The whistle blew.
Game over.
Lincoln High's first match of the season ended in victory.
2–0.
The boys spilled toward the bench, lungs still heaving, sweat cooling into a salty chill under the winter night air.
Julian dropped down and eased into his cooldown routine—slow, deliberate, the kind of stretches that looked half like pilates, half like a monk's meditative flow.
A smooth bend of the spine.
A long, controlled twist.
Breath locked in rhythm.
Riku, still catching his own breath, stared.
"You can move your body like that?"
Julian, folded in a position that looked anything but comfortable, let out a low groan as his muscles pulled tight.
"Yeah… if you endure it. And keep trying." His voice came between controlled exhales.
He shifted deeper into the stretch, feeling the burn trace down his hamstrings. Around him, boots scuffed the turf, jackets zipped up, water bottles hissed open.
Then—
