The team headed toward the locker room, the echoes of the match still ringing in their minds.
Nakamura glanced around."Guys… where's Kaneko?"
No one answered.
"He left right after the game…" Noguchi said, opening the locker room door.
A heavy silence fell.
Inside, Riccardo approached Nishimura."Remind me… who is Kaneko?" he asked quietly.
"He's our number nine."
"Oh… right." Riccardo nodded.
He removed his shirt as Nishimura rummaged through his bag."Does he always act like this?"
"No, normally he's more confident. But… your presence must have shaken him. Until now, he didn't have a real rival for the starting spot."
"I see."
Nishimura headed for the showers."The idea of not starting in his senior year probably hit him harder than usual."
Shimizu nudged Riccardo in the ribs."You have a really well-trained body… how often do you train?"
Riccardo shifted slightly, sensing the scrutiny. His shoulders were broad, muscles defined but not excessive; years of discipline had sculpted his legs for sprinting, jumping, and enduring contact."I train about six days a week."
"Interesting…" Shimizu studied him closely, making Riccardo fidget a little."You've been doing this for a long time, haven't you?"
"Yes. Ever since I saw my first professional match on TV, I've aimed to become a pro. Day after day."
"Like everyone on this team."
They headed to the showers together, the steam masking the tension of the match.
[That evening, Riccardo returned home.]
The door swung open, and a small dog rushed forward."Hey, Sasha."
Dropping his bag, he knelt to pet the dog."Welcome back!"
A familiar voice followed."Thank you, Cecilia."
Seventeen years old, 1.68 meters tall, dark red hair framing her green eyes.
"How was school today?"
"Good. The soccer team was suspicious at first, but I managed to convince them."
Riccardo slipped off his shoes."And you?"
"The usual lessons…"
They walked down the hallway together."Have you decided about joining the school music club?"
"Not yet."
"What's holding you back?"
They entered the kitchen. Riccardo opened the fridge.
"What are you now, my psychologist?" She asked.
He grabbed a bottle of water.
"No, but you often talk about your private life. Why not now too?"
Cecilia hesitated, uncertainty in her expression."I… don't have the courage to show my singing to others."
Riccardo sipped his water, observing her."That's a real problem…" he said, half-serious, half-ironic.
She offered a crooked smile, not fully convinced."Such a profound diagnosis, doctor," she added, eyebrow raised.
He returned the bottle to the fridge.
Cecilia observes his small movements."How do you deal with anxiety?"
"Who said I don't get anxious?"
Riccardo moved to the sofa.
"Because it doesn't seem like it. I've never seen you hesitate in front of others."
He sat, reflecting."Maybe… I just don't care what others think."
Cecilia studied him, curious."Not even your friends or family?"
"Not always. I listen when it's worth it. Constructive advice matters. Judgment for the sake of superiority doesn't."
Cecilia looked a little deflated."You make it look easy…"
"It's not. I make mistakes… I cause problems. That's the price for living life my way."
She blinked, surprised by his honesty."Sometimes I don't know which of us is older."
"On paper, you are… but you're still a child. You cry over every little thing!" he teased.
"Says the one who still gets mad at video games!"
Riccardo felt the jab land. He lowered his gaze, smiling weakly, calm yet ironic—as if accepting defeat with quiet grace."I understand… everyone has weaknesses…"
Cecilia giggled softly.
"Do me a favor," Riccardo said, sitting up and locking eyes with her, serious and firm. "Try it on Monday."
She met his gaze."Yes… I'll try."
He sighed and stood."Good… And you don't need my opinion to know if you're good at singing. You have a beautiful voice."
He gently patted her forehead before leaving.
"Ouch!"
Riccardo ran off, pretending nothing happened.
"Come back here!"
Cecilia chased him, but he slipped into the bathroom, laughing softly."And I'm the childish one…"