The Tokyo CF training stadium vibrated with a strange tension.
The secondary stands were filled with scouts, coaches, members of the pro staff.
A special match had been organized:
Team Pro A
vs
Team Test — the youngsters and trial players.
Kirishima gathered his group.
"Today is not a training session.
It's a judgment.
Either you show you deserve this badge,
or you go home."
They all started to get serious looks.
Then he announced the lineup.
"Central midfielders:
Takuma Hoshino…
and Rikuo Amada."
A shiver ran through the group.
Side by side.
The two opposites.
The prince versus the outsider.
The academy star versus the unknown kid from France.
The Pro Team:
When the pro players walked onto the pitch, even the most confident youngsters swallowed hard.
Massive physiques.
Sharp movements.
An aura of veterans.
And above all…
Rivelinho.
34 years old, Brazilian.
Hair tied in a small knot.
Tattoos running down his arm.
A fluid, dancing style, the ball glued to his foot like an extension of his soul.
And next to him…
Hikaru Minato, 31, the playmaking genius.
Captain of Japan.
The same player Rikuo had watched a few days earlier against South Korea.
A true maestro.
When Rikuo saw him… his heart beat a little faster.
Kick-off
The match started fast.
Takuma, true to himself, completely ignored Rikuo.
Every time he got the ball, he tried something solo.
Every time, he lost it.
Rikuo stayed calm. Patient. Observant.
Then…
the first chance arrived.
Rikuo slipped behind a defender, perfectly free.
"Pass! Here!"
Takuma didn't even look at him.
The pros recovered.
Minato launched a lightning counterattack.
A one-two with Rivelinho.
Instant shot.
Saved by the keeper.
On the bench, Senda sighed.
The Spark after thirty minutes, Rikuo intercepted a ball, cleanly tackling Minato himself.
A move so precise that even the Japanese captain gave him a tiny smile.
Rikuo got up.
Scanned the pitch.
Saw a gap in the pro defense.
A perfect passing lane.
One no normal player would see.
No one except him.
A laser pass.
Millimetric.
Cutting through three lines.
The striker of the test team ran onto it and scored with a low cross shot.
1–0 for the youngsters.
The training stadium exploded.
Takuma stared at him, mouth slightly open—
as if he was seeing Rikuo for the first time.
Rivelinho clapped softly.
"Bon trabalho, garoto… Very good work."
The Pros Get Serious
Leading against the pro team…was dangerous.
Rivelinho jogged back to midfield, relaxed.
"Alright, kids, enough laughing. Let's play."
Minato nodded.
What followed was a storm.
The pros raised the tempo.
Speed ×2.
Precision ×3.
Physicality ×5.
The youngsters suffocated.
And within ten minutes:
Rivelinho dribbled past three defenders → goal.
Minato curled a perfect free kick → post → Rivelinho → goal.
Counterattack → Rivelinho curled it top corner → hat-trick.
3–1 for the pros.
The youngsters were mentally crushed.
Takuma kicked the ground, furious.
"We can't do anything… it's the pro team!"
Some players already lowered their heads.
Others started admiring the stars instead of fighting them.
And Then when Rikuo spoke.
Cold.
Calm.
Unshakeable.
"Stop trembling.
Stop admiring them.
Look at yourselves — you're here for a reason.
You all deserve to be here.
You were chosen.
So show why."
Everyone stared at him, stunned.
No one had ever heard Rikuo talk like this.
He nodded toward the pros.
"They're incredible players, yes.
But they're not gods.
Stop playing like children.
Play like men.
Like players fighting for their place."
Then he finished, eyes burning:
"Give me the ball.
I'll handle the rest."
The Test Team Awakes
A mental switch.
Takuma stepped closer to him.
He took a deep breath.
"Alright, Rikuo… I'll play with you. I trust you."
Rikuo simply nodded.
"Good. Push forward. I need you up there."
The match resumed.
Suddenly, the passes flowed toward Rikuo.
As if drawn to him.
He always positioned himself perfectly.
Always in the right zone.
Always one step ahead.
And every time he touched the ball…
The King appeared.
Short dribbles.
Long dribbles.
Nutmegs.
Body feints.
Panoramic vision.
Dictating the tempo.
The field belonged to him.
Even Minato frowned.
"This kid… he sees everything."
Takuma, hesitant at first, got swept up by Rikuo's energy.
He started running harder.
Asking for the ball.
Playing simple, efficient football.
Enjoying himself.
"Rikuo! Yours!"
"Got it! Keep moving!"
One-twos.
Three-touch combinations.
A backheel flick.
A pass in behind.
The pro staff started rising to their feet, stunned.
The youngsters were on fire.
The test team was dominating.
Will they be able to comeback..?