The iron gate creaked as it was pushed open. Gabriel took a hesitant step forward, his eyes scanning every inch of the field. The grass was patchy, worn down by time and cleats. There were marks of dried mud, forgotten bottle caps, and a strong scent of earth mixed with old sweat. But to him, that place looked like a World Cup stadium.
"This is it," his dad said cheerfully, adjusting his Atlético Mineiro cap and placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "The association's field. I used to play here when I was a kid."
Gabriel smiled. His father's presence gave him a silent kind of safety, like nothing could go wrong.
On the other side of the field, a tanned and wiry man was excitedly gesturing to a group of kids. He wore a yellow vest over an old Flamengo jersey, a whistle around his neck, and a mustache that looked like it had come straight from the 80s.
"That there is Toninho," his father said. "Go talk to him. I'll be right here."
Gabriel took a deep breath, clutched the ball to his chest, and walked across the field with firm steps. The morning breeze rustled his hair, and the sound of kids yelling and kicking the ball grew louder with each step.
"Hey there, champ," Toninho said as he noticed the boy approaching. "New around here?"
"I'm Gabriel. I want to train."
"Ah! Already wanting to play! I like that. How old are you, Gabriel?"
"Five. But I'm turning six soon."
Toninho scratched his head and chuckled.
"You're small, but you've got guts. Let's see how you do, then. Go on, join the kids with the blue vests. Today's free play. I just want to see y'all having fun. But hey… listen to the tips, alright? We all learn by playing here."
Gabriel nodded. His stomach was a drum, but he ran to the blue team, grabbed a vest off the ground, and stepped onto the field.
This was it.
The game started right after. Chaotic. Disorganized. A festival of legs running everywhere. The ball was a wild animal, escaping everyone. No one really knew where to be. It was like the game was happening despite the players.
Gabriel tried to run along with the others, but it was tough. He was the smallest. Always the last to get the ball—and when he did, someone stronger would quickly take it away.
"Calm down… think, Gabriel," he told himself.
He tried to remember what Ego had said:"Football isn't just math. It's chaos."
But here, among sweaty and noisy kids, chaos felt too real.
"Pass it here!" yelled a tall kid.
"Get outta the way, shrimp!" said another, lightly shoving Gabriel with his shoulder.
The boy fell. The ball rolled past him and off to the side. The game continued as if nothing had happened.
He stood up, knees dirty with soil and pride slightly bruised.
That's when he heard:
[Analyzing...]
Meta-Vision activated.
Everything around him seemed to slow down. The kids became blurs. The movements lit up in color. Then, lines appeared on the ground—not perfect, but fragmented. Passing lanes. Escape routes. Zones where the ball might land.
It wasn't chaos anymore.
It was an unfinished map.
He took a breath, ran toward one of the open zones, and waited. The kid with the ball happened to glance up… and passed it.
The ball came bouncing, imperfect. Gabriel controlled it with effort, his chest heaving.
Now...
He looked ahead. Three options. The big guy on the left, the fast one on the right, and an empty space in between them.
He pretended to look at the fast kid and, in one motion, passed into the empty space.
"LOOK AT THAT PASS, KID!" Toninho shouted from the sideline.
The fast one ran, reached it, and scored the goal.
The kids celebrated. A small victory—but for Gabriel, it was everything.
[Mini-Challenge Cleared: Basic Situational Reading][+1 Proficiency: Meta-Vision (Level 4)]
He smiled. Still panting. Knees still sore.
But smiling.
The game ended the way it began: with a whistle.
Toninho blew three short bursts, and the kids stopped, sweaty, covered in dust, like they'd just returned from a mini war. Most ran for the water cooler by the fence, while others dropped onto the grass like it was the end of the World Cup.
Gabriel remained still. His chest rising and falling slowly. Hands on his hips, eyes locked on the goal. The same one where the play had happened—the one built on a read, a decision, and a pass no one had expected from him.
Toninho approached, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt.
"Gabriel, right?"
"Yes, sir," he replied, catching his breath.
"You saw that pass you made?"
Gabriel nodded, quietly.
"Well, that was a grown-up move. Not every kid knows how to read the field. Y'all run around like ants chasing sugar. But you—" he gestured with his hands, tracing the pass in the air, "—you paused. You saw. You thought. Football's a game of the mind, kid. And you seem to have a good one."
Gabriel smiled, shyly. The dust clung to his sweat-streaked face, but he felt light. Alive.
"You gonna keep coming?"
"I want to."
"Then show up often. Sunday morning's the match. Tuesday and Thursday, we train. But listen—no one becomes a star alone. You gotta mess up, learn, and listen. And if you get knocked down, get up and run again."
Gabriel nodded. The coach's words felt like the advice of an old sage. Simple, but deep. Like invisible tattoos.
On the other side of the fence, his dad waited with a big smile and a can of soda.
"Hey there, Gabigol! First time out and already made an assist?" he said, handing over the can. "I'm impressed!"
"I'm not Gabigol, Dad…"
"You are now! That was just like one of those Zidane plays! Insane."
Gabriel chuckled and took a sip. The fizz hit his nose fast, making it sting. But he liked it. It was like his body was still vibrating.
"I thought I'd mess things up at first…" he said softly. "Everyone's bigger than me…"
His dad crouched beside him, removed his cap, and ruffled his son's hair.
"Hey… you've got a gift, Gabriel. And you don't waste a gift. But having talent isn't enough. You gotta chase it. The secret is: courage and brains. You had both today."
Gabriel stared at the empty field. The breeze rustled the oversized vest on his body. That morning, he hadn't just made a pass.
He had made a beginning.
Deep in his mind, like an echo only he could hear, a voice returned:
["The field is the ego's lab. And you've just run your first experiment."]— Jinpachi Ego (AI)
[Status Update Complete][Meta-Vision (Rank E) – Level 4: Can anticipate basic movements. Improved identification of advantage zones.]
The invisible screen faded right after. But Gabriel didn't need to see numbers. He knew. He had improved. He had learned.
More than that… he had felt it.
And at that moment, he understood:Talent wasn't enough. He had to find out who he was… on the field.