The bus stopped in front of the school. The sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving behind a purplish-blue sky and lampposts beginning to light up along the street. The vehicle door opened with a muffled creak, and one by one, the Sanu players got off, dragging their feet, each immersed in their own thoughts.

"Later, guys… see you tomorrow", murmured Rodrigo, giving a lazy wave.

"Goodbye", replied João Vitor with a brief nod.

But the first to leave the group was Kazana.

Without saying a word, without waiting for anyone, he pulled up his backpack strap and started walking with firm steps. He didn't look back. Didn't say goodbye. He simply followed the street leading to his house, as if the defeat had triggered something inside him.

Kelvin stood still a little longer, watching his teammates gradually disperse. Some walked in pairs, others alone, exchanging quick words about the game, the fatigue, and tomorrow. He took a deep breath, looked at the school façade for a moment, and only then turned to head home as well.

The neighborhood streets were nearly empty. Just a few cars passed by, and the distant barking of a dog broke the silence. Kelvin walked with his hands in his pockets, kicking small pebbles along the way. His mind still buzzed with thoughts of the match. The shot he took in the first half. The goal. The second half. Erick.

That's when something caught his attention.

A muffled sound… rhythmic.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Kicks.

He stopped.

The sound was coming from the field beside the school. It was Kazana. He was completely alone, silently kicking the ball.

Kelvin frowned. For a moment, he thought he was mistaken — maybe it was someone else. But no. It was him.

The center forward stood there, back turned, still wearing the uniform shirt, soaked in dry sweat and dust. The ball returned to his feet like it obeyed commands, and he kicked again. Hard. Accurate. Tireless.

Thud. Thud. CLANG.

The ball hit the crossbar and bounced out. Kazana ran after it, controlled it on the first touch, turned his body and fired a low shot. The sound echoed through the empty court. There was no one to watch. No one to applaud. No one to judge.

Just him. And the ball.

Kelvin slowly approached, stopping by the side of the fence that surrounded the field. He watched silently for a few seconds.

"Kazana?", said Kelvin as he got closer.

Kazana sighed and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey, Kelvin", he answered, voice cold.

"What are you doing here?"

At the question, Kazana kicked the ball in anger, crouched down, and punched the cement floor repeatedly.

"You know why, Kelvin?", he paused, shoulders trembling. "I WANT TO WIN! I WANT TO PLAY NATIONALS!"

The scream echoed in the empty space.

He stood up abruptly, walking toward Kelvin with eyes red from rage and frustration.

"I train every day, Kelvin. Do you get that, dammit?", Kelvin stared at him, serious, unsure of what to say.

"I'M PISSED AS HELL, KELVIN! YOU GIVE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO SOMETHING, AND THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE WHO SHOWS UP OUT OF NOWHERE AND IS BETTER THAN YOU!"

He stopped, panting, trying to catch his breath.

"Kazana…"

"It's always like this, man. You understand?", he said, voice cracking. "This is my last year in school. My last chance. And I… I've never made it to Nationals. Never. You know what it feels like to give your 100% and still lose? There's Guto… now Erick… and even you, Kelvin"

Kelvin felt the weight of the words. His chest tightened.

"I understand more than you think", he replied firmly.

Kazana laughed. A dry, humorless laugh.

"I doubt it. You're talented. And that's why I don't like you, Kelvin. I envy you. I wish I knew what it feels like to be naturally good at something, without needing obsession to survive"

Kelvin took a deep breath, stepped through the gate, and entered the field. As he walked toward Kazana, he remembered something.

Last year's State Tournament, back in middle school. The feeling of ruining everything. The feeling of going from hero to villain.

All because of one simple thing: confidence.

"You know…", Kelvin began, voice calm. "Last year, in the State Tournament, my team was losing. Only a few minutes left. We needed a goal just to have a chance… so I tried to create a play"

Kazana looked up, curious, but still silent.

"I received the ball in midfield, turned sideways, and tried a pass. But… I passed it too weakly", Kelvin's voice dropped, "Their striker read it instantly, stole the ball, ran alone, and scored their second goal"

Silence fell between them for a few seconds, heavy.

"After that, it was over. We were eliminated. My teammates were crushed… and me? I became the scapegoat. No one even had to say it — I already knew"

Kazana clenched his jaw. The frustration in his eyes now mixed with something new: understanding.

"They didn't say a word, but their eyes said it all. And the worst part?", Kelvin met his gaze, "I believed them"

"Before I became this Kelvin you know, Kazana, there was a Kelvin who was scared. A Kelvin who didn't want the ball, because he knew he'd probably lose it — and maybe even lose the game"

Kelvin took a few more steps, stopping beside him.

"I know what it's like to push yourself so hard that you can't even sleep… To play with a heavy chest, afraid to make a mistake. And you know what changed?"

Kazana was still breathing hard, but now he seemed calmer. He waited in silence.

"I realized that making mistakes is part of the game. That fear can't walk ahead of your desire. And most of all… that obsession only has value when it's accompanied by a goal in your mind"

"A goal?", Kazana repeated, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah. Why do you want so badly to play Nationals? Just to say you made it? Just to shut everyone up?", Kelvin crossed his arms. "Or because you love to play? Because you want to prove to yourself that you can do it?"

Kazana lowered his head. He stood there for a few moments, as if digesting every word. Then he answered in a softer tone:

"Because it's my last chance to prove it was all worth it"

Kelvin slowly nodded.

"Then prove it. But not to them. Prove it to yourself"

The striker looked toward the field, then at the ball resting a few meters away.

"You're… right"

Kelvin gave a faint smile.

"I have to go, Kazana. I didn't mean to take up too much of your time, but I hope I helped you somehow"

Kelvin began walking away, while Kazana simply stood there, reflecting on everything he had just heard.

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