Noah rarely visited places like this. The café was warm, the scent of roasted beans filling the air, and the walls were covered with framed photos of local teams holding trophies from decades past. It felt like a place where time slowed down, where athletes came not just to eat but to belong.
Leo had picked it, of course. "Best hot chocolate in the city," he said, already halfway through his second cup before Noah even sat down.
The others filtered in one by one, filling the room with laughter and the sound of sliding chairs. Tommy, the backup keeper, was loudly recounting some ridiculous save he claimed to have made in training. "Full stretch, fingertips, like Spider-Man!" he said, stretching his arm out dramatically.
"You also fell flat on your face right after," the winger cut in, grinning.
"Details, details," Tommy muttered.
Even Riku came, though he hung back near the door for a moment before finally sliding into a chair across from Noah. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes stayed alert, scanning the room as if expecting something to jump out at him.
"You ever relax?" Noah asked, not intending to sound hostile, but the words slipped out anyway.
Riku raised an eyebrow. "This is me relaxing."
Leo grinned, tossing a sugar packet at Noah. "You're just mad he's not grinning like you."
The conversation shifted to favorite players. Leo went on about Steven Gerrard, while one of the defenders swore by Andrea Pirlo's passing. Noah mostly listened, sipping his drink quietly, but part of him felt… warm. He wasn't used to moments like these. Back home, football was just something he did, not something he lived. He'd never been the type to go out of his way to bond—avoiding risk meant avoiding attention. Safer that way.
When his phone buzzed, he excused himself to take a call from his mom.
"Noah! How's everything? Eating properly? Making any real friends yet?"
He smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine."
They talked briefly about school, how quiet the house felt without him, how his little sister kept asking when he'd come visit. When the call ended, he stayed there a moment longer, looking at his reflection in the café's window. She still thought of him as the kid who never climbed the big slide because it was "too steep." The kid who never took risks. He clenched his phone and muttered, "Not anymore."
When he returned, Riku was near the window, voice low as he spoke in Japanese on his phone. Noah caught fragments, not enough to understand everything, but the tone was unmistakable—tight, defensive.
"I'm doing what I have to… No, don't call me back about this. I said I'll handle it."
Riku ended the call quickly when he noticed Noah watching. "What?"
"Nothing," Noah said, though his curiosity gnawed at him.
Later, Harper called everyone to the indoor pitch for an "optional" training session. Optional in name only—everyone showed up. Instead of drills, Harper had set up a mini five-a-side tournament with teams shuffled every round. Losers did push-ups, winners earned bragging rights.
The first game was chaos. Noah ended up on the same team as Riku and Leo, and within two minutes they were arguing over positioning. Riku wanted high tempo and risk, Noah wanted control and patience, and Leo wanted to score flashy goals regardless of either philosophy. They lost badly.
"Are you guys trying to play together or prove who's loudest?" Harper called out dryly.
Something shifted in the next game. Riku still barked orders, but he adjusted slightly, checking over his shoulder more often before committing to runs. Noah trusted his vision, letting the glowing lane guide him as he threaded a risky pass—normally he would have played it safe, but not tonight. Riku latched onto it, flicked it behind him with a no-look backheel, and Leo smashed it in.
They froze for half a second, then all three grinned despite themselves.
"Nice ball," Riku said afterward, almost grudgingly.
"I always see the lane," Noah said. "Just trust it now."
By the end of the session, everyone was laughing, even after Leo faked a foul so badly that one of the defenders mockingly rolled on the ground next to him. Riku cracked a smile—small, quick, but real.
Afterward, Noah sat by the sideline, catching his breath. Riku joined him quietly, sipping from his water bottle. "You're different lately," Riku said without looking at him.
"Yeah," Noah said, staring at the turf. "I'm tired of playing safe."
"Safe is easy," Riku replied. "I don't know if I even remember what safe feels like." He hesitated, almost uncharacteristically. "Back home, safe meant forgotten."
The tone was different from his usual sharp edge, softer somehow. Noah glanced at him, wanting to ask more, but Riku stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Good session," he muttered before leaving.
Walking home later, Noah kept thinking about that phone call and Riku's words. It was strange—he still annoyed him, still clashed with him, but now he was starting to understand him.
That night, the console flickered to life:
[Bond Status Updated – Team Cohesion: Moderate Increase]
[Rivalry Bond: Riku Sato – Emotional Depth Strengthened. Competitive Edge Lv2 Stabilized.]
[Bond with Leo Barnes – Trust Link Stable at Lv2.]
"You are no longer playing alone."
For the first time since joining the academy, it really felt true.