Diego took a deep breath, sweat dripping in thick beads down his face, burning like acid as it mixed with the salt on his skin. Each drop fell heavy, as if reminding him of the unbearable pressure of the moment. The ball still clung to his feet like an anchor, and he refused to let it go. There was no rush. There was an internal silence, a hum that drowned everything around him. The forward looked at the packed gym, thousands of eyes on the court, and felt the suffocating weight of what irritated him more than any defender: the attention wasn't his.

The shine wasn't his.

The cheers weren't his.

The applause… belonged to another.

With every play, every mischievous dribble, every explosive sprint, number 11 stole the scene. Kelvin. The crowd's favorite. The boy who seemed to shine even when stumbling. The shouts came in waves, roaring in his honor, and Diego, who had so often dreamed of being the center, the chosen one, now found himself cast in the cruelest role: a shadow. A background actor in his own function.

This was something he could not accept.

"These cheers should be mine", he muttered, teeth clenched, his voice almost a growl. His eyes blazed with anger, like embers stoked ever hotter.

On Sanu's bench, some teammates noticed. Luquinhas, breathless after the ball steal, still on the ground, raised his voice, trying to bring him back to reality:

"Diego, move forward. This is the moment!"

But number 9 didn't respond. He pretended not to hear, or maybe he truly hadn't. Blood pounded so loudly in his ears it drowned everything else out. Each heartbeat felt like a hammer blow to the eardrums. The world had shrunk. Only he remained, the ball, and Kelvin's immense shadow looming over him.

Meanwhile, the stands boiled. A sea of waving flags, deafening drums, voices merging into chaotic chants. The gym shook as if it were alive. And in the midst of that ecstatic mass, two figures stood out. Samuel noticed first. He nudged his brother, Samuka, and discreetly pointed to the other side of the row.

"Look who's here…", he said, a spark in his eyes.

Samuka followed his gaze and immediately recognized them. Two men walked through the crowd, with a calm that contrasted with the surrounding madness. The first, tall, broad-shouldered, shaved head, and a stern expression, was unmistakable: Matheus Rios. The former Sanu captain, remembered as a great defender, the leader before Kazana. Beside him, in a light shirt, serene expression, was Rafael Duarte, the maestro who had made history with his intelligent passes.

"I can't believe it… it's Matheus and Rafael!", exclaimed Samuel, standing up quickly to wave.

The veterans smiled as they recognized the boys and made their way toward them. The reunion was warm, full of strong hugs, pats on the back, and a nostalgia that cut through time.

"You've grown, huh?", Rafael remarked, laughing, "The last time we played against you, you were still just cheeky kids"

Samuka crossed his arms, but the genuine smile betrayed his joy.

"I miss those games. Playing against you was even easier"

Matheus raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation.

"Easier? You dare say that in front of me?"

They laughed together, momentarily relieving the suffocating tension of the gym. But soon the atmosphere changed. Matheus' gaze turned to the court, and his expression hardened.

"We couldn't miss this Sanu game. This year's rookies are definitely the stars of this team. I came to see them up close"

Rafael, beside him, nodded slowly in agreement.

"And look what we found… looks like things are heating up"

Both fell silent when they saw Diego. The forward stood still in the middle of the court, frozen for seconds that felt like an eternity. His body rigid, breathing fast, eyes fixed like a spear pointed at the opponent's goal. He was like a bull held back by fragile chains, ready to charge.

"It's Diego again?", said Rafael, narrowing his eyes, "This guy gave us a headache last year, but he looks very different from when I played against him"

Matheus crossed his arms, slow, thoughtful.

"We suffered a lot, Rafael. When this kid lost it, he seemed like a bull. I still get chills thinking about that game"

Samuka, unlike the veterans, seemed excited.

"I think that's what makes this game even more special. You missed the tackle he took from Sanu's defender"

And then, just as Rafael was about to ask about the defender, Diego seemed to answer with his actions. He exploded into motion.

He glued the ball to his foot and surged forward violently. Each step sounded like thunder, each touch on the ball vibrated in the air like a hammer against the floor. The atmosphere changed. The fans felt it. The gym seemed to shrink around him, as if all the space were being sucked in by the hurricane swirling around number 9.

Rodrigo, realizing, ran to block him. He spread his arms, desperate.

"Take it easy, kid"

But there was no easing. The clash was brutal. Diego used his shoulder, his arm, and all the accumulated rage. Rodrigo was thrown, crashing heavily to the floor. The stands erupted in divided shouts: half jeering, half cheering the brutality.

"He's gone mad!", shouted Samuel, incredulous.

Diego pressed on. He passed the next marker with a violent spin, dragging the ball like a weapon. There was no finesse, no beauty. It was pure fury. Anger that burned in his eyes, that moved his muscles with raw violence. He wasn't advancing to play. He advanced to destroy.

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