The world had been remade.
Leo stood, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, the afterimage of the holographic display burned onto his retinas. The G.O.A.L. System. The words hung in the air, a silent, profound truth. His father's glasses weren't just a lens to see the world; they were a window into a legacy he never knew existed.
WELCOME, APPRENTICE REED.
BIOMETRIC SCAN COMPLETE.
BASELINE STATS CALIBRATED.
A new, cleaner display materialized before him, superimposed over the park. It was simple, elegant, and devastating.
USER: REED, LEO
-STRENGTH: 06
- AGILITY: 08
- VITALITY: 07
- INTELLIGENCE: 84
- PERCEPTION: 92
A cold splash of reality. His physical stats were pathetic, languishing in the single digits. But his his Intelligence and Perception were astronomically high.
The system wasn't just showing him numbers; it was showing him his very soul. The nerd who could calculate a parabola in his head but couldn't run one without tripping.
OBJECTIVE: FOUNDATION PASS - LEVEL 1.
ANALYZING ENVIRONMENT... TARGET ACQUIRED.
The system's calm voice spoke in his mind. ["Primary training objective complete. Initiating secondary confidence drill. Directly ahead, 25 meters: the goal. Execute a driven shot at a 42-degree angle to the right post. Calculated Success Probability: 100%."]
A brilliant, shimmering white line drew itself from the ball to a specific point inside the right side of the goal. A glowing circle appeared on the grass, indicating exactly where he needed to plant his foot.
A 100% chance? It was a siren's call. This was it. The moment he transcended his own incompetence.
He took a breath, stepped into the circle, and focused on the point of impact on the ball. He swung his leg, putting all his meager strength into it.
He missed the angle by a hair.
His plant foot was an inch too far forward. His ankle wobbled, failing to lock properly. The system had calculated perfection, but it couldn't account for the flawed machine that was his body.
THWOCK!
The ball shot off his foot, but the trajectory was a fraction of a degree off. It screamed through the air, not into the net, but squarely into the base of the right post. The metallic PING echoed through the quiet park like a funeral bell. The ball rebounded with vengeful force, rolling back toward the center of the field.
And right into the path of three figures who had just arrived.
Leo watched in horror as the ball rolled to a stop at the feet of a boy he knew all too well. Rin Tanaka. He was dressed in immaculate training gear, a football tucked under his arm. Behind him stood two larger boys, his usual entourage of defenders, who immediately started jogging to take up positions on a makeshift field.
Rin looked from the ball at his feet to Leo, then to the goalpost still vibrating from the impact.
A slow, almost pitying smile touched his lips. He dropped the ball he was carrying, and in one fluid, breathtaking motion, he flicked the rebounded ball up with his toe, let it bounce once on his knee, and then, as it fell, executed a perfect, scissoring mid-air volley.
The shot was a laser, tearing into the back of the net with a force Leo could only dream of.
The net billowed. Silence.
Rin landed gracefully, not even breathing heavily. He turned and walked toward Leo, his expression unreadable.
"Still practicing miracles, I see," Rin said, his voice cool. "Honestly, Leo. It's been years. I thought you might have gotten at least a little bit better." He gestured with his chin toward the goal. "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes, no?"
Shame, hot and acidic, rose in Leo's throat. He turned to leave, wanting only to escape.
"Wait," Rin called out.
Leo stopped but didn't turn around.
"I'm starting a new live blog," Rin continued, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. "'Rin's Road to Pro.' I need content. You're going to help me. We're playing a little H2H. First to score wins."
"No," Leo said, his voice tight.
One of Rin's friends kicked a freshly pumped, official-looking match ball onto the field. Rin trapped it dead with the sole of his foot. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill, holding it up between two fingers.
"Fine. Let's make it interesting. You have ten minutes to score a single goal against me. You do it, this is yours." He waved the bill. "I know you need it. I saw you looking at the kits in the sports store last week. Tryouts require the official kit, don't they?"
Leo's protest died in his throat. The fifty dollars was the exact price of the cheapest kit. It was a targeted, cruel piece of observation. He was trapped.
"And if I lose?" Leo asked, hating the weakness in his voice.
Rin laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Baka! I'm trying to make this interesting for you. You won't lose anything but the game. But the match... it'll be live. My followers will see it."
The desire to refuse was a physical weight. But the image of his mother's tired face, the broken glasses, the tryout form with 'Midfielder' written beside his name. It all coalesced into a single, desperate need. He needed that kit. He needed to be on that team.
"Okay," Leo whispered.
A triumphant glint appeared in Rin's eyes. He pulled out his phone, mounted it on a small tripod one of his friends produced, and started a live stream.
"Hey, everyone, Rin here! Got a special little matchup for you tonight. My old friend Leo and I are going head-to-head. Wish me luck, because he's got legacy on his side... he's the son of the late, great legend, David Reed himself! Let's see if any of that magic rubbed off."
The comment section on the live feed started scrolling instantly. Leo saw emojis and comments like "RIP Leo lol" and "David Reed's son? No way!".
Rin positioned the ball at the center of the park. "Ten minutes. Starting... now."
The moment the word left Rin's lips, Leo's world exploded with light.
[1v1 MATCH DETECTED. OPPONENT: RIN TANAKA. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH.]
[OBJECTIVE UPDATED: SCORE A GOAL WITHIN 10:00.]
[TACTICAL OVERLAY: ENGAGED.]
The field was now a grid of glowing lines. Rin's silhouette was outlined in a faint yellow. A recommended path to goal, a shimmering blue arrow, appeared before him. Leo took a tentative first touch, following the system's guide.
And immediately tripped over the ball, stumbling to his knees.
A sigh, heavy with a strange mix of pleasure and profound annoyance, came from Rin. "It's been a while, but... I really thought you'd have improved, just a little."
He jogged over, not to help him up, but to stand over him. Leo adjusted the glasses on his nose.
"Hey, Leo. You know, I've always wondered. Doo you even know why I tried so hard to be your best friend back in elementary school?"
Leo pushed himself up, dusting the grass and dirt from his knees. He shook his head, confused by the sudden shift in conversation.
"It was because of your father," Rin said, his voice losing its performative edge, becoming cold and direct. "I wanted to get close to him. My goal was always to play football at the highest level. I thought if I was friends with you, I could learn from him. I thought... I thought you'd be just like him." He looked at Leo, and for the first time, Leo saw the raw, unvarnished disappointment in his eyes. "But you disappointed me. Every single time. It was infuriating. I kept waiting, thinking with time, you'd wake up, you'd get better. But you never did. Honestly, Leo... you're a waste of your father's genes."
The words were a physical blow, sharper and more painful than any football to the face.
They didn't just confirm his own fears; they gave them a voice, a face. He had let down his father, and in doing so, he had let down the one person who had seen potential in him, even if it was only by association.
"I'm sorry," Leo mumbled, the apology feeling as inadequate as his football skills.
He locked his eyes on the ball. The system flared to life again.
[DIRECTIVE: MAINTAIN POSSESSION. OPPONENT PREDICTION: COMMITTING TO TACKLE ON YOUR LEFT.]
The play started again. This time, when Leo moved, it was different. He wasn't just a boy kicking a ball; he was a user executing commands. He saw Rin's weight shift a fraction of a second before he moved.
He poked the ball through the gap the system highlighted, sidestepping Rin's lunge with an agility that surprised even himself.
[DRIBBLE: SUCCESS. ACCELERATE.]
He pushed forward, his legs burning. He was playing better than he ever had in his entire life. He was seeing passes and spaces that were invisible moments before. He feinted right, following a blinking green arrow, and cut left, leaving Rin momentarily off-balance. He had a glimpse of the goal.
[SHOT OPPORTUNITY: 23%. RECOMMENDATION: CREATE A BETTER ANGLE.]
He tried to shift the ball onto his right foot, but Rin was already there, a blur of controlled athleticism. He wasn't just fast; he was efficient, a perfect blend of physique and speed. He effortlessly dispossessed Leo, his tackle clean and precise.
"Close," Rin said, not even breathing heavily. "But not close enough."
The pattern repeated for the entire ten minutes. Leo, guided by the system, would find a moment of brilliance, a flash of impossible perception.
But his body, with its AGI of 8 and STR of 6, couldn't keep up with the commands. His touches were too heavy, his shots too weak, his turns too slow. Rin, with his honed, natural talent, read him like a book, anticipating and neutralizing every single attempt.
He was a wall, and Leo was throwing himself against it with pathetic, predictable force.
A timer Leo hadn't even noticed in the corner of his vision hit zero.
[MATCH CONCLUDED. RESULT: DEFEAT.]
Leo fell to the grass, his chest heaving, every muscle screaming in protest. He was utterly, completely exhausted. The ten minutes had felt like ten seconds, a frantic, hopeless blur.
Rin was tired too, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he still had the composure to walk over to his phone, smiling at the camera. "And that's a wrap! Tough match, everyone. Leo put up a real fight, showed some great spirit out there. True son of a legend."
His tone was patronizing, a thin veil over his victory.
He collected two water bottles from one of his friends, unscrewed one, and drank deeply. He then walked over to where Leo lay flat on his back, staring at the darkening sky, and tossed the other bottle onto his chest.
Leo sat up, catching it. He drank, the cold water a blessing on his parched throat, then fell back onto the grass, the weight of his failure pressing him down.
A moment later, something soft fluttered down and landed on his face. He sat up, startled. It was the fifty-dollar bill.
He looked at Rin, confused. "But... I lost."
Rin was already walking away, his back to Leo. He paused, half-turning. "Yeah. Consider it a gift." He glanced back, and for a fleeting second, the cold, disappointed rival was gone, replaced by the ghost of the boy who used to come over to play video games. "Looks like you're finally getting better."
Then he was gone, his two friends falling into step beside him, leaving Leo alone in the silent park.
"Thank you," Leo whispered to the empty air.
He picked up the money, the paper feeling alien in his hand. It was a consolation prize. A pity payment. But it was also a kit. It was a chance.
He put his father's glasses back on, the world snapping into perfect, painful clarity once more.
[SESSION ANALYSIS COMPLETE.]
[STAT INCREASE DETECTED: VIT +0.1 (SUSTAINED SPRINT AT 87% MAX HEART RATE FOR 00:02:14), AGI +0.1 (SUCCESSFUL EVASION OF TACKLE AT 00:05:32)]
[REVIEW FOOTAGE FOR IMPROVEMENT? Y/N]
The numbers were minuscule. Insignificant. But they were there. They had moved.
He had lost. He had been humiliated. His father's legacy felt heavier than ever.
But as he stood there, the fifty dollars clutched in his fist, Leo Reed made a decision. He wasn't just going to buy a kit. He was going to earn the right to wear it.