> Sunday evening. In his room, still wearing his dusty shorts, Tesuka lay on his back, curious. He closed his eyes, and in his mind, a sound echoed.
Ball!!
A holographic panel appeared:
_________________________________
> !!!
#Ball
Age: 6 years
Position: Attacking Midfielder
Overall Rating: C-
Stamina (Rank B-): 5/20
Speed (Rank B-): 1/20
Control (Rank A-): 2/20
Dribbling (Rank A-)
Vision (Rank B+): 14/20
Shooting (Rank C+): 9/20 => 14/20 update!!
Agility (Rank S-): 1/20
Mental (Rank S-): 1/20
Focus (Rank B-): 6/20
Long Pass (Rank C+): 13/20
Short Pass (Rank B-): 3/20
Jumping (Rank F-): 3/20 New!!
Header (Rank F-): 3/20 New!!
Skills:
Flick Over (Rank B+)
Fake Shot (Rank A)
Step Over (Rank A)
Cut (Rank A)
Spin Move (Rank A)
Ultimate Skill : Time regress.
_______________________________
Tesuka frowned.
— Ball... I was B- just some days ago. Now it's C-? Did I go backward or what?
But after looking deeper… he understood.
— Wait… there are new stats now. Like jumping and heading. And they're super low. Maybe… maybe that's why my overall dropped?
> Yes. You got it.
— Okay. But how come those stats just showed up now? You were off these days, no surprises bcs you did have time to update your function, right?
> Were you good at headers in your past life? Or had great jumping?
> No. You tried those in this match. That's why they appeared now. The system recognized it.
— So... If I try new actions, more stats can pop out?
> Some yes, but you're already unlocked those (jumping and headers) the other one will only be unlocked when you're qualify, including Some that a are part of main stats. You'll understand... later.
— Tch. I can't wait for that day.
>Be patient.
Monday morning, Tesuka woke up that day with a strange feeling of emptiness.
The sky was clear, cloudless, and no alarm reminded him that school or training was waiting. Day off. No classes, no practice with the team.
He lingered in bed for a while, then got up and stretched. The fresh morning air of Buyenzi came through the small window of his room. He quickly made up his mind: he would take a walk around the neighborhood. Tesuka had decided to stretch his legs before devoting the afternoon to a personal training session.
Around ten o'clock, Tesuka was wandering through the dusty alleys of Buyenzi, greeting the shopkeepers and absentmindedly playing with a ball he bounced off his foot. Then, turning into a larger alley where the crumbling walls acted like natural bleachers, a ruckus of shouting caught his attention. He spotted a group of teens arguing loudly.
— "Hey, you're one short on your team!"
— "Shut up, you're going in goal like always!"
— "There's not even a goalkeeper, idiot!"
A small crowd had formed around an improvised pitch: a dirt dead-end framed by decaying walls. Two small metal goals. No nets. No boundaries. No referee. Just unspoken rules: six players per team. Ground shots only—if it doesn't stay low, it's not a goal.
A teenager with shorts slung over his shoulder noticed Tesuka leaning against a wall.
— "Hey, kid! You here to watch or what?"
— "Yeah, let him play. We're one man short. We need someone on the right."
Tesuka approached without a word. They were all about 15, bulkier, more arrogant.
— "You'll play right-back. Just defend and give the ball to Tecosh. No dribbling, alright? This ain't school."
Tesuka nodded, pulling on the team shorts without protest.
The ball was thrown into the air to start the match—old school, no referee, no whistle. Just a shout:
— "Game on! Let's go!"
A cloud of dust kicked up at the first sprint. The thuds of shoes on the ground, the shouting, the shoulder clashes… everything pulsed with raw energy.
Tesuka, positioned at right-back, tried to blend into the game. He kept a cool head, but every step sent tremors through his thighs. He hadn't fully recovered his energy. His legs, still heavy from his morning walk, responded a beat too late. But his eyes… they were sharp, analyzing everything: runs, spaces, imbalances.
His first touch of the ball came from a clumsy pass by Labine. He controlled it, looked up… and Kamselem pounced. A quick move, a flash of a nutmeg. The ball slipped between Tesuka's legs as he tried a late cutback… but slipped and fell.
He got up right away, brushed off the dust. No one laughed at him. On the contrary, a voice from the opposing team muttered, almost with pity:
— "Cute little guy… he's about to find out what real street football feels like."
The others didn't even react. For them, humiliations like this were part of the game. He wasn't a target. Not yet.
But the game didn't stop. Zakaria shouted:
— "Get back! You left the wing wide open!"
Tesuka obeyed. Falling back, he observed. And when the ball came to his side again, he received a lofted pass from Toto. Shaky control, awkward bounce, and pressure from Joshua charging in.
Tesuka tried to buy time, but his opponent's physicality overwhelmed him. He lost the ball, jostled in the ribs. No fouls here. The game went on, rough and free.
— "Told you not to let your little brother play!" Brillant shouted at Lakin, laughing.
But Lakin shrugged.
— "Shut up. If he wakes up, you'll cry."
On the sidelines, a woman paused her laundry to glance over. Two kids watched from a window, filming on a phone. The tension rose, as it always does when a street match starts getting interesting—for no clear reason.
The ball came back quickly to Tesuka's team. A drive down the left by Tecosh ended with a poor cross. The ball rolled to the right… right into Tesuka's zone.
He controlled it—this time, calmly. Joshua came again, fast. But something changed.
A glance. A half-step feint.
Tesuka shifted his weight.
> Step Over (Rank A).
Joshua hesitated, slowed down. Then, suddenly:
> Cut (Rank A) to the inside.
Hmm. What just happened? Joshua couldn't process it—he slipped slightly. Tesuka had shaken him off with a subtle double move. He accelerated—not to show off, not even to shoot, but calmly fixing his eyes on two defenders ahead. He sent a perfect low pass to Zakaria.
The players had seen what Tesuka had just done to Joshua. And the teasing began.
— "Ouuuuuuh! Joshua, aren't you ashamed? Slipped on a shadow!"
— "It was the kid? HE made you fall? Yo, take off your cleats, bro!"
Laughter exploded. Not aimed at Tesuka. Just shared joy: the kid had spoken—with his feet.
Joshua himself smiled, but gritted his teeth as he jogged back:
— "Alright, kid… you've got skills. But I haven't shown you my real game yet."
Tesuka didn't answer. He wiped his forehead and dropped back into defense.
He knew: this was only the beginning.
But what was bound to happen… did happen.
A poorly controlled ball by Joël gave Tesuka a golden opportunity. In that instant, the noise of the match seemed to fade away. The dust, the shouting, the ball bouncing off the bricks… everything vanished into a silent bubble where only Tesuka existed.
He lifted his head, eyes sharp and focused. He didn't have an impressive build or muscular arms. But that ball? It obeyed. Thigh control: perfect. The leather slowly descended.
And then...
> Step Over (Rank A), followed by a Cut (Rank A).
A pure choreography. Kagabo lunged... into thin air. He froze, knees bent, eyes scanning for the ball as if it had vanished.
— "WAAH! Kagabo, you want crutches or what?!" shouted Zakaria, laughing.
— "He wiped you out like an ink stain on a notebook!" added Tecosh, cracking up.
Even the opponents went briefly silent, surprised to see Kagabo — one of the toughest markers — fall for a feint by a kid they hadn't taken seriously.
But Tesuka didn't stop there. He continued his move with disconcerting calm. No raised arms, no shouting. He drifted slightly to the right, lured Brillant in, then with a simple outside flick of his right foot, slipped the ball between Kamselem's legs to Toto.
Toto only had to tap the ball in with the inside of his foot into the small empty goal. No shouting, no keeper to beat — just the precision of the play.
1–0.
The kid hadn't flinched.
Toto, surprised, raised his arms, turned around, and saw Tesuka calmly walking back.
— "Yoooo, that kid's a magician!" shouted Labine.
Zakaria jumped on his back.
— "Kid! Come back more often, yeah? I need to breathe with assists like that!"
On the other side, tension was rising. Brillant gave Joël a harsh tap on the shoulder.
— "You lost the ball! Look what mess you put us in!"
Joël, annoyed, shot back:
— "Calm down, man, where were you when he made the pass?!"
The bickering escalated a bit, but everyone knew that move was going to stick in their minds. Even a doughnut vendor on the edge of the field, watching only with one eye, muttered between customers:
— "That little one, he won't stay in Buyenzi."
The ball was already back in play. The street, which never gives a break, resumed its frantic rhythm. But in the looks, in the tougher, sharper, more deliberate movements, you could feel that something had changed.
He was no longer the kid tolerated just because they were one man short.
He was a problem to handle.
A real player.
A threat. A name to remember.
TESUKA.
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