"I believe in us."
That simple statent carried a sense of inevitability, a quiet confidence that stripped away the earlier bravado. Beneath the surface, Lance's words revealed a deep-rooted sense of team identity.
Lilith couldn't help but recall the ga against the Oakland Raiders — that fateful loss when the Chiefs' offense never even had a chance to take the field in the final monts.
Perhaps that defeat hit Lance harder than anyone realized. His ever-present smile, it seed, hid both a fiery passion and an unyielding determination, radiating warmth and energy like a miniature sun that could light up Arrowhead Stadium.
Unknowingly, Lilith found herself feeling sothing she hadn't experienced in weeks: anticipation.
Not fear. Not anxiety. Not dread.
She was looking forward to the next ga.
"Lilith?"
The sound of soone calling her na snapped her back to reality.
She glanced up to see Lance standing there with a playful smirk, his hand extended toward her, palm open. He gestured with his chin toward the kinesiology tape still clutched in her hand.
Embarrassed, Lilith handed over the tape. She opened her mouth to make a light-hearted remark to cover her mont of distraction — but Lance beat her to it.
Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, words stuck on the tip of her tongue.
But after just a few steps, Lance stopped abruptly and looked back.
"One more thing," he said casually.
Lilith raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"I believe you can do it, too."
With that, he flashed one of his trademark confident grins and walked away, leaving Lilith standing there, staring after him.
The image of that smile burned itself into her mind, softening the long-hardened lines of her usually stoic expression.
Taking a deep breath, Lilith gathered her books and headed to the locker room to change into her work clothes, ready to tackle the day. From outside, she could hear the faint sounds of players arriving at the training field, their voices growing louder.
Then—
"What the hell!"
"Soone get that traitor out of here!"
"Lance, have you lost your mind?"
"God help us. If Coach sees this, his heart might give out!"
"Rookie, what's your deal? Co on, let's have a chat in the locker room."
The cacophony of voices was loud enough to pull Lilith to the window. She peeked outside to see Lance standing in the middle of the training field, wearing a black Oakland Raiders jersey — the Raiders' ho uniform.
Surrounded by a sea of Chiefs players dressed in red-and-white training gear, Lance stood out like a sore thumb, attracting every pair of eyes on the field.
And the reaction was imdiate.
Towels, helts, wristbands, and water bottles ca flying at him from all directions as his teammates shouted playful insults and taunts.
Instead of ducking for cover, Lance dodged the incoming projectiles with exaggerated movents, treating it like a ga of dodgeball.
"Boo!"
A small group of fans who had arrived early to watch practice let out a chorus of boos. Though there were only about a dozen of them, their displeasure reverberated through the air with ten tis the intensity.
"Get out of here!"
"Burn that jersey! Burn it now!"
"Are you out of your mind? This is Kansas City, for Christ's sake!"
Exactly as Lilith had predicted.
And Lance's reaction?
He raised both hands in the air and made a devil-horn gesture with his fingers.
"Go, Raiders! Go!"
The boos intensified.
Lance continued to pump his fists in the air, encouraging the fans to boo louder. He egged them on, soaking up the jeers like a rock star reveling in the crowd's energy.
Then—
"Hey! That's my shoe!"
Patrick Mahos pointed accusingly at a lone shoe lying on the ground. His left foot, now shoeless, awkwardly perched on his right foot like a flamingo.
Beside him, Alex Smith stood with an innocent expression, arms crossed.
The entire team burst into laughter.
When offensive coordinator Brad Childress arrived on the field, he froze in place, stunned by the scene before him.
In recent weeks, the entire organization — from the coaching staff to the players to the back-office personnel — had been weighed down by a suffocating atmosphere. Head coach Andy Reid tried to remain composed, but the tension was evident. Offensive coordinator Matt Nagy was visibly stressed, to the point of pulling out clumps of hair.
The cloud of defeat hung heavy over Arrowhead Stadium.
Despite their best efforts to lift the team's spirits, nothing seed to work. Each loss chipped away at their confidence, creating a vicious cycle of doubt and hesitation.
The team needed a spark.
In soccer, this would be the mont when the captain stepped up to rally the troops. But in the NFL, captains held more symbolic roles — often serving as little more than ceremonial leaders.
This season, the Chiefs' captains were Alex Smith and Travis Kelce on offense, and Justin Houston and Eric Berry on defense.
With Berry out for the season due to injury, Smith being naturally reserved, and Houston preferring to let his actions speak for themselves, Kelce had been left to shoulder the burden of leadership alone.
But now, it was Lance stepping up.
Childress couldn't help but recall sothing Coach Reid had said about Lance—
Was this what Reid had seen coming?
Despite being a rookie, an outsider, and one of the few Asian players in the NFL, Lance had found a way to stand out by embracing his uniqueness. And sohow, he was pulling the locker room together.
Maybe, just maybe, the Chiefs' six-ga losing streak was a painful but necessary part of their growth.
Maybe this was the turning point they needed.
Back on the field, the players were laughing and joking like they hadn't in weeks. The oppressive tension had lifted, replaced by light-hearted banter and playful camaraderie.
Watching it all unfold, Childress felt a weight lift from his own shoulders.
For the first ti in a long while, he allowed himself to relax.
Lance raised his right hand again, continuing to chant.
"Go, Raiders! Go!"
The boos grew louder — but this ti, they were accompanied by grins and chuckles.
Even the fans standing near the training field couldn't help but crack a smile, though they continued to jeer.
Lance's antics had worked. The mood had lightened. The players were chasing each other around, joking and teasing like kids on a playground.
The cloud of anxiety that had hovered over Arrowhead Stadium for weeks was finally starting to dissipate in the morning sunshine.
In the distance, Lilith found herself smiling, too.
Maybe this really was the beginning of sothing new.
The Chiefs needed this kind of spirit — a spark of defiance, a refusal to back down, and an unyielding belief in their ability to rise again.
After all, this week, they were preparing for a rematch against the Oakland Raiders.
Their division rivals.
In the NFL, out-of-division matchups ca around every few years, like clockwork. But divisional gas?
Those were a different beast altogether.
Like the rivalries between Manchester United and Manchester City, Arsenal and Tottenham, AC Milan and Inter — divisional matchups were akin to local derbies, brimming with passion and intensity.
Because—
Teams in the sa division played each other twice every season.
And division winners automatically qualified for the playoffs.
These factors combined to make divisional gas so of the fiercest, most hotly contested matchups in the league.
And for the Kansas City Chiefs, their greatest divisional rivalry was with none other than the Oakland Raiders.
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Powerstones?
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