WebNovels

Chapter 16 - Love and Rivals

The dormitory hallway was eerily quiet as Takeshi dragged himself toward his room. His body felt like lead after the match, the demon mode having drained every ounce of energy from his eight-year-old frame. He just wanted to collapse into bed and forget about the impossible things he'd done today.

That's when Marcus stepped out of the shadows.

Shit. Here comes trouble.

But there was no hostility in the German boy's stance, only a strange, intense respect that made Takeshi pause.

"You are more talented than anyone else here," Marcus said without preamble, his accent thick but his English clear. "Including me."

Takeshi blinked in surprise. After being demolished in that 3v3, this was the last thing he'd expected to hear from the powerhouse who'd been scoring thunderbolt goals like they were tap-ins.

"I don't know about that..."

"I do." Marcus's blue eyes burned with competitive fire. "I've dominated every league back home. Every opponent. Every match. But today... Today you showed me something I've never seen before."

Something ancient stirred in those cold German eyes.

"So I challenge you," Marcus continued, his voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "For the race to the Ballon d'Or."

The Ballon d'Or? Takeshi's mind reeled. This ten-year-old is already thinking about the most prestigious individual award in football?

"Let's see who will win it first," Marcus said, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Your talent, little demon, or my power and accuracy."

The challenge hung in the air between them like a gauntlet thrown down. This wasn't just playground rivalry, this was a promise between two future legends, made when they were still children.

Without another word, Marcus turned and walked away, his confidence absolute and terrifying.

Takeshi stood alone in the hallway, processing what had just happened.

The Ballon d'Or... he's already thinking that far ahead. And he sees me as his primary competition.

Respect for the German powerhouse grew in his chest, mixed with anticipation for the battles to come.

In his room down the hall, Kwame sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands.

I lost.

The thought kept circling in his mind like a vulture. He'd never lost before—not really. Back in Lagos, he was untouchable. The fastest, the strongest, the most confident.

But today, that eight-year-old demon had made him look ordinary.

I actually lost to him.

The memory of Takeshi's transformation haunted him, the way those eyes had changed, becoming cold and calculating. The way he'd moved past defenders like they were standing still.

That wasn't normal. That wasn't human.

His pride was wounded, bleeding, but not broken. If anything, the humiliation was feeding something deeper, a hunger he'd never felt before.

Never again.

Kwame's fists clenched until his knuckles went white.

I will never lose to him again. Never.

The arrogant boy who'd arrived at Ajax was dying. In his place, something more dangerous was being born, a warrior who understood that talent alone wasn't enough.

He showed me what I lack. Now I'll show him what I can become.

A knock at Takeshi's door interrupted his thoughts about Marcus's challenge.

"Takeshi?" Elsa's soft Norwegian accent filtered through the wood. "Can we come in?"

He opened the door to find Elsa and Oliver standing there, carrying food from the cafeteria.

"Come eat with us," Elsa said, her voice gentle with concern. "You look like you're about to collapse."

"I'm fine..."

"No, you're not," Oliver interrupted with a grin. "You can barely stand up straight. We brought dinner to you."

Too exhausted to argue, Takeshi let them into his room. They sat cross-legged on the floor, simple meals spread between them like a picnic.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the weight of the day's events settling around them.

Finally, Elsa broke the quiet.

"Your game today was incredible, Takeshi," she said, her accent making the words sound like music. "I've never seen anyone play like that."

She turned to Oliver with a warm smile. "And your passing skills are next level. That forty-yard through ball... I've never seen anything like it."

Oliver's cheeks flushed pink at the praise, but Takeshi was already shaking his head.

"We didn't win because of me and Oliver," he said seriously, his adult wisdom seeping through. "It was you, Elsa, who laid the groundwork."

Both of them looked at him in surprise.

"I'm serious," Takeshi continued, his tactical mind analysing the match. "You were pressing high, winning balls in midfield, building the pressure that forced their mistakes. You were the key to our victory."

He paused, looking directly at her. "I'm grateful I had you on my team today."

Elsa's world stopped.

No one had ever said those words to her.

In Norway, she was never praised as a player.

But he sees me. He really sees what I do.

Her face turned crimson, heat rushing to her cheeks as her heart began racing in a way she didn't understand.

"And Oliver," Takeshi continued, oblivious to Elsa's reaction, "you're the real underdog here. That pass... you trusted me when no one else would have attempted it. That takes real courage."

Oliver's eyes grew misty. He'd spent his entire football life being overlooked, dismissed as ordinary.

But Takeshi sees something in me, too.

Meanwhile, Elsa was staring down at her food, overwhelmed by emotions she couldn't name. Her hands were trembling slightly as Takeshi's words echoed in her mind.

You were the key to our victory.

Why does that make my heart feel like it's going to explode?

Takeshi, focused on his meal and fighting exhaustion, completely missed her reaction. His adult mind was analyzing tactics and team dynamics, not reading romantic signals from an eleven-year-old girl.

But Oliver noticed everything.

Oh no, he thought, seeing Elsa's blush, the way she kept stealing glances at Takeshi. This is happening.

As the meal wound down, Takeshi was practically falling asleep sitting up.

"Get some sleep, " Oliver said with a fond grin. "You've earned it."

Elsa remained quiet as they gathered the empty containers, her mind still spinning from Takeshi's unexpected praise.

They left his room together, walking slowly down the hallway toward their own quarters.

Oliver couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"Don't fall in love with our demon," he said teasingly, but with genuine concern in his voice. "Our Queen of Norway."

Elsa stopped walking completely, her eyes going wide.

"What? I'm not..." she sputtered, her face burning red again. "That's ridiculous, Oliver!"

But her protest was too quick, too defensive.

Oliver just smiled knowingly. "Sure, sure."

"It's not love!" Elsa insisted as they reached their rooms. "We just met! I barely know him!"

"If you say so," Oliver replied, disappearing into his room with an infuriating grin.

Alone in the hallway, Elsa pressed her back against her door, her heart still doing strange things in her chest.

It's not love. It can't be. We just met.

But Takeshi's words kept echoing in her mind: You were the key to our victory.

I'm grateful I had you on my team.

Her hand went to her chest, where her heart was beating far too fast.

What is this feeling?

Twenty more days at Ajax. Twenty more days of training with the boy who saw her, really saw her, for the first time in her life.

Twenty more days to figure out why his simple words of recognition had turned her world upside down.

What is this feeling?

Outside, Amsterdam slept peacefully, unaware that in the Ajax dormitory, rivalries were being born and young hearts were beginning to race for reasons that had nothing to do with football.

But everything to do with growing up.

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