Realization

Night had fallen in Deventer, but Arghana was still wide awake, sitting on his bed with his laptop screen glowing in front of him.

In contrast to the silence of the room, his eyes were busy following the movements on screen—clip after clip of professional players in action, a long-standing habit he had never abandoned.

Since he was a kid, he had always relied on match recordings to learn.

For him, every move from a great player wasn't just entertainment, but a clue. How they controlled the ball, how they found space, how they reacted under pressure—each was a puzzle he had to solve.

But tonight, his mind felt heavier than usual.

The sudden transfer rumors had torn into the stability he had carefully built.

It wasn't just about where he might go, but what would happen if he continued to push himself in his current condition.

His Flow State—his greatest weapon—could also become his downfall if his body couldn't keep up.

He picked up his phone and sent a short message to the doctor from NOC*NSF.

Arghana: "Doc, when can we continue the discussion about the treatment program?

I think this has to be a priority for me. If it's not addressed, my body could break down."

The message was sent, but he didn't wait for a reply.

He turned back to his laptop, letting autoplay run from one video to the next—Messi, Robben, Totti, then various compilations of the best dribblers from the 2000s era.

Then suddenly, the next video made him freeze.

Romeo Castelen.

Arghana went still.

His eyes widened slightly.

The Surinamese-born winger darted past two defenders with movements that felt almost too familiar.

The shift in tempo, the short burst of acceleration, the subtle sway between tightly packed defenders.

Instantly, the memory came flooding back.

—The match against FC Eindhoven.

The moment when his body seemed to move on its own, slicing between two defenders, breezing past another before curling the ball to the far post. Goal.

Arghana covered his mouth, stunned.

He replayed Castelen's video, slowed down certain parts, then compared it with footage of himself recorded on his phone. Then again. And again.

It felt like seeing a reflection of himself in someone else.

Was it a coincidence? Or had something in his brain adopted that pattern without him realizing it?

His heartbeat quickened.

His right hand clenched the blanket unconsciously.

If what he thought was true—if his visual memories could be activated during Flow State—then his hyperfocus wasn't just a rare gift.

It was a mechanism far more powerful than he'd ever imagined.

And he hadn't yet figured out how to control it.

===

Morning in Deventer was still wrapped in a cool breeze when Arghana woke up.

Soft sunlight peeked through the window blinds, signaling a new day.

But that wasn't what made him sit up on the edge of the bed.

It was the thoughts that had been lingering in his mind since last night.

The video of Romeo Castelen.

The moves under pressure, the body exploding into instant acceleration, the maneuvers that mirrored what he had done against FC Eindhoven.

Arghana couldn't ignore the similarity.

Was it just a coincidence—or had there always been something in his playing style he hadn't realized?

With new resolve, he grabbed his phone.

A notification had come in from the NOC*NSF doctor. A short but clear reply:

— We can meet tomorrow afternoon at the rehab center.

We'll discuss the treatment options that suit you. Make sure your body stays stable. —

Arghana nodded quietly.

Tomorrow would be a big step in his effort to understand and control the hyperfocus that had been both a blessing and a curse.

But today, there was one thing he wanted to do.

Training.

He started with light warmups, then short sprints, followed by technical drills.

Quick dribbling, first touches, passing variations, even solo one-on-one simulations.

For nearly an hour, he focused only on his basic movements, warming up and making sure every motion flowed naturally.

But this was only the beginning.

Without hesitation, Arghana pushed himself further.

He repeated the high-intensity routine he'd tried before—20-second sprints followed by 40 seconds of dynamic movements, with no rest longer than 15 seconds.

This wasn't just about speed—it was about sustaining focus under exhaustion. After about an hour, his breathing grew heavier, sweat soaked his back, and his muscles began to tighten.

But it still wasn't enough.

Arghana knew he was getting closer to his limit, but he hadn't reached that point yet—that strange sensation that had once surfaced, when his body was nearly done but his mind became razor sharp.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed himself again.

He kept running, cutting, dribbling between cones, forcing his body to stay balanced even as his legs started to falter.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Until finally, when his body was nearly at breaking point…

Something changed.

The world around him didn't just slow down—it sharpened.

He could feel the air brushing through his fingers, hear the bounce of the ball on the turf, sense his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of his steps.

Without wasting time, he ran toward the bench at the edge of the pitch.

His breath still ragged, he quickly grabbed his phone and replayed the video of Romeo Castelen.

His hands trembled slightly as he began watching the winger's movements in detail.

He observed how Castelen positioned his body before accelerating, how he used his upper body to fake defenders, how his balance and stride blended with the unpredictable changes in tempo.

Arghana stared at the screen without blinking.

He replayed the video over and over—for ten minutes straight.

Then he tried to recall—his match against FC Eindhoven, when his body had moved in a trance. There was a similarity. A shared pattern.

So this was it…

Arghana clenched his fist.

If it was true, then maybe—just maybe—he could learn to control it.

He could go deeper into it.

But the question was… could his body endure staying in that state longer?

Still gasping for breath, Arghana shut the video and leaned his head back.

The blue sky above him shimmered slightly.

He had passed his limits, but for the first time, he felt closer to the answers he'd been searching for.

Tomorrow, he would meet with the specialist.

But today, he had taken the first step on his own.

Today, his body might be exhausted—but his mind? It would never stop moving.