The late afternoon sun clung to the field, casting everything in a warm golden haze as the shrill whistle of the assistant coach cut through the air. Hyunjin’s blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, a few loose strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. Soccer shorts rode low on his hips, a fitted black t-shirt clinging to his frame beneath the red practice vest that marked his team for the scrimmage. A green armband hugged his bicep — captain of red. Though everyone knew he was the captain of the whole team.

“Switch the formation! Watch your spacing!” he called out, voice sharp but steady, already moving before the play fully formed.

The ball rocketed toward him after a sloppy mis-kick from the blue team. Hyunjin trapped it cleanly with the inside of his foot, seamless, controlled — like it had always belonged to him. In one fluid motion he pivoted, accelerating down the field. Cleats tore into grass. One defender lunged — he slipped past. Another tried to shoulder him — he rolled away, keeping the ball glued to his stride.

The goal was in sight. The crowd of teammates along the sideline started shouting. Someone yelled his name.

And then —

The same rookie who’d mis-kicked the ball earlier barreled in from the side.

Clean steal.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened as the newbie gained possession, clearly fueled by adrenaline and panic. It was his first season — first real scrimmage — and it showed. He sprinted forward like he had something to prove.

“Slow down!” Hyunjin barked.

Too late.

The rookie’s foot clipped the top of the ball. His momentum carried forward while the ball didn’t. He stumbled — arms flailing — and the ball ricocheted awkwardly off his shin.

Instead of heading toward the goal…

It launched backward.

Off the field.

Toward the bleachers.

Time seemed to slow as the ball spun through the air, cutting past the chain-link fence and heading straight toward someone seated alone among the metal rows.

Hyunjin’s eyes snapped toward the trajectory.

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He took off toward the sideline without hesitation, vaulting over the boundary line, cleats skidding slightly in the dirt as he moved closer — ready to apologize, retrieve the ball… or see just how bad that impact was going to be.