Chapter 30 : A Battle of Heart
The day of the match against Arsenal arrived with an emotional weight that lingered over Kenilworth Road like a low-hanging cloud. It wasn't just a regular Premier League fixture—it was a reckoning. Arsenal's manager, Mark Kendrik, was the man who had once brought Luton Town to the Premier League, only to leave the club in shambles when he took their best players to North London.
For many Luton fans, Kendrik was both a hero and a villain. The very man who had lifted them to heights they'd never dreamed of had also left them vulnerable, like a fortress with its gates thrown wide open. The crowd buzzed with a mixture of anticipation, resentment, and gratitude.
"Oi, Kendrik! do you miss Kenilworth you Snake?" shouted a fan wearing a faded Luton scarf, his words drowned by others chanting, "Rah-mat! Rah-mat!"
Meanwhile, others clutched signs reading, 'Thank You, Kendrik', while their neighbors waved banners that read, 'Traitor!' The tension was palpable, and even the Arsenal section, dressed in their iconic red-and-white kits, seemed to feel it.
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Inside the locker room, Rahmat paced slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. His usual calm was tinged with something heavier—a sense of personal and professional pride.
"Listen up," he began, his voice steady but intense. "This isn't just a game. It's a message. Kendrik might have built a part of Luton's past, but we're building its future. Today, we show everyone who we are—not as individuals, but as a team. Lewis, you've been waiting for this moment. I know you're ready."
His heart raced, but he nodded with conviction. "I won't let you down, Coach."
Rahmat clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. You're not just filling a spot; you're stepping up for the badge."
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As the teams emerged onto the pitch, the crowd erupted. The Premier League commentators, Peter Drury and Martin Tyler, began their coverage with characteristic gravitas.
"Good evening, football fans, and welcome to a storm brewing at Kenilworth Road," Peter Drury began. "Tonight, it's Luton Town versus Arsenal. It's Rahmat against Kendrik. It's a story of betrayal, ambition, and redemption."
Martin Tyler added, "And Peter, let's not forget the subplot. Arsenal is top-four bound, but Luton—despite being an underdog—has been the story of the season. Can they deliver another upset tonight?"
The whistle blew, and the match began.
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Arsenal came out swinging. Their ex-Luton players, led by their star striker Callum Redding and midfield maestro Theo Hartman, showed no mercy. Within minutes, Hartman orchestrated a beautiful through-ball to Redding, who sprinted toward the box.
"Redding on the charge! Is this déjà vu for Luton?" Peter Drury's voice rang out.
But Lewis Hampton was ready. He darted forward, cutting the angle and forcing Redding into a rushed shot that sailed wide. The home crowd roared its approval.
"Come on, Luton!" a young fan shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Lewis! That's our lad!" another yelled, his voice almost drowned by the applause.
Hampton's confidence grew with every save, though Arsenal's relentless attacks tested Luton's backline. Pratama Arhan and Justin Hubner stood like walls, but cracks began to show under Arsenal's precision and speed.
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In the 22nd minute, Luton launched their counterattack. Aoyama, the midfield maestro, controlled the pace with his signature calm. He threaded a perfect pass to Barou, who bulldozed through Arsenal's defense like a freight train.
"Barou Shoei—unstoppable, unyielding!" Drury's voice rose as Barou unleashed a ferocious shot.
The ball smashed into the post and ricocheted back, landing at the feet of a waiting Aoyama. With a delicate touch, he chipped it toward the top corner, but Arsenal's keeper Aaron Ramsdale tipped it over the bar.
"Ramsdale denies what would have been a stunning goal!" Tyler exclaimed.
The crowd groaned, but their energy only intensified.
"We'll get them next time!" shouted an elderly fan, her voice hoarse but full of determination.
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The 35th minute brought heartbreak for Luton. Arsenal's Theo Hartman sent a corner kick curling into the box. Callum Redding leapt above the defense and headed the ball into the net.
"Goal for Arsenal! And it's Callum Redding, the former Luton hero turned villain!" Drury announced with a mixture of awe and regret.
The Arsenal fans erupted, but the Luton faithful responded with defiance.
"You're not our hero anymore!" one fan bellowed, tears glistening in his eyes.
On the pitch, Rahmat rallied his players. "Heads up! This isn't over!"
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As halftime approached, the sky opened up, drenching the pitch in a relentless downpour. The rain seemed symbolic, washing away the bitterness and leaving raw determination on the field. Rahmat made tactical changes, pushing Barou further up and instructing Aoyama to press higher.
The game resumed with renewed intensity. Luton's supporters roared louder, chanting, "We are Luton! We fight!"
In the 44th minute, Barou received a long ball from Arhan. With sheer power and finesse, he muscled past Arsenal's defenders and fired a shot that Ramsdale could only parry. The ball rebounded, and this time, Lewis Hampton—yes, the keeper—had sprinted upfield during a set-piece scramble.
"What's Hampton doing up there? Madness!" Tyler exclaimed.
Hampton, with an astonishing header, sent the ball soaring into the net.
"LEWIS HAMPTON! THE KEEPER SCORES! KENILWORTH ROAD ERUPTS!" Drury's voice cracked with excitement.
The crowd went wild, their cheers echoing into the stormy night.
"OMG what did i just witness!" a teenage boy yelled, waving his scarf furiously.
"Rahmat's boys don't know when to quit!" shouted another, rains streaming down his face.
Fans erupted into cheers, their voices rising above the rain. In the stands, a teenage boy waved his scarf wildly. "I knew it, you'll do good this season!"
Back in the hospital lobby,where Wakabayashi sat among a small crowd gathered to watch the match, Wakabayashi watched his protégé's actions, muttered, "Crazy idiot!" while shaking his head in disbelief. "But then again, that's something I would've done as well." A nostalgic smile tugged at his lips as memories of his previous world rushed back like a flood. He could see Tsubasa's encouraging grin, hear the chants of his teammates, and feel the rush of the crowd's cheers during one of his most daring moves—the super shot.
It was a move that once defined him, a testament to his courage and creativity on the field. Yet, in this world, he had never dared to perform it. The opportunity had come, but hesitation, that small seed of doubt, had rooted itself in his mind. What if he failed? What if his body, no longer the same as in the other world? And so, in every instance where the super shot might have dazzled the crowd, he had held back, leaving the move in the realm of memories.
But Hamton's reckless, unorthodox action now ignited something in him—something that had lain dormant for too long. Watching the young goalkeeper fearlessly put himself on the line, defying expectations and conventions, sparked a fire Wakabayashi thought he'd lost. It was as if Hamton's courage reached across the room, shaking Wakabayashi out of his self-imposed limitations.
The murmurs of nearby patients only heightened the moment. Though his towering presence couldn't go unnoticed, the respect the fans showed was remarkable. They idolized him, yes, but they understood the unspoken boundaries Rahmat had instilled in his players. Some, despite their reverence, couldn't resist discreetly raising their phones to capture this extraordinary scene. "Moments like this… they don't happen twice." one patient whispered, eyes glued to him. Another nodded, clutching their phone as they captured the moment.
Wakabayashi leaned back with a heavy sigh, a mix of pride and determination flickering in his eyes. "Maybe," he murmured to himself, "it's time to stop hesitating. Maybe it's time to remind the world who I am." His fingers clenched into a fist as a grin spread across his face, his mind already visualizing the super shot in his next match. For the first time in months, he felt alive—ready to embrace the legend he had once been.
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With the score tied 1-1, the match teetered on a knife's edge. Both teams fought like warriors, but it was Luton's spirit that shone brighter. In the dying minutes of stoppage time, Barou, drenched and battered, launched one final attack.
To be continued ...