Saki stood up tall as the orange team reveled in their victory.
The name of one player immediately registered in his mind.Joha.
"It's not a big issue. One goal doesn't change much," the goalie reassured him.
Saki nodded, trying to regain his composure.
"Let's show them who's boss, team!" Papu shouted, gripping the ball tightly.
When the whistle shrilled, Saki's gaze fixed immediately on the light-brown-skinned winger—Joha. But then his mind shifted to their attacking midfielder, Young Nicholas.
These two played the game differently from the rest of their teammates, and that was what made them stand out.
Maybe if—
His thoughts never reached completion.
The ball touched his feet.
Papu had passed it to him. The game was on.
A back pass would have been the safer choice now that an orange player was already sprinting toward him.
Even though he had been standing too still, his body reacted instinctively when the kid slid in to win the ball.
Saki flicked the ball just a little, letting the kid commit to the slide.
Then he burst forward.
But advancing quickly became difficult—the entire orange team was still packed inside their own half.
Saki lifted his head again.
Papu had already slipped forward, dangerously close to their goal.
Saki struck the ball high, aiming straight into Papu's path.
The young striker received it cleanly on his foot—
—but the whistle blew.
"Damn," Saki cursed.
"Offside!" the coach shouted.
There were no linesmen and definitely no VAR.
"How could you even tell?" Saki snapped angrily toward the female referee.
"Complaints later," she replied shortly.
Saki spat on the ground.
The orange goalkeeper restarted play with a long kick upfield—straight toward Joha.
Joha controlled it deftly with a half turn. Without even sprinting four steps, he sent a long pass forward to their center forward, Kenta Marito, who was already exploding into his run for the incoming ball.
"Great," Papu muttered with irritation as he and Saki sprinted back with the rest of the team to help the defense.
Kenta's speed was monstrous.
He burst past the last center defender—jersey number five, Fredericko—who hadn't anticipated the sudden acceleration.
"Catch him!" someone yelled, panic breaking through the defensive line.
Too late.
Kenta pushed the ball forward with a heavy touch, then chased it down with explosive strides.
The goal lay wide open in front of him.
Saki gritted his teeth.
Damn it… he's through.
But then—
A shadow cut across the grass.
The goalkeeper rushed out, narrowing the angle, arms spread wide.
Kenta didn't slow.
Instead, he lifted his head once—
—and shot.
Thud!
The ball rocketed low toward the far corner.
But—
CLANG!
It smashed against the post and ricocheted back into play.
"Clear it!" Papu shouted.
Saki didn't hesitate. He sprinted in and reached the loose ball just before another player—Joha—could arrive.
For a split second, their eyes met.
Joha didn't look surprised.
He looked… calm.
Saki's heart tightened.
This guy…
Without wasting time, Saki blasted the ball upfield, sending it past the halfway line.
The danger was gone—
For now.
But as he turned, breathing hard, his gaze locked onto Joha again.
That quiet composure.
That control.
Not once had these guys shouted instructions or called to each other, yet they moved flawlessly—like not only professionals but elite level players.
The cleared ball was received by a dark-skinned center defender with dreadlocks, jersey number thirty—Marco Rossi.
Marco passed it calmly to his fellow center back, who then pushed the ball slightly forward to their defensive midfielder, Kenzie Kamay.
The youngster—dark brown skin, golden eyes, and short blond hair—immediately began driving deeper into the field.
Lumi was the first to confront him, quickly closing down the space.
But Kenzie didn't slow.
He took one glance—just one—and let the ball roll slightly across his body before slipping it past Lumi with a clean, effortless pass.
Lumi turned, a step too late.
He didn't even try to beat me…
The ball rolled into the feet of their central midfielder, Elio. But Kenzie didn't stop there.
He kept running.
Saki's eyes narrowed.
Wait… he's not staying back?
Kenzie surged past the halfway line, cutting through the center like a shadow no one had marked. The blue team's shape hesitated for a split second—unsure who should pick him up.
That hesitation was enough.
The central midfielder who received the ball, tapped it forward right into Kenzie's path.
Now he was facing the defense.
Directly.
"Hold the line!" Papu shouted, backing off as the orange shirts began to flood forward.
But Kenzie slowed this time.
He slowed just outside the final third and lifted his head. Those golden eyes scanned the field with eerie calm.
Saki felt it again.
A sharp, grounded pass split the midfield line.
The ball reached their attacking midfielder between the lines, already turning.
"Pressure!" Saki yelled, sprinting back.
Too late.
The orange team was flowing now—one touch, two touch—pulling the blue defense out of shape.
They were pinned.
Joha had drifted away from everyone.
While the defenders focused on the ball, he slipped quietly into space on the right side of the box, completely unmarked.
Saki noticed it a second too late.
How did he get there?
The attacking midfielder looked up and spotted him immediately.
A simple pass followed—nothing fancy, just precise.
The ball rolled cleanly across the edge of the box and into Joha's path.
No pressure.
No defender close enough.
Joha controlled it with his first touch, pushing it slightly ahead of him.
The goalkeeper shifted, trying to close the angle.
It didn't matter.
Joha struck through the ball with calm precision, sending it low into the far corner.
Goal.
"Tsssss…"
"Two–one!" the referee shouted.
The orange team broke into a brief celebration—not loud or dramatic. Just a few nods, light hand slaps, and quiet looks of approval passed between them.
Like they expected it.
Saki exhaled slowly, hands on his hips.
Papu ran by him, making a clicking sound with his tongue. "We lost touch," he said quietly.
Saki remained silent.
He kept his eyes fixed on Joha as the winger pivoted from the goal, already retracing his steps into position as though nothing had occurred.
The two coaches on the sidelines offered a slow, deliberate clap, their smiles tinged with a hint of malice.
A wave of cheers erupted from the children watching from beyond the fence, their voices rising in unison to support the team dressed in orange.
"Go Orange! Go Orange!" they chanted.
"We need to do something," Elton, the defensive midfielder, declared.
"Man, these guys play smart," a teammate grumbled. "We'd better stay sharp, or we're losing five-nil."
Saki felt a lump in his throat at the comment and moved away from the others to find a better position.