The locker room was quiet after training, except for the rhythmic drip of water from the showers and the occasional thud of a locker closing. Most of the players had already left, chatting and laughing as if yesterday's friendly match had never happened. Noah stayed behind, sitting on the bench with his boots half-untied, staring at the ground.
Leo leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, still wearing his practice kit. His blond hair was damp with sweat, but his eyes were sharper than usual, watching Noah like he was about to break.
"You're not talking much today," Leo said, voice low.
"I'm fine," Noah replied automatically.
"Don't give me that. I've known you since we were nine. That's your 'I'm definitely not fine' voice."
Noah forced a laugh, but it came out hollow. "You always read me too easily."
"Because you make it easy." Leo pushed off the wall and sat down next to him, elbows resting on his knees. For a moment, there was silence, just the faint echo of a ball being kicked outside by one of the youth keepers.
"Yesterday," Leo said slowly, "you played better than I've seen in months. Hell, you were pulling passes I didn't even know you had in you. And yet…" He turned to Noah, eyes narrowing. "You still look like you lost something."
Noah stayed quiet.
Leo sighed. "Is this about Harper?"
"No. Well… not exactly." Noah finally looked up, meeting Leo's gaze. "It's about me. I keep thinking about how safe I've been playing all these years. How I let everyone else take the risks while I hide behind easy passes. And then yesterday happened and for once I didn't do that… and it felt good. Too good. Like I've been lying to myself this whole time."
Leo tilted his head. "Lying to yourself how?"
"I've been pretending that playing safe is smart. That it's mature. But really… it's just fear." Noah's voice cracked slightly. "Fear of being blamed. Fear of failing. That pass to you last week? I saw it. I just didn't have the guts to try."
Leo was quiet for a long moment, then he chuckled softly. "You know, I used to hate you for that."
Noah blinked. "What?"
"I'd make a run, you'd see it, and then you'd pass backward. Every. Damn. Time." Leo's lips curved in a wry smile. "But you know what? I didn't stop trusting you. Even when I was pissed, I still thought, 'If anyone's gonna control this midfield one day, it'll be Noah Kane.'"
Noah's chest tightened. "Why?"
"Because you're the only one who sees everything. You see runs before they happen, spaces nobody else notices. It's like you're already a step ahead of everyone… except yourself." Leo nudged him with his elbow. "Yesterday was the first time I saw you trust you. That's the guy I want passing me the ball. That's the guy who's gonna make us both legends one day."
Noah swallowed hard. "You actually think I could do that?"
Leo grinned. "I know you can. But I also know you're still holding back. So I'm gonna say this once: if you freeze again in a match, I'm benching you myself."
"You're not the coach."
"Yeah, but I'm still your best friend. Which means I can yell at you more than Harper ever will."
Noah laughed despite himself. The heaviness in his chest loosened.
Leo stood, tossing a bottle of water at him. "Come on, Maestro. You keep talking about trusting yourself—prove it. There's a street pitch five blocks from here. Two-on-two. You and me versus whoever's dumb enough to show up."
"Now?"
"Now."
Noah blinked, then stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Alright. But you're buying dinner if we lose."
"We won't," Leo said simply, and for a moment, Noah believed him completely.
The street pitch was small, tucked between old brick buildings, its concrete surface scarred with years of casual games. A couple of older teenagers were already playing, and Leo wasted no time calling them out. "Two v two. You up for it?"
They smirked. "Sure. Hope you're ready to lose."
Noah felt that familiar flutter of nervousness, but then the faint glow returned—passing lines, pressure zones, spaces opening and closing in real time.
The game started fast. Leo drove forward, flicking the ball with flair, but when he drew two defenders, he cut back to Noah. A moment of silence in Noah's head, a single deep breath—then a sharp, weighted pass through the tightest of gaps.
Leo latched onto it instantly, nutmegging the last defender and finishing with a cheeky chip.
"Whoo!" Leo shouted, jogging back. "That's my boy!"
Noah grinned. That feeling was back—the same rush from yesterday, but sharper, purer.
The match went on, Noah executing passes under pressure, using subtle hesitations—La Pausa Lv1 activating naturally—to freeze defenders before releasing the ball. He wasn't thinking about mistakes. He wasn't thinking about fear. He was just playing.
When they finally won by a two-goal margin, Leo threw an arm around his shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about, Maestro. No more hiding. Promise me."
Noah nodded, a quiet smile on his face. "No more hiding."
"Good." Leo squeezed his shoulder. "Because I'm not gonna be satisfied until we're standing on the biggest stage together. And you—" He pointed at Noah's chest. "—you're gonna run the show."
For once, Noah didn't look away or doubt the words. He believed them.
That night, back in his room, Noah pulled up the console once again.
[Stats Updated]
Composure Rating (CR): 57 ↑
Vision Rating (VR): 63
Stamina Rating (SR): 60
Technique Rating (TR): 65
Bond Perk Unlocked: Leo Barnes – "Trust Link Lv1"
Effect: +3% Pass Accuracy when passing to Leo
The message flickered once more:
"The trust of one can change the fate of many. Keep building."
Noah smiled, thinking of Leo's grin on that street pitch. No more hiding.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.