It was all done. Everything was done.
After they had all graduated, the whole place that was once a stadium filled with people and noise had all slipped away, everything but the silence and the thousand chairs still standing. Yes, this generation was done.
Back in South Korea, something sparks the beginning of a new life in two members of their national team— Suzuno Fuusuke and Nagumo Haruya.
"Ohayo, Fuusuke…" The tulip-head dude Haruya yawned, and stretched. "…what's for breakfast?" he asked, still continuing with his yawning. Nobody answered him. He wondered why, and rubbed his eyes to see clearly. There was no sign of his teammate. Where the hell did that person go off to? He thought worriedly, then hurriedly stormed outside, slamming the door shut. "Tsch, why didn't you warn me at all!" He yelled out, hopefully almost thinking someone would hear him. "What the heck is your problem, Haruya?" A fresh, cold voice spoke from behind him.
"Gazelle…?" Haruya turned around. "Well you got me worried like hell."
He saw Fuusuke in an attire, which gave signs of the snow-haired one's readiness to go somewhere else. "I'm sorry for worrying you, then." Fuusuke handed out a small piece of paper to him, folded neatly. "I'm leaving for Paris soon, but I'll be heading to Japan first— Shigeto and Natsuhiko will be accompanying me."
"Wait— seriously?" Haruya took hold of Fuusuke's arm. Fuusuke pulled it away slowly, turned around and without any time left to waste, said, "Goodbye, Haruya."
Haruya was left, still as stone, his jaw hanging, and he couldn't believe what he just heard. He began to shake all over, he didn't even try to run up to Fuusuke or even follow behind. He just went back inside the shelter and kept cursing, throwing pillows around, breaking dinner plates— all that sort of madness.
Fuusuke was walking down the street, the path heading to the airport. No emotion on the face or whatever— just being chill and calm. Gazelle had to go to Paris for important appointments with Hiroto and Reina.
Back at the house, Haruya remembered the small piece of paper. He took it out from his pocket, unfolded it, and started to read. But before he could start his eyes on "Dear Haruya", a knock came on the door. He walked up to it and asked, "…who is it?" He peered through a window, and it was Ryuuji.
Sorry now, that's all I can do. Thank you for reading my dearest angels.