Saturday came like a storm.
Kai didn't sleep much the night before.
He couldn't.
Tez's face haunted his dreams.
His laugh. His jokes. His brother's smirk whenever Kai came back exhausted from a game.
Kai had called Madison late that night, voice cracking, heart raw.
"I lost him, Mads," he whispered into the phone.
"Tez… my brother… he's gone."
Madison cried with him.
Not big, loud sobs — but the quiet kind. The kind you can't stop once they start.
"I'm so sorry, Kai," she said. "He's still with you. He'll always be with you."
Kai wanted to believe that.
He had to believe that.
Before the match against Casa Pia, Kai sat alone in the Sporting locker room.
He pulled out a black Sharpie and carefully scribbled four words on his white undershirt:
"Watch over me, big bro."
Simple.
Raw.
Real.
He pulled his jersey over it, his heart hammering.
Tonight wasn't about points.
It wasn't about titles.
Tonight was about honoring Tez. He was about to honor him in a way only he could.
The Estádio José Alvalade was packed, fans buzzing. Another home game.
Sporting were top.
Their football was electric.
Everyone wanted to see if the American wonderkid could keep delivering or he was just a moment. Something that is meant to fade.
What they didn't know — what nobody knew — was that tonight, they were about to witness something different.
Something personal.
From kickoff, Kai was a man possessed.
He pressed.
He dribbled.
He hunted the ball like a wolf smelling blood.
The first goal came early — 12th minute.
Inácio intercepted a pass and quickly played a diagonal pass as he fed the ball wide to Kai.
With a burst of pace, Kai left his marker for dead, cut inside onto his right foot, and curled a shot into the far corner.
1-0 Sporting.
The stadium exploded.
Kai sprinted to the corner flag — and debuted his new celebration.
Hands up — fingers shaped like imaginary glocks — he fired three silent shots into the sky, then blew across the tips like blowing out a candle.
The crowd roared without knowing the meaning. Those three shots a symbol of how many shots got Tez. Of all the shots that rang out, only three got him.
But Kai knew.
And somewhere, he hoped, Tez knew too.
Casa Pia crumbled after that.
Sporting smelled blood.
Delap and Fabio Silva tortured the defenders, creating chance after chance.
The second goal came before halftime — Kai again at the center.
He weaved past two defenders and squared it across for Delap to tap home.
2-0.
Halftime came and went.
Kai sat in the locker room, breathing deep, staring at the writing on his undershirt.
For you, bro.
The second half?
A massacre.
In the 54th minute, Fabio Silva flicked a brilliant backheel into Kai's path.
One touch to control, second touch to blast low and hard into the corner.
3-0 Sporting.
Kai brace.
He did the celebration again — slower this time, more deliberate. But he also took off his jersey. The words on his undershirt on display. The fans seeing the words roared again.
Imaginary shots.
Blow the candle.
Kids in the stands already mimicking it and so were their parents.
Each movement burned with purpose.
Casa Pia looked broken.
Tired.
Disheartened.
Just trying to survive.
But Kai wasn't finished.
He wanted his hat-trick.
He needed it.
It came in the 72nd minute.
A quick turnover.
Kai picked up the ball forty yards from goal and just ran.
One defender? Skipped.
Two defenders? Burned.
Inside the box, the keeper came rushing out — too late.
Kai lifted the ball over him with a cool, disrespectful little chip.
4-0 Sporting.
Kai hat-trick.
The stadium shook with noise.
KAIIII! KAIIII!
As he jogged back to the halfway line, Inácio grabbed him into a hug.
"That was for someone, wasn't it?" he murmured into Kai's ear.
Kai just nodded, too choked up to answer.
"He must be proud of you right now." Inácio continued.
The fifth and final goal came late — Delap again, fed by Pedro Gonçalves — but by then, the story of the night had already been written.
Final score: 5-0 Sporting.
And one name on everyone's lips.
Kai Alexander.
After the match, social media exploded.
Clips of Kai's goals went viral instantly.
Analysts broke down his runs, his instincts, his killer mentality.
Fans of Sporting were already singing about him.
"Kai é nosso!" they chanted into the night. "Kai is ours!"
But not everyone was thrilled.
Back in Paris, PSG fans fumed.
Their team had lost to Lyon — an ugly 2-1 defeat.
Meanwhile, the kid they loaned out was lighting up Portugal.
Questions flooded Twitter and fan forums:
"Why the hell did we loan Kai Alexander?"
"We need him NOW, not in six months."
"Imagine him feeding Ramos and Dembélé…"
"This is a disgrace from PSG management."
Even French newspapers picked up the debate:
Le Parisien:
"Loaned Out, Missed Opportunity? Kai's Hattrick Raises New Questions at PSG."
L'Équipe:
"Sporting's American Gem: Kai Alexander Shines, PSG Fans Frustrated."
None of that mattered to Kai.
Not right now.
Not tonight.
Tonight was for Tez.
After the match, still in his full kit, Kai sat alone on the empty field. While the groundskeepers were staring at him.
He pulled off his jersey, revealing the words on his undershirt.
"Please… watch over me, big bro." He muttered.
He lay back against the grass, looking up at the stars.
"That was for you," he whispered.
A soft breeze swept through the stadium, rustling the flags.
And somewhere deep inside, Kai felt it.
Felt him.
Still here.
Still watching.