I woke up before the alarm, with the feeling that my body was still running across the field. The room was half-dark, only the cracks in the curtain letting in a pale light that cut through the still air. I stayed there for a few seconds, listening to the breathing of the others, the silence of the dorm in the early morning, and the memory of the goal against Zeltin flashed like a spark that lit everything inside me. Right after, the weight of what awaited me pressed my chest back into the pillow. Uchi. The twins. The tournament doesn't forgive anyone who breathes too deep.

The alarm went off ugly, Ian almost fell off the top bunk and cursed.

"Five more minutes, just five"

"Get up, Ian", I said softly, my voice still asleep but my thoughts too awake to bargain.

"Today there's no five minutes"

Dante stretched on his mattress, hair sticking out in every direction, and gave a half-smile while tying his shoelaces.

"If Ian sleeps five more, we'll start with ten players."

"I'll still play and score two", Ian shot back, jumping down clumsily from the bed, feet hitting the cold floor.

I washed my face, letting the cold water remind me there was no use thinking about the past when the next step was already pounding at the door. Changed clothes, quick breaths, and with every movement I felt my legs a bit heavy from the last game. At the same time, a motor was running inside me, the sound of a crowd stuck in my chest, spinning nonstop.

At the cafeteria, the table felt different from yesterday. Fewer laughs, less small talk. Trays stacked up and the smell of coffee became the most alive thing in the air, aside from the sound of cutlery scraping against plates. Kazana was seated, back straight, untouched plate in front of him, his eyes scanning everyone like he was counting something invisible. When he finally spoke, no one had to ask for silence.

"You know who we're facing. Uchi doesn't have one of the best squads. But they've got the advantage of knowing how to wait for mistakes, just like most of the teams we've faced already. The twins live off that"

Rodrigo smirked a little but stayed quiet. Dante chewed slowly, staring at the blank wall. Felipe thought about saying something but chose a long gulp of juice instead. Ian lifted his chin the way he always does when he wants to throw pressure back at pressure.

"Kelvin and I already faced them in the doubles championship. They're average. But either way, we won"

Dante jumped in immediately, not wasting time.

"And let's make it clear that it was Kelvin who carried the team"

Ian pointed his fork at him like it was proof.

"You weren't even on the court, Dante. Stay in your lane. Kelvin knows"

Everyone looked at me. My fork froze halfway, and I let the food drop back onto the plate. I thought about their cuts, their broken rhythm, the way they switched positions to confuse us. I also thought about the final point of that match, the relief of watching the ball land exactly where I had pictured from the start.

"It was interesting. But we won"

Kazana's face didn't change.

"That was doubles. Today it's eleven. Today they've got the team and the clock. And we have to repeat what we did yesterday, but with a cooler head"

Rafael walked in, grabbed a mug, didn't look at anyone at first. When he finally did, everyone was already ready to listen.

"No improvisation. Stay compact. Dante, lock on their holding mid and cut the vertical pass. Rodrigo and Ian, keep it short. Felipe and Kelvin, hold the width and cut diagonally inside when their fullback goes up. Kazana, play the pivot and bring order up front. João Vitor, don't give your back away on Samuel's first dribble. Danilo, watch the overlap when Samuka drifts to your side. And one more thing: the first tackle is ours"

I nodded without a word. Hearing my assignment felt like putting on the jersey a second time. The body understands before the mind.

***

The bus rattled through Sanu's streets, and I leaned my forehead against the window to feel the cold glass. Houses passed, sidewalks passed, the same street signs I saw every day felt new just because of the noise growing as we got closer to the stadium. Ian leaned toward me.

"Remember when Samuel tried to body you and you stopped one step short, then he just flew past?"

"I remember", I answered, forehead still pressed to the window, "And he'll fly past again"

"But remember I'm here, okay?", Ian said, like the answer was always hidden inside an obvious phrase, "And find me on the short one-two. Just like doubles"

"Doubles is different. Today they double the mark faster"

"Trust me. The game's the same. Just more people watching"

Rodrigo snored in a strange rhythm that almost sounded like laughter. Felipe drummed his hands on the seatback in front of him, trying to imitate the crowd's beat. Oliveira, two rows back, kept his eyes closed like he had shut the world off. Kazana, in the last row, stared forward as if the field was already glued to the windshield.

When we got off, the sound shoved me a step back. Green and black on one side, blue on the other, flags cutting through Sanu's sky. I inhaled deep, and it was like the air tasted like a roar. I spotted my parents easily—my mom covering her face with her hands like she didn't know where to put her nerves, my dad with his fist raised high. And next to them, Júlia. No phone. Just a small smile that landed on me like it whispered calm.

"Focus", I told myself silently.

The twins appeared like a movie's answer to the word I had just spoken. Samuel on the right, Samuka a step behind, both walking like they had rehearsed the rhythm. Samuel's eyes looked like he was already mid-match. Samuka's looked like he had already finished it and was coming back from the future.

"Look at that, Kelvin", Ian muttered beside me. "The clones brought their final-game face"

"Let them wear whatever face they want", I said, tying my laces tight, "We'll take the ball"

In the tunnel, the shadow smelled like wet grass and old paint. Their captain and ours shook hands with that firm grip that weighs more than it seems. The referee said the same things we've heard a thousand times and never really listen to, and then the field opened wide like a green canvas I already know, but every time it feels brand new.

***

The whistle cut through the air. A chill climbed my spine and a simple certainty sank my feet into the grass. They started with the ball and the pattern showed in three touches. Their holding mid found Samuel down the lane, he cut inside without even glancing at the foot carrying the ball, and Dante tried to kill the play with his body. Samuel didn't lose balance, slid across, and when I stepped two paces to close him, the short pass behind found Samuka wide open.

Murilo dove, one hand only, the ball exploded and rose high, both crowds screamed together for a second before each side picked its own sound. I kept breathing carefully, like it was possible to hide your breath from the game. I traded a look with Dante, he nodded without speaking. Awake.

On our goal kick, Márcio played it out to João Vitor, who chose the pass inside. I received with my back to goal, their fullback pressed tight on my shoulder. Controlled it with a spin over the sole and felt Samuel coming for the double. Cut it short backward and dropped it to Danilo, who was already pushing down the lane. I cut inside to drag the mark, Danilo returned it first touch, and I found half a yard of space. It was enough to break the line and lift my eyes to the box. Kazana set up as pivot, Felipe closed the far post, Ian pulled wide for support. I crossed it sharp, balanced between doubt for the keeper and hope for the striker. The ball slipped past the defender's clearance and floated just too high for Kazana's header. Goal kick.

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