The air at Gávea was heavier than usual. Families filled the small stands, reporters leaned over the barriers with notebooks and cameras, and even some scouts from rival clubs were present. It wasn't just another youth match—it was a test.
For Gabriel, it was more than that. He knew the whispers. He knew the looks. "Lucas is the real striker." "Gabriel's just hype." Today, he would answer them all.
---
The Duel Begins
The whistle blew, and instantly Lucas pressed high, hungry to dominate. He bullied defenders, demanded the ball, and fired the first shot of the game just wide. The crowd cheered anyway, chanting his name.
Gabriel kept his focus. His first touches were simple, clean. A pass back, a quick turn, a sprint into space. Nothing flashy. Just steady.
Lucas smirked at him after one duel. "Scared, backyard boy?"
Gabriel met his eyes calmly. "Not today."
---
Pressure Rising
By halftime, the score was 1–1. Lucas had scored from a scrappy rebound, celebrating wildly in front of the crowd. Gabriel hadn't scored yet, but he had assisted João from a corner—his sharp cross headed in with force.
On the sideline, the coach barked at him. "Keep your head, Silva. Don't get dragged into his game. Play yours."
Gabriel nodded, chest heaving. He could feel his mother's eyes in the stands, just like always. That gave him strength.
---
The Defining Moment
Second half. Ten minutes to go. The score still level.
Lucas picked up the ball near midfield, blazing past two defenders with raw power. He shot hard, but Gabriel watched from across the pitch as João slid in at the last second, blocking it. Lucas roared in frustration, throwing his arms up.
The counterattack began. The ball found Gabriel's feet.
He sprinted down the left wing, the stadium noise fading into silence inside his mind. One defender closed in—he feinted, spun past. Another came—he tapped the ball through his legs, racing onto it again.
Now it was just him and the keeper.
He remembered every miss, every failure, every doubt. His chest was tight, but his heart was calm.
He didn't blast it. He didn't panic. He simply placed the ball, low and precise, into the far corner.
Goal.
The crowd erupted. His teammates swarmed him, João lifting him off the ground. Gabriel's fist pumped into the air, fire blazing in his chest.
---
Shadows Fading
As the final whistle blew, Flamengo's youth side had won. Gabriel walked off the pitch with sweat dripping, lungs burning—but his head held high.
Lucas passed by, jaw tight, eyes stormy. He didn't say a word this time.
João clapped Gabriel on the back, grinning. "Now that's the Gabriel I know. Calm. Cold. Deadly."
Gabriel smiled faintly, though his heart still thundered. He wasn't just the "backyard boy" anymore. He was becoming something greater.
---
A Step Forward
That night, he replayed the goal in his head—not out of vanity, but out of certainty. He had proved it, to himself most of all: he could rise above rivalry, above noise, above doubt.
The road ahead was long, but tonight he had taken a step. A real step.
Between fire and shadows, I'll find the light.
And the light was getting closer.