Riccardo returned to class, his calm demeanor cutting through the murmur of whispers that rippled across the room.
"He's back already…"
"Have any measures been taken?"
"Clearly, he's the principal's favorite."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on nothing in particular, while the teacher pretended nothing was happening and continued the lesson.
Once class ended, Riccardo headed straight for the club's locker room. He removed his shirt, revealing the tattoo once more, noticing the cautious glances from his teammates.
"What? I thought you were used to seeing it by now," he said, trying to ease the tension.
"Yes… but after everything… it's different now," Yasuda admitted, concern etched across his face.
Riccardo pulled on his training uniform."I understand your worries, but treating me differently won't help me—or the team. When I'm here, on the field, I just want to focus on playing soccer with all of you."
At that moment, Coach Ishii and Coach Suzuki entered the locker room.
"Aliberti is right," Coach Ishii said. "Blaming him won't improve anything. This isn't a problem solved overnight. It will take time—but if we truly want to support him, we do it by giving our best on the field, together!"
The team straightened, absorbing the weight of his words.
Noguchi stepped forward. "For once, Coach Ishii is right!"
Coach Ishii's eyes lit up at the acknowledgment. "This is exactly what we aim for this year."
"Everyone, gather here!" Noguchi called, motioning for the team to form a circle.
"Our goal isn't just to return to the national tournament after ten long years. No… we aim higher. We aim to win it. That's the bare minimum for Shudan-teki!"
The team erupted with cheers, their energy filling the locker room.
"Who are we?" Noguchi shouted.
"Shudan-teki!" the team roared back.
"Who?!"
"Shudan-teki!!" This time, the cheer was so loud it startled students passing by.
Noguchi opened the door, leading the team toward the field, and Riccardo watched the scene with a small, satisfied smile.
[Evening]
Riccardo returned home, dropping his bag and shoes at the door. After greeting the dog, he headed for the kitchen, where his parents were deep in conversation.
"Good evening," he said, opening the refrigerator.
"Good evening… How was school?" his father asked, not looking up.
Riccardo exhaled, eyes closing briefly. Here we go…
"Could have been worse," he replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"Good… so, can we see this tattoo of yours?"
He lifted his shirt, exposing the artwork.
"A tattoo… and I didn't even notice," his mother said, shock clear in her voice. "How long have you been hiding it?"
"Four months."
"Couldn't we at least have discussed it?" his father asked, disappointment heavy in his tone.
"You never would have given me permission," Riccardo countered.
"Of course not! You just turned sixteen! And we're moving here—you know how these things are viewed!" his mother snapped, agitation rising.
"I knew that… but I think you realize by now that I don't really care," he said calmly.
His mother froze, disappointment shadowing her face. "Do what you want… but forget some of your little luxuries for a while. No more late-night Juventus games!"
"I'm sorry, Mom," Riccardo replied softly.
He turned to his father. "I'm sorry, Dad… I know it was reckless, a decision made in the heat of the moment."
His father approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Moving here wasn't easy for you. It upset you… but this is more than acting on emotion. I'll get over it. Your mother won't."
"I know. I'll do everything I can to make it right."
"I know you will," his father said, giving a small, approving nod. "And I know you'll do it your way."
With that, his father left the kitchen, leaving Riccardo alone. He reached for his water bottle, pausing to consider the implications.
I really won't be able to watch Juventus anymore…?