it, the ball seemed unable to travel far. On days his mother scolded him, days he failed a test at school, and days he returned home alone after fighting with a friend, Junho headed to the small soccer field on one side of the neighborhood park.
Whenever he kicked the ball, everything became all right.
That spring, when he turned twelve, Junho was the starting midfielder for the Blue Hawks, the most famous youth soccer team in the area.
The Blue Hawks were known for their blue uniforms and fast counterattacks. They were so strong that their name alone made players their age nervous, and the previous year they had finished as runners-up in the National Youth Soccer Tournament.
But the team's reputation wasn't especially important to Junho.
What he loved were the four friends he played soccer with.
Park Minseok, the captain, was more responsible than anyone. He had a loud voice and a stubborn streak, so sometimes he acted more like a coach than the coach did. But whenever something difficult happened, he was always the first to step forward.
Goalkeeper Lee Taeyoon was usually playful, but the moment he stood in front of the goal, he became a different person. He didn't close his eyes even when the ball flew at his face, and he made unbelievable saves whenever they mattered most.
Defender Kim Doyoon didn't talk much. Instead, he read the opposing forwards' movements faster than anyone. Whenever the team wavered, he was the player who quietly watched their backs.
Forward Choi Hyunwoo was the fastest player on the team. Once he caught the ball and started running, no one could easily catch him. However, he was greedy and sometimes insisted on taking a shot even when it was time to pass.
And Kang Junho.
Junho wasn't noticeably fast, nor was he particularly strong. He was also a little shorter than average for his age. But he had an eye for the entire field.
He noticed a little earlier than everyone else where his friends would move, which way the opposing defenders were trying to block, and where the ball would flow.
Whenever Junho got the ball, the Blue Hawks' attack came alive.
Minseok called Junho the heart of the team.
“If the heart stops, a person dies. So you can never be absent.”
The first time Minseok said that, Junho laughed it off.
“Then what are you?”
“I’m the brain.”
“Why are you the brain?”
“Because I’m the captain.”
“Does being captain make you the brain?”
“Then Hyunwoo is the legs, Taeyoon is the hands, and Doyoon is the waist.”
“Why am I the legs?”
Hyunwoo, who had been listening beside them, asked indignantly.
“Because you run the fastest.”
“Then if Junho is the heart, that means he’s the most important.”
“That’s right.”
Minseok answered without batting an eye.
“Junho is the most important person on our team.”
Embarrassed, Junho could only look down at the soccer ball. But inside, he was happy.
He liked knowing that his friends trusted him.
Junho trusted his friends, too.
The five of them had first met in third grade and had played together ever since. After practice, they gathered beneath the pull-up bar on the field and shared drinks. When they lost a tournament game, they put their hands together and promised to win the next one.
That year, the Blue Hawks' goal was to win the national tournament.
After losing the previous year's final by one goal, the kids had cried as they made a promise.
They would win it all next time.
And all five of them would become members of the national team and go to the World Cup together.
Until then, Junho believed that promise could never be broken.
The changes began when a new coach took over.
The previous coach had suddenly moved to a professional club's youth team in another region, and the Blue Hawks welcomed a new leader with two months remaining before the national tournament.
The new coach's name was Cha Donghyuk.
Coach Cha had been a professional player. He had never played for the national team, but he had spent many years as a defender in the pro league and had reportedly worked with several youth teams after retiring.
His first impression was intense.
A closely cropped haircut, a deep voice, and a face without a trace of a smile.
On the first day of practice, Coach Cha lined the players up in the middle of the field and stared at them silently for a while.
The kids straightened their shoulders nervously.
“I don’t choose players based on their reputation.”
Coach Cha finally spoke.
“It doesn’t matter if you were a starter last year, if you were the captain, or if you’ve been with the team for a long time. The players who are playing well now will play in the games.”
A faint tension spread among the kids.
“There are two months left until the national tournament. The starters can change as many times as necessary during that period. If you want to win the competition, prove it with your skill.”
Junho didn't think there was anything particularly strange about what he said.
He thought competition was only natural for athletes.
But after Coach Cha arrived, the atmosphere at practice gradually changed.
Before, whenever someone made a mistake, their friends were the first to come over and tell them it was okay. Now, whenever someone made a mistake, the other players watched the coach's reaction.
Some kids began sighing when they lost the ball during passing practice. They flushed with anger when someone took away a shot opportunity during a scrimmage. The bench players began hoping the starters would make mistakes, while the starters grew anxious that their spots might be taken.
The parents' mood changed, too.
Outside the practice field, the parents' voices were louder than the children's.
“Our kid is much better than that player, so why is he still a bench player?”
“I think the previous coach favored certain players too much.”
“This time, the players really need to be selected based on their ability.”
Unlike the other parents, Junho's mother usually watched practice without saying much. But Junho saw her several times listening to the other parents and looking worried.
One day after practice, his mother asked carefully,
“Junho, what do you think of the new coach?”
“He’s okay.”
“Is it hard?”
“Practice is supposed to be hard.”
Junho answered as if it were no big deal.
His mother hesitated for a moment before asking again.
“How are things with your friends?”
“Of course they’re fine.”
Junho smiled.
Until then, he really thought everything was fine.
The changes became obvious when the new coach changed the team's attacking tactics.
Coach Cha preferred fast, simple soccer over the old short-passing style.
“When you get the ball, don’t hold on to it. Send it to the wing and move it forward quickly.”
Hyunwoo was the center of that tactic.
The plan was to send a long pass to Hyunwoo, who had quick feet, so he could outrun the defenders and take a shot.
At first, Junho tried to adapt to the coach's tactics. But Junho's strength was moving several players and creating open space. When he was assigned only to send long passes to the wing, he found it difficult to make full use of his strengths.
On top of that, Coach Cha disliked Junho's build.
“Kang Junho.”
Coach Cha called out to him during practice.
“Your passing instincts are decent.”
It began like a compliment, but the coach's expression was stern.
“But you avoid physical challenges too much. If you keep playing like this, you won’t last in a major tournament.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“If the opponent pushes you, push back. Don’t give up the ball just because you think you’re about to fall.”
“Understood.”
Junho answered loudly.
From that day on, Junho tried to challenge opponents more aggressively than usual.
But every time he collided with a bigger player, he easily lost his balance.
Once, during a practice game, he collided with an opponent and went rolling across the grass. His elbow was scraped, and his knee was bleeding.
Minseok came running first.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
When Junho tried to stand, Minseok grabbed his arm and helped him up.
Coach Cha watched from a distance before saying,
“Don’t wait for a friend to help you up during a game. Get up by yourself.”
Minseok's expression hardened.
“Coach, Junho’s knee is bleeding.”
“If he can’t play because of that, he should leave.”
Junho quickly let go of Minseok's hand and stood up.
“I’m fine. I can do it.”
Practice resumed, but Junho's knee continued to sting.
That evening, Minseok called Junho.
“Hey, how’s your knee?”
“It’s fine. I put some medicine on it.”
“Isn’t our coach kind of weird?”
“Why?”
“It feels like he’s deliberately making the players compete against one another.”
“Competing is normal.”
“Even so, this is too much. The kids don’t even want to talk to each other anymore.”
Junho was silent for a moment.
He felt the same atmosphere. But he didn't want to admit it.
He wanted to believe that everyone was simply on edge because the national tournament was approaching.
“Things will go back to normal after the tournament.”
Junho said it himself.
Minseok didn't answer.
A few days later, Coach Cha held an intrasquad game with the starters and bench players mixed together.
Junho was assigned as the central midfielder for the bench team.
He had never once been left out of the starting team before, so Junho was confused, but he didn't show it.
When the game began, the starting team attacked quickly.
Hyunwoo received the ball on the wing and broke forward, but Doyoon stopped him. Junho collected the ball when it came loose.
Junho looked up.
A bench-team forward was running down the left wing. But the opposing defender was following his movement, too.
Junho didn't pass right away.
He held the ball for a moment, drawing the opposing midfielder toward him. Then he threaded the ball through the narrow gap that appeared for an instant between the defender and midfielder.
The pass arrived perfectly at the forward's feet.
The bench team scored the opening goal.
“Nice!”
The kids cheered.
Junho smiled without realizing it.
It felt like he had finally made a pass that was true to himself for the first time in a while.
But Coach Cha's expression was displeased.
“Kang Junho!”
The coach's voice echoed across the field.
“Why didn’t you send it straight to the wing?”
Junho was caught off guard.
“I saw space in the middle…”
“Did you ignore the tactics I instructed?”
“No, Coach.”
“Do you think it’s okay to disobey instructions as long as the result is good?”
Junho closed his mouth.
He couldn't understand why he was being scolded even though he had created a goal.
Coach Cha restarted the game immediately, as if he refused to acknowledge the bench team's goal.
After the practice game ended, Coach Cha called Minseok aside.
From a distance, Junho watched the two of them talk.
The coach spoke at length about something, while Minseok shook his head with a stiff expression.
A moment later, Minseok's voice rose.
“I can’t agree to that.”
Junho stopped walking without realizing it.
When Coach Cha looked around, Minseok lowered his voice. The two moved to a corner of the field.
Junho tried not to pay attention.
But for some reason, he felt uneasy.
Even in the locker room that day, Minseok wouldn't properly meet Junho's eyes.
“What did you talk about with the coach?”
Junho asked.
Minseok hesitated for a moment.
“Just team stuff.”
“What kind of team stuff?”
“Nothing important.”
Minseok grabbed his bag and hurried out of the locker room.
Junho stared at the closed door.
Normally, Minseok would have talked from beginning to end about whatever he had discussed with the coach.
But that day was different.
Starting with the next practice, Junho could no longer wear the starter's vest.
Coach Cha put another midfielder on the starting team. He was taller and stronger than Junho. His passing ability was lacking, but he held his own in physical challenges and sent the ball long to the wing as soon as he got it, just as the coach instructed.
Junho practiced with the bench team.
He thought it would only last one day.
But it was the same the next day, and the day after that.
His friends worried about him.
Taeyoon deliberately came over during a break and said,
“Don’t worry about it. The coach is probably testing the players.”
Doyoon added briefly,
“You’ll be back soon.”
Hyunwoo said nothing and simply slapped Junho on the shoulder.
But Minseok continued to act awkwardly.
Whenever Junho approached, he avoided his gaze, and he was even more careful when the coach was nearby.
A small suspicion began to grow in Junho's heart.
Could Minseok have said something bad about him to the coach?
To protect his position as captain.
Because he wanted to be the center of the team.
Junho hated himself for thinking that way.
Minseok was his best friend.
He knew how much Minseok had looked out for him all this time.
But the longer he remained on the bench, the larger his suspicion grew.
The decisive incident happened three days before the final roster for the national tournament was announced.
After practice, Junho realized he had left his water bottle behind and returned to the field.
The sun was almost down.
As Junho passed in front of the clubhouse, he stopped when he heard voices coming from inside the coach's office.
It was Coach Cha and Minseok.
The door wasn't completely closed, and their voices drifted out faintly.
“I’m planning to leave Kang Junho off the roster for this tournament.”
It was Coach Cha speaking.
Junho stopped breathing.
“You can’t do that.”
Minseok replied.
“Our attack won’t work properly without Junho.”
“Don’t question my judgment.”
“Junho is the best passer on the team.”
“If you’re the captain, you need to look at the entire team. You can’t just take your friend’s side.”
Silence fell for a moment.
Junho moved closer to the door.
But just then, he heard a chair move inside and, startled, hid behind the wall on the opposite side.
Minseok came out of the coach's office.
His face was red with anger. He stood in front of the door for a while with his fists clenched.
Then he called someone.
“There’s nothing I can do, either.”
Junho's heart sank.
Minseok continued the call.
“The coach has already made his decision. Junho…”
The rest of his words were drowned out by a passing car.
Junho couldn't hear anything more.
But the worst possible scenario had already formed in his mind.
Had Minseok agreed with the coach's decision?
Had he only pretended to object at first, then given up on Junho in order to protect his own position?
“There’s nothing I can do, either.”
The words kept ringing in Junho's ears.
Junho left the field before he could run into Minseok.
He left his water bottle behind.
Even after he got home, he couldn't calm down.
When his mother called him to dinner, he said his stomach hurt and went to his room.
The runner-up medal he had received at last year's national tournament hung beside his desk.
Beneath it was a picture of the five of them together.
In the picture, Minseok had an arm around Junho's neck and was smiling brightly.
Junho turned the picture facedown.
At practice the next day, Minseok spoke to him.
“Junho.”
Junho pretended not to hear him as he tied his shoelaces.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
“We have to practice.”
“It’ll only take a minute before practice.”
Junho stood up.
“Later.”
“What’s wrong?”
Minseok grabbed Junho's arm.
Junho roughly shook him off.
“Let go.”
The children nearby stared at them in surprise.
A flustered look appeared on Minseok's face.
“What happened?”
“You know better than anyone.”
“What do I know?”
Junho didn't answer.
Coach Cha's whistle blew.
The children hurried onto the field.
Throughout practice that day, Junho didn't meet Minseok's eyes.
Minseok looked toward Junho several times, but he couldn't bring himself to approach.
After practice, Coach Cha gathered all the players in the middle of the field.
He held a white sheet of paper in his hand.
Tension spread across the children's faces.
It was the final roster for the national tournament.
“Starting tomorrow, only the players whose names I call will participate in the tournament-preparation practices.”
Coach Cha began reading the names one by one.
“Lee Taeyoon.”
Taeyoon stepped forward.
“Kim Doyoon.”
Doyoon went out.
“Park Minseok.”
Minseok stepped forward, looking at Junho as he did.
“Choi Hyunwoo.”
Hyunwoo went forward.
Junho clenched his fists.
He waited for his name to be called.
One, two, three.
The remaining spots dwindled.
The final name was called.
It wasn't Kang Junho.
Coach Cha folded the paper.
“That makes eighteen players.”
For a while, Junho couldn't hear anything.
Everything on the field seemed to recede into the distance.
His breathing grew short.
Minseok immediately approached the coach.
“Coach, Junho’s name isn’t on there.”
“The roster announcement is over.”
“Please reconsider.”
“Park Minseok.”
“It makes no sense to leave Junho out.”
Coach Cha's face hardened.
“Do you want to lose your position as captain?”
“The team is more important than being captain.”
“Enough!”
The coach's shout rang out.
But to Junho, the conversation between the two sounded different.
It seemed as though Minseok was only pretending to protest for Junho now.
The decision had already been made.
Junho had already been cut.
Junho looked at the blue vests issued to the starting players. Minseok, Hyunwoo, Doyoon, and Taeyoon were holding theirs.
He alone had nothing.
Hyunwoo approached Junho.
“Junho, wait a second.”
Junho took a step back.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Junho went into the locker room.
He opened his locker and took out his uniform.
The number 8 and his name were printed on the back of the blue uniform.
Kang Junho.
Junho stared at the name for a while, then didn't put the uniform in his bag.
He folded it neatly and left it inside the locker.
Minseok followed him in.
“Junho, listen to me.”
“About what?”
“The coach has been trying to cut you for days. That’s why I kept…”
“I know.”
Junho cut him off.
“I know you talked to the coach, too.”
“How did you…”
“I know you agreed to leave me off the roster.”
Minseok's face hardened.
“What are you talking about? Why would I leave you off?”
“You said there was nothing you could do.”
“That was…”
“Forget it.”
“Junho, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Minseok opened his mouth but couldn't answer right away.
That brief silence felt like an admission to Junho.
Junho slung his bag over his shoulder.
“I’m done with soccer.”
Minseok's eyes widened.
“What?”
“I’m not playing for a team like this anymore.”
“Wait. I know you’re angry, but don’t say something like that so lightly.”
“I’m not saying it lightly.”
“We made a promise.”
“What promise?”
“We promised to go pro together. To make the national team and go to the World Cup together.”
Junho gave a bitter laugh.
“You still believe in that promise?”
“I do.”
“I don’t anymore.”
Junho walked past Minseok and left the locker room.
Minseok tried to grab his arm again, but Junho dodged him.
Taeyoon, Doyoon, and Hyunwoo were standing in the doorway.
No one could easily say anything.
Junho looked at each of his friends in turn.
He remembered the time they had spent playing together.
The times they had kicked the ball on the field even on rainy days.
The time they had hugged and cried after losing a tournament game.
The promise they had made to win the national tournament.
But all those memories suddenly felt like lies.
With his head lowered, Junho walked between his friends.
“Junho!”
Minseok called after him.
Junho didn't stop.
The moment he left the field's entrance, a late-spring rain began to fall.
At first, there were only a few drops, but soon they became heavy streams of rain.
Junho walked without opening an umbrella.
The soccer cleats in his bag swung with each step.
He didn't head home.
Instead, he went to the neighborhood field where he had always kicked the ball with his friends.
No one was there in the field beneath the pouring rain.
Junho took the soccer ball out of his bag.
He placed it on the wet grass and kicked it as hard as he could toward the goal.
The ball flew well wide of the goal.
Junho went to get it again.
He kicked it again.
It missed again.
He kept kicking the ball.
Until his ankle hurt and he was out of breath.
Then, at last, Junho sank down onto the grass.
Something he couldn't tell was either tears or rain ran down his face.
“I’m never doing this again.”
Junho spoke to the empty field.
“I’m never playing soccer again.”
The soccer ball that had rolled far away came to a stop in a puddle of rainwater.
In the past, Junho would have run straight over to retrieve it.
But that day, he didn't.
He stood up, leaving the ball behind on the field.
And he walked away without looking back even once.
That day, twelve-year-old Kang Junho's first dream came to an end.
At least, that's what Junho believed.
But what he left behind on the field was not his dream.
It was an unresolved misunderstanding and the heartfelt words his friends had never managed to convey.
And after a very long time had passed, that misunderstanding would call Junho—who had been living while holding an entirely different kind of ball—back to this field once more.