Noa wiped sweat from his face, already annoyed. "Yeah? You wanna try giving 30% then?"
Lucas smirked, shaking his head. "Relax, French boy. You'll pass out before we even get there."
"…Say that again," Noa muttered, stepping forward slightly.
I held an arm out in front of him.
"Leave it," I said quietly.
Thiago's eyes shifted to me.
That calm look again.
Like he was waiting for something.
"You've got one good sequence and you think you're on our level?" he added. "This isn't street football."
I stepped forward slowly, rolling the ball under my foot.
"No," I said. "Which is why you're still playing like it's easy."
Thiago tilted his head slightly.
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
I looked around the pitch for a second.
At the space.
At the players.
At the way they moved.
"You're comfortable," I said. "Too comfortable."
A small silence followed.
I tapped the ball forward lightly.
"But we're not."
Noa smirked beside me now. "Yeah… we've got nothing to lose."
Mateus finally spoke, his voice low but clear. "And that's exactly why you're dangerous."
Thiago scoffed. "Dangerous doesn't mean better."
"No," I replied.
"But it means we'll keep coming."
A whistle blew again from the side.
Nelson.
"Enough talking," he called. "Next point decides it."
Everything tightened instantly.
Lucas bounced lightly on his toes. "Game point, huh…"
Renato stepped back into position, eyes locked in.
Thiago rolled his shoulders once.
"Fine," he said. "Let's end this."
Thiago didn't reply. He didn't need to.
The ball was already moving. Lucas tapped it back to him simple, clean and the moment it reached his feet… something changed. I saw it in his eyes first. That calm look was gone, replaced by something heavier, colder. Focused.
"…Alright," Thiago muttered under his breath. "Aggro Style: Backstage Pass."
It wasn't loud, but it carried. His stance shifted instantly lower, stronger like his entire body locked into place. He took a step forward, and the air around him felt different. He wasn't just carrying the ball anymore… he was anchored to it.
Mateus moved first, trying to cut the angle. Thiago didn't even look at him. One touch forward. Mateus stepped in, shoulder to shoulder but nothing happened. He didn't budge. Not even slightly. It was like running into a moving wall.
"…What?" Mateus muttered, adjusting quickly.
Thiago kept going. No rush. No panic. Just control.
I stepped in next, harder this time. Faster. I aimed to catch him off balance, foot in, body across, Impact.
It felt solid. I should've stopped him. At least slowed him down. But nothing changed. He absorbed it completely. Didn't stumble. Didn't shift. He just… kept walking.
"…You're kidding me," I breathed, turning with him.
His eyes flicked toward me briefly, empty of emotion. "20%," he said.
Then he pushed forward again.
Lucas darted past me on the right, calling for it, but Thiago didn't even glance his way. Mateus tried to recover, sliding back into position, but Thiago wasn't looking to pass.
He wanted this.
All of it.
Noa stepped in from the side, throwing his body into it. "Not this time."
Thiago rolled his shoulder and brushed him off like it was nothing.
Noa stumbled back, nearly losing his footing. "What is that?!"
I clenched my jaw. So that's his game.
I circled back in, faster this time, trying a different angle. Not strength. Timing. I stepped in just as he took his next touch, foot reaching But his body shifted perfectly, shielding the ball like it was glued to him. Every movement was tight. Efficient. Unbreakable.
Mateus tried again from behind.
Still nothing.
Thiago reached the edge of the box. Renato adjusted in goal, watching everything unfold. Lucas hovered wide. Noa scrambled back into position.
I planted my feet, lowering my stance. "Not getting past me," I said quietly
.
Thiago stopped. Just for a second.
Then he looked at me.
And for the first time, He smiled.
Not mocking. Not relaxed. Just confident.
"Then don't move."
He pushed forward. Hard.
I braced myself and felt it instantly. That pressure. That weight. It wasn't just strength, it was like his entire body had locked into place, every muscle working together, every step rooted.
I slid back half a step.
Then another.
"…Tch."
He broke through. Clean Into space.
Mateus shouted something behind me. Noa tried to recover, but it was too late.
Thiago stepped into the box, drew his leg back, and struck. Low. Powerful. Precise.
As his foot struck through the ball, I launched myself forward, Not diving with my body but with everything.
My vision locked onto the ball as it flew, I threw myself into its path.
CRACK.
Pain exploded through my head as the ball smashed against my forehead.
the ball ricocheted away, spinning out wide instead of into the net.
I hit the ground hard, rolling onto my side as the world rang around me.
"WHAT?!" Noa's voice.
I blinked, vision slightly blurred, ears ringing.
Grass. Sky. Noise slowly coming back.
"…Tch," I muttered, pushing myself up onto one knee.
Across from me, Thiago stood still.
Not annoyed.
Not angry.
Just… staring.
Lucas let out a low whistle. "He actually blocked that…"
Renato's eyes narrowed slightly. "With his head…"
Mateus didn't say anything.
But I felt it.
That shift again.
I stood up fully now, shaking it off, though my head still throbbed.
I looked straight at Thiago.
A small smirk forming, even through the pain.
"Not getting past me," I repeated.
Clap… clap… clap.
The sound cut through everything.
I turned my head slightly.
Nelson Duarte was walking toward us from the sideline, his expression unreadable, hands coming together with each step. Not loud. Not exaggerated.
But it carried weight.
Every player straightened slightly.
Even Thiago.
Even Lucas.
Nelson stopped a few steps away from us, his eyes flicking briefly to the ball… then to me.
Then to Thiago.
"…Good," he said.
Simple.
But it didn't feel small.
He stepped closer, pointing lightly toward where I'd blocked the shot.
"That," he continued, "is what this place is about."
His gaze locked onto me now.
"Not talent."
A pause.
"Commitment."
I said nothing, just meeting his stare.
He nodded once, like he'd seen what he needed.
Then his attention shifted to Thiago.
"And you," he added calmly, "don't rely on your body to solve everything."
"You two," he said, nodding toward us.
Noa straightened instantly beside me. "…Yes, coach?"
Nelson held his gaze for a moment, then looked at me again.
"You came here with nothing," he continued. "No record. No history. No proof."
A pause.
"But you didn't hide."
His eyes flicked briefly to the space where I'd thrown myself at the ball.
"You stepped into it."
Then to Noa.
"And you adapted."
Noa blinked slightly, caught off guard by that.
Nelson nodded once more.
"That's enough for me."
A small silence followed.
"Welcome to Botafogo FR academy."
I nodded once. "…Got it."
Nelson studied me for a second longer, then gave the smallest hint of approval.
"Don't make me regret it," he said.
"I won't," I replied.
He turned away like it was already done, already moving on.
"Training resumes in five," he called out. "You're not special. You train with everyone else."
Noa let out a quiet laugh beside me, still trying to process it. "We're actually in…"
I glanced at him, a small smirk forming.
"Yeah," I said.
Then I looked back at the pitch.