The nurse, Mrs. Higgins, was formidable. She had the eyes of a hawk and the patrolling schedule of a prison guard.
"No leaving," she had warned Soccer at 8:00 AM. "You stay in bed. Your ankle needs elevation."
It was now 10:00 AM. Kickoff was in two hours.
Soccer sat on the edge of the bed. He was dressed in his uniform. One black Copa Mundial on his right foot. A giant, clunky medical boot on his left.
He watched Mrs. Higgins walk past the door. Clip-clop-clip-clop.
Three seconds later, she turned the corner.
Gap identified.
Soccer moved.
He didn't walk. He slithered. He slid off the bed and dropped to the floor, commando-crawling using his elbows. He kept his head below the window line of the nursing station.
He reached the stairwell.
The elevator was too risky (cameras). The stairs were the only way. Four flights.
Soccer grabbed the handrail.
"Down is easier than up," he whispered.
He swung his body, balancing entirely on his good right leg and his arms. He hopped-slid down the rails like a piece of luggage.
He burst out the side exit into the bright sunlight.
A taxi was waiting. He had ordered it using the only app he knew how to use.
"To the stadium?" the driver asked, eyeing the hospital gown tucked into Soccer's shorts.
"To the war," Soccer corrected, buckling his seatbelt. "Drive fast. I'm fleeing captivity."
Metropolis Stadium. Semi-Finals.
The atmosphere was thin. Suffocating.
Northwood High stood in the tunnel. They looked smaller without Soccer standing at the front.
Marcus Kane wore the Striker's #9 jersey (borrowed). He looked sick.
"I can't do it," Marcus whispered to Elijah. "I'm a defender. I tackle people. I don't score."
"Coach said you're the Spear," Elijah said, tapping his own shin guards nervously. "Spears just... poke things. Just poke the ball into the net."
Opposite them stood Vortex Academy.
They didn't look like football players. They looked like high jumpers. Tall, lanky, with legs that went on forever. Their uniforms were sky-blue and white.
Their captain, Ryu, stood six-foot-four but probably weighed 150 pounds. He looked like a praying mantis made of wire.
"No Assassin today?" Ryu asked, his voice airy and bored. He looked down at Marcus. "A shame. I wanted to see if the Mountain could reach the Clouds."
"He's watching," Marcus grunted. "And he's going to watch us bury you."
"We'll see," Ryu smiled. "It's hard to bury something that never touches the ground."
Kickoff.
The strategy was Total Chaos.
Coach Cross stood on the sideline, looking like he had aged ten years in two days.
"Push up!" Cross screamed. "Don't let them breathe!"
Marcus Kane, playing Striker, charged.
Usually, strikers move with grace. Marcus moved like a riot policeman. He thundered toward the Vortex defense.
The ball was passed to him.
"Here goes nothing," Marcus muttered.
He didn't dribble. He just put his head down and bulldozed.
A Vortex defender—tall, elegant—tried to intercept.
Marcus lowered his shoulder. WHAM.
The defender bounced off. Marcus wasn't Soccer. He didn't flow. He was solid rock.
He reached the edge of the box.
"SHOOT!" Dylan screamed from the other end.
Marcus wound up. His form was ugly. Rigid hips. Stiff knee.
He struck the ball with pure rage.
The ball didn't spiral. It knuckle-balled erratically. It flew straight at the keeper's face.
The keeper panicked. He flinched.
The ball hit his gloves, deflected up, hit the crossbar, and dropped down.
GOAL.
Northwood: 1 - Vortex: 0
Time: 2:00
Northwood went insane.
"I DID IT!" Marcus roared, sliding on his knees (and ripping his socks). "I AM THE SPEAR!"
On the sideline, a taxi screeched to a halt in the ambulance loading zone.
Soccer fell out the back door, clutching his crutches.
He heard the roar. He saw the score change.
"One nil!" Soccer grabbed a security guard by the vest. "Did you see that?! My pack did that!"
The guard blinked. "Sir, you need a pass to—"
"I have a pass!" Soccer pointed to his gigantic boot. "The cripple pass!"
He hobbled toward the bench as fast as his crutches would carry him.
Minute 15.
Northwood was leading 1-0. The adrenaline was high.
But Vortex Academy wasn't panicked.
Ryu stood in the center circle. He watched Marcus running around like a headless chicken.
"Ground friction," Ryu observed. "Heavy. Slow."
Ryu clapped his hands. "Engage Sky Protocol."
Vortex changed.
They stopped passing on the grass.
The ball went airborne.
A defender chipped it up. A midfielder chested it, juggled it on his knee twice, and volleyed it to the wing.
The winger headed it forward without letting it drop.
"What is this?" Elijah shouted, running in circles, looking up. "The floor is lava?!"
"They play Aerial Style," Coach Cross groaned. "They keep the ball above shoulder height. Our tackling is useless if the ball is never on the ground."
Ryu received a floating pass.
Marcus ran back to help. He lunged for a tackle.
Ryu didn't dribble around him. He chipped the ball over Marcus's head, jumped, and controlled it on his chest while suspended in mid-air.
The Cloud Walk.
Ryu landed, volleyed the ball to a teammate, and sprinted.
Northwood was chasing ghosts. Every time they got close, the ball went up. Over their heads. Past their reach.
Ryu reached the penalty box.
The ball was lofted high in a cross.
Dylan came out to punch it. He jumped.
Ryu jumped.
It wasn't a contest.
Ryu levitated. He rose a full head and shoulders above Dylan's hands. He looked down at the goalkeeper with calm, predatory eyes.
THWACK.
A powerful header downward.
The ball smashed into the net.
GOAL.
Vortex: 1 - Northwood: 1
Soccer finally reached the bench. He threw his crutches down and collapsed into a folding chair.
"Hey Coach," Soccer panted. "Nice game. Marcus looks scary. But... why is everyone looking up?"
"They're playing Volleyball," Cross spat. "They're exploiting our lack of height. We rely on ground speed. They took the ground away."
Soccer watched Vortex restart. They kept the ball in the air again. Chip. Head. Chest. Volley.
"Birds," Soccer whispered. "They play like birds."
Minute 40.
The tide had turned completely.
Northwood was exhausted. Looking up constantly strained their necks. Jumping constantly burned their calves.
Marcus was gasping. "They won't... put it down!"
Ryu had the ball on the wing. He juggled it on his foot while running. Tap-tap-tap-run.
He cut inside. He flicked the ball up for a volley.
He smashed it.
The Air Cannon.
The ball didn't dip. It flew straight and true, dipping only at the last second.
Top corner. Unstoppable.
GOAL.
Vortex: 2 - Northwood: 1
The halftime whistle blew.
The Northwood team trudged off the field. Their heads hung low. They looked defeated not by skill, but by an impossible puzzle.
How do you tackle a ball you can't reach?
Locker Room.
Silence. The sound of Velcro tearing as players took off shin guards.
"It's impossible," Dylan whimpered. "Ryu jumps like he has springs. I can't reach him."
"We need to drag them down," Marcus said, kicking a locker. "Make them play on the grass."
"They won't," Coach Cross rubbed his temples. "They're disciplined. They know the air is their domain."
Soccer sat in the corner, balancing a water bottle on his forehead.
"You guys look sad," Soccer said.
"We're losing, Soccer!" Elijah snapped. "And we can't do anything because we're midgets compared to them!"
"Midgets?" Soccer tilted his head so the bottle didn't fall. "In the mountains, the eagle owns the sky. But the goat owns the cliff."
"We aren't playing on a cliff, man," Marcus sighed. "We're playing on flat grass."
"No," Soccer caught the bottle. "You're playing in the air because they want to play in the air. Why do you look up?"
"Because the ball is up there!"
"If you throw a rock at a bird," Soccer grinned, "does the bird stay in the sky?"
"Are you saying we should throw rocks at them?" Coach Cross asked, alarmed.
"No. I'm saying you stop looking at the bird."
Soccer grabbed a tactical magnet from the board.
"When Ryu jumps," Soccer placed the magnet high on the board. "He has no anchor. He can't change direction. He is committed."
Soccer placed a second magnet underneath the first one.
"Don't jump with him," Soccer said. "He wins the jump."
He slammed his fist into the lower magnet.
"Take away the landing spot."
The room went quiet.
"It's dangerous," Cross said slowly. "Crowding the landing zone..."
"It's perfectly legal," Soccer shrugged. "Box out. Use your butts. Use your backs. When he jumps, you don't jump. You step into his space on the ground."
Soccer leaned forward, his grey eyes gleaming.
"If a bird has nowhere to land, it gets scared. It stops flying."
He looked at Marcus.
"You're the Spear, right Captain? Spears stick in the ground. Be a stick. Make him fall on you."
Second Half Kickoff.
Vortex received the ball. Immediate flick up. Aerial assault.
Ryu received a lob pass. He prepped for the chest control.
He expected Marcus to jump and contest it.
Marcus didn't jump.
He ran to the spot directly under Ryu's flight path. He planted his feet. He bent his knees. He became a granite statue.
The Box Out.
Ryu jumped. He controlled the ball in the air.
But when he came down... he hit Marcus.
Marcus didn't budge. Ryu bounced off Marcus's broad back and tumbled to the ground. The ball spilled loose.
"Foul!" Ryu screamed, rolling on the grass.
The referee waved it off. "He had established position. Play on!"
"Take away the ground!" Coach Cross screamed from the sideline.
Suddenly, Northwood wasn't jumping.
When a Vortex player went airborne, a Northwood player scurried underneath them, creating a solid wall of human interference.
Vortex players started hesitating. Jumping is scary when you don't know if you'll land on a jagged rock (or an angry defender).
The "Sky Protocol" began to glitch.
Minute 60.
The ball was on the ground now. Ryu had to dribble.
And on the ground... Vortex was average.
Elijah stole the ball. He passed to Marcus.
Marcus—the Spear—was a battering ram again.
He shielded the ball, turning his body to keep the lanky Vortex defenders away. They poked at the ball with long legs, but Marcus had leverage.
He barreled toward the goal.
"They're soft!" Marcus yelled. "They don't like the dirt!"
He passed to the wing. Timmy crossed it low. On the carpet.
Ryu tried to clear it, but his long legs were clumsy on the ground tackle. He missed.
The ball rolled through the box.
Elijah Storm was there.
He slid.
GOAL.
Northwood: 2 - Vortex: 2
Soccer banged his crutches together on the sideline. "See?! Birds hate the floor! The floor is hard!"
Minute 85.
The game was tied. Vortex was frustrated. They were trying to force the air game, but Northwood was literally sitting on their landing zones.
But fatigue was setting in.
Taking away the landing spot required constant, frantic movement. Marcus was gasping. His legs were jelly.
"We need one more push," Cross whispered. "We're going to penalties otherwise. And we suck at penalties."
Vortex had a corner kick.
Ryu went up. He towered over everyone.
He won the header.
The ball slammed against the crossbar. BANG.
It bounced out to the edge of the box.
To Soccer... wait, no. Soccer was on the bench.
It bounced to Dylan.
Dylan caught it.
"RELEASE!" Soccer screamed from the bench. "NOW! GO! GO!"
Dylan drop-kicked the ball. A massive punt.
It soared over the midfield.
Only two players chased it.
Marcus Kane.
And the Vortex Sweeper.
It was a footrace.
The Sweeper was faster. He was gaining on the ball. Marcus was chugging, legs burning, lungs screaming.
"I can't..." Marcus wheezed. "I can't reach it..."
He slowed down.
On the sideline, Soccer stood up. He forgot his crutches. He balanced on his good leg.
He didn't yell "Run."
He whistled.
It was a sharp, two-note whistle. The sound of a mountain marmot warning the pack.
Marcus heard it. It cut through the noise of the stadium. It cut through his exhaustion.
It was the sound of the Alpha calling.
Don't stop.
Marcus grit his teeth. He stopped thinking about running. He just threw his body forward.
The Vortex Sweeper reached the ball first. He went to chest it down, to control it with elegance.
Marcus didn't go for control.
He launched himself into a slide tackle from five yards away.
He became a human torpedo.
He hit the ball just as it touched the Sweeper's chest.
CRUNCH.
The ball squirted loose toward the goal.
The Sweeper went down. Marcus went down.
But Marcus scrambled up. He crawled. He clawed the grass.
The keeper rushed out.
Marcus swung his leg while still half-on-the-ground.
The Earthworm Strike.
He toe-poked the ball under the keeper's diving body.
The ball rolled.
It hit the post. It spun. It went in.
GOAL.
Northwood: 3 - Vortex: 2
Time: 89:00
Marcus lay face down in the grass. He didn't move. He was laughing into the dirt.
The whistle blew moments later.
Northwood High—the team of misfits, rejects, and mountain savages—was in the National Finals.
Soccer hobbled onto the field. He hugged Marcus, who smelled like death and victory.
"You were a good stick," Soccer whispered. "A very sharp stick."
Marcus looked up, tears in his eyes.
"We did it. We actually did it."
The Jumbotron flashed the bracket for the Grand Final.
THE FINAL
Northwood High
vs.
The Emperor's Legion
Soccer stopped smiling.
He looked at the name. Emperor's Legion.
He felt a chill. Not like the wind. Like the void.
Coach Cross walked over. He didn't look happy. He looked terrified.
"Do you know who plays for The Emperor's Legion, Soccer?"
Soccer shook his head.
"A boy named Zero," Cross said. "They say he has never conceded a goal. Not in high school. Not in U-18. Ever."
Soccer looked at his broken leg. Then at his exhausted pack.
"Zero?" Soccer tilted his head.
"Cool name," Soccer said, his grey eyes hardening. "It's also the number of working legs I have."
He looked at the trophy waiting at the end of the road.
"Let's see if Zero can divide by one."