A Glimmer of Fire

The next morning, Gabriel trudged through the school gates, the weight of his bag pressing against his shoulder. His first day had been exactly what he expected—lonely, suffocating, and tedious. He barely slept, his mind replaying old memories of Paraná, of his father's voice guiding him on the pitch.

Yet, despite his frustration, he couldn't shake off the thought of the football team. They were awful. Slow, uncoordinated, and lacking any real motivation. Gabriel had never seen such uninspired play before.

As he walked through the corridors, whispers followed him.

"That's the Brazilian kid.""I heard he doesn't even like Japan.""He thinks he's better than us."

Gabriel ignored them, keeping his gaze forward. He didn't care what they thought. His only concern was football real football, not whatever sluggish excuse for a team he saw yesterday.

But as much as he wanted to brush it off, something gnawed at him. The team was in bad shape, but that also meant opportunity. If he was going to prove himself, he needed to start somewhere.

During lunch, Gabriel sat in his usual spot, away from the others, forcing himself to eat his bento. His mother's cooking still felt foreign, but he ate anyway—fuel was fuel.

Then, a shadow loomed over his table.

"Yo."

Gabriel looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered student with messy black hair and a confident smirk. His uniform was loose, the top button undone, giving him a relaxed air. Behind him stood a thinner, sharp-eyed boy with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You're Gabriel, right? I'm Ryota. This is Kenta."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Ryota chuckled. "Straight to the point, huh? We're on the football team."

Gabriel's expression remained blank. "Im sorry for you."

Kenta scoffed. "You talk big for someone who hasn't even touched a ball here."

Ryota held up a hand, stopping Kenta from saying more. "Listen, we saw you watching practice yesterday. Coach says we don't need new players, but that guy's an idiot. We could use some new face. You interested?"

Gabriel leaned back in his seat, unimpressed. "I told your coach—I'm not interested."

Ryota shrugged. "Suit yourself. But, y'know, you sure talk like someone who's better than anyone."

Gabriel smirked. "You say it, not me."

Kenta smirked. "Then prove it."

Ryota crossed his arms. "A 1v1. After school. If you win, you walk away, no strings attached. But if you lose, you join us."

Gabriel stared at them, weighing his options. He didn't want to be tied to a weak team. But he hated being challenged even more.

"Fine," he said. "But don't cry when I embarrass you."

After the final bell, a small crowd gathered at the football field. Word spread fast—the new Brazilian kid was playing against two of the team's starters.

Gabriel rolled his shoulders as he stepped onto the pitch, the familiar scent of grass and sweat filling his lungs. Across from him, Ryota and Kenta stood ready.

"First to three goals," Ryota said. "No goalkeepers, just us."

Gabriel simply nodded.

The moment the whistle blew, he exploded forward. His first touch sent the ball flicking past Kenta, his footwork effortless as he weaved between them. Kenta lunged for a tackle—too slow. Gabriel danced around him, leaving him grasping at air.

Ryota rushed in next, using his size to block Gabriel's path, but Gabriel anticipated it. With a quick feint, he flicked the ball between Ryota's legs and sprinted past him.

1-0.

The watching students murmured in awe.

Kenta gritted his teeth. "Lucky shot."

The game resumed, and this time, they pressed harder. Ryota used his strength to push Gabriel off balance, while Kenta played dirty, swiping at his ankles. Gabriel felt the sting of frustration—these guys couldn't match my skill, so they resorted to brute force.

Still, he didn't let up. When Kenta stole the ball and went for a shot, Gabriel sprinted back, intercepting it at the last second. He didn't just want to win. He wanted to crush them.

Within minutes, he scored another goal.

2-0.

By the time the third goal landed, Ryota was breathing heavily, and Kenta was glaring daggers at him. Gabriel stood over them, smirking.

"I told you," he said, kicking dirt off his cleats. "You're not on my level."

Ryota, still catching his breath, let out a dry chuckle. "Damn. You're good."

Kenta scoffed. "Whatever. He still thinks he's too good for us."

Gabriel turned away, heading for the sidelines. "Because I am."

But just as he reached the edge of the field, Ryota called out.

"Then make us better."

Gabriel paused. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Ryota's determined gaze.

"You think we're weak? Fine. Prove it. Show us how to be better."

For the first time since coming to Japan, someone wasn't pushing him away. They were challenging him, daring him to step up.

Gabriel exhaled slowly.

"…I'll think about it."

As he walked home, for the first time since it land in japan, football didn't feel like a distant dream. It felt real again.

And maybe—just maybe—Kagoshima High wasn't a lost cause after all.

When Gabriel stepped through the front door, the scent of miso soup and grilled fish filled the air. His mother, Yumi, was at the stove, her sleeves rolled up as she carefully plated dinner.

"You're late," she said without looking up. "Did something happen?"

Gabriel hesitated before dropping his bag near the door. "I just got lost."

His mother turned, her expression unreadable. "How we live nearby?"

He clicked his tongue. "I think im still not used to the japan street or something like that."

"Hmm." She placed a bowl of rice at the table. "Eat before it gets cold."

Gabriel sat down, barely noticing when his younger sister, Aiko, peeked at him from the hallway. She was seven, with bright eyes and a mischievous grin, always curious about what he was up to.

"You smell like grass," she giggled, wrinkling her nose.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah? You smell like pescadou."

Hana gasped dramatically. "Mama, Gabriel's being mean again!"

Yumi sighed. "Aoki, stop bothering your brother."

"But he—"

"Eat."

Hana huffed but obeyed, stuffing a bite of rice into her mouth.

Gabriel poked at his food, his mind still on the game. He had destroyed Ryota and Kenta—no question about that. But something lingered in his chest, a quiet tug of something unfamiliar.

Why did I go back?

He told himself it was just to prove a point, but was that really it?

Before, football was just his father's voice in his head, guiding him through drills, reminding him of who he was supposed to be. But today, for the first time in months, it wasn't his father's voice pushing him forward. It was his own.

He shook the thought away and forced himself to eat.

His mother watched him carefully. "You're thinking too much."

Gabriel sighed. "I'm just tired."

Yumi didn't press further. "Then get some rest. You have school tomorrow."

School was the same as always—whispers in the hallway, stolen glances from classmates who were still curious about him.

But something was different.

When he entered class, Ryota was already there, slouched in his seat with his arms behind his head. The moment he spotted Gabriel, he smirked.

"Yo, superstar."

Gabriel ignored him and took his seat.

A few desks away, Kenta muttered, "He already regrets showing up."

Gabriel shot him a bored look. "And you still regret losing."

A few students snickered. Kenta grumbled under his breath but didn't argue.

The morning passed in a blur of lectures and textbook pages. Gabriel barely paid attention. His mind drifted to the field, to the way the ball felt at his feet.

I shouldn't care.

But he did.

During lunch, Ryota plopped down across from him uninvited. "So, you're actually coming to practice today, right?"

Gabriel clicked his chopsticks together, unimpressed. "I didn't say that."

Ryota grinned. "Didn't say you weren't, either."

Kenta, sitting beside him, scoffed. "You're so damn cocky."

Gabriel smirked. "Only with those lesser than me."

Kenta rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

Gabriel finished eating and stood up. "If I go, it's not for you. I play for myself."

Ryota leaned back, unbothered. "Yeah, yeah. See you after school, hotshot."

Gabriel didn't answer, but he already knew—he wasn't going.

He just didn't know why.