"Hoooh… Not bad…"
Aaron's voice came first, light and surprised, followed by the clap of his palm against Damien's back.
"You got it past him. That was clean," he said, breath still heavy but grinning. "Didn't look like much power, but you picked your spot."
Rin joined in, jogging up beside them. "Tch. Placed it just right. No spin, low curl—keeper didn't even see it coming. Nicely done."
Damien's smirk curled at the edge. "Beginner's luck."
Aaron laughed. "You're really gonna use that line?"
"Luck's a skill," Damien replied with a shrug. "Just rare to see it used properly."
A few more of the boys offered nods or light claps on the shoulder, the shared rhythm of team recognition settling in—brief, genuine. Damien didn't revel in it, but he let it happen. Let it soak just enough to be acknowledged. This wasn't just camaraderie.
It was acceptance.
They moved back into position, but something had changed.
Not just on the field.
Around it.
