The bell rang in Seonghwa High, cutting through the usual morning chaos. Tomov, Cinister, Choi, and Lite shuffled out of class, their backpacks slung carelessly over their shoulders. Most of their classmates were already talking about sports or gaming, but for these four, football had never been more than a vague curiosity.
"Are we really doing this?" Tomov asked, glancing at the field as they approached the PE area. His shoulders slumped, and he looked completely unprepared. "I've never even kicked a ball properly."
"Relax," Cinister said, adjusting his shorts. "It's just PE. Just try not to embarrass yourself too badly." His tone was teasing, but underneath it was a rare confidence. Unlike the others, he actually had some experience with the sport, and it showed.
Choi and Lite exchanged glances. Choi ran his hand through his hair. "I mean, I've never really played properly either, but… sure, why not."
Lite groaned. "I'm just hoping I don't trip over the ball and look stupid in front of everyone." He adjusted his bag with a sigh, a mix of nervousness and anticipation in his expression.
The PE teacher blew the whistle, splitting the class into two teams. Almost immediately, Cinister's skill became evident. While the others stumbled and tripped over the ball, Cinister moved like he'd been born on the field. His passes were accurate, his dribbles precise, and his timing flawless.
Tomov ran after the ball, clumsy but determined, weaving awkwardly between other students. Every time he tried a move, he ended up tangled in someone's legs or falling flat. Choi attempted to defend, but his movements were hesitant, and Lite's passes were inconsistent at best. Despite their failures, laughter and jokes filled their small circle—they were enjoying themselves, even if the scoreboard was turning against them.
By the end of the PE match, it was obvious who carried the team: Cinister. He scored goal after goal, assisted here and there, and generally outshone everyone else. The others, while failing miserably, still felt a rush of excitement from just being on the field.
After the bell for the end of PE, Cinister jogged over to his friends. "So… what do you guys think? Want to try something a bit different? Out here, just us, no rules, no pressure."
"Wait, you mean outside of class?" Tomov asked, eyebrows raised. "Like, right now?"
"Exactly," Cinister replied. "I promise it'll be fun. And trust me, you'll learn more in one game than in all of PE combined."
Choi hesitated for a second but nodded. "Alright, let's do it."
Lite adjusted his bag again, still unsure but curious. "Okay… let's see what happens."
The four of them moved to the far side of the main field. The grass stretched endlessly, wide enough for a full 11v11 match, but today they didn't need that much space. They agreed on a Spanish-style game—one player in goal, the other three attacking. Cinister immediately claimed the goalkeeper spot, stepping in front of a makeshift goal formed by cones.
"Don't expect it to be easy," he said, bouncing on his heels. "I'm not going to let you score without trying."
Tomov ran toward the ball, excitement written all over his face. The moment he touched it, though, he realized how unskilled he was. His dribbles were clumsy, his speed untamed, and he fell more than once. Choi tried to follow a passing play, only to misjudge distances and bump into both Tomov and Lite. Lite, predictably, struggled to connect his passes, sending the ball wildly off target every time he tried.
Cinister, standing firm in goal, blocked each shot effortlessly. Sometimes he barely moved, letting their weak attempts hit his gloves. Other times, he dived dramatically, demonstrating a fraction of what true skill could look like. Through it all, he observed the other three carefully, noting strengths, weaknesses, and tendencies.
After several rounds of attempts and repeated failures, Cinister finally blew an imaginary whistle. "Stop. Everyone, gather around."
The three attackers trudged over, breathing hard, sweat running down their faces. Cinister crouched slightly, looking between them. "Okay, you guys clearly need some guidance. Tomov, you've got natural reflexes and agility. You love moving with the ball, but your dribbles are sloppy. Focus on control first—make the ball yours before trying to beat anyone."
Tomov's eyes sparkled. "Really? I can actually… learn dribbling?"
"Yes," Cinister nodded. "You have potential, but you have to work for it."
Turning to Choi, he continued, "Defense. You're strong at reading the play, but your reactions are too slow, and your tackles are unrefined. Focus on positioning, anticipating attacks, and stopping the ball before it even gets close to you."
Choi crossed his arms, a faint smile forming. "So I'm basically learning to be the wall."
"Exactly," Cinister said.
Lastly, he faced Lite. "Passing. You're a natural observer. You see the field in ways others can't. But your passes are inconsistent because you're not confident. Learn to trust your judgment, and you can control the game without ever needing to dribble or shoot."
Lite's eyes widened. "So… I can actually make a difference?"
"You already do," Cinister said, smiling. "Now let's assign positions for real. Tomov, you'll focus on dribbles and attacking. Choi, you defend and counter. Lite, distribute the ball and help control the game."
The three nodded, energized by their first real lesson in teamwork. Even with their raw skill, the spark of their potential was already visible.
Cinister took a step back, arms crossed. "Alright… one more thing." His gaze swept the field to the other side, where four figures were finishing a game on the small split field. "I see some guys over there. Think we're ready to test what we've learned?"
Tomov grinned, brushing dirt off his shorts. "Yeah. Let's see what we're made of."
Choi adjusted his sleeves, Lite readied himself, and Cinister jogged toward the center. "Hey!" he called across the grass. "You guys up for a 4v4 match?"
The other four glanced at them, uncertain, sizing up their challengers. Cinister's presence radiated confidence, and the determination in his friends' eyes made it clear—they weren't here to play casually.