Seconds later, as they emerged from the tunnel leading to the court, the players heard the crowd’s roar like distant thunder. The name “Sanu” echoed through the arena. The entrance would be made in single file, one by one, with individual introductions to the public—a new detail added by the organizers to make the tournament more “spectacular,” according to the official announcement.
Kelvin glanced at the stands and saw his mother with her hands pressed to her chest, his father filming on his phone. Júlia, his classmate, was there too, standing beside other students from school, smiling when she saw Kelvin walk in. Naturally, Kelvin smiled back when he saw her.
On the other side of the court, the Zeltin team was already waiting. Bruno Rocco and Elias exchanged passes and challenging looks. When Bruno spotted Kelvin, he lifted his chin in provocation. Elias subtly pointed toward Ian and said something to his teammate, who laughed. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾·𝗇𝖾𝗍
“Kelvin, ready?”, Dante asked.
Kelvin took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second.
“More than ever”,he replied.
Kazana’s name was called first, and he entered with his head held high, an expression of stone. The crowd erupted.
Then came João Vitor, Danilo, Márcio, Victor, Rodrigo, Dante, Ian, Felipe, Oliveira... and finally Kelvin.
“Wearing number eleven... Kelvin!”
The Sanu stands went wild. It felt as though the arena itself was shaking. Kelvin walked to the center of the court, raising just one hand in greeting. There, beside Kazana and the others, he felt he was exactly where he was meant to be.
Across from them, the Zeltin players stood waiting. Bruno Rocco recognized him from afar and smiled with disdain.
“Still trying to play ball, huh, Kelvin?”
Kelvin didn’t answer. He just looked at him as if he were invisible. Bruno sensed the indifference and ground his teeth.
“This guy talks too much”, Ian muttered as he approached Kelvin. “He’ll be quiet again soon.”
“Focus on the game”, Kazana cut in. “Stop provoking, Ian. If you’re going to do it, do it after the match.”
The referee called the captains for the coin toss. Kazana won and chose to start with the ball. The match would begin in seconds.
Kelvin positioned himself on the left wing. Ian and Rodrigo stood just behind, ready for quick exchanges. Felipe was wide on the opposite flank. Kazana stayed in the center. The Sanu team looked like a machine about to come to life.
The ball was placed at the center spot. The referee was ready. The event announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers:
“Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come! First round of the Regional Tournament! Sanu versus Zeltin! Let the show begin!”
Kazana signaled for the team to get into position. Kelvin patted his face twice, waking up his focus. Dante took a deep breath and adjusted his socks. Rodrigo cracked his knuckles, as he always did before kickoff.
Seconds later, the whistle blew and Kazana rolled the ball backward, starting the match. The roar of the crowd turned into a constant hum, as if every step, every touch, was accompanied by thousands of voices in the background.
Dante received it, immediately spun around, and passed to Rodrigo, who was already looking to create space. Kelvin, on the left wing, stepped forward, testing the opposing full-back, measuring the distance.
“Let’s work it, let’s work it!”, shouted Kazana, dropping a few meters back to draw the defense and open space for the flanks.
Zeltin came out pressing high. Elias charged at Ian, almost stealing the ball. But Ian spun quickly and returned it to Dante, who delivered a pinpoint pass to Rodrigo in the middle.
“Good one!”, Rafael shouted.
Further up the pitch, Bruno Rocco waited for a counterattack. He and Elias exchanged glances, trying to sense the perfect moment to exploit Sanu’s defense.
Kelvin got the ball on the wing, glued it to his foot, and drove forward. The opposing full-back retreated, but Kelvin cut inside and tried to feed Kazana. The captain held it, spun past the defender, and shot with his right—but Zeltin’s goalkeeper was alert and made a difficult save.
The crowd roared anyway.
“Good one, Kazana! That’s it!”, Dante encouraged.
On the next play, Zeltin responded quickly. Elias received it on the right, advanced, and sent in a low cross to Bruno. Márcio anticipated, intercepted, and cleared for a throw-in.
“You’re not getting past, Bruno”, Márcio said, staring the opponent down.
Bruno didn’t answer, but his eyes promised he’d try again.
At the throw-in, Kazana quickly gathered those nearby:
“Keep moving the ball. They’re drowning in their own pressure. The goal will come”
Seconds later, play resumed with a throw-in for Zeltin. The ball went quickly to Elias, who spun past Rodrigo and sent it into the middle. João Vitor tried to intercept but mistimed it. It fell cleanly to Bruno Rocco, who, with one precise touch, left Márcio on the ground.
The visiting fans cheered, and some provocative shouts echoed from the stands. Bruno advanced with a smirk, already thinking about the shot—but before he could pull the trigger, Oliveira appeared like lightning.
“Where did you come from?”
It was a perfect tackle—silent and precise. He slipped his foot in front of the ball so naturally it was like taking a toy from a child. Bruno barely understood what had happened.
“Stay quiet”, Oliveira muttered flatly, already controlling the ball and surging forward.
His burst of speed broke Zeltin’s first defensive line. Dante sprinted down the right, Kazana moved into the center, but Oliveira kept control and, at just the right moment, found Kelvin with a diagonal pass that cut through half the team.
The number eleven took it in stride, shifted it onto his stronger foot, and before the defender could close the space, fired low and hard into the left corner. The net shook violently.
“GOOOOAL FOR SANU!”, the announcer’s voice was nearly drowned by the crowd’s roar.
Kelvin ran toward the stands where his family and classmates were. He raised his fist, feeling the energy of the crowd with him. Dante and Ian quickly caught up, jumping on him in celebration.
“Told you they’d shut up!”, Ian laughed.
“There’s still a lot of game left, Ian”, Kazana reminded him, already pulling everyone together. “But that’s it! Pressure, focus, and let’s finish this game”
Oliveira, silent as ever, just gave a slight nod, breathing deeply, ready for the next play. Inside, he felt no emotion—only the satisfaction of a job well done.