The sun barely peeked over the rooftops of Gelsenkirchen when Vihaan laced up his boots. Outside, dew clung to the grass like tiny soldiers standing at attention, and the wind carried the scent of wet earth—a perfect morning for football.
But this wasn't just another match.
Six official games remained. Borussia Dortmund sat at the top of the C-Junioren Regionalliga West with a four-point lead. Schalke U-15 were second. They needed perfection—and a slip from Dortmund.
Today's opponent? Fortuna Düsseldorf. Mid-table, but known to punch above their weight. They had held Dortmund to a 2–2 draw earlier this season.
His eyes scanned the stands. Not a massive crowd, but there were parents, scouts, some youth staff, and even a couple of boys from the U-17 team leaning on the railing. His parents had come with Arjun and Anya. He spotted them near the halfway line—Anya waving dramatically like a windmill.
He couldn't help the smile.
"Focus up, lads," Coach Müller called, drawing their attention. "Today, we play like a team with something to prove. You're not just chasing a trophy. You're chasing history. Vihaan, you're starting in midfield. I want you dictating tempo. Fast transitions. No fear."
Vihaan nodded, heart thudding. He wasn't nervous. Not quite. Just… charged. Like lightning bottled in his chest.
The whistle blew.
Kickoff.
From the start, the pace was high. The opponents— Fortuna Düsseldorf U-15—pressed aggressively, their front line trying to pin Schalke deep. Vihaan dropped between the centre-backs to receive under pressure, body turning instinctively to shield the ball. A touch. A pivot. A simple pass out wide to their right-back.
Just like training.
But this wasn't training. Every mistake had weight.
The ball cycled quickly. Schalke played in a 4-3-3, Vihaan as the central pivot with twin interiors ahead of him. He held his position, scanning constantly. Field Scanner lit up subtle movement—shadows forming before they materialized. It was like having a sixth sense.
In the 9th minute, opportunity knocked.
A quick turnover, and Vihaan was already swiveling to play forward. Leon peeled off the defender, and Vihaan threaded a ball through two midfielders with surgical precision. The crowd gasped.
It was almost a goal.
"Better!" Coach Müller shouted from the sideline. "More of that!"
The tempo rose.
By the 15th minute, Vihaan was drenched in sweat but sharper than ever. He intercepted a lofted pass in midfield, used his body to shield it from an onrushing opponent, and slipped it laterally to his teammate. Then darted forward into the space.
That's when it came—the tackle.
A crunch.
Vihaan went down, grass smearing his elbow. A Leverkusen player had gone in late. The ref blew his whistle. Foul.
Vihaan winced, shook it off, and stood.
There was a bruise but no time for pain.
The free kick was taken quickly, and Schalke surged.
In the 23rd minute, the breakthrough arrived.
Vihaan received a short pass near the halfway line. One touch, then two, and then he saw it—his winger ghosting behind their full-back.
Now.
He curled the ball down the channel. Perfect weight. The winger latched onto it, took a touch inside—and finished low into the bottom corner.
1–0.
The crowd roared. Vihaan didn't celebrate much. Just pumped his fist once and jogged back to position, lips pressed tight.
Focus.
Halftime. 1–0.
In the locker room, the boys were buzzing, but Müller kept them grounded.
"Good first half. But this is where we've faltered before—second-half complacency. Vihaan, you keep commanding. Push the tempo if they sit back. And watch the holding midfielder—he's drifting into your zone."
Vihaan nodded, sipping from his bottle. His mind was already on the next 45 minutes.
Second half began.
Dusseldorf came out with fire.
Vihaan had barely touched the ball when a deep cross from them nearly resulted in an equalizer—saved only by Schalke's keeper tipping it over the bar.
They were pressing higher now. Targeting Vihaan.
He adapted.
One-touch passes. Switching play. Letting the ball do the work.
In the 54th minute, a counter-pressing trap sprung near the center circle. Vihaan saw it milliseconds before it unfolded. He let the ball run past him, sidestepped the challenge, and dinked it over the onrushing midfielder—straight into the feet of their advancing left winger.
The crowd applauded. Some even whistled in appreciation.
Coach Müller exchanged a look with his assistant.
"That's vision," he muttered.
The pressure kept building.
In the 63rd minute, Schalke earned a corner.
Vihaan stood just outside the box, watching.
The ball curled in—cleared by a defender—but landed near him.
One touch to control.
The bounce was high. He adjusted his body, drew back his foot, and—
THWACK.
A half-volley. Low. Clean.
It screamed toward goal.
The keeper dived—fingertips grazing—but the net rippled.
GOAL.
2–0.
This time, Vihaan let himself feel it.
His teammates mobbed him, slapping his back, ruffling his hair. He grinned, heart pounding, adrenaline washing over him like a tidal wave.
The stadium—small as it was—echoed with cheers.
He looked to the stands.
Anya was jumping up and down. His mother had both hands over her mouth. Arjun raised both thumbs, smirking.
Their father clapped slowly, proudly.
For a moment, everything aligned.
The final 15 minutes were gritty. Dusseldorf pushed harder, desperate to pull one back. Vihaan dropped deeper, helping screen the backline.
Late tackles. Tired legs. Nervous energy.
In the 76th minute, Dusseldorf's striker hit the post.
Close.
But Schalke held firm.
When the final whistle blew, Vihaan fell to his knees—more from release than exhaustion.
2–0. Clean sheet. A goal. An assist.
It was his day today.
One game down.
Five to go.
Post-Match
Coach Müller called the squad in. His voice, when it came, was low and steady.
"Good performance. But this was just one. Next week, we face Köln—and they're not going to hand us anything. Recover. Focus."
He paused, then looked directly at Vihaan.
"Outstanding work today. Controlled the game. You're starting again next match."
Vihaan nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
He'd earned it.
[System Notification]
Match Rating: 8.9 – MVP
+100 SP
+1 Overall Rating
+5 Stat Points
+New Trait Progress Unlocked: "Anchor of Midfield" (15%)
Later That Night
Back home, the family had ordered pizza.
"You were amazing!" Anya said between bites, sauce on her chin. "Even Grandma said you looked less like a goat today!"
"High praise," Vihaan said dryly.
Arjun leaned back in the chair. "That goal though. Didn't know you had that in you."
"Neither did I."
Their father sipped his tea. "Just keep your head steady. You've started shining. Now make sure you don't burn out."
Vihaan nodded. He knew what was at stake.
After dinner, he sat alone at his desk, reviewing his match footage, noting mistakes, choices he could've made differently.
He wasn't satisfied.
He couldn't be.
The road ahead was still long.
But tonight, he had taken the first step.
And tomorrow, he'd rise again.