Our First Lost

Team D huddled in silence. The air was thick with frustration, sweat, and the sharp sting of embarrassment. Kyren clutched the playbook, flipping pages like a man desperate to rewrite fate.

"We're switching to quick slants and curls," he said, voice low but firm. "No more deep routes. We keep it simple, controlled."

Elijah nodded, his gloves trembling slightly. This was his first match. First taste of real pressure. His chest felt tight.

"Okay… okay," Elijah muttered under his breath.

Snap.

Kyren caught the ball, dropped back one step, two whip! Quick pass to Matthew.

Caught.

But then CRACK.

Kairo came flying in like a missile, helmet low, shoulder square strip sack. The ball flew out before Matthew could even tuck it.

Fumble. Recovery. Team A ball.

Kyren fell to one knee. The play hadn't lasted three seconds.

From the office, Zalika flinched. She felt the impact in her gut. That's not football that's domination.

Team A marched again. Kairo didn't hesitate. No wasted movements. His passes were clinical. His reads, ruthless.

TOUCHDOWN.

Score: 21–0.

Kyren sits on the field, towel over his head, the weight of failure crashing down like a collapsing tower.

What's wrong with me?

Why can't I see the field?

Why is he always one step ahead?

Elijah sat next to him, helmet still on, eyes wide and glossy.

"…I I can't keep up. I thought I was ready, but out there? I felt… invisible."

Kyren looked at him, his own hands shaking.

"…I felt the same."

They sat in silence. Just the two of them, staring down the storm inside.

Cloe jogged over, knelt in front of Kyren.

"You're not losing because you suck. You're losing because you're trying to be perfect. You're trying to outsmart a guy who doesn't care about being smart he only cares about winning."

Kyren blinked. Slowly, he pulled the towel off his head.

"…You're right."

Final drive.

Team D's defense held for two plays, but Kairo was flowing now like water with spikes. He dropped back, pump-faked Elijah so hard he stumbled, rolled out left, and with a flick of the wrist spiral.

End zone. Caught. Clean. Beautiful.

TOUCHDOWN.

Final score: Team A – 28, Team D – 0.

The whistle blew like a slap to the soul.

Some players threw their helmets. Others dropped to their knees. Elijah stood still, his body numb.

He didn't even land one hit.

Kyren walked slowly to midfield, shoulders heavy.

Kairo was already there, tossing the ball in one hand like a king tossing an apple.

He grinned.

"Checkmate, Architect. I dismantled your design."

He leaned closer, voice low and venomous.

"If you want to beat me… you'll need more than talent. You'll need obsession."

He tossed the ball into Kyren's chest and walked off, his team chanting his name.

Elijah walked up beside Kyren, silent.

He looked up at him, guilt written across his face.

"…We really lost."

Kyren didn't answer immediately. He looked at the scoreboard one last time. Then at the ball in his hands. Then at the fire now burning in his chest.

"…Yeah," he said.

"But next time… I'll be the one dismantling kings."

He turned toward the locker room, eyes cold. Focused. Rebuilt.

Zaine strode into the locker room, the echo of his cleats against the floor slicing through the silence like a blade. The room was split Team A was grinning, celebrating quietly. Team Z, on the other hand, sat with heads down, dripping in sweat and disappointment.

Zaine's voice cut through the air, calm but commanding.

"Well done, both of you. Good game. Team A, Team Z… don't worry it's just one loss."

He turned to face Team A, his eyes sharp, almost amused.

"I heard what you were telling Team Z after the game. Gotta say… you were right. But also, completely wrong."

Team A's smiles faltered. Team Z glanced up, eyes flickering with curiosity.

Zaine stepped forward, placing a hand on a bench between the teams. His tone shifted, carrying the weight of experience and ego.

"Let me tell you something my coach used to drill into me... He always said he preferred a losing team over a winning one. Know why?"

He let the question hang. Silence. Then:

"Because a team that loses has something burning inside them a reason to fight back. They have hunger. Drive. Grit. A goal. And that goal is simple: win next time. They don't rest. They sharpen themselves until they cut through everything."

He pivoted, locking eyes with Team A.

"But a winning team? Most of them get drunk off a single victory. They forget the bigger picture. They think they've arrived just because they crossed one checkpoint."

Then he turned to Team Z, a fire igniting in his voice.

"I'm not saying I love losers, and I'm not saying I hate blind, cocky winners. I just know this I don't want either. What I want is a new breed. A team that wins, and still isn't satisfied. A team that loses, and doesn't crumble. I want monsters who refuse to stop climbing no matter the scoreboard."

He looked at all of them now, voice rising.

"So, hold your damn heads up, Team Z. This wasn't a loss. This was your warning shot. From here on, we don't play to compete we play to dominate. You hear me?"

Kyren slowly stood, a grin creeping across his face. "Yeah… now that's what I'm talkin' about."

Zaine smirked.

"Good."