The feeling suddenly shaped itself into words. He lifted his head high under the dazzling floodlights. The surrounding air felt electric—thrilling enough to send shivers down his spine. The red gaze that had once been muted in wonder now burned brightly. Blue hair fell like waves, and no smile could rival his presence.
Longing.
It was simply a longing to return. And now, that longing had finally ended.
"Alan?"
"Alan Rex Lorenzo? He's back?"
"Is he alright now? What about his condition?"
"Wait, he was on the player's list! He really was. I don't believe it!"
"Pakistan's Junior Galaxy is back? Once again?!"
"Isn't he sick? Will he even be able to play? There was no official statement of his return."
"…Do you think that would change anything though?"
Ripples began forming through the audience stands. Disbelief, doubt, surprise, questions, wonder. Emotions leaked from every corner; every eye carried its own judgment or awe.
"Well, social media says it all," Aigou scrolled through his phone, "Damn, what a frenzy."
"Show me," Ren glanced down.
"Me too," Noah added.
The middle schoolers followed, pulling out their phones and scrolling through the sports corner—and surely… Voices. Scandalous, encouraging, probing, degrading. All pouring from every direction:
'Seems like he has finally fought his illness, it's so good to see him back all healthy and well.'
'So, what if he's back? If he had the guts to appear, he should've appeared in the World cup quarterfinals two years ago. Who knows we might've won the whole thing? What a coward. All of them a bunch of shitty cowards…'
'So what? Did you forget the PSL against Lahore two years ago? A star is always a star! And don't forget that he's the descendent of the Galaxy!'
Followed by…
'Galaxy or not, he's a player. Ditching the game and entering back again. Do the coaches and higher ups think it's a game? Just because he's the son of a previous legend, can he do whatever he wants? What nepotism.'
'Hey, is he kidding around? What's with this annoying appearance? Just because he beat Lahore, he thinks he can take over the world. I bet he'd go straight back to the hospital, if he plays against Lahore this time.'
Kenzo frowned, and he wasn't the only one. Seraph, Helios, Gabriel, Xavier, Heber, Poseidon, the words they read were enough to enrage even a grown man.
Who were they to judge? What did they know? Even if the middle schoolers themselves didn't fully know the inside stories, those questions seemed to form in a single moment.
"Are they talking about us?" Ryan looked at Mikael and Xavier, taken aback.
"Not you. Us, apparently. They're talking about us," Aaron exhaled a tired, pitiful sigh.
"What the heck…? Are fans like this? Is social media like this?" Feng turned to the others, feeling suffocated.
"Carrying expectations of the entire world on your shoulders is quite a scary thing, little Feng," Senri smiled wryly, "This world isn't kind enough to reciprocate your losses with smiles."
Isa narrowed his gaze, looking away, "Orion, you better switch off your phone." His tone was cold, almost mechanical.
"Alright…" Orion clicked the screen shut and turned back toward the ground.
"You all better shut your damn screens and keep your eyes ahead." An icy voice cut through the air. Rauf, clearly frowning, held his composure with those few words alone. And just like that, the entire pavilion—Multan players and Karachi alike—followed his command at once.
"Hm… it's better to focus on the match," Pierre said, placing his phone aside and turning back to the pitch. The rest of the Multan Sultans players followed suit.
The harsh reality the Karachi high schoolers had faced two years ago was now written clearly across their faces. Coldness lingered in the pavilion, mingling with hurt and bitterness yet they still faced forward without looking back despite all that…? That courage, those expressions were impossible to be ignored.
The middle schoolers stared at their high schoolers. None of them said a single word. Perhaps, despite their disagreements with them, they couldn't accept how the world treated them. After all, they were still just youths who had a lot more to learn ahead. They, too, had the right to correct and prove themselves again.
"Finally, the Galaxy has made it to the pitch," Haitam whispered as Alan passed him.
"Watch out. You can't handle an entire Galaxy on such a small pitch," Alan whispered back, his red gaze stimulating.
Haitam's lips curved slightly. "Oh? Which face of yours is saying that, sovereign of infinite disguises?" he asked, glancing back.
Stopping mid-step, Alan turned around. His confidence was painfully magnetic, "The face that doesn't forgive failure, boss Haitam."
Haitam hummed, impressed, before walking away, "Best of luck with that then, Alan."
"Alan, my gift!" Adam exclaimed the moment Alan stepped onto the pitch, "Finally, we can play together!" the young wild card had been waiting for this moment so long, it was evident from his expression.
Alan nodded, tapping his glove against Adam's.
"Not nervous, are you?" Adam asked, peering beneath Alan's helmet.
Alan shook his head, a faint curve forming on his lips, "Of course not. I'm here to make them nervous instead." He gestured toward the Multan players surrounding the pitch.
"Haha! Right," Adam laughed, patting Alan's back, clearly excited, "How could I forget? Pakistan's Platinum Ace is here with me. Nervousness doesn't stand a chance."
"Milan's taking the fifth over, right?" Alan asked, scanning the field.
"Yeah. He's quite fast, I tell you. But his height is his disadvantage. Aim for his feet—he barely gets there," Adam explained.
"Alright," Alan nodded, heading toward the batting crease. Milan, assigned the fifth over of the powerplay, received the ball from the umpire and walked into his run-up.
"Alan Rex Lorenzo, the scion of Nidou Rex Lorenzo—considered a legend among legends… shall we call his appearance a surprise or a blessing? Almost without warning, this young man has stepped back into the world of cricket just as suddenly as he left," Wasim spoke from the commentary box.
"The young legend who shook Lahore in the PSL two years ago. I'm looking forward to what history he will etch into the records this time,"Maaz added, before continuing, "Still, the question remains about his official returning statement…"
In the coaches' corner, Nidou heard them clearly. He tapped his fingers against the table in silence.
"Frustrated?" Mir whispered beside him.
"Hmph, Frustrated is such a damn small word," Nidou's fingers stopped. "I'm pissed as hell." His glare darkened.
Pedro and Yusuf, witnessing the sudden shift in the so-called 'father of the mentioned young legend' didn't dare provoke him further.
Staring at the tablet in his hands, scrolling down endlessly with comments and engagement, Nidou let out a low, vicious laugh, "They want a statement? Heh… I'll give them one—with a damn good beating. Who the hell do they think they are messing with?!"
The boys behind? Of course, the seething fury Nidou held didn't go unnoticed.
"Yikes… he's giving off the aura of the king of hell…" Ezekiel gulped.
"Agreed," Damian adjusted his glasses.
Kenzo narrowed his gaze at the familiar coach's back. Actually, why were the two still standing on opposite ends of the same path, when this was the father's reaction to just a single remark about his son? Was his only thought. Strengthening Alan? Pushing him into anger? Disguised care? A part of training? A wedge from the past? Or something else entirely… Nothing clicked in Kenzo's mind, no matter how hard he tried to piece it together…
Pulling him out of his thoughts was something soft, something quite familiar brushing against his jersey. After staying by his side the entire day yesterday, the small white rabbit had started approaching him with surprising ease and quite the familiarity.
It was strange, yet apparently Kenzo didn't seem to mind. In fact, for the first time, he felt he wasn't irritated by it. The little rabbit seemed to be seeking attention now when his owner had left him to face the entire world all by himself.
Of course… how could a small life like that not notice? Will was, after all, quite an intelligent rabbit.
"What is it?" Kenzo muttered, blinking softly at the white fur pressed against his arm, trying—rather unsuccessfully—to squeeze underneath it due to the lack of space.
At his voice, the little rabbit lifted its head. Two ruby-red eyes stared back at him. Kenzo held its gaze. Too familiar… the colour, the intensity—but still, these red eyes were the exact opposite of Alan's.
Where those eyes of the rabbit's owner always seemed guarded, distant, and defensive at every turn, these eyes compared to them carried none of that. Instead, they held understanding, concern, and a gentleness that felt almost too vast for something so small.
After a moment, Will looked away first, snuggling back into his arm and turning its round face toward the ground. A soft squeak escaped it. And just like that, the world around the two had quieted down.
Kenzo understood. "I know…" he simply whispered back, his azure gaze drifting toward the pitch and pausing on Alan. An animal's worry for its owner… he was well aware of it.