They noticed him before he ever said a word.
Near the center circle, a few players stood stretching, boots half-laced, voices low but curious, eyes drifting his way more than once.
"That's him, right?" one of them muttered.
"The new guy?"
"Looks quiet."
"Doesn't look like a CAM though."
Another shrugged. "Coach doesn't bring quiet players for no reason."
Before the whispers could grow teeth, a tall figure stepped forward from the group, confident posture, relaxed shoulders, the kind of presence that didn't need volume.
"Yo," he said, stopping in front of Ryzen and extending a hand. "I'm Kaito, team captain."
Ryzen shook it firmly. "Ryzen."
Kaito smiled. "Yeah, figured." He turned slightly, gesturing behind him. "Alright, listen up. New blood."
He started pointing as he spoke, casual but precise.
"That's Ishaan, striker—lives for goals, hates tracking back."
"Rafael, left wing, fast mouth, faster feet."
"Min-jae, center-back, don't try him in duels."
"Noah, keeper—loud, annoying, but reliable."
A few nods. A few smirks. No hostility. Just assessment.
Kaito turned back to Ryzen. "Your turn."
Ryzen took a breath, then stepped forward half a pace.
"I'm Ryzen Kael," he said evenly. "I usually play CDM. Fast recovery, physical tackles, timing-based defending. Passing's clean, shooting's… average. I focus on controlling space more than controlling the ball."
The group reacted in small ways—raised eyebrows, exchanged looks—but no one laughed.
Before anyone could respond, footsteps approached from behind.
"Good," the manager said, voice calm but cutting through the air. "That's exactly why you won't be playing CDM."
Ryzen turned. "Sir?"
"You'll play as CAM from now on."
The words landed heavier than any tackle.
Ryzen's eyes widened just slightly. "But manager… I'm not that good at offense."
The manager didn't hesitate. "Don't worry. You'll learn it by training."
A moment of silence followed, broken by Kaito stepping in with a grin.
"Aye, man," he said, clapping Ryzen lightly on the shoulder. "Don't stress it. With us here, you'll learn offense just fine. Now—" he turned toward the pitch, voice lifting, "—let's start training, yeah?"
The session began immediately.
Passing drills first, quick touches, limited space. Ryzen struggled at the start, receiving on the half-turn, feeling pressure from behind instead of in front, his instincts screaming to drop deeper.
Different space. Different responsibility.
He miscontrolled once. Then twice.
No laughter. Just calls.
"Again."
"Open your body."
"Check your shoulder."
Then it clicked—not fully, but enough.
He started releasing the ball earlier, dragging markers with him, using his defensive awareness to predict presses instead of tackles.
Small-sided games followed.
Ryzen found himself between lines, constantly marked, constantly forced to decide faster than he was used to. He slipped one pass through by instinct, surprised himself when it split two defenders.
"Nice," Rafael said, jogging past.
Another sequence—Ryzen drew pressure, laid it off, moved again, received, shot low. Saved. But close.
The sky began to change without anyone noticing.
Orange crept into the clouds. Red bled across the horizon.
Training ended with everyone bent over, hands on knees, shirts dark with sweat, lungs burning in unison.
Then the voices came.
"Didn't expect that vision," Ishaan said.
"Your positioning's annoying as hell," Min-jae added.
"You learn fast," Kaito said simply.
Ryzen stood there, chest rising and falling, something unfamiliar settling in his stomach.
Compliments…
So this is what they feel like.
Players started leaving one by one, goodbyes casual, tired smiles exchanged.
Ryzen lingered, pulling off his boots slowly.
"Ryzen," the manager called.
He turned.
The manager held out a folded jersey and shorts. "Here. Yours."
Ryzen unfolded it.
Number 10.
"Classic CAM number," the manager said. "Don't disappoint me."
Ryzen stared at it for a moment.
Number 10…
That's a lot of responsibility to carry with my name.
But… I'll try my best.
He walked home as the sun sank completely, red fading to purple, purple to deep blue, the city lights flickering on one by one.
By the time night fully claimed the sky, Ryzen kept walking—jersey folded under his arm—toward a future that no longer stayed in the shadows.