The transition to the U-12 team wasn't as smooth as everyone had hoped.

At the beginning, the older kids had given me the cold shoulder, probably thinking of me as an intruder, an upstart who thought he could walk in and take their spots. It wasn't an unreasonable reaction—they'd been playing together for a while, and I was a newcomer, a few years younger, and with a reputation that likely preceded me.

The new rising star. An eight year old kid playing in the U-12 league. For a bunch of entitled little shits, it was a blow to their overdeveloped egos.

I didn't expect to be welcomed with open arms, but I wasn't prepared for the outright hostility either.

My patience was tested from the get-go.

During the warm-up, I ran laps alongside my new teammates. The coaches and fitness instructors, most of them new to me, were keeping a close eye on us. Or me, perhaps.

Likely me.

But my physical condition was top notch; always been. More than talent, I had discipline. To be at the top, you needed both. I'd had both in my last life, and I had them now.

The first real issue arose when we started to do some passing drills. A routine, basic exercise. However, that was the point where the friction started to become palpable.

I was paired up with a boy named Lee Hyuk, one of the starting midfielders. He had a stocky build, short-cropped hair, and a perpetually sullen expression. His eyes, dark and sharp, were fixed on me with a mix of contempt and annoyance.

When the drill began, he barely passed the ball to me, opting instead to kick it as far away from me as possible. When I tried to pass to him, he either ignored the ball or returned it with excessive force, as if he was trying to hurt me.

It was a juvenile tactic, but effective in its own way. It slowed down the flow of the practice. And it wasn't until one of the coaches, Coach Kim, intervened that Lee Hyuk grudgingly started to pass the ball more reasonably.

That, unfortunately, wasn't the end of it.

"Alright, kiddos. Let's do one match. Bibs versus no bibs." The lead coach, Coach Jeon, announced. He was a middle-aged man, with a chubby build, a receding hairline, and a perpetually serious expression. "Teams will be..." He pointed to each of us in turn. "Jae-il, Lee Hyuk, Joo Young, Seok Woo, and Min Ho, you're on one team."

We were all handed a bib. I slipped mine over my head. Lee Hyuk was on my team, and his scowl deepened when he heard the coach's decision. He shot me a look that was anything but friendly. I could only sigh. A kid's hostility was anything but intimidating, and it was something I could easily handle.

It was just a hassle, and I was getting tired of it fast.

After assigning the rest of the teams, Coach Jeon blew his whistle. The match began.

I started in the midfield. Lee Hyuk and I were supposed to play as a duo. However, it quickly became apparent that Lee Hyuk had no intention of playing as a team. He avoided passing the ball to me whenever possible, opting to either force his way up the field or pass to someone else. When I managed to intercept a pass, he'd often chase me down and literally steal the ball from my feet.

The rest of my teammates said nothing. They merely snickered as they ran past me.

There was not a single attempt from anyone to build any sort of connection, to create a flow, a rhythm. It was all disjointed, individualistic. I understood that my presence there might have made some of the older players feel insecure, but this was just absurd.

...

The first half ended around fifteen minutes later, and it was obvious from the coaches' gazes that they were highly unsatisfied with the performance. After all, it wasn't exactly what they had been expecting when they decided to promote an eight year old to their ranks.

They hadn't expected a bunch of ten to twelve year olds to act like, well, kids.

"Hey, midget." One of the boys, taller than me with a shaved head, shoved me aside as I drank some water.

His name was Jinsoo. He was the team's top striker and, apparently, its biggest asshole.

I stumbled a bit, catching myself before I fell.

"What's the matter, kid?" Jinsoo sneered. "Too small to play with the big boys?" His cronies laughed, their voices grating and mocking.

I straightened up, my eyes narrowing. "No, I'm fine." I replied, my voice steady. "But you'll be the small one once I'm done with you, you prick."

"What did you call me?" He growled, taking a step forward, his fists clenched. "You little shit, I'll—"

"Boys!" A sharp voice cut through the air. It was Coach Jeon. He gathered us around. Both teams. His voice was unusually sterner than usual. "Listen up, everyone. We need to make some changes. We're going to switch up the teams a bit."

I glanced over at Lee Hyuk, who was still scowling, his arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, Jinsoo was grinning, a smug look on his face. The other players seemed equally indifferent.

"Let's see..." Coach Jeon put on a thoughtful expression. His eyes swept over us before he turned towards the reserves—the benchers. "I want to try something different. Jae-il." My name was first. "You're going to play as a striker. You'll have Kim Jonghoon as your attacking midfielder and Park Chulsoo as a winger. You'll have the rest of the benchers as defense. Jinsoo, you're on the other team."

Lee Hyuk and Jinsoo in one team? I smirked. Oh, boy. I wondered if I could make 12 year olds cry too.

I looked back at my new team. The benchers were quite nervous, but at least they were nice enough to introduce themselves without sounding like they were doing me a favor. Kim Jonghoon and Park Chulsoo—Jinsoo's previous teammates—opted for an indifferent approach.

Well, as long as they at least made an attempt to work together, I was okay with it.

Coach Jeon blew the whistle.

xXx

Coach Jeon's POV:

It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. The new team was a disaster from the moment they stepped onto the pitch. The kids, most of them on the bench for a reason, didn't know how to work together. Their passes were off, their runs ill-timed, and their positioning was atrocious. 

Yet...

Jae-il was like a shining light in the darkness. He was everywhere, covering every gap, making up for his teammates' mistakes. He was a one-man army. Slippery. Fast. Unbelievably skilled for his age. It was unreal. Coach Jeon had heard from Coach Park, and Director Lee. Jae-il was supposedly a special talent, but the man hadn't expected this.

Even the best kids in the U-12 leagues didn't have the kind of coordination, vision and sheer skill that Jae-il did.

It didn't matter if two of his teammates didn't want Jae-il to succeed. 

It didn't matter if the benchers were out of their depth. 

Jae-il simply made it work. 

An overstep here, a feint there, and he was past defenders twice his size.

He would then dribble past the keeper and score. Over and over again.

By the time Jae-il's team had scored their fifth goal, that's when they began to foul him. The older boys, led by Lee Hyuk and Jinsoo, started to resort to cheap shots. Trips, pushes, even outright tackles from behind. One had even grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

But Jae-il? He didn’t flinch. He didn’t whine. He just picked himself up, placed the ball, and buried it from a free kick. Then a penalty. And finally, with an almost casual defiance—a goal straight from a corner.

A corner.

Coach Jeon had seen enough. "That's it!" He called a halt to the match. The score was 9-2, with all of the goals on the winning side coming from Jae-il. "Let's take a break, boys."

Jae-il was sitting on the grass, a bruise on his cheek, his jersey torn, and his legs covered in grass stains. He didn't seem to care, though. He was smiling, a satisfied grin that bordered on cocky. He'd just schooled the entire team, and he knew it. "What do you think?" Coach Kim said, his voice low as he approached him.

Coach Jeon sighed, running a hand through his receding hair. "What do you want me to say?"

"Look at him." Coach Kim gestured towards Jae-il. "He's eight, and he's already better than most of the U-14s, skillwise. I've never seen a kid with such natural talent. It's almost unfair."

"I know, I know." Coach Jeon rubbed his temples. "He's going to be the death of me."

"What now, then?"

"We do what we have to." He glanced at the rest of the team, many of them sulking or shooting envious glares at Jae-il. "We let him play where he wants. Besides, I don't think he'll stay with us for long..."

"Hoh?" Coach Kim hummed, eyes narrowed. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

Coach Jeon gave a slow nod, eyes still locked on the boy. “Maybe it’s too early to say. But honestly… South Korea might be too small for him.”