The crisp evening air of the challenge pitch was still ringing with the echo of Leo's second, impossible goal.
The two hundred dollars felt like a live coal in his pocket, burning with possibility. King Vance's arm was a heavy, possessive weight around his shoulders, a brand of belonging he'd never felt.
"You've got hands, Reed. Cold ones," King was saying, his voice low with approval. "That second shot? That was a message. You don't send a message like that unless you've got more in the chamber."
Leo was about to respond, to try and form a sentence that wasn't just stunned gratitude, when a new sound cut through the post-match chatter—the sharp, impatient rev of a scooter engine.
A sleek, black electric scooter weaved through the dispersing crowd and came to a skidding halt right at the chain-link fence gate, mere inches from where Leo and King stood.
Leo stumbled back a step. King didn't even flinch.
The rider killed the engine and pulled off a matte black helmet. A fierce ponytail of dark brown hair unraveled. Maya.
She swung a leg over the scooter, her expression one of focused annoyance that softened only slightly when her eyes landed on King. She marched toward the gate, not looking at Leo.
"You're late," King said, his tone light, teasing.
"You said 'after the match.' I assumed you meant the professional one at the stadium," Maya shot back, unlocking the gate from the inside. She pushed it open, and before Leo could process the familial ease with which she operated here, King stepped forward.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her into a quick, familiar side-hug, and planted a firm kiss on her cheek. "This was the professional match. You missed a masterclass."
Leo's eyes widened behind his glasses. The ice-queen from the training ground, the predator who'd told him to go home if he was hurt… was King Vance's girlfriend?
The two most intimidating football entities in his life were… a couple? The universe, he decided, had a very specific, very cruel sense of humor.
"Babe," King said, turning, his hand still on Maya's back, guiding her fully into the scene. "There's someone I want you to meet. Leo." He gestured as if presenting a fascinating specimen. "He's a junior, by a year. And you won't believe it, but David Reed is his dad."
Maya's gaze, which had been scanning the pitch with a critic's eye, snapped to Leo. Her initial, dismissive roll of the eyes froze halfway. A flicker of something—recognition, then shock—passed through them.
King continued, oblivious to the electric tension he'd just wired. "As in the legendary coach, David Reed. His mum used to take us to watch his dad's club play before he… you know." He gave a simple, sympathetic smile and sighed, the gesture surprisingly genuine. "And Leo, this is my girlfriend, Maya. Pretty, isn't she?" He chuckled lightly, a private joke in his tone. "When I lost hope in football a while back, she's the one who helped me remember that it's supposed to be fun. So. Leo, Maya. Maya, Leo."
Maya's eyes were locked on Leo, but the look wasn't one of greeting. It was the same calculating, dissecting stare she'd given him after his goal on her field. Now, laced with the shock of this new information, it felt like she was trying to strip his skin off to see the wiring beneath.
Leo, in turn, was vividly remembering her furious, focused face as she tried and failed to replicate his move just yesterday.
King, standing happily in the middle of the silent, crackling standoff, finally noticed. He uncrossed his arms, pointing a finger back and forth between them. "You guys… know each other?"
Maya broke her stare first, looking at King with a flat expression. "Yeah. Kind of. He came to train at the field yesterday."
"Damn!" King slapped his thigh. "I wish I'd come! I heard there was some drama—" He paused, his sharp mind connecting dots at lightning speed. His eyes widened. "Wait. You're the guy. Chloe and Jess were texting about some new boy who broke his nose and then scored a banger. That was you? No way!"
Before Leo could confirm, King's phone chimed with a specific, urgent tone. He glanced at it, his expression shifting to business. "He's here. Let's go, Leo. Join us." It wasn't a question.
Maya gave a slight, resigned shake of her head but fell into step as King led the way, leaving her scooter by the fence.
The walk to Hal's Sports Gear was short and tense. The shop was dark, the 'CLOSED' sign turned. Hal himself was snoozing in a worn armchair behind the counter, a newspaper over his chest, snoring softly.
King put a finger to Hal's lips with a grin and guided them silently through the cluttered stockroom and out the heavy metal door to the private turf field.
The sunset painted the sky in oranges and purples, bathing the pristine pitch in a dramatic light. And there, in the center circle, tying the laces of a pair of immaculate, white predator boots, was Rin Tanaka.
He finished the knot, stood, and stretched his arms over his head with the casual grace of a big cat. Then he turned and saw them. His eyes went from King, to Maya, and finally settled on Leo.
The shock on his face was brief but unmistakable, smoothed over almost instantly by his usual cool composure. A slow, intrigued smile touched his lips.
"King. Maya," Rin nodded. His eyes stayed on Leo. "Interesting company you're keeping."
King, clearly in his element as the connector, the impresario, stepped forward and clapped a hand on Leo's shoulder again. "Hey Rin! This is Leo. And you won't believe—"
Maya cut in, her voice a flat, perfect mimicry of King's earlier cadence. "He's the son of David Reed, as in the legendary coach David Reed. His mum used to take us to watch his dad's club's matches, and he's a junior of mine by a year." She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Did I get everything?"
Leo couldn't help it. He let out a soft, exasperated "Tsk!"
Rin barked a laugh, reaching out to tap King's shoulder. "I see some things never change." He then looked directly at Leo, his smile turning into something more familiar, more pointed. "Leo and I go way back. Right, Leo?"
Leo met his gaze, the memory of the live stream, the fifty dollars, the words "waste of your father's genes" hanging between them. He gave a single, slow nod, a small, hard smile of his own forming. "Right."
King looked back and forth, his curiosity piqued. "What? How?"
Rin waved a dismissive hand, his attention shifting. "Let's leave that story for another time." He looked past them, to the far end of the field where Leo now noticed four guys in matching red and black kits, passing a ball with sharp, aggressive energy. He hadn't seen them, too wrapped up in the personal drama.
Rin looked back at their group, his expression turning serious, the coach's son coming to the fore. "Looks like they're ready." He bent down, unzipped his large equipment bag, and pulled out a spare blue jersey and a pair of clean, black training flats. He tossed them to Leo. "Here. I doubt playing in jeans and your sneakers would be… comfortable. Or effective."
Leo caught the bundle. "Thanks."
"Changing room's through there," Maya said, pointing a thumb at a small shed by the fence, her voice still cool.
A few minutes later, they reconvened on the pitch. Leo in Rin's spare kit, King and Maya in their own training gear. The four guys in red and black had formed up in a tight, aggressive-looking 1-1-2 formation.
Leo approached King, his voice low. "What's going on?"
King kept his eyes on the opposing team, his playful demeanor gone, replaced by a cold, competitive focus. "We partnered with them to win a local 7-a-side competition last month. Split the prize money. Now they've qualified for the regional finals and don't want to share the cut. We're settling it the only way we can. No refs, no excuses. 4v4 match, no goalie. Two halves, twenty minutes each. Whichever team scores the most wins the full $400 stake and the regional spot." He finally glanced at Leo, a flicker of apology in his grey eyes. "Sorry for dropping you in this. Daisy was supposed to be our fourth, but she canceled on us this morning. No valid reason. Then I saw you at the pitch…" He left the sentence hanging, the implication clear: You were the available weapon.
Leo nodded, the pieces clicking into place. He wasn't a friend being included; he was being recruited. The realization should have stung. Instead, a fierce pride ignited in his chest. He was being used for his skill. It was the highest compliment King Vance could have paid him.
The money he'd just won was suddenly small change. Four hundred dollars. And a spot in a regional competition.
He looked at their formation. Maya had already taken her position at the very front, a lone striker, a spearhead. King and Rin were deeper, but Rin was positioned unusually wide, almost hugging the right touchline, a deep-lying winger or a defensive anchor. It left a gap.
"Where do you want me?" Leo asked.
"With us," King said, pointing to a spot just ahead of him and Rin, forming a 1-3 shape with Maya as the '1'. "You're the link. You'll kick-off with Maya and get the ball to her. Or take the shot if you see it. We'll handle the build-up and clean qup the trash."
[TACTICAL BRIEFING CONFIRMED. '1-3' DIAMOND VARIANT DETECTED. YOUR ROLE: 'SHADOW STRIKER / PIVOT'. EXPLOIT SPACE BETWEEN OPPONENT'S MIDFIELD AND DEFENSE.]
From his bench, Hal, now awake with a steaming thermos in hand, gave a massive, jaw-cracking yawn. He stood up, stretched, and pulled a whistle from his apron pocket. He didn't ask for explanations. He just walked to the center line, looked at both sets of players, and raised the whistle to his lips.
The four guys in red and black were bigger, older. They looked at Leo, the unknown element in borrowed kit, with undisguised contempt.
The biggest guy, probably the central midfielder laughed. "Great. They brought a librarian."
Hal's eyes met Leo's for a second—a flash of recognition, of assessment. He gave a barely perceptible nod.
Then he blew the whistle.
The sound was sharp, final, and it unleashed everything.
The red team's central midfielder, a bull of a guy, immediately charged Maya, trying to bully her off the first pass. King dropped back to receive from Rin, who was already under pressure from two opponents.
Leo stood in his designated space, the system flaring to life in his lenses, painting the frantic, early chaos with glowing lines of pressure and potential.
[LVL 2 APPRENTICESHIP ACHIEVED]
[4V4 MATCH DETECTED. STAKES: HIGH.]
[OBJECTIVE: SECURE VICTORY & CAPITAL.]
[ADVISORY: OPPONENTS PRIORITIZE PHYSICALITY OVER POSITION. EXPLOIT SPACES BEHIND.]
The game was on. And Leo Reed was no longer just a apprentice grinding alone. He was in the deep end, surrounded by sharks, and expected to swim.