Despite the intensity of the first half, the scoreline was a lackluster 1-0.
Of course, for São Paulo FC, both the performance and the result were excellent.
Even so, the ho team's locker room remained quiet.
No one showed any outward signs of celebration.
It was that important of a match. Everyone's face was tense, focused only on the second half that was soon to co.
"Hoo..."
Among them, the most focused was Breno, seated in the corner with his eyes gently closed.
'Just stay focused like this. If I do well, we'll win. As long as I play my part...'
He silently reassured himself and gathered his confidence.
Neymar had been a monster in the first half, but Breno had managed to hold his own, thanks in large part to that confidence.
Still, it wasn't ti to relax yet.
In fact, from now on, it was even more crucial.
He knew Santos FC would co back with a solution in the second half.
And Breno understood better than anyone what a single mistake could cost.
That was why he remained composed.
Just as Ho-young had taught him, he stabilized his mindset.
At that mont...
"Captain."
"Oh, hey."
Ho-young had co by to offer encouragent.
"I'm not a defender or anything, but you're doing great out there. Thanks to you, our midfield's gotten so breathing room, and I've been able to conserve energy too."
"That's a relief..."
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Yeah?"
"Don't get too caught up in Neymar."
"Huh...?"
Ho-young continued.
"When you're playing football, you have to empty your mind. If you get impatient, even things that should go well won't."
Passing on the sa advice Cha Bum-kun had once given him, Ho-young's words made Breno's short hair stand on end.
"Yeah. I can do this."
Winning ntality.
That was all he needed now.
Breno ntally armored himself with it.
Ho-young extended his fist.
"Let's do this. Only 40 minutes left."
Nod.
Breno didn't say anything, just gave a firm nod.
'I'll thank you after it's over.'
Every ti things got tough, every ti he felt exhausted, it was Ho-young who pulled him forward. He wanted to repay that support.
With a good result.
'I'll make it happen.'
Breno steeled his resolve.
The second half began.
Santos FC, needing a result, ca out with a new tactical approach.
They began targeting São Paulo's flanks to diversify their attacks.
They regained control of the montum and rattled São Paulo's defensive line.
"Stay sharp!"
Ho-young shouted, veins bulging from his neck.
Possession had shifted to Santos.
A counterattack.
Santos surged forward with a singular focus: they were going to make this one count.
Ganso's precise and sharp pass pierced São Paulo's backline.
The triangle of Neymar, Gabigol, and Arthur ca to life.
With movents rarely extending beyond two touches, they quickly reached the penalty area.
Ganso received the return pass.
That's when Casemiro stepped in to apply pressure as the first barrier.
'I have to stop him.'
But there were too many holes to cover.
Even the slightest hesitation would lead to a successful dribble or pass.
'Focus.'
His mind raced back to the special training he had gone through with Ho-young over the past few months.
'I can do this.'
Glance.
Casemiro's eyes bore into Ganso's face with intense concentration.
"Hoo..."
Dribble, shot, or pass?
Ganso clearly hesitated.
Normally, in situations like this, he'd pass to Neymar on the left.
Besides, he had to avoid mid-range shots.
He had already failed several tis in the first half, and with ti running out, there was no room for unnecessary risks.
That's why he sent a lofted pass to the left.
But then...
Thud!
Just as Ganso made his move, a tackle ca flying in from the diagonal rear.
"Ugh!"
It was Ho-young, who had dropped from the second line to the third.
As a result, Ganso's ball flew wildly toward the left flank.
A golden opportunity had just been blown.
'Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!'
His desperation turned to rage.
The attack he had ticulously built had been ruined.
'This is insane.'
He was regarded as a top-tier midfielder in the U-15 league.
But since the first half, his passes and shots had been completely neutralized.
And he had trained relentlessly for this match.
Days that felt like hell. He had wanted to give up more than once, but pushed through.
All for this ga.
"...!"
But it was too early to give up.
'I'm still in this!'
There was still a sliver of hope.
The ball that had been deflected wide landed at Neymar's feet.
Smack.
22nd minute of the second half.
Neymar took possession of the ball.
Right near the penalty area, the zone where he was most dangerous.
"Huff..."
He exhaled as he got control of the ball.
His eyes were alive, like a predator freshly awakened in the wild.
A phrase from Coach Pala echoed in his head.
Right after the first half ended, in the visitors' locker room.
"Live up to your na."
Simple, yet deeply aningful words.
And it was more than enough fuel to ignite Neymar's competitive fire.
As the coach had said, he was Neymar.
The boy who had already made a na for himself despite his young age, and who had received offers from Real Madrid.
This boy had risen to this level purely on raw talent.
Today was just a roadblock. He'd overco it.
Neymar took deep, aggressive breaths, his body swaying left and right with dynamic movent.
His trademark body feint.
His flexibility was unmatched among his age group.
The movents born from that were nothing short of art.
Even spectators couldn't help but marvel.
It was almost hard to believe this was a youth match.
Left? Right? Which way would he go?
Any defender would be overwheld having to read him in real ti.
And in front of him was Breno.
Which ant Neymar had the advantage.
Breno might be mid-table material in the league, but against a crack player like Neymar, he looked small.
Coach Pala had drilled that point into him repeatedly.
That's why Neymar had targeted Breno so aggressively in their last match.
And São Paulo FC had foolishly fielded Breno again.
'This will be easy.'
He wasn't just confident. He was overflowing with it.
It would be like brushing off dust.
Neymar tried to bait Breno with a heavy body feint.
But then...
'Huh?'
He didn't move.
Like a solid rock, Breno stood still, eyes fixed on Neymar's feet.
'Then...'
There was only one answer.
Tap.
Nutg.
He slipped the ball between Breno's slightly parted legs.
Then he darted forward without even looking back.
He was sure it would succeed.
'Wait...?'
Neymar's face turned pale.
Breno's legs, pulled in just in ti, had blocked the ball.
"What the...!"
Neymar couldn't believe it.
His face turned red with disbelief as he tried to recover the ball.
But it was already gone, passed off by Breno.
"Ah..."
'I can't even get past him?'
Neymar stared blankly at Breno, stunned.
Could soone really change this much in just a few months?
Of course, if he really wanted to, he could probably break through.
This was only one failed attempt.
But that one mont had shaken Neymar.
Impatience.
It began to creep in.
Even as Santos continued to attack, the results were disappointing.
Neymar finally managed to get past Breno, but couldn't convert it into a goal.
Gabigol, the central striker, also lost steam and squandered every chance that ca his way.
Their teamwork collapsed over ti.
Nothing went right, not their passing, not their ball control.
The rest of the match was controlled by São Paulo.
They created multiple attacking chances from their solid base and fired three shots on target within 20 minutes.
Then, in the 40th minute of the second half.
Thanks to the crumbling Santos FC and Ho-young's preserved stamina, a breakthrough ca.
It was their final chance.
"Go go go go go!!"
Oscar's voice rang out from behind.
His passionate shout ignited a fire in Ho-young's back as he cut inside down the right.
By now, they didn't even need to make eye contact.
Just by listening to his voice, Ho-young knew where Oscar wanted him to run.
That was teamwork.
Whoosh!
Oscar's pass zipped across the turf into the open space on the right flank.
And at that mont, the entire stadium seed to sit up like startled moles.
Smack!
Ho-young caught the ball on his toe and stretched it long.
Push and run.
The ball rolled at a pace that seed impossible to match, but Ho-young's legs were just as fast.
A storm.
That was the only way to describe it.
The defenders chasing beside him looked like they were running backwards, the gap widening rapidly.
Ho-young's solo sprint had begun.
He crossed the halfway line and covered 50 ters in a flash, leaving only the goalkeeper ahead.
A mont later, the 170-plus cm goalkeeper rushed out in a panic.
Their eyes t in mid-air.
But while Ho-young's gaze brimd with confidence, the goalkeeper's eyes were full of anxiety.
"Hoo..."
Ho-young moved.
His chest expanded and his right leg stretched forward.
Not a shot.
A dribble.
Smack!
The goalkeeper tried to keep up on all fours, but it wasn't even close.
'It's open.'
A wide-open shooting angle.
Only the empty net remained.
And then.
Thud!
The ball left Ho-young's foot and landed in the back of the net.
A sealing goal.
Late in the second half.
Three minutes of added ti were given.
Santos FC raised their tempo to the extre.
They pushed forward even the defenders, abandoning their backline to overload São Paulo's half.
But the miracle never ca.
All eleven São Paulo FC players committed to defense, forming a solid wall.
There was no hope left for Santos FC.
A draw could have left a 1% chance at the title, but the bleak 2-0 scoreline didn't change.
One minute remained.
Even the Santos FC goalkeeper ran into the field to join the attack.
It was a desperate move.
But São Paulo's goal, once closed, refused to open again.
And soon after, the referee's whistle rang across the pitch.
It marked the end of a long, long season.
And the mont São Paulo FC were officially crowned champions.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)
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