"Wake up, you moron! We're almost there! You can't let that free VIP ticket go to waste just because you were sooo asleep!"
Zorion's dreams of flying over peaceful rice fields were instantly obliterated by what felt like a magnitude 9.8 earthquake focused entirely on his shoulders.
His head jerked sideways. His neck screamed. His soul left his body for a second.
"AAHH—Wh—What the hell, Alethea?!" he groaned, halfway falling off the bus seat, rubbing his eyes like he'd just survived an assassination attempt.
"You've been sleeping like the last man on Earth," she huffed, arms crossed. "And I am not letting this movie-character-looking dude next to me walk into the biggest event of his life like a zombie."
In the seat ahead, Sathvic observed the chaos in silence, sipping from a paper coffee cup with the serenity of a monk.
"If Alethea had done this to any other passenger, it would be considered assault," he noted out loud. "But doing it to a brother figure? Entirely legal, I presume."
Zorion looked at him, still half-asleep. "Presume? You enjoyed watching me die."
Sathvic gave him a tiny smirk. "A little."
Narrator:
> And thus began the first day of the Equinox Series—not with fanfare or fireworks, but with a targeted domestic earthquake on Bus Seat 17A.
As the trio gathered their bags and stepped out, the monstrous Zaherra Stadium stood tall on the horizon. The sun gleamed off its curved glass panels. This was it. The first match. The biggest showdown. And none of them knew yet just how important today would be.
---
Cut to: Zaherra Team Locker Room
It smelled of liniment, pressure, and the fear of public failure.
In the middle of it all stood Zahir, the captain of Zaherra's national team.
He was tall. Built like a wall. His muscles had muscles. He looked like he could send Zorion into the third dimension just by bumping into him. And yet…
He was nervous.
Hands fidgeting. Eyes glued to the floor. Shoulders hunched like a guilty schoolboy.
Across from him stood Eirene, arms folded, eyes burning with something fiercer than fire—belief.
"Zahir," she said, her voice soft but steel-edged, "you're not out there to prove something to Indra. You're out there to prove something to yourself."
He didn't answer. Just exhaled shakily.
Eirene stepped closer, her tone shifting to something gentler. "You're not who you were last year. That 6–1 loss? That wasn't you at your best. And here?" She placed a hand over his heart. "Here's where your real strength is."
Zahir finally looked up, uncertain. "But what if I—"
She cut him off, smiling. "You can play even with 4 balls."
Zahir blinked. "…What?"
Eirene blinked back. "…Sorry, old Zaherran proverb. Got carried away."
He cracked a small, nervous laugh.
Narrator:
> This was the Zaherra team's secret weapon. Not brawn. Not tactics.
But a sister who believed so hard, even fear had to sit down and shut up.
---
The Zaherra Stadium loomed above them, casting long shadows on the walkway like a giant sundial counting down to kickoff.
Crowds buzzed in waves—fans, flags, and food stalls flooding the streets.
Zorion adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag, scanning his ticket for the third time like it might suddenly vanish.
Alethea stood beside him, arms folded, lips curled in playful mockery.
"Hmph. Bye, Mr. VIP Zorion. Now go enjoy your special view from the fancy box," she said, dramatically flipping her hair.
"Hope you find a beautiful girl as your duo-box partner for the ultimate 'VIP experience.'"
Narrator:
> Geez. She's dropping spoilers like she's narrating this story.
Zorion opened his mouth to reply, but Sathvic beat him to it—placing a calm hand on Alethea's head like he was petting a wildcat.
"Now don't act all mad when you're not," he said with that signature calm.
Alethea blinked, tongue out, hand behind her head like a kid caught stealing candy.
"Haha… you got me."
They both shared a gentle smile—nothing over the top, just a quiet warmth… the kind that made Zorion pause.
He looked at them for a second, a soft smirk rising.
"Ahh. Love must be nice."
There was a two-second delay.
Then—
"YOU SHUT UP."
The couple snapped in sync, voices blending like a comedy duo that didn't know they were a comedy duo.
Zorion grinned, turned around, and waved. "Cya later."
He barely made it two steps before—
WHACK.
Alethea's foot made solid contact with his backside.
Zorion jumped forward like someone had detonated a firecracker behind him.
Alethea put her hands on her hips, grinning.
"That's VIP treatment from my side, buddy. Take care!"
Narrator:
> A kick to the butt, a heart full of sarcasm, and somehow… this was the healthiest friendship Zorion had ever had.
---
Alethea and Sathvic strolled up the stadium stairs with two ice creams in hand, walking like it was a date from a cheesy music video—laughing, shoulder bumping, and, for once, not in a rush to be anywhere.
Sathvic took a bite of his, raised an eyebrow.
"Vanilla with a hint of salt? You have strange tastes."
"It's called balance, you bland-flavored man," Alethea replied with a smug grin.
As they reached their seats, Alethea plopped down and pointed at the big screen.
"Still 30 minutes till kickoff. I wonder if Zorion found his seat."
He had not found his seat.
Zorion spun in a circle like a confused tourist, holding his VIP pass like it was supposed to magically guide him through the stadium's endless white corridors.
"Box 5A... or was it A5? Why are there so many arrows?" he muttered to himself.
His stomach turned. Not from nerves—from nature.
"Oh no."
---
Eirene stepped out of the locker room just in time to see Eucliea waiting with two drinks and a pack of snacks balanced in her arms.
"These are your favorites, right?" Eucliea said brightly, cheeks slightly flushed.
"I always got these for you, but... well, I won't be sitting with you this time, so—"
"Okay, but I'm only letting you do this today, got it?" Eirene replied, deadpan.
"Try it again tomorrow and I'll beat you to a pulp. Go enjoy time with him."
Eucliea: "Okay maaaaam."
Then she tilted her head.
"But... where's your fellow seat owner? Aren't the VIP boxes duo?"
Eirene looked away like she didn't even care.
"Maybe nobody won the lottery. Good for me, I guess."
Eucliea giggled.
"Well, if nobody won the lottery, I just hope that guy didn't get fired."
"You stay here and keep wondering about other people," Eirene said, already heading inside.
"I'm going to the restroom to change. Pass me the clothes from the top of the seats, and you better head off too."
Eucliea gave a little salute.
"Yes ma'am!"
---
Zorion's eyes lit up when he saw a sign: "TOILET."
Did he check for the men's or women's symbol? Of course not.
He burst through the door and into a room with tiled walls and rows of closed cubicles. He rushed into the first open one, pulling the door behind him—
—and stood frozen.
Eirene was inside, mid-change, her shirt off, long hair cascading down her back.
Time stopped.
Zorion's brain short-circuited.
Then—
"WHA—"
Eirene turned, delivered a kick that sent him flying.
SLAM.
The door shut in his face.
Zorion's Inner Monologue:
Ouch, the kick hurt… but the back? That was lit. Fair price, I guess.
From inside:
"WHO ARE YOU?! What were your intentions entering the women's area?! Don't lie or run—I got a clear look at your face!"
Narrator:
> That's not a first meeting to be proud of.
"S-s-sorry! I just really need to pee! Can I explain after I use another cabinet? Please?"
There was a pause. A long, disbelieving silence.
Eirene, through gritted teeth, muttered to herself,
"…There's no humane option available, is there…"
Then, louder:
"Fine. One stall. And don't you dare touch anything else."
Zorion, already halfway in, shouted a grateful,
"Bless you!"
For the next 40 seconds, the only dialogue in the room was Eirene muttering angrily and Zorion peeing like it was a movie climax.
He flushed, stepped out, fixed his hair (somehow), and stood outside her door. Calmly.
"Hey... uh, listen. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience. But I think my intentions were... pretty clear. You could tell by my nature's call duration, I presume. So… can I go now?"
Silence. Then—
"I don't want to give you any trouble so... just get lost. And forget this incident ever happened."
Zorion gave a salute with the energy of a cartoon sidekick.
"Ai ai, ma'am!"
And off he went.