The locker room door shut with a heavy metallic click that seemed louder than usual. The hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence, punctuated only by the sound of players peeling off damp training tops and the occasional shuffle of cleats on tile. It wasn't defeat—they were only down by one—but it felt heavier than that.
Noah Carter sat slumped near the far end of the bench, jersey clinging to his back. His chest still rose and fell sharply, not from lack of fitness but from the tightness in his chest. For the first time since joining Ajax, he had been told to lead, to be the one voice above the others, the one who shaped the rhythm of the game. And for the first time, he'd realized how heavy that expectation really was.
The Football Vision Console flickered faintly in his mind:
[Pass Completion: 67% | Duels Lost: 3 | Decision Errors: 5]
[Emotional State: Hesitant | Recommendation: Tactical Reflection]
The numbers burned like an accusation. Leadership wasn't supposed to look like this.
Around him, teammates exchanged tired looks but said nothing. Leo untied his boots silently, eyes on the floor. Riku sat with his head tilted back against the locker, staring up at the ceiling like he was searching for answers up there. The room wasn't angry at him, but it wasn't looking to him either—not yet.
Then Vermeer entered.
The Ajax coach walked with calm purpose, his steps slow but sharp. He didn't yell. He didn't smash a whiteboard or throw a bottle like some coaches Noah had seen in highlight clips of fiery managers. Instead, he closed the door, waited for silence to deepen, and then spoke in a tone that cut through the thick air.
"Carter."
Noah looked up quickly, eyes wide.
"You think I put you in this position because I expected you to become some kind of perfect leader in one match?" Vermeer's tone wasn't scolding but steady, deliberate, like a surgeon choosing where to cut.
Noah hesitated. "Isn't that… what this was about? You told me to command the field."
A soft snort came from one of the defenders, quickly stifled when Vermeer's eyes swept across the room.
Vermeer shook his head. "No. The real meaning of this test was to make you think about every single pass you make. Because in real professional football? One mistake—just one lazy pass—can cost you everything. A goal, a result, sometimes even a career trajectory. I wanted you to feel the weight of that."
Noah frowned, glancing down at his hands. "So I failed?"
Vermeer crouched slightly so that their eyes were level. "No. You started. There's a difference."
The room stilled. Even Riku sat forward now, listening.
Vermeer pointed directly at Noah. "Tell me something, Carter. Which position touches the ball the most in modern football?"
Noah hesitated, searching for the obvious answer. "Uh… midfielder?"
Vermeer's lips curled into a small, approving smirk. "Exactly. The midfielder. And that's why you're here, sitting with this expression on your face, feeling what you're feeling. Because every time that ball touches your foot, it's not just a pass—it's an opportunity to attack. That's why I need you to put intention into everything you do. Don't waste your chance, because one wrong pass can cost everything."
The Console pulsed again:
[Concept Update: "Intentional Passing" +15% Awareness]
Noah's throat tightened. He'd heard coaches talk about decision-making before, but this felt different. This wasn't about perfection—it was about responsibility.
Vermeer straightened and gestured broadly to the team. "Everyone has their own definition of leadership. Some are loud, shouting instructions until their voices crack. Some lead through consistency, letting their actions guide the team. Some just exude calm, giving others confidence just by being there. Carter's challenge is different—he needs to lead through vision. He needs to see what others don't, and make decisions others won't."
He turned back to Noah, voice softening but still carrying the weight of expectation. "You don't have to be a captain yet. You don't have to be perfect. I just need you to start thinking. Every pass you make from here on—why are you making it? What do you want to create? That's your responsibility as a midfielder. You're not just delivering the ball. You're setting the tempo, dictating where this match goes next."
The Console flashed once more:
[Awareness – Game Management +10%]
Noah blinked at the faint glow, almost imagining the words sinking into him. He looked up, eyes sharper now, shoulders tightening with a different kind of tension—not fear, but resolve. "So… you just want me to think?"
Vermeer's voice softened to something that felt almost fatherly. "That's all I'm asking. Not perfection—just intention. If you're thinking about why you pass and what you want to accomplish with it, then you're already better than half the players who just move the ball because it's safe."
He placed a firm hand on Noah's shoulder. "You can do that, Carter. I know you can. Now get back out there and show me what happens when you stop passing to keep possession and start passing to win."
A murmur spread across the locker room—teammates nodding subtly, even Leo giving a faint grin of encouragement. Noah stood, pulling his jersey straight, his breath evening out. For the first time, the ball didn't feel heavy. It felt like opportunity.
The whistle outside signaled the teams to return, and as Noah walked out of the locker room tunnel, the Console flickered one last time:
[Mission Update: "Lead with Intention" Active]
[Performance Modifier: Awareness +5% | Confidence +10%]
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he stepped back onto the pitch. The second half wasn't going to be easy, but now he understood—this wasn't about being a general overnight. It was about learning to think like one.
And this was only the spark. The fire was yet to come.