The first time Arya stepped onto the field of the Garuda Jaya Middile School of Football Club, he felt like he had entered another world. The rhythmic sound of balls bouncing, the sharp whistle of the coach, the laughter and shouts of players calling for passes—it was overwhelming, yet exhilarating. He adjusted his jersey, feeling the weight of expectation settle on his shoulders. Unlike most of the other first-years, he wasn't here to learn football. He was here to prove himself.
And that was exactly why people hated him.
Arya had always been a step ahead of kids his age. His dribbling was sharp, his passing precise, and his instinct for goal-scoring undeniable. It didn't take long for the coach to take notice. What should have been a dream come true quickly turned into a nightmare. The senior players—especially the third-years—weren't happy. They had spent years climbing the ranks, waiting for their turn, only to see a first-year suddenly getting a shot at the main team?
Rumors spread.
"His dad must have bribed the coach."*
"There's no way a freshman gets into the starting lineup just like that."
"Talent can't be bought, but opportunities can."
Arya could feel their stares, hear the sharp whispers as he walked down the hallway or joined training sessions. Even among his fellow first-years, some began to doubt him.
At first, he tried to ignore it.
But when his teammates started passing the ball past him instead of to him, he knew this wasn't just jealousy. Sometimes, the seniors even seem to deliberately make hard tackles. This was resistance.
And yet, in the middle of it all, there was one person who didn't judge him.
Reza.
Unlike the other seniors, Reza didn't see Arya as a threat. In fact, he often gave him advice after practice. One afternoon, after a frustrating session where Arya barely received any passes, he sat alone on the bench, fiddling with his shoelaces in frustration.
A water bottle suddenly landed beside him.
"Drink up."
Arya looked up to see Reza standing there, arms crossed.
"You're too busy trying to prove something," Reza said, taking a seat beside him. "Let your game do the talking."
Arya clenched his fists. "What's the point? They've already decided I don't belong here."
Reza smirked. "Then make them change their minds. You've got talent, kid. But if you keep worrying about what people think, you'll never be great."
"It's the same, there won't be any difference, jealous people will still be jealous" Arya left while drinking.
But, for the first time in weeks, he didn't feel alone.
But things didn't change overnight. Arya always starts his training independently and does some warm-ups independently. Of course the seniors' views did'nt change, especially, they also considered Arya to take their position in the main place.
During a match against another School, Arya faced a defender who could read all his movements. No matter how many times he tried to break through, the player always reacted first. The seniors also started blaming him as if the goal scoring deadlock was his fault.
Frustration began to consume him.
"Relax," Reza's voice cut through the noise. "Football isn't just about speed. It's about rhythm. Control the game—don't let the game control you."
Arya took a deep breath.
Instead of forcing his way through, he started playing with his pace, shifting gears unpredictably. And finally—he got past the defender.
They still lost in the quarter-finals, but Arya had gained something far more valuable than just a victory.
With the season ending, they just got to the quarter-final in the junior high school mayor's cup. Then the third-years stepped down from the team to focus on their graduation exams. On the day of their farewell ceremony, Reza stood before the juniors, delivering his final words.
"Football isn't just about skill," he said. "It's about heart. About trust. No matter how far you go, never forget that."
Reza said this while glancing at Arya. And with that, he walked away.
Arya had always thought they would meet again one day.
But then, his life changed.
When he left Middle School, he left football.
And now, years later, under the dazzling lights of Starfield, Arya stood frozen, staring at the all-too-familiar figure before him.
"…Wait. You—"
"It's been a while, rookie," Reza said, hands in his pockets, his signature smirk still the same.
And just like that, all those memories came rushing back.
"Btw, I was surprised you weren't called up for the U-17 World Cup last year. Even though you were only fifteen, you were already better than some of the guys on that team." Reza said.
Arya's expression didn't change. "It's not that I wasn't chosen," he replied, his voice calm but distant. "I just wasn't allowed."
Reza raised an eyebrow before chuckling. "Still as dramatic as ever, huh?" He patted Arya's shoulder. "Whatever happened, I'm sure you had your reasons."
Arya simply shrugged.
But then, he turned the conversation around. "And what about you? I never saw your name in any high school tournaments."
Reza leaned back slightly, stretching his arms. "Well… talent is one thing, but money and connections are just as important. It wasn't easy getting a scholarship or pay tuition fee, so I ended up at an average high school. Not exactly the best football program, but I still played when I could. My team never made it far, though."
Arya nodded. He had always known that football wasn't just about skill—it was about opportunities, and not everyone got the same ones.
Reza's eyes narrowed slightly. "But what about you? How the hell did you end up in an elite school for nerds?"
Arya hesitated for a moment before answering, "Maybe I decided to focus on studying."
At that, Raka let out a small chuckle, trying to suppress his laughter. "You? Studying? That's the funniest thing I've heard all day." "Not funny" Arya replied.
Tara, who had been quiet until now, simply smiled faintly, as if she had been expecting that response.
Before anything could escalate, Reza stepped in. "Alright, alright, let's not start a fight here," he said, glancing at Arya. "But tell me something—do you still love football?"
Arya didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifted toward a group of kids juggling a ball nearby, their laughter filling the air.
Did he still love football?
His fingers clenched slightly.
Then, something clicked in his mind.
"Wait a minute," Arya muttered, turning back to Reza. "How do you even know I go to that school?"
Reza smirked and tilted his head toward Tara.
"She told me," he admitted casually. "she is my cousin, she happens to be smart and got a scholarship at Semesta High, and I also invited her to watch you backdays in some football match, so she knows you and told me about you."
Tara, still smiling, raised her fingers in a peace sign.
Arya frowned slightly, glancing at her. "You never mentioned meeting him before."
"You never asked," she replied nonchalantly.
Arya sighed, shaking his head. He should've known.
"Anyway," he continued, "why exactly did you invite me here?"
Reza grinned. "Straight to the point, huh?"
He leaned in slightly. "After I found out you were in Semesta High, I figured I'd reach out. I wanted to see if you'd be up for playing again. Just for fun—like the old days. No pressure, no questions."
Arya didn't say anything.
His eyes flickered toward Raka, who had already started chatting with some of the other players there, as if he had always belonged.
Reza suddenly lowered his voice. "By the way… do you know who we're playing against tonight?"
Arya raised an eyebrow. "No. Someone important?"
Reza's smirk widened. "I think you'll be interested." He paused for effect. "It's Grand Fortuna High."
Arya's breath hitched slightly.
*Grand Fortuna High*—one of the top football schools in the city. The place where some of the best young players trained. and why would they want to come here?
And before he could even fully process that information, Reza leaned in once more, his voice carrying a hint of mischief.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said. "Do you remember a certain senior who once tackled you on purpose back in middle school?"
Arya's expression darkened slightly.
Flashbacks surfaced—the sharp pain in his ankle, the smirk on that guy's face, the way the coaches dismissed it as an 'accident.'
"Yeah," Arya muttered. "I remember."
Reza's smirk turned almost sinister.
"He's on their team."