The stadium fell silent except for the sound of Takeshi's cleats on grass as he walked to the center circle. Down 0-1 to players eight years older. His teammates looking rattled, the U16s laughing casually on their side of the field.
But Takeshi's mind was ice-cold calculation.
They're playing like this is a friendly. Physical dominance, direct football, predictable patterns.
Time to show them what happens when children stop playing like children.
As Marcus prepared to restart play, Takeshi caught Elsa's eyes across the field. Without words, he pointed subtly to the opposite wing.
Confusion flashed across her face for a heartbeat. Then understanding dawned like sunrise.
She nodded and drifted wide.
Formation change. 2-1-3. Oliver drops as the pivot. Elsa and I become dual wingers with Marcus central.
Width. Overloads. Chaos.
Oliver saw the shift immediately, his football intelligence reading Takeshi's intent. He dropped deeper, becoming the lone midfield anchor.
Marcus looked confused but trusted Takeshi, who'd orchestrated their greatest victory.
The U16 team hadn't noticed yet. They were still laughing about their easy goal, still treating this like a training exercise.
First mistake.
Marcus tapped the ball to Takeshi at kickoff.
What happened next defied everything the scouts had seen in youth football.
Takeshi to Oliver. Oliver goes back to Takeshi. Short pass to Marcus. Marcus lays it off to Elsa. Elsa finds Oliver. Oliver is threading it to Takeshi.
Triangle after triangle after triangle.
The ball never touched the ground for more than a second. Short, crisp passes with surgical precision. The U16 team pressed forward, but it was like trying to catch smoke.
Three minutes of pure possession.
The teenagers who'd been laughing were now chasing shadows, their casual attitude evaporating as eight to eleven-year-old children made them look amateur.
"How are kids doing this?" one of the U16 defenders panted.
In the stands, scouts leaned forward, pens moving frantically across notepads.
This isn't normal. This chemistry shouldn't exist.
Erik's sinister smile grew wider with each perfect pass. His demons were awakening.
"Close them down!" the U16 captain shouted, his voice carrying panic for the first time.
But every press was met with a pass. Every tackle attempt found empty space. The kids moved like they'd been playing together for years, not days.
Weeks of partnership drills. Weeks of being paired together. All building to this moment.
The breakthrough came in the thirteenth minute.
Oliver received the ball in deep midfield, scanning for options. Marcus was making his trademark run between the centre-backs, dragging both defenders with his powerful frame.
Perfect.
Oliver's through ball split the defence like a blade. Marcus controlled it beautifully, but immediately two U16 defenders converged on him, using their size advantage to trap him against the touchline.
Physical pressure. Can't turn. Need an outlet.
Marcus looked up, saw Takeshi on the left wing, and rolled the pass under pressure.
But before the ball had even left Marcus's foot, Takeshi was already pointing to space behind the right-back. A subtle gesture, invisible to everyone except the one person who mattered.
Elsa.
Drill partnership. Telepathic understanding. She sees what I see.
As Takeshi received the pass, Elsa had already begun her run. The U16 right-back was focused on Takeshi, not tracking the Norwegian girl making a diagonal run behind him.
One touch. Takeshi didn't even look up.
The through ball was perfection, weighted exactly right, placed in the only corridor where Elsa could reach it but the keeper couldn't.
Ball bounced once, sitting up perfectly.
Elsa arrived at full speed, blonde ponytail streaming behind her. No hesitation.
VOLLEY.
Her right foot connected sweetly, the ball rocketing toward the top corner. The U16 keeper dove with everything he had, fingertips desperately reaching.
Not enough.
GOAL! 1-1
"ELSA!" Takeshi screamed, sprinting toward her with a massive grin splitting his face.
She turned just in time for him to pull her into a fierce hug, lifting her small frame off the ground.
"THAT'S HOW YOU FINISH!" he shouted, pure joy radiating from every word.
Elsa's face went crimson, her heart hammering against her ribcage, and not just from the sprint. The feeling of his arms around her, the pride in his voice, the way he'd seen her run before she'd even made it...
What is this feeling in my chest?
The rest of the team piled on, Marcus thundering over like a freight train, Oliver grinning ear to ear, even Kwame and Isabella sprinting up from defence.
Six kids in a group hug, jumping up and down like they'd won the World Cup.
The U16 team stood in stunned silence.
These children just equalised against us?
Something had changed in the kids after that goal. The fear was gone, replaced by something dangerous.
Pure attacking chaos.
They abandoned strict positions, moving like liquid mercury across the pitch. Takeshi would start on the left wing, then drift central. Elsa would begin in midfield, then make runs beyond Marcus. Oliver would drop deep, then surge forward.
Unpredictable. Untrackable. Unstoppable.
The U16 team's physical advantage meant nothing when they couldn't pin down who to mark.
Twenty-third minute. Oliver won the ball with a perfectly timed tackle in midfield, immediately finding Takeshi with a sharp pass.
One defender is closing. Seen this situation a thousand times.
Takeshi's first touch took him past the challenge, opening up space in the final third. Marcus was already making his run, timing it perfectly to stay onside.
Adult tactical mind vs. teenage instincts.
The through ball was threaded perfectly between center-back and full-back, weight and placement immaculate. Marcus controlled it with one touch and finished with the next.
GOAL! 2-1
[QUEST COMPLETE]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✓ 2 ASSISTS ACHIEVED
✓ No defensive mistakes
REWARD UNLOCKED:
[LEGENDARY SKILL BOX]
[TAP TO OPEN]
★★★★★ GUARANTEED
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The system's reward flashed temptingly, but Takeshi ignored it completely.
Not now. The game isn't over.
The floodgates had opened.
Thirty-first minute. Elsa cut inside from the right wing, drawing three defenders like magnets. Simple pass back to Takeshi. Takeshi's no-look through ball found Oliver's perfectly timed run.
Oliver slotted home calmly.
GOAL! 3-1
Thirty-eighth minute. Corner kick. Takeshi stood over the ball, scanning the box like a general surveying a battlefield.
Kwame's run to the near post. Perfect delivery.
The cross was a work of art, curving away from the keeper, dropping perfectly for Kwame's forehead. The Nigerian defender rose above everyone, powering his header into the bottom corner.
GOAL! 4-1
Four goals. Four assists. Every single goal flowed through Takeshi like he was conducting an orchestra.
The U16 team pulled two back in desperation, their pride wounded but their talent genuine.
Final score: 4-3.
But everyone in the stadium knew who had controlled the match from the thirteenth minute onward.
As the final whistle blew, a man in an expensive suit approached Erik on the sideline. He moved with the confident stride of someone accustomed to getting what he wanted.
"So he's your talented demon," the stranger said smoothly, watching Takeshi celebrate with his teammates.
"I want him."
Erik stopped moving. Turned slowly. His cold stare could have frozen blood.
"He is mine."
The possessive edge in Erik's voice was unmistakable. No negotiation. No discussion.
"Find your own demon."
The man chuckled, unimpressed by Erik's territorial display.
"We'll see, Erik. We'll see."
He walked away with the same confident stride, leaving Erik standing alone, fists clenched, sinister smile replaced by something darker.
Stakes just got higher.
"YOU KIDS ARE INSANE!"
The U16 striker Denzel was shaking hands with each of them, genuine respect replacing his earlier condescension.
"That number seven... he's special. Like, scary special."
"We've never been outplayed like that," their captain Jurrien admitted, looking directly at Takeshi. "How old are you again?"
"Eight," Takeshi replied simply.
"Eight?!" Multiple U16 players shouted in disbelief.
In the stands, scouts were frantically comparing notes, trying to process what they'd witnessed.
The six kids formed a circle in the centre of the pitch, arms around shoulders, jumping together like they'd won the Champions League.
"Marcus, that run for your goal, how did you know?" Takeshi asked, grinning widely.
"You always know where I'm going to be," Marcus replied. "The Ballon d'Or race is officially ON, demon."
They bumped fists, the rivalry burning bright but respectful.
Kwame approached next, his earlier arrogance completely transformed into something deeper.
"I was wrong about you," he said quietly. "You're not just talented. You're a leader."
"You defended like a beast today," Takeshi replied. "That header was perfect."
For the first time since arriving at Ajax, Kwame smiled genuinely.
Isabella was dancing around the group, her Brazilian joy infectious. "We beat the big boys! We actually beat them!"
Oliver stood back slightly, watching everything with knowing eyes. When he caught Elsa staring at Takeshi with an expression of complete adoration, he smirked and mouthed: "Told you."
Elsa's face went nuclear red, but she couldn't stop smiling.
"That assists for my goal," she said as she approached Takeshi, trying to keep her voice steady. "You saw my run before I even made it."
"We're partners," Takeshi replied with simple honesty. "I always know where you'll be."
His adult mind: Tactical awareness and partnership chemistry.
Her eleven-year-old heart: He always knows where I am.
Their eyes met and held for a moment that stretched longer than it should have.
Oliver coughed loudly.
Both of them broke eye contact, embarrassed.
"Not bad, demons," Erik said as he approached the group, wearing something that almost resembled a smile. "Not bad at all."
The kids beamed at the rare praise from their tormentor.
"Tomorrow, we train twice as hard."
Collective groaning, but still smiling. After today, they felt like they could handle anything.
Walking back to the dorms together, exhausted but euphoric, they relived every goal, every pass, every moment of their historic victory.
Not just competitors anymore. Family.
"You played amazingly today, Queen," Oliver said as he and Elsa walked through the dormitory hallway.
"We all did."
"But you played for someone specific."
Elsa fell silent.
"It's okay to feel things, you know."
"I don't know what I feel."
Oliver stopped walking and looked at her with gentle understanding.
"That's called falling in love."
Elsa's eyes went wide, her heart doing that fluttering thing again.
"Am I...?"
The question hung in the air as they reached their rooms, unanswered but understood.
In his own room, Takeshi finally allowed himself to think about the mysterious man who'd approached Erik. The words echoed in his mind: "I want him."
But mostly, he thought about his teammates. How they'd come together. Elsa's perfect volley. Marcus's clinical finishing. Oliver's intelligent runs. Kwame's defensive leadership. Isabella's tireless pressing.
We're becoming something special.
The system reward box still flashed in his peripheral vision, waiting to be opened.
But for once, the system felt secondary to something more important.
Family.