The field was already alive by the time I stepped onto it.
Players moved fast, sticks clashing, voices overlapping in sharp bursts of energy. Every movement had intent, every pass had purpose, and the entire field felt like it was operating on a rhythm that I could almost follow.
I slowed slightly as I walked in, letting my senses adjust instead of forcing them down.
It was loud—but clear.
From the bleachers, I could hear voices I shouldn't have been able to pick up at this distance.
"…this weekend, there's a party."
I didn't look up. I didn't need to.
"Friday night," Lydia added. "You should come."
"A party?" Allison sounded unsure.
"I can't," she said after a second. "It's family night."
Lydia scoffed lightly, clearly unimpressed. "You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage."
"Scrimmage? Like football?"
I almost smiled at that.
"Football's a joke here," Lydia said. "The sport's lacrosse."
There was a small pause before she spoke again, softer this time, but more deliberate.
"Because of a certain team captain."
My focus shifted slightly, not outwardly, but enough that I was paying closer attention now.
"Who is that?" Allison asked.
A brief silence followed, just long enough to feel intentional.
I could tell Lydia had followed Allison's gaze.
I didn't turn.
"Him?" Lydia said casually.
Another pause.
"Don't know."
Then, almost as an afterthought—
"But he's kind of cute."
My step faltered for half a second, barely noticeable unless someone was actively looking for it.
They were too far away. I shouldn't have heard that.
But I did.
[Perception +0.05]
I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral.
Okay… that's new.
"McCall!"
Coach's voice cut through everything, snapping my focus back instantly.
I looked over.
"You planning on daydreaming or you actually gonna play?"
"Playing," I said as I stepped forward without hesitation.
He pointed toward the goal. "Good. Get in there."
I paused slightly. "Goalie?"
"I know you've never played," Coach said, already turning away like the conversation was over. "That's the point. Let the others score, build confidence. First day back."
I frowned. "What about me?"
He didn't even glance back. "Try not to take any in the face. Let's go!"
Then, louder—
"Let's see some energy! You're making me look bad out here!"
I stepped into position.
From here, everything narrowed. Instead of tracking the entire field, my focus condensed into something more manageable—angles, movement, distance. It simplified the chaos into something structured.
Cleaner.
More predictable.
[Body Awareness +0.03][Balance +0.02]
"Run it!" Coach shouted. "And somebody actually try to score!"
The first shot came fast—too fast for someone inexperienced.
I still saw it.
Not just the ball, but the motion leading up to it—the shift in posture, the angle of the shoulders, the release point.
My body moved before I consciously processed it.
I adjusted, raised my stick, and caught it clean.
Too easy.
A brief pause followed.
Coach narrowed his eyes. "…again."
The second shot came lower and harder.
This time, I reacted faster, dropping my stance and snapping my hand down just in time to block it.
[Reaction Speed +0.04][Hand-Eye Coordination +0.03]
"Again!" Coach barked. "Come on, you're embarrassing yourselves!"
The third shot came from the side.
I pivoted smoothly, pushing off my back foot and covering the angle just as the ball crossed in.
Deflected.
Now people were starting to notice.
Not everyone.
But enough.
Jackson slowed slightly, watching from the side, and for the first time, the confidence in his expression slipped just enough to reveal irritation underneath.
"Move," he muttered, grabbing the ball.
He stepped forward without warning.
The shot he took wasn't straightforward.
It was controlled.
A fake high, followed by a snap low, with the angle shifting mid-release. Fast, precise, and designed to throw off timing.
The kind of shot no one was supposed to stop.
I moved before the second motion even finished.
I dropped, extended, and caught it.
Clean.
Silence followed.
Jackson stared.
Just for a second too long.
From the bleachers, I heard Allison again.
"…he seems like he's pretty good."
"Oh, very good," Lydia replied immediately, a little too quick.
Jackson's jaw tightened slightly.
I didn't react. I didn't look.
But internally, something sharpened.
[Perception +0.04]
"Again!" Coach shouted. "Don't stop now!"
The next shot came without warning.
Hard.
Direct.
This time, instead of stepping back, I stepped forward, closing the distance before the ball could reach its full momentum.
The world didn't slow—but it stretched.
I could see everything. The rotation of the ball, the exact angle it would take, the precise moment it would cross into the goal.
I moved before it got there.
I raised my stick and caught it clean.
Silence followed again, longer this time.
I blinked, and everything snapped back to normal.
Normal speed. Normal sound.
My grip tightened slightly as I processed what had just happened.
[Reaction Speed +0.05][Movement Efficiency +0.03] → Speed: 17.6 → 17.7
Coach stepped closer now, actually watching instead of just shouting.
"…alright."
Then he turned and yelled—
"Rotate! Before he makes the rest of you look bad!"
I stepped out of the goal.
The field opened back up, wider and less controlled, but my body adjusted quickly.
Pass. Catch. Turn.
Everything flowed together naturally.
[Balance +0.02][Movement Efficiency +0.03]
On the sidelines, Stiles leaned forward, clearly trying to process what he was seeing.
"…okay," he muttered. "Nope. Not normal. Definitely not normal."
I caught another pass without breaking stride and pushed forward.
Then something shifted.
Not the game.
Something else.
I slowed slightly, just enough to notice it.
That same feeling from before.
Someone was watching me.
Not from the bleachers.
From somewhere else.
I looked past the field, toward the tree line.
There.
A figure stood in the shadows, completely still, watching.
I didn't react outwardly and didn't stop moving, but I knew exactly who it was.
Derek.
Even from this distance, there was no mistaking it.
That presence.
That control.
For a brief moment, everything else faded into the background.
Then he stepped back.
Gone.
I exhaled slowly, grounding myself again.
[Perception +0.05] → Control: 15.8 → 15.9
"McCall!"
Coach's voice snapped me back immediately.
"You zoning out now too? Stay in it!"
I nodded once. "I'm in it."
And I was.
But now this wasn't just practice anymore.
Because someone else had noticed.
And this time, I understood exactly what that meant.
To be continued…