The ball floated back down into the box, hanging in the air. But Kujo stepped in and claimed it, his stunned expression betraying his surprise.
Madi collapsed into his chair as if struck by lightning.
> "I've seen missiles… but this… This was an eight-year-old launching a warhead!" "If the crossbar had been a little higher, that ball would've landed in the mayor's office in Buyenzi!"
On the pitch, Sabiti remained standing, hands on hips, calmly catching his breath. He didn't shout. He didn't complain.
He knew exactly what he had just done.
Salou Keita rushed over to him, eyes wide like marbles.
— "He looks like a pro in a kid's body…" he muttered.
— "Honestly, I wonder why the coach didn't play him earlier. With talent like that... If I were him? I'd skip training too, haha."
Khudhaïf arrived behind them, laughing:
— "Bro, were you trying to kill the crossbar or the goalkeeper?"
Sabiti smiled quietly.
— "The goal. But the bar got in the way…"
On the bench, Coach Ndikumana stood with arms crossed, watching the scene with a cold eye. But deep in his pupils, a glimmer of admiration had just awakened. He pressed his lips together and turned his gaze toward the sideline.
His thoughts wandered.
> "I think… he might be stronger than Tesuka…"
"But I need to make him understand the importance of training. Without making it look like I'm compromising my principles in front of everyone."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
> "All I need is to target a weakness… an area where he's vulnerable. And confront him with failure. Geniuses like that… they hate to lose, and they hate being laughed at even more. Even if they're bad at something, they can't stand being last. That's what drives them to grow."
> "I mustn't force him. I need to challenge him… subtly."
His gaze returned to Sabiti, who had just clapped hands with Chekinah after a missed pass.
— "Did you see that shot?" Sabiti asked with a laugh.
— "I did, but the bar was more scared than Kujo, bro!" the winger chuckled.
The stands were still buzzing. A man standing on a bench shouted:
— "That kid's a monster! Even birds don't fly that high!"
Madi came back on the mic, his voice a little hoarse:
> "And just to remind you, this is a U13 match, right? That kid out there—he's eight. EIGHT. And what he just did… that's not football. That's divine theater."
In a corner of the stands, a scout scribbled nervously in a notebook:
> Sabiti – 8 years old – cannon shot – exceptional vision – complete dribbling – calm personality. One to watch.
Meanwhile, Saint Augustin tried to recover possession. But in everyone's mind, one thing remained—suspended, floating, unforgettable:
That 25-meter strike… from an 8-year-old… that made a whole stadium rise to its feet.
Barely a minute after the action, Saint Augustin attempted to spark a comeback. Following a turnover by Hassan in midfield, Ismael, Saint Augustin's left-back, burst forward and immediately launched a counterattack, slicing through the halfway line. He looked up and spotted Papala, his winger, sprinting at full speed down the left flank. The pass was sharp and clean, and Papala controlled it on the run.
— "Go, Papala!" shouted a yellow-and-green supporter from the stands.
Salomon, known for his tireless stamina, was caught off guard. Papala locked onto the defensive line and slid a subtle ground pass toward Rahim, who had slipped in behind Salou Keita. The latter was caught off balance. Rahim, just outside the box, took a touch and followed with a crisp right-footed shot. The ball zipped along the ground, headed for the far bottom corner.
The stadium held its breath.
But Mossi, the PvP goalkeeper, leapt. Pure reflex. He stretched out fully, left arm extended, and barely tipped the ball with his fingertips. The ball ricocheted off the post and went out for a corner.
> — "Unbelievable! Mossi saves his team!" shouted Madi, the commentator, standing in his booth.
— "He's not a goalkeeper, he's a wall made of flesh and bone!"
Rahim slapped his head in frustration.
— "How did he stop that?!"
Mossi stood up, smiling at his teammates.
— "Not today, boys. Not today."
The crowd erupted. Even rival supporters applauded, aware they had just witnessed a world-class save.
2 minutes later,
The ball had barely left Dalaso's foot in his own half before it was already flying forward, as if carried by an invisible force. On the right wing, Amadou and Salomon were whispering to coordinate their press, but Sabiti had already smelled blood. He positioned himself at the edge of the box, muscles ready to spring.
> "There… there!" Salou Keita whispered from the center circle, as if guiding a masterpiece in progress.
The ball arrived at Sabiti's feet, back to goal, with three defenders closing in. One of them, Papala, pressed high, while two midfielders, tense like bowstrings, waited to trap him. But Sabiti, unmoved, took a calm touch, brushing off the first tackle with a flawless double move.
He barely glanced up, calculated the space, and feinted a shot—a fake shot—that sent the first defender sliding across the grass. In the same fluid motion, he executed a precise outside cut, leaving Papala rolling helplessly in the turf. The play continued: Sabiti threw in a step-over under the center back's foot, who nearly took his ankle out. But the kid's feline agility saved him.
> "One… two… three!" Madi counted, voice hoarse but fired up. "Three dribbles, three masterpieces…,ooh my god I think I can without regret,what a stunning performance"
For the third dribble, Sabiti lifted the ball with an improvised nutmeg, triggering a wave of gasps and admiration from the stands. The crowd rose as one, and even a few Saint Augustin players instinctively stepped back, blinded by the magic.
Only Kujo remained—towering in his gloves, ready to cut the angle. Sabiti took two strides, set the ball, and unleashed a low, left-footed cross shot—fast, clean, perfect. The ball zipped through like a beam of light and ended in the back of the net, just under the bar.
> Goooooooooooal! The stands erupted.
"He did it!" Madi shouted.
"Barely 20 minutes into the match, and he's already delivering a masterclass."
GOAL FOR PvP FC! 1-0.
The stadium erupted. PvP supporters jumped to their feet, shouting, pounding the benches, chanting "Sabiti! Sabiti!" in unison. A few scarves flew into the air. Children reached over the hedge, trying to touch a piece of the magic they had just witnessed.
On the pitch, Sabiti stood tall, fist clenched, as calm as a Zen monk who had fulfilled his vow. He let out a sigh of relief, more than a shout of joy. Yet his eyes sparkled. His face stayed focused, already thinking ahead to the rest of the match.
— "Well done, champ!" shouted Khudhaïf, the center forward, wrapping him in a hug.
— "We saw that, kid! That was beautiful!" gasped Hassan, catching his breath, one hand on his thigh.
— "What speed! What composure!" added Hussein, giving him a double thumbs-up.
Even Chekinah, who had stayed at left-back, ran over and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder:
— "You're a beast, little bro,you're a beast in all aspects except speed, bcs I'm the number one in speed."
On the bench, Coach Ndikumana allowed himself a brief smile. He exchanged a look of admiration with his assistant, then cleared his throat and clapped his hands.
— "Let's keep going!" he called out loudly. "We're not done yet!"
Madi, in his commentary booth, was fired up:
> "This kid is poison! He gets in, he wounds, he kills… Not one defender escaped him!
This wasn't just a goal. It was an act of domination!
1-0 for PvP FC, and what a show!"
In the stands, an elderly supporter, eyes misty, whispered to his neighbor:
— "At his age, I could barely dribble around a cone. This kid… he does that to three defenders. It's a whole different world."
Rahim, Saint Augustin's right back, had just returned to his position, panting. He muttered to his teammate Ismael:
— "That kid's diabolical…"
— "Feels like he wants to humiliate us," Ismael replied, fists clenched. "We've got to stop him, no matter what."
> "The revenge of Saint Augustin, coming up next!" Madi announced with a nervous laugh. "But let's be honest—Sabiti just scored a goal we'll still be talking about ten years from now!"
Scouts scribbled frantically in their notebooks:
> "Sabiti – 8 years old – Olympic calm – insane dribbling – surgical shot… One to watch closely."
The Saint Augustin players gathered in a defensive circle to rally each other. Papala, the left winger, shook his head in disbelief:
— "We've got to adjust the press. Higher up! Don't let him touch the ball!"
> "And here's the challenge: deprive a prodigy of the ball," Madi commented. "It's like he's become Saint Augustin's main target."
Meanwhile, Sabiti returned to his position. He rolled his shoulders, stretched, picked up a twig from under his foot, then murmured:
— "Alright. This is just the beginning."
Abou, from the right wing, joined him:
— "You're unbelievable… not scared of anything."
— "Never underestimate a kid who listens to the ball," Sabiti replied, cool as ever.
The game resumed. PvP reorganized in a tight block, carefully tracking each movement from the opposing side. Ponte Salam Keita leaned over to Salomon:
— "You cover the right side. If Sabiti breaks through again, you follow."
— "Got it," nodded the right-back, ready for anything.
And as Saint Augustin prepared their response, the stadium still echoed with the aftermath of that goal—a shot like a falling star, shining through a single, pure gesture.
When the Game resumes,
The pressing from Dalaso, PvP FC's captain, was relentless. He gave one last kick toward the opposing striker, which allowed Sabiti to intercept the ball right in midfield. The moment felt suspended—like a scene from a movie where the hero makes his first great play. The young prodigy, unfazed, took the ball with a subtle touch and perfect control.
— "That's it right there!" Khudhaïf grinned, giving him a wink. He knew the little genius was ready to shine again.
One quick glance around: there was no one close enough to challenge his breakaway. The defenders seemed frozen by the speed at which Sabiti had kicked into gear. Kujo, the Saint Augustin keeper, was already positioning himself to stop any attempt, his eyes locked on Sabiti's every move. But the genius was already in motion.
Sabiti reached the edge of the box, squeezed between two Saint Augustin midfielders. But he didn't waste time. With a fluid motion, he launched an elastico that sent the first defender stumbling one way, then followed with a quick dribble that made the second one fall outright. It was a ballet. A dribble, a feint, a cut. Sabiti moved with terrifying ease, never losing control of the ball, his body in perfect harmony with the sphere.
Rahim, the right-back, charged forward to catch the prodigy, barking:
— "You're not the only one who can play this game, kid!" He went for a risky tackle, but Sabiti was already gone. Rahim, frustrated, could only watch his teammates scramble in Sabiti's shadow, completely destabilized.
In a flash, Sabiti was inside the penalty box. He raised his left foot and unleashed a powerful, precise shot. Kujo, alert and ready, managed to get a hand to it—but the force of the strike and its perfect trajectory drove the ball into the net.
> Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooalazoooooo!!!!!!!!!! Againnnnnnn!
GOAL FOR PvP FC! 2-0.
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