The team heads to the locker room.
Nakamura looks around.
"Guys... where's Kaneko?"
No one knows where he went.
"He left right after the game..." Noguchi said, opening the locker room door.
Everyone falls silent after Noguchi's words.
In the locker room, Riccardo approaches Nishimura.
"Remind me who Kaneko is?" Riccardo asked in a low voice.
"He's our number 9."
"Oh, now I remember..."
Riccardo takes off his shirt while Nishimura rummages through his bag.
"Does he always act like this?"
"No, he's usually much more confident... but today your presence must have shaken him. Up until now he didn't have a real rival for the starting spot."
"I see."
Nishimura heads for the showers.
"But the idea of not being a starter in his senior year probably hit him even harder."
Shimizu elbows Riccardo in the ribs. Riccardo turns to him.
"You have a really well-trained body... how many times a week do you train?"
"I train about six days a week."
Riccardo has broad shoulders, defined but not excessive muscles, a sculpted abdomen from years of training and discipline. His legs, compact and powerful, seem made for sprinting, jumping, resisting.
"Interesting..." Shimizu observes Riccardo closely, making him uncomfortable. "I imagine you've been doing this for a long time."
"Yes. Since the first game I saw on TV, I've always aimed to become a professional player. I work on it day after day."
"Like everyone on this team!"
Riccardo and Shimizu go to the showers.
That evening, Riccardo comes home.
He opens the door and a dog runs up to him.
"Hey, Sasha."
He closes the door, drops his bag on the floor, then kneels down to pet the dog.
"Welcome back!"
A girl approaches.
"Thank you, Cecilia."
Cecilia is about seventeen years old, about 1.68 meters tall, with dark red hair and green eyes.
"How was school today?"
"Good. The soccer team was suspicious of me at first, but I somehow managed to convince them."
Riccardo gets up and takes off his shoes.
"And you?"
"The usual lessons..."
Riccardo takes off his shoes, then walks down the hall.
"Have you decided whether to join that music club at school?"
"No, not yet."
"What's holding you back?"
They enter the kitchen. Riccardo opens the fridge.
"What are you now, my psychologist?"
He picks up a bottle of water.
"No, but you rarely talk to me about your private life."
Cecilia looks at him with an unsure expression.
"I don't have the courage to show my singing skills to others..."
Riccardo finishes a glass of water while watching her, perplexed.
"It's a real problem..." he says, half serious and half ironic.
She gives a crooked smile, more ironic than convinced.
"Such a profound diagnosis, doctor," he replies, raising an eyebrow.
Riccardo puts the bottle back in the fridge while Cecilia watches him.
"How do you deal with anxiety?"
"Who said I don't feel anxious?"
Riccardo approaches the sofa.
"Because it doesn't seem like it. I've never seen you hesitate to speak or do something in front of others..."
Riccardo sits down and thinks.
"Maybe I don't care about others?"
Cecilia looks at him, confused.
Why does he ask?
"Are you a cynic? Is that what you mean?"
"Something like that... but not always. I don't care what people think of me."
Cecilia studies him, curious, sitting on a stool.
"Not even the opinions of your friends or family?"
Riccardo lies down.
"Like I said, not always. But I listen when I think it's worth it. When people give constructive advice, not when they judge just to feel superior."
Cecilia looks discouraged.
"You make it look easy..."
"It's not. I make a lot of mistakes... and I cause problems. But that's the price I pay for living life my way."
Cecilia is surprised by her words.
"Sometimes I don't know which of us is older."
"On paper you are... but you're still a child. You cry over every little problem!" she says jokingly.
"Says the one who still gets angry with video games!"
Riccardo feels that that sentence hits him deeply.
He lowers his gaze and smiles weakly, with a calm tone and a hint of irony, as if he were accepting defeat with sportsmanship.
"I understand... everyone has their weaknesses..."
Cecilia giggles softly.
"Do me a favor," Riccardo sits up, looking at her seriously and firmly. "Try it on Monday."
She returns his serious look.
"Yes... I'll try."
Riccardo sighs and gets up from the couch.
"Good..." He approaches her and she looks at him. "And you don't need my opinion to know if you're good at singing: you have a beautiful voice."
With these words, Riccardo pats her on the forehead and leaves.
"Ouch!"
Riccardo runs away, pretending nothing has happened.
"Come back here!"
Cecilia chases him, but Riccardo locks himself in the bathroom.
"And I'm the childish one, eh..."