Two days before the match, training felt different.
Not harder. Just… heavier.
The drills ran the same. The players looked the same. But beneath every movement was pressure. The kind that doesn't come from a coach's whistle, but from the knowledge that the scoreboard was coming.
Thiago felt it in his calves, in the way he stretched deeper during warmups. In the way the ball seemed to stick to his foot more than it had earlier in the week—not because he was more technical, but because he was more awake.
More focused.
Eneas didn't say much that morning, just paced behind the lines and scribbled on his clipboard. Nando was in his usual spot on the wing opposite Thiago. They didn't exchange words. But there were more collisions during drills, more shoulder bumps.
By the end of the full-pitch session, both of them were slick with sweat and tension.
And neither had spoken a word.
In the locker room, Thiago sat with his back to the wall and scrolled through his phone.
One message stood out.
Camila:Clara saw your training clip. She says your legs look skinnier on camera.
Thiago grinned.Thiago:Tell her the camera adds ten pounds of muscle to everyone except me.
Camila:She also wants to know if you're playing Saturday.
Thiago:Bench again. Might get minutes.
Camila:I'll tell her to watch the whole game just in case. She made a sign. It says "Number 17, number one."
He sat there staring at the message longer than he expected.
Before he could reply, a call came through.
João.
Thiago put in his earbuds and answered.
"You alive, superstar?"
"Barely. Nando's been marking me like I stole his rent money."
"Good," João said. "Means you're doing something right."
"You training?"
"I wish. I'm stuck in classroom drills. Coach says our passing accuracy dropped two percent, so now we're drawing triangles on whiteboards."
Thiago laughed.
"Caio messaged me," João added after a pause.
Thiago sat forward. "Yeah?"
"Said he's in São Paulo for the weekend. Might swing by. Wants to see how things look from the inside."
"About time," Thiago said. "He disappeared after I got promoted."
"He said he didn't want to get in the way. Said everything got too fast."
Thiago rubbed his forehead. "It did. But I still need him around."
"You think he'll actually come?"
"If he says he will, he will."
That evening, Thiago was called to the media wing—not for press, but to return a form. As he passed the vending machine near the glass hallway, someone waved.
Lucia.
She was sitting on a bench outside the small admin room, folder in her lap, phone in her hand. No recorder. No camera.
"I'm not stalking," she said as he stopped nearby. "They told me to wait. Your media coordinator's late."
"I'm not interesting today," he said, sliding down to sit beside her.
"You're not supposed to be interesting. You're supposed to be focused."
"I am."
She studied him for a second. "You don't talk much. But when you do, you always sound like you're thinking two layers ahead."
"I'm used to being behind. Now I can't afford to be."
She didn't write that down.
Just tucked her folder under her arm.
"Still watching tape?"
"Always."
"Reading anything?"
"Stats. Tactical sheets. Sometimes interviews."
Lucia gave a slight smirk. "Mine?"
"Yeah."
"Did I get you wrong?"
Thiago looked at her.
"No. But I think you held back."
Lucia nodded. "I did."
"Why?"
"Because I don't write stories until they finish."
He thought about that.
"Good policy."
"Not always good for business," she said, standing up.
Before she walked away, she glanced back.
"If I stick around long enough, maybe I'll write the full one."
That night, after dinner, Caio finally texted.
Caio:Hey. In town. Want to drop by tomorrow? I can bring the bag I kept for you.Also, your second touch in that clip? Still dragging it a bit wide. Just saying.
Thiago smiled as he read it.
Only Caio would text a critique and a favor in the same breath.
Thiago:Bring the bag. And the critique. You still have my old boots?
Caio:Of course I do. What am I, João?
Thiago:João would've turned them into planters.
Caio sent back a laughing emoji.
Caio:I'll come by before your matchday briefing. Don't get starstruck.
Before sleeping, Thiago opened the System with a thought.
No beeps. No icons. Just clean text in the corner of his mind.
SYSTEM STATUS – THIAGO DA SILVATier: Professional – ReserveClub: Palmeiras (Senior Team)Match Cycle: ActiveNext Fixture: Campeonato Paulista – Matchday 2Match Role: Bench (Substitution Probability: 73%)
Level: 13EXP: 160 / 500Skill Points Available: 9
Core Attributes:Pace – 72Dribbling – 75Passing – 69Shooting – 63Vision – 69Physicality – 65Mentality – 59Composure – 59
Flags:Coach Impression – StableTeam Confidence – 67 / 100Rivalry Thread – Nando VieiraTraining Buff – +2 Match Composure (expires after next fixture)
He dismissed it.
The numbers mattered.
But they weren't the game.
The game was minutes. Movement. One chance to shift momentum.
He laid back and stared at the ceiling.
Then grabbed his phone.
Thiago:You ever get nervous watching?
Camila:Always. Clara gets quiet when you touch the ball. I hold my breath.
Thiago:I'll try not to lose it next time you do.
She replied right away.
No promises, Da Silva. Just goals.
He smiled.
For once, he let himself enjoy it.
Then rolled over.
And closed his eyes.