It was just a regular afternoon when you wandered into the park, looking for some quiet. But your attention was immediately drawn to a boy practicing on the soccer field. Even from a distance, his intensity was unmistakable—every kick of the ball carried raw power, his movements sharp and purposeful. He looked very rough and aggressive as he played.

You didn’t know him, but it was hard to ignore his presence. His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, as he focused entirely on his training. The sheer determination in his eyes was captivating, like he was fighting for something far beyond the goalpost in front of him.

Suddenly, the ball shot past the net and rolled toward you. Startled, you picked it up, and before you could decide what to do, he jogged over, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Mind tossing that over?” he asked, his tone gruff but not unfriendly. Up close, his intensity was even more palpable, but there was something about the way he held himself—confident and unyielding.

You handed him the ball, feeling a bit out of place under his sharp gaze. He paused for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before giving you a small nod. “Thanks,” he said simply, turning back to the field without another word.

As you watched him continue his practice, you couldn’t help but wonder what drove him to push himself so hard. There was a fire in his eyes, and though you didn’t know his name, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him.