A Monster Lives in Rome
"Pass!"
"I'm open!"
It was a counterattack. His teammates surged forward with their hands raised high.
Yohan, who had been dribbling with short, clean touches, ran a rapid calculation of who should receive the ball. The speed of each runner, the positioning of the opposing defenders, the likely next move of whoever got the pass—he weighed it all in a heartbeat.
The decision he reached was a long ball out to the right wing.
Whump!
The winger racing down the flank took the pass as it dropped neatly onto his foot, then drove a low cross through the gap between the center backs to Bianchi, who had burst into the channel. Bianchi met the inviting roll of the ball with a clean strike—
Thwack!
—and it was in. The opening goal.
After sharing the celebration with Bianchi and the rest of his teammates, Yohan was heading back to his position when he noticed the coach clapping in his direction. Probably trying to encourage him all the more because he felt bad about shifting his position, Yohan thought. Then the referee's whistle for the restart blew, and he swept the thought aside.
The match finished 4–0.
They had been winning every game, but a clean sheet had eluded them until now. The coach praised the squad generously for finally locking one down.
When the players returned to the club and headed for the showers, the coach pulled Yohan aside to ask about his current role.
"Managing all right? Think you can keep playing there?"
"Yes."
"Is it at least fun?"
"Football is always fun."
The coach snorted at that. Yohan was relentlessly positive, and that kind of attitude could easily paper over what he actually felt. So the coach pressed for something more precise.
"How does it compare to playing up front?"
"Playing as a striker is way more fun."
"Got it. Just hang in until the new kid arrives. If you get sick of it before then, tell me straight. We don't force players into positions they hate."
"Yes, Coach."
"You really were excellent today. Outstanding performance."
This was not praise designed to keep Yohan interested. It came from genuine satisfaction. Deployed as an attacking midfielder, Yohan had put in a display so polished it was hard to believe he was playing at the U-11 level. Orchestration, passing, shooting, pressing—he had executed every facet at a high standard, and the coach was thoroughly pleased. The club would be, too, once they reviewed the footage of today's play.
"Thank you."
"There's just one thing you need to fix."
"What's that?"
"On that first goal—when you played the pass."
"Yes?"
"There was a slight hesitation before it."
"Hesitation?"
"A lot of teammates were calling for it around you, so even after you'd made the decision, the ball left your foot late. The options left and right were both good enough that either would have worked—but once you decide, be decisive."
Hearing it put that way, Yohan remembered the flicker of doubt just before he struck the ball. He hadn't stopped. It had only been the tiniest psychological pause—a double-check that this was the right pass. Apparently it had shown on the outside.
Nothing gets past Coach, he thought, and he filed the advice away carefully.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. Off you go."
"Yes. Thank you for today, Coach."
"Mm."
An appealing face, a bright way of greeting people, and not a trace of arrogance despite his talent—Yohan even had every staff member's name memorized. He was enormously popular around the club. The coaches were no exception. No matter how firmly they resolved to treat every player fairly, a kind kid like Yohan inevitably drew a little extra favoritism. Watching the way he carried himself, the coach found himself thinking that the fans would love him too—and that he was already looking forward to the day Yohan debuted with the First Team.
"Turtle."
"Yeah?"
"Let's watch a movie."
"Okay."
"Come here."
At Haley's call from where she lay on the sofa, Yohan took the seat right beside her feet. The sofa was big enough that a boy and a girl could stretch out side by side without trouble, and they often watched movies pressed close together—but today was a little different.
"Don't sit too close."
Haley was finding the proximity with Yohan a bit uncomfortable.
"Okay."
Yohan had a rough sense of the secondary sexual characteristics she was going through. Whenever something felt like it might cross into the awkward territory between a boy and a girl, he was careful not to make her self-conscious. Keeping the distance she asked for now was part of that.
"So when is Aiden getting here?"
"You know that's the fifth time you've asked, right?"
"But I want to see him."
"You've never even talked to him on the phone. What do you mean you want to see him?"
Caroline had gone to the airport to meet her son, who was visiting from abroad, leaving Haley and Yohan alone in the house.
"A new friend is always welcome."
"You're both such dorks, you'll probably get along fine. Now shut up and watch the movie."
"Okay."
The film Haley had picked today was an animated one. Like most kids' cartoons, it was full of bright, hopeful energy—which did not suit Haley at all. She wanted to switch it off and put on something else that very second. She couldn't, though.
"Whoa…!"
Yohan was completely absorbed. Haley shot a sidelong glance at him marveling at the dragon the protagonist rode and snorted.
"So childish."
She had entirely forgotten that she was the one who had chosen the movie. Whether she scoffed or not, Yohan kept watching with total concentration.
Then, just as the film was ending, the front door opened. Yohan sprang up from the sofa at once.
"Haley! Come on—we have to help with the bags."
"You do it."
"Your little brother is here and you're not even going to welcome him?"
"I see his face all the time."
"He's going to feel left out."
"Don't care."
Laziness dripped from every word. Yohan clicked his tongue, dodged Haley's irritated swipe, and headed for the entrance.
"Welcome home."
Caroline was just coming in with a suitcase.
"Hey. Did you enjoy the movie?"
"Yes."
Beside her stood a slight little boy blinking up at him. Haley's younger brother—Aiden Newman. He wore large round glasses and had a head of soft, springy curls, with a shy face to match. True to that impression, Aiden was extremely reserved around strangers.
Behind him was a middle-aged woman who looked so well kept she could have passed for her mid-to-late thirties. Olivia—Haley's grandmother and Caroline's mother. Yohan could not quite understand how anyone called "Grandma" could look that young, but he kept the thought to himself.
"Hello. I'm Yohan Lee."
"Hello. I'm Olivia Newman. Haley's grandmother."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. When I first saw you, I thought you were one of Aunt Carrie's friends."
"…Pardon?"
"You look really young."
Children rarely coat their words with flattery. And Olivia, who had already heard from Caroline about Yohan's frank nature, found the boy bold—and was thoroughly delighted all the same. Everyone likes being told they look young. From that first meeting, Olivia took a strong liking to him.
"Haley said you like games?"
Once the luggage was sorted with Caroline's help and Aiden came out into the living room, Yohan approached him warmly.
"…"
Between the gentle face and the kind voice, Aiden at least managed a nod even if he wouldn't speak.
Sensing interest spark in Aiden's eyes at the mention of games, Yohan pointed to the latest handheld console the boy had brought with him.
"Want to set it up?"
"…"
"I'll help. Can I play too?"
"…"
Aiden answered with nods rather than words. As Yohan plugged the console into the power outlet behind the TV himself, he recalled the earnest request Caroline had made of him: look after this very shy Aiden well for the two months he would be here. Yohan set about fulfilling that request with complete dedication.
After school and training, he always came to her house to game with Aiden, and he never held back praise for the boy's encyclopedic knowledge of games Yohan himself didn't know. He couldn't overhaul Aiden's timid nature entirely, but he did get him to the point where he could talk openly with the people close to him. It was much the same approach the club was taking with Yohan—only now Yohan was applying it to Aiden.
Thanks to those efforts, Aiden began to smile from time to time, if not freely, and he grew attached to Yohan. Holding actual conversations with growing ease, and sharing all kinds of stories, was a bonus. Caroline was overjoyed by the change in her son.
I could bring him every year.
It wasn't as though kind children like Yohan didn't exist in America. Aiden's elementary school, in particular, was a prestigious one near an affluent neighborhood, so well-raised kids rarely bullied others. The problem was that Aiden simply couldn't adapt on his own. He struggled so much with socializing that his grandparents had homeschooled him—but that raised concerns about his social development, so as a last resort they had brought him here. And that choice seemed to have been an excellent one.
As a new friend, and as a reliable party member in the RPGs they played together, Yohan spent time with Aiden while also focusing on training and steadily accumulating match experience. Absorbing the coach's advice, he distinguished himself on both the second and third lines—especially with through balls that, guided by his wide vision, found runners making runs with uncanny precision.
And so, from the day he joined the U-11 side, Yohan never lost a single match and never drew one either. The winning streak rolled on. Rome's U-11 team was posting overwhelming results, and Yohan was the key player—something every teammate on the pitch could feel. Word was filtering out to other clubs as well: Rome had a kid who played like something else.
The rumors he had heard upon joining—about the Lazio and Milan players. The title of "monster" that had been hung on those two after they skipped up to U-13 this season was beginning to attach itself to Yohan as well.
"Hehe."
Yohan himself, though, was grinning ear to ear for a much simpler reason: a newly selected player from the latest youth trials had joined the U-11s, which meant he could finally return to his original position. Playing as an attacking midfielder on the side was fine. When he played like Lorenzo Lucca, it was every bit as enjoyable as being a striker. But other positions simply didn't pull at him the same way.
That preference of Yohan's held firm even when his best performances came from the third line.