The palace balcony overlooked all of Polokwane, glowing under the late sunset.
Max stood alone, the warm orange light brushing against his pink hair — a color that marked him as royalty, a symbol of a legacy he no longer felt worthy of carrying.
The city below stretched endlessly, streets winding like veins across the landscape, lights beginning to flicker as evening settled in.
A soft breeze carried the distant hum of life—honking cars, shouting vendors, the faint echo of children playing football in dusty yards.
Pink strands drifted into the wind, catching the last rays of the sun like flames dancing against the horizon.
Max watched them for a moment, feeling the weight of the day and the years pressing down on him. A forgotten memory… a childhood dream. It hadn't died — no. Its essence had simply become clearer.
When Max finally looked into the mirror, white hair stared back.
Cold. Clear. Quiet. The stark color reflected the change in him, the silent determination that had replaced the boy who once clung to comfort and expectation. Not the color of defeat — but the color of resolve.
He stepped into the empty royal training hall, the polished floor gleaming under the dim overhead lights.
The space was immense, echoing every sound, every footstep, every heartbeat. Only one other person was there: Ray. His old teammate. His closest friend.
The one person who had never allowed the palace walls or the titles to define him.
The only person who didn't treat him like a prince, but like a player.
Ray blinked when he saw the white hair, his eyes narrowing as he tried to reconcile the boy he remembered with the man before him. I couldn't help it — the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"Max… what happened to your—"
He cut me off with only two words. Soft. Controlled.
"I need to talk."
So we sat on the polished training hall floor, like we used to back in the U20 days. No prince. No genius. No hierarchy. Just Max… and me. The world outside, with its expectations, obligations, and judgments, ceased to exist in that space.
Here, it was only us, grounded by sweat, memories, and shared ambitions.
Then he spoke, and I listened.
"Kasi Flava…"
Even the name felt like a heartbeat. It resonated through the hall, filling the air with possibility, echoing against the walls lined with trophies, empty lockers, and faded banners of victories long past.
He explained it exactly the way only Max could: Creativity from the streets. Rhythm born from joy.
Skill shaped from instinct, swagger, and pure emotion.
Not taught — felt. Every word he spoke painted vivid images of the movement, the energy, the pulse of the game he loved. Yet the world labeled it "flair," nothing more.
And he wanted to change that.
He wanted South Africa on the world stage.
He wanted Kasi Flava to evolve into something feared, studied, respected. He wanted a football identity strong enough to stand with the giants.
And then he looked straight at me — through me, piercing the very thoughts I had buried for years.
"That's my dream… What do you think, Ray?"
What did I think? He didn't know what he had just unlocked inside me. So I let the truth come, quietly, honestly, in the place where everything began — inside my own mind.
I was alone once, I told myself. A nameless kid on the streets of Polokwane. No guidance. No purpose. No reason to wake up most days.
The city had been a maze of concrete and dust, unforgiving yet honest. Every day was survival, every step uncertain, yet strangely alive.
For sometime a found meaning in math it kept me alive all those days in primary where I used to wake up and walk to school.
They were all exciting, a sequence of numbers, logic, and patterns offering stability in a world that felt chaotic.
Math kept me alive.
But then I solved it. I will always remember that day as the day my childhood ended, the day Math lost meaning in my life.
The thrill of discovery vanished, replaced with emptiness, a quiet void I could not fill with anything else. My fire burnt out.
Until I found a ball.
Football didn't save my life — it gave it meaning.
Every unexplained concept, every pattern yet to be noticed, every improvement… I understood it instantly. The game spoke to me in a language I could comprehend, a rhythm I could follow, a challenge I could never tire of.
Logic, rhythm, momentum, positioning — the game was a puzzle that I had yet to completely solved. And I was the one piece that fit everywhere. Each match, each drill, each touch of the ball honed me, shaping me into someone more than myself.
I learned fast — faster than anyone at City Academy. Not because I was gifted… but because I could explain everything. I was a talented learner, a prodigy unlike any other.
Every movement. Every mistake. Every success. It kept me alive.
Though in my heart I knew once I solved football, my life would lose meaning.
The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating, a reminder that passion, once discovered, could consume as much as it gave.
But then— I met Max.
A genius who broke logic. A fighter who bent the game in ways a variable I didn't comprehend no matter how hard I tried. He wasn't chaos.
He was freedom. And that freedom lit something inside me that I had never felt before.
A spark.
A warmth.
Something bright. Something alive.
Fire.
The word escaped my mouth before I realized it.
"Life without that fire…" I whispered to myself, barely audible, "is no life at all."
Max leaned closer.
"What did you say?"
Only then did I realize I had spoken aloud.
Max, the royal prince born rosy, snow white devoid of warmth but not purpose.
"I'll do whatever it takes to keep my fire alive even if it means helping you achieve your dream then I'll chase it to the end."
At that moment Ray's eyes looked like they could devour everything in their path.
Max lifted his white-haired head and declared:
"So it begins… Project Kode Red."
A name that would shake a continent.
"With every penny owned by the royal family, with every ounce of talent we can gather… we will build a new era."
Ray smirked — the kind that promised trouble, change, and greatness.
"Kasi Flava," Max said, voice steady and sharp, "will take the world stage."
And for the first time since the incident, his rosy-pink eyes expressed hunger like a predator before his prey.
The hall seemed to vibrate with the weight of the declaration, as if the floor itself had absorbed the energy of ambition, determination, and purpose.
The sun had set completely, leaving only the glow of the city and the faint reflection of lights on the polished floor, yet the room felt brighter than it ever had.
Shadows stretched long across the walls, but they could not dim the resolve that now filled the space.
Every corner of that hall, every echo, every breath seemed to witness the birth of a plan that could change everything. The quiet hum of the air conditioning, the distant city noises, even the faint squeak of Max's shoes against the floor became part of the symphony, part of the declaration.
The journey ahead would be grueling. The world would resist, doubt, and scoff. But in this moment, that did not matter. Here, two minds aligned with fire, purpose, and unrelenting ambition.
Verse of the Chapter
Counsel in the heart of man is like deep water; but a man of understanding will draw it out.
-- Proverbs 20:5