[after practice]
[Dressed in a new powder blue track suit from the morning's shopping, cheeks flushed and fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat, Moji sits cross-legged on the grass and takes a long drink from the water bottle he's brought with him. It's not like he stopped all physical activity when he gave up soccer, but man, he's exhausted. His leg muscles are throbbing rhythmically and his chest feels tight.
And he's grinning foolishly to himself. That felt good. He wasn't even as rusty as he thought he might be, showing some of the skill he'd developed over years of practice. Even with his conflicting feelings about picking up soccer again, he can't ignore that glow in his chest. He feels fantastic.]