The sky above the training ground shimmered in a golden hue—that evening glow that didn't fade. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of turf and wind.
It was quiet except for the hum of energy that seemed to pulse through the place, like the world itself was alive.
The field stretched endlessly in every direction, the grass a perfect green that never wilted, never bent for too long.
And right there, in the middle of it all, Ayodeji stood — his training kit clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling in rhythm.
Before him, three mannequins waited: two defenders and one keeper. All motionless. All faceless. Yet somehow, they felt alive.
He adjusted his stance and exhaled, and the nearest defender moved. It charged toward him with heavy and sharp steps, attempting to press him
Ayodeji exhaled and shifted his weight, dragging the ball with the inside of his foot. He shifted left, then quickly snapped right, the movement smooth and instinctive.
The mannequin lunged, but the ball was already gone; he'd slipped past it with a clean cut that left a streak of kicked turf behind.
The second defender charged in, faster than he expected.
Deji swerved the ball across his body to the left, forcing the mannequin to shift its balance. Just as it moved to block him, he threw in a quick step-over, his right leg looping around the ball.
The mannequin reacted instantly, stretching its leg to intercept, but that was what he wanted.
Ayodeji tapped the ball forward with his toe, sliding it through the small gap before the mannequin's foot came down.
He brushed past its shoulder, feeling the rush of air as it missed the tackle completely. Behind him, the first defender's footsteps pounded as it chased, but he was already gone.
Ahead, the mannequin goalkeeper waited—tall, still, its head following his every movement like a predator reading prey
Deji slowed, steadying his breath.
He swung his leg—the keeper dived left but it was a fake.
At the last moment, Deji scooped the ball lightly over the diving figure. The ball rose, spinning in the golden light, before dropping behind the keeper's outstretched hand.
As the ball dropped, Deji positioned himself perfectly, ready to finish the play. He lifted his leg — the mannequins reacted instantly, both sliding across the turf in desperate unison to block the shot.
But the shot never came. Ayodeji caught the dropping ball with his thigh, soft enough to kill its bounce. The defenders were already mid-slide, turf spraying beneath them.
Instead of shooting, he shifted his body and dragged the ball sideways with the inside of his foot
The ball rolled lazily across the box, glinting in the amber light. For a heartbeat, everything stood still—the mannequins sprawled in front of him, the keeper still grounded from his earlier dive.
Deji took one calm step and tapped it home.
Thump.
The dull echo carried across the pitch, followed by silence.
For a moment, Deji just stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on the net. Then, slowly, his grin broke through. He pumped his fist as he jumped, laughing breathlessly. "Let's gooo!"
The mannequins froze where they stood, their earlier fluidity gone—just hollow figures again. The ball rolled gently back toward him, respawning at his feet.
FEl voice came in soft, echoing in the pitch.
[Task Complete!]
[Objectives: Dribble past the defenders as many times required]
[Progress: 200/200]
[Kindly rest while your next task is loading]
[Rest time: 00:00:30]
"You bastard," Ayodeji cursed and he sat on the grass, feeling the cool breeze on his skin. "You didn't tell me I still had to score"
Ayodeji thought the task just meant trying to dribble—testing and perfecting skill moves, but when he saw a goalkeeper in the post, he knew he thought otherwise.
It was really hard for him when he began the task. Ayodeji had many dribbles mercilessly cancelled—too slow, too many touches, losing control for even a second, or letting the ball slip too far from his feet.
The system never showed mercy.
Each time the red [FAILED] notification blinked before his eyes, his jaw tightened. Sweat trickled down his chin as he restarted from the beginning—again, and again.
At first, it was chaos. The ball felt heavy, his touches clumsy. It took him fifty failed attempts just to complete his first ten dribbles without losing control.
But with every retry, his movements grew sharper. His steps became lighter. The ball began to stick closer, almost like it was finally starting to understand him.
By the time he finished his final set, he only needed twenty tries. His body still ached, his lungs burned—but this time, he was smiling.
He didn't need the notification from FEI to know that he was improving at a massive rate.
[Did I just hear a complain while I gave you one task that simultaneously boosts more than one ability?]
"Wait...." Ayodeji stammered "When you put it like that, it makes sense but it was really gruesome."
[The point of training is literally for it to be gruesome.]
[Besides when you play training mode in PES, don't they give bonus points for scoring even if it's an empty net?]
"Well..."
[Besides when you start playing, you would see why training had to be intense for you.]
"I understand" Ayodeji sighed "It was just really hard and difficult but I understand"
[I'm glad you do because I'm deducting ten seconds from your rest time]
"What?! Why?!!"
[For nagging and complaining about the training regime]
"But that means my rest time is up" Ayodeji said as he glanced at the timer showing '0:00:00'
[Well, sucks to be you]
Ayodeji opened his mouth in shock "Sometimes I can't tell if you're a guide or a hater"
[╮(＾▽＾)╭]
Ayodeji got off the pitch as the screen flickered new information
[New Task: Play Accurate Through Balls]
[Info: You would have a mannequin striker as your teammate, play accurate through balls to find him]
[Completion Rate: 0/200]
Ayodeji couldn't help but sigh as he read the information. The mannequin striker spawned from thin air, wearing the same bib as him.
It didn't even acknowledge him, just walked up the pitch before staying still. The mannequin keeper and defenders got into position.
"Ah," Ayodeji kicked the ball to a glowing circle down the pitch that highlighted where the ball should be placed. "I would have really used those ten seconds"
Like it didn't care about Ayodeji's feelings, the system chimed
[Begin Task]
Ayodeji wasted no time, kicking the ball forward as he spotted his 'teammate' run forward.
***
Ayodeji opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling fan as it wobbled lazily above him. He was sprawled across his bed, letting out an exhale.
Three days had passed since the checkup.
The doctor had poked, scanned, and tested him again and again, looking for something, anything that explained how his body had suddenly gone from frail to perfectly healthy.
They found nothing.
Now, Ayodeji was back home, discharged and bored out of his mind.
The faint hum of a generator outside mixed with the chatter of a news anchor coming from the living room TV.
He felt like the smell of disinfectant still clung to him somehow, like the hospital refused to let him go completely.
His parents kept watching him with their eagle eyes, being overprotective. His big brother—Raphael also did the same, all saying the same thing.
The doctor said you are healed but you shouldn't stress yourself, still need time to rest.
"Ah, fuck the doctor" Ayodeji muttered as he got up, stepping out of his room "I was 'resting' on the sick bed everyday before I got healed."
From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement in a room. He stepped in seeing his brother, Raphael, pulling on a black jersey and lacing up a pair of football boots.
"Going out?" Ayodeji asked, even though the answer was obvious.
"Yeah," Raphael replied, slinging a small backpack over his shoulder. "Just meeting up with some of the guys."
Ayodeji's eyebrow arched "Where?"
Jide gave him a side glance, cautious. "Just… around. Why are you asking?"
"You know why I'm asking."
Raphael scratched the back of his head, lying through his teeth "I don't know what you're–"
Ayodeji clasped his hands together dramatically. "Please, take me with you. I'm dying here, bro. Literally dying."
Raphael snorted, adjusting his wristband. "You just got discharged three days ago. You're not supposed to be stressing yourself."
"I'm not going to do anything, I just want to step out of the house. It's boring here, like no difference between here and the hospital."
"Really now?"
"No, not like that. I didn't mean like that....I mean technically, there is more space to roam and no smell of drugs...and more food to eat. I'm just saying I'm really bored, I haven't been doing nothing but laying on a bed all year."
His brother hesitated, eyes flicking toward the hallway—the direction of their parents room.
Ayodeji pressed harder. "I swear, if I spend one more minute in this house, I'll start talking to the ceiling fan."
That finally earned a laugh from Raphael. "Fine, fine. If Mum and Dad ask, you begged me to take you for fresh air."
"I'll take that deal," Ayodeji said, already getting his sandals before Raphael could change his mind.
"Fine," Raphael smiled as he put his bag to Ayodeji's chest "then assist me with my bag."
Ayodeji collected the bag from him "You sure I should be carrying this? Shouldn't I not be stressing myself?"
Raphael laughed, shaking his head "Ah, you fucker"
***
The heat outside hit him like a wall.
The Lagos sun showed no mercy; even the air shimmered as if the ground itself was burning.
Cars honked in the distance, conductors shouted at passing buses, and somewhere nearby, someone was frying puff-puff.
Ayodeji walked into a small field, more of sand than grass as the earth was surrounded by rusted wire fences.
There were kids and teenagers scattered across it, some stretching, others juggling balls, their laughter blending with the whistle of the wind.
It wasn't Old Trafford or Wembley, but to him, it might as well have been. Ayodeji blinked, the sight almost surreal.
To be fair, he hadn't seen a pitch in person since before his illness.
"You came all the way here for this?" he asked, though his voice carried more awe than surprise.
"Yeah," Raphael replied, smiling. "We play here every weekend, keeps us sharp. Used to be everyday but everyone's busy with school and all. It's not like we're an actual football team."
"I see," Ayodeji nodded "So what position you play?"
"Right back" His brother bragged "you see me, I'm stopping any winger or attack that comes my way. I'm like Carvajal or Trent when I'm playing."
"Hmmmm"
"Don't do that you fucker"
"Do what?"
"Look at me like I'm lying." Raphael twisted Ayodeji's ear. "You'll see me in action and be amazed." He straightened his shirt and smirked. "Well, I have to go. You can sit there." He pointed to a cool shade underneath a tree.
Ayodeji found a shady spot under a tree and sat on a fallen tire, as Raphael jogged ahead to greet his friends.
His eyes stayed on the pitch, observing from both teams wearing green and red bibs to differentiate as the referee's whistle cut through the afternoon air.
The sound of cleats digging into dry soil, the faint cheer when someone pulled off a nice move—it all tugged at him from somewhere deep inside.
——
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