Despite the intensity of the first half, the scoreline was a lackluster 1-0.
Of course, for São Paulo FC, both the performance and the result were excellent.
Even so, the home team's locker room remained quiet.
No one showed any outward signs of celebration.
It was that important of a match. Everyone's face was tense, focused only on the second half that was soon to come.
"Hoo..."
Among them, the most focused was Breno, seated in the corner with his eyes gently closed.
'Just stay focused like this. If I do well, we'll win. As long as I play my part...'
He silently reassured himself and gathered his confidence.
Neymar had been a monster in the first half, but Breno had managed to hold his own, thanks in large part to that confidence.
Still, it wasn't time to relax yet.
In fact, from now on, it was even more crucial.
He knew Santos FC would come back with a solution in the second half.
And Breno understood better than anyone what a single mistake could cost.
That was why he remained composed.
Just as Ho-young had taught him, he stabilized his mindset.
At that moment...
"Captain."
"Oh, hey."
Ho-young had come by to offer encouragement.
"I'm not a defender or anything, but you're doing great out there. Thanks to you, our midfield's gotten some breathing room, and I've been able to conserve energy too."
"That's a relief..."
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Yeah?"
"Don't get too caught up in Neymar."
"Huh...?"
Ho-young continued.
"When you're playing football, you have to empty your mind. If you get impatient, even things that should go well won't."
Passing on the same advice Cha Bum-kun had once given him, Ho-young's words made Breno's short hair stand on end.
"Yeah. I can do this."
Winning mentality.
That was all he needed now.
Breno mentally armored himself with it.
Ho-young extended his fist.
"Let's do this. Only 40 minutes left."
Nod.
Breno didn't say anything, just gave a firm nod.
'I'll thank you after it's over.'
Every time things got tough, every time he felt exhausted, it was Ho-young who pulled him forward. He wanted to repay that support.
With a good result.
'I'll make it happen.'
Breno steeled his resolve.
The second half began.
Santos FC, needing a result, came out with a new tactical approach.
They began targeting São Paulo's flanks to diversify their attacks.
They regained control of the momentum and rattled São Paulo's defensive line.
"Stay sharp!"
Ho-young shouted, veins bulging from his neck.
Possession had shifted to Santos.
A counterattack.
Santos surged forward with a singular focus: they were going to make this one count.
Ganso's precise and sharp pass pierced São Paulo's backline.
The triangle of Neymar, Gabigol, and Arthur came to life.
With movements rarely extending beyond two touches, they quickly reached the penalty area.
Ganso received the return pass.
That's when Casemiro stepped in to apply pressure as the first barrier.
'I have to stop him.'
But there were too many holes to cover.
Even the slightest hesitation would lead to a successful dribble or pass.
'Focus.'
His mind raced back to the special training he had gone through with Ho-young over the past few months.
'I can do this.'
Glance.
Casemiro's eyes bore into Ganso's face with intense concentration.
"Hoo..."
Dribble, shot, or pass?
Ganso clearly hesitated.
Normally, in situations like this, he'd pass to Neymar on the left.
Besides, he had to avoid mid-range shots.
He had already failed several times in the first half, and with time running out, there was no room for unnecessary risks.
That's why he sent a lofted pass to the left.
But then...
Thud!
Just as Ganso made his move, a tackle came flying in from the diagonal rear.
"Ugh!"
It was Ho-young, who had dropped from the second line to the third.
As a result, Ganso's ball flew wildly toward the left flank.
A golden opportunity had just been blown.
'Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!'
His desperation turned to rage.
The attack he had meticulously built had been ruined.
'This is insane.'
He was regarded as a top-tier midfielder in the U-15 league.
But since the first half, his passes and shots had been completely neutralized.
And he had trained relentlessly for this match.
Days that felt like hell. He had wanted to give up more than once, but pushed through.
All for this game.
"...!"
But it was too early to give up.
'I'm still in this!'
There was still a sliver of hope.
The ball that had been deflected wide landed at Neymar's feet.
Smack.
22nd minute of the second half.
Neymar took possession of the ball.
Right near the penalty area, the zone where he was most dangerous.
"Huff..."
He exhaled as he got control of the ball.
His eyes were alive, like a predator freshly awakened in the wild.
A phrase from Coach Pamela echoed in his head.
Right after the first half ended, in the visitors' locker room.
"Live up to your name."
Simple, yet deeply meaningful words.
And it was more than enough fuel to ignite Neymar's competitive fire.
As the coach had said, he was Neymar.
The boy who had already made a name for himself despite his young age, and who had received offers from Real Madrid.
This boy had risen to this level purely on raw talent.
Today was just a roadblock. He'd overcome it.
Neymar took deep, aggressive breaths, his body swaying left and right with dynamic movement.
His trademark body feint.
His flexibility was unmatched among his age group.
The movements born from that were nothing short of art.
Even spectators couldn't help but marvel.
It was almost hard to believe this was a youth match.
Left? Right? Which way would he go?
Any defender would be overwhelmed having to read him in real time.
And in front of him was Breno.
Which meant Neymar had the advantage.
Breno might be mid-table material in the league, but against a crack player like Neymar, he looked small.
Coach Pamela had drilled that point into him repeatedly.
That's why Neymar had targeted Breno so aggressively in their last match.
And São Paulo FC had foolishly fielded Breno again.
'This will be easy.'
He wasn't just confident. He was overflowing with it.
It would be like brushing off dust.
Neymar tried to bait Breno with a heavy body feint.
But then...
'Huh?'
He didn't move.
Like a solid rock, Breno stood still, eyes fixed on Neymar's feet.
'Then...'
There was only one answer.
Tap.
Nutmeg.
He slipped the ball between Breno's slightly parted legs.
Then he darted forward without even looking back.
He was sure it would succeed.
'Wait...?'
Neymar's face turned pale.
Breno's legs, pulled in just in time, had blocked the ball.
"What the...!"
Neymar couldn't believe it.
His face turned red with disbelief as he tried to recover the ball.
But it was already gone, passed off by Breno.
"Ah..."
'I can't even get past him?'
Neymar stared blankly at Breno, stunned.
Could someone really change this much in just a few months?
Of course, if he really wanted to, he could probably break through.
This was only one failed attempt.
But that one moment had shaken Neymar.
Impatience.
It began to creep in.
Even as Santos continued to attack, the results were disappointing.
Neymar finally managed to get past Breno, but couldn't convert it into a goal.
Gabigol, the central striker, also lost steam and squandered every chance that came his way.
Their teamwork collapsed over time.
Nothing went right, not their passing, not their ball control.
The rest of the match was controlled by São Paulo.
They created multiple attacking chances from their solid base and fired three shots on target within 20 minutes.
Then, in the 40th minute of the second half.
Thanks to the crumbling Santos FC and Ho-young's preserved stamina, a breakthrough came.
It was their final chance.
"Go go go go go!!"
Oscar's voice rang out from behind.
His passionate shout ignited a fire in Ho-young's back as he cut inside down the right.
By now, they didn't even need to make eye contact.
Just by listening to his voice, Ho-young knew where Oscar wanted him to run.
That was teamwork.
Whoosh!
Oscar's pass zipped across the turf into the open space on the right flank.
And at that moment, the entire stadium seemed to sit up like startled moles.
Smack!
Ho-young caught the ball on his toe and stretched it long.
Push and run.
The ball rolled at a pace that seemed impossible to match, but Ho-young's legs were just as fast.
A storm.
That was the only way to describe it.
The defenders chasing beside him looked like they were running backwards, the gap widening rapidly.
Ho-young's solo sprint had begun.
He crossed the halfway line and covered 50 meters in a flash, leaving only the goalkeeper ahead.
A moment later, the 170-plus cm goalkeeper rushed out in a panic.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
But while Ho-young's gaze brimmed with confidence, the goalkeeper's eyes were full of anxiety.
"Hoo..."
Ho-young moved.
His chest expanded and his right leg stretched forward.
Not a shot.
A dribble.
Smack!
The goalkeeper tried to keep up on all fours, but it wasn't even close.
'It's open.'
A wide-open shooting angle.
Only the empty net remained.
And then.
Thud!
The ball left Ho-young's foot and landed in the back of the net.
A sealing goal.
Late in the second half.
Three minutes of added time were given.
Santos FC raised their tempo to the extreme.
They pushed forward even the defenders, abandoning their backline to overload São Paulo's half.
But the miracle never came.
All eleven São Paulo FC players committed to defense, forming a solid wall.
There was no hope left for Santos FC.
A draw could have left a 1% chance at the title, but the bleak 2-0 scoreline didn't change.
One minute remained.
Even the Santos FC goalkeeper ran into the field to join the attack.
It was a desperate move.
But São Paulo's goal, once closed, refused to open again.
And soon after, the referee's whistle rang across the pitch.
It marked the end of a long, long season.
And the moment São Paulo FC were officially crowned champions.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)