We had just finished our 20-lap warm-up.
Not a single complaint.
No whining, no sighs—just eyes locked in, full of fire and focus.
Honestly... it was kind of surreal.
I stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching every little detail.
Shot power.
Positioning.
Defensive awareness.
I scribbled everything down like some football-obsessed detective on caffeine.
Each girl had something unique.
Some had raw strength.
Others had vision.
And a few had that rare killer instinct—the kind you can't teach, only refine.
This team... was finally starting to feel like a team.
I blew my whistle.
Lucas:
"PHHHHHHHHHHHHH—Alright! Great job today, girls! That's it for training! Tomorrow, we announce the starting XI and formation!"
A cheer echoed across the pitch.
They were tired, but proud.
And so was I.
After wrapping up, I hit the showers, changed into my hoodie and jeans, and grabbed my noble steed—
…a rusted, half-dead bicycle that squeaked like a dying squirrel.
Yeah, I don't have a car. Sue me.
But honestly? The ride home wasn't bad at all.
The night breeze kissed my face.
The moonlight painted the road silver.
And the stars... made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I was on the right path.
Lucas (smiling):
"What a beautiful night… This air feels fresh. Not bad at all, riding a bike like this."
As I passed the local public ground, I caught sight of someone under the dim streetlight.
A lone figure.
Shooting.
Dribbling.
Weaving.
Curling balls into the goal like an artist painting on canvas.
A girl.
Wearing a Queen High uniform… but I'd never seen her before.
Lucas (thinking):
"Wait… is she one of mine? No way. I'd remember those insane ball touches…"
I stopped by the fence, eyes glued to her movements.
She didn't just play football.
She danced with it.
Sharp turns.
Smooth control.
That vertical leap? Ridiculous.
Her curve shots? Straight-up illegal.
And the scariest part?
She wasn't even trying that hard.
Eventually, she started packing up.
No way I was letting that kind of talent walk away.
I ditched my bike and ran over like a fanboy at a K-pop concert.
Lucas:
"Hey! Hey, kid!"
She turned.
Sharp glare.
Eyes like knives.
Lucas:
"What's your name?"
???
"…Why do you need to know who I am? I don't tell my name to perverts."
Kuro
"Yeah! Classic 40-year-old perv! Hahaha!"
Lucas
"WHAT?! I'm not a pervert! I was watching your skills, not you! Geez!"
She scoffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
???
"Yeah, yeah. Old man."
Lucas:
"Hey! I'm not old! I'm literally a teenager!"
???
"Nope. Old. Perverted. Bastard."
Lucas (rage anime mode):
"I'm the coach of Queen High School's girls' team!"
No reaction.
Stone cold.
???
"I don't care."
(Zips up her bag.)
Lucas (trying again):
"Look, I'm serious. You've got insane potential. I could help you become a legend."
…Still nothing.
Lucas:
"Hello? Earth to mystery girl? Don't ignore me!"
???
"Listen, old man. I don't care about football. I want to be a doctor. I only play when I'm stressed."
Lucas (bursts out laughing):
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! You? A doctor? That's hilarious!"
She stared at me.
No—glared at me.
Like she was two seconds away from stabbing me with her studs.
Kuro (whispers):
"Lucas... she's serious."
She turned to leave.
I panicked.
Lucas:
"Wait, wait! Don't go! Let's play a little game!"
She stopped.
???
"…What kind of game?"
Lucas:
"Crossbar challenge. One shot each. First to hit the bar wins.
If you win, I disappear. No questions, no pressure.
But if I win— you tell me your name and come meet the team tomorrow. Just one game."
???
"…Deal. I'll beat you fast and go get some jhol momo."
Kuro (drooling):
"Momo… my favorite…"
Lucas:
"Then let's go. You first."
(While she wasn't looking, I scratched a tiny divot under the shooting spot. Classic dirty move.)
Kuro:
"You cheating snake! VAR! RED CARD!"
She stepped up.
Deep breath.
Swings—
WHIFF.
She slipped.
The ball flew high—like a NASA rocket gone rogue.
Lucas (laughing on the ground):
"PFFFFT—AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That was amazing! You slipped like a cartoon!"
??? (furious):
"You rigged the ground, didn't you?!"
Lucas:
"Hey, hey! Don't blame me for your banana peel moment!"
Now it was my turn.
Lucas (serious):
"I may not look it, but I was a national player in my last life.
Premier League. B Division. Watch and learn."
Three steps.
Focus.
Clean form.
BAM—CLANG!
Right on the crossbar.
I raised my arms, victorious.
Lucas:
"Bingo."
She stood frozen.
Then finally...
???
"Tch… fine. A bet's a bet."
She tossed her hair back with a huff.
???
"My name's Aria. I'll come meet your so-called team tomorrow."
Lucas (smirking):
"Welcome to Queen High, Miss Aria."
I hopped back on my bike and pedaled home, grinning like a maniac.
At the front door…
Lucas:
"I'm home, Mom."
Marie:
"Welcome back, sweetheart! How was training?"
Lucas:
"Pretty great. Yours?"
Marie:
"Boring. I missed you."
Lucas (teasing):
"Stop missing me and start missing Dad!"
Philippe (from behind):
"What was that, son?"
Lucas (jumps):
"Gah—Dad?! You're home early!"
Philippe (laughing):
"Yep. Thought I'd have dinner with my two favorite people. Problem?"
Lucas:
"…Not at all."
Philippe:
"When's your first game? We'll come cheer you on."
Lucas:
"In twenty days. You'll see something special."
Philippe:
"We'll be there. But don't burn yourself out, alright?"
Lucas:
"Thanks, Dad."
Marie:
"Dinner's ready!"
Philippe & Lucas (together):
"Yes, ma'am!"
He pulled me into a playful headlock.
Lucas:
"D-Dad! I'm not a kid anymore!"
Philippe:
"Hahaha! You'll always be my kid."
We sat down together.
Hot food.
Laughter.
Warm smiles.
In my last life, I never had this.
But now...
This was a memory worth keeping.
[End of Chapter 8]