Eight years ago…
The sun hung high over the pitch, casting long shadows on the freshly cut grass of the football field. The air buzzed with excitement, the kind that prickled at the back of your neck and set your heart racing. Adélard could hardly contain himself, his small frame vibrating with energy as he stood at the edge of the field, watching the older boys prepare for their match.
He was eleven years old then, a scrappy kid with tousled hair and a determination that burned bright. His father stood off to the side, a proud smile on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. Leon, only three, clung to their father's leg, wide-eyed and full of wonder. Adélard could hear his little brother's delighted laughter as he pointed at the players, marveling at the spectacle before him.
The whistle blew, and the game kicked off. Adélard watched, entranced, as the older boys darted across the field, the ball flying between them like a living thing. The rhythm of their movements called to him, an almost hypnotic dance that made his heart race.
"Can I play?" Adélard asked, tugging on his father's sleeve.
His father chuckled softly, ruffling Adélard's hair. "Not yet, lad. Just watch for now. One day, you'll be out there."
That day felt far off, but in his heart, he believed it. The passion surged within him, igniting his spirit. He could almost taste the thrill of the game, the satisfaction of scoring a goal, the cheers of the crowd. He imagined the feeling of glory, the pride swelling in his chest as he made his father beam with pride.
As the match progressed, Adélard's attention sharpened. One player, in particular, caught his eye—a tall boy with a fierce intensity in his gaze. The way he commanded the field, weaving through defenders with ease, made Adélard's heart pound. It was clear he was a prodigy, and Adélard could feel the fire igniting within himself as he watched.
In a surge of bravery, he shouted, "Go on, Marcus! Show them what you've got!"
His father turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You know him?"
"Yeah! He's amazing!" Adélard beamed. "I want to play like him one day!"
"Then you keep practicing, Adélard. You'll get there."
The game continued, and the crowd cheered, filling the air with vibrant energy. But as the minutes ticked by, the score remained even. Adélard's heart sank a little, wishing he could jump in and help.
Finally, in a pivotal moment, Marcus broke free from the pack, sprinting toward the goal. Adélard held his breath, willing the boy forward. The keeper lunged, but Marcus was too quick. With a powerful kick, he sent the ball soaring into the net.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Adélard's heart soared. He clapped and jumped, feeling the adrenaline rush through him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be out there on that field, to feel the wind in his hair and the joy of the game.
As the match wound down, his father caught Adélard's eye and gave him an encouraging nod. "You ready?" he asked, gesturing toward the field.
Adélard's heart raced. "Can I?"
"Of course! You've earned your chance."
With that, his father lifted him up onto the sidelines. Adélard's pulse quickened, the thrill of anticipation surging through him. He stepped forward, each footfall feeling heavier than the last.
The older boys greeted him with cheers, their encouragement filling him with confidence. "What's your name, little guy?" one of them called.
"Adélard!" he shouted, his voice ringing with determination.
"You ready to show us what you've got?"
He nodded vigorously, the weight of the moment settling over him like a blanket of warmth. As he took a spot on the field, he could feel the fire igniting in his chest, the belief that he could be just like Marcus.
The game began anew, and the intensity soared. Adélard moved with a fluidity that surprised him, darting past players, weaving between their legs, and guiding the ball with a skill he didn't know he possessed. The cheers of the crowd became a distant roar, his focus narrowing to the ball and the goal ahead.
In a moment of clarity, he spotted an opening. He dribbled toward the net, heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the game. Just as he neared the goal, he felt a surge of energy course through him. With all his might, he kicked the ball, sending it flying past the keeper into the back of the net.
The crowd erupted, and Adélard stood frozen for a heartbeat, disbelief washing over him. Then, the cheers crashed down like waves, and the older boys rushed to him, lifting him up on their shoulders.
"You did it!" they shouted, laughter echoing in the air.
His father's proud gaze met his, eyes gleaming with pride. "That's my boy!" he called, clapping his hands. Leon squealed with delight, waving his tiny fists in the air, a little ball of joy.
Adélard felt invincible, the world around him blurring as the thrill of the moment enveloped him. He had tasted victory, felt the rush of being part of something greater.
But the vivid memory began to fade, melting into the backdrop of his current reality. Adélard shook his head, dispelling the images of his childhood glory, the fleeting moments of joy that now felt like a distant dream. The fire he had seen in Leon's eyes was a mirror, reflecting the passion and hope he had buried deep within himself.
He realized, then, that the bond between them was more than just brotherhood. It was a shared flame, flickering against the harsh winds of their lives, one that he couldn't let extinguish. Adélard made a silent promise to himself—he would fight for that fire, not just for Leon but for himself too.
The market bustled around him, the present tugging at his sleeve, but in his heart, the echoes of the past lingered like the warmth of the sun. He would find a way to reignite his dreams, to reclaim the hope he thought lost. One day, he vowed, they would rise above the shadows that threatened to consume them both.
For now, though, he would protect Leon's light with everything he had. And in doing so, he would rediscover his own.