Beyond the Pitch

Gabriel followed Ryota and the others down the street, his legs still heavy from the match. The late afternoon sun had softened, casting long shadows over the pavement. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat and fried food from the small shops lining the road.

Ryota stretched his arms above his head. "Man, that match got me pumped! We should do that every day."

Kenta rolled his eyes. "Your endurance is ridiculous."

Daichi chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "At least we won. That felt good."

Gabriel walked a step behind them, listening but lost in thought. His fingers brushed against the folded registration form in his pocket.

His grip tightened slightly.

They reached a small ramen shop tucked between two larger buildings. A faded red banner swayed gently above the entrance, and the smell of broth and spices filled the air. Ryota pushed open the sliding door, and a small bell jingled.

"Welcome!" a voice called from the counter.

 The warm scent of broth and spices filled the air. Ryota, Kenta, and Daichi wasted no time flipping through the menu, calling out their orders with ease.

"I'll take a large miso ramen with extra pork," Ryota said, grinning.

"Spicy tonkotsu for me," Kenta added.

"Shoyu," Daichi said simply.

The waitress nodded, jotting everything down before turning to Gabriel. "And for you?"

Gabriel hesitated. His fingers drummed lightly against the table. "...I'll pass."

The others looked at him, surprised.

Ryota frowned. "What? You're not eating?"

Gabriel exhaled. "I'm still not used to Japanese food."

Kenta raised an eyebrow. "You serious?."

Gabriel pushed back his chair, standing up. "I'll be right back."

They watched as he walked toward the counter, approaching the chef—a middle-aged man with a towel slung over his shoulder. The chef looked up, eyeing Gabriel curiously.

"Something wrong with the menu?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, it's just… I was wondering if I could make my own meal."

The entire shop fell silent for a moment. Ryota nearly choked on his water.

The chef narrowed his eyes. "You? Cook your own meal?"

Gabriel nodded. "I'll pay double if that's what it takes."

The chef scratched his chin, still skeptical. "Why should I let you into my kitchen?"

Gabriel didn't hesitate. "Because I know what I'm doing."

The chef exhaled through his nose, still unsure, but something about Gabriel's determination made him curious. He glanced around—the shop was mostly empty, aside from Gabriel and his friends.

"Hah… fine," he finally said. "This place could use some energy anyway."

Gabriel bowed slightly, a sign of respect. "Thank you."

Ryota, Kenta, and Daichi stared at him like he had grown a second head.

"Do you even know how to cook?" Kenta asked.

Gabriel smirked, rolling up his sleeves. "I used to make my own meals back then."

That was all he said before disappearing behind the counter.

The chef folded his arms, watching. "Alright, kid. Impress me."

Gabriel nodded, stepping into the small kitchen. He scanned the available ingredients before grabbing what he needed. He was one of the meal his father like to make a Moqueca de Camarão but couldn't make an exact one, but he could create his own version, blending the flavors of Brazil with Japan.

Seafood: Prawns, shells, mussels.Broth: Dashi (traditional Japanese broth made from seaweed and dried fish).Vegetables: Garlic, ginger, peppers.Seasonings: Sake, mirin, sesame oil.

He started by preparing the dashi stock, mixing the powder into hot water. Next, he sauteed the garlic and ginger in sesame oil, letting the aroma fill the kitchen. The chef, now curious, peered over his shoulder.

"Not bad," he muttered.

Gabriel added the broth, followed by the seafood, letting the prawns and mussels cook until tender. Lastly, he seasoned with sake and mirin, adjusting the balance of flavors.

By the time he finished, the rest of the meals were ready too.

Gabriel plated his dish and walked back to the table, setting it down in front of him. The others stared at it, intrigued.

Ryota leaned in. "What… did you just make?"

Gabriel picked up his chopsticks. "Its call Moqueca de Camarão but in my way."

The others exchanged glances before digging into their own meals. The conversation flowed naturally as they ate, teasing Gabriel about his cooking skills but clearly impressed by the effort.

When they finished, the others stepped outside, but Gabriel lingered. He walked back to the counter, placing an extra plate of his dish in front of the chef.

"Thanks for letting me cook," Gabriel said.

The chef stared at the plate, then chuckled. "You're an interesting one, kid." He took a bite, nodding in approval. "Not bad. You and your friends should come by more often."

Gabriel nodded. "We will."

As he stepped outside, Ryota and the others were waiting.

"So," Ryota smirked, "are you gonna cook for us next time too?"

Kenta crossed his arms. "I didn't take you for the type who could cook."

Gabriel didn't respond—he just let a small smile slip onto his face.

The walk home was quiet. The cool night air brushed against Gabriel's skin. His thoughts drifted to the registration form in his pocket.

As he reached the entrance of his apartment, he slowed his steps.

I hope he's not home yet.

He took a deep breath before stepping inside.

The apartment was dimly lit. He slipped off his shoes at the entrance, walking toward the living room.

There, on the couch, Satoshi was asleep, curled up against Aiko, the stuffed animal clutched in her tiny hands.

Gabriel exhaled.

From the kitchen, he heard the quiet sounds of utensils clinking against dishes.

As he walked in, he saw his mother, she was cleaning up.

Before he could say anything, another voice spoke up.

"Where were you?"

Gabriel turned. Hiroshi was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. He hadn't even noticed him.

Gabriel's jaw tightened slightly. "Outside."

Hiroshi's gaze lingered on him before he sighed. "Whatever." He turned to his mother. "I need you to sign something?"

Gabriel pulled the registration form from his pocket and placed it on the table. "It's for the football club. I need a parent's signature."

Yumi blinked, surprised. "Football? I thought you weren't going to join because the team was awful."

Gabriel shrugged. "I changed my mind."

She picked up the form, reading over it. Before she could sign, Hiroshi scoffed.

"The football team?" he muttered. "I was expecting you to join something more… useful. A club that would actually look good on your record."

Gabriel clenched his fists, but he didn't react.

Football was the only thing on his mind.

Ignoring Hiroshi, he simply watched as his mother finished signing the paper. She handed it back to him with a small smile.

"There. But make sure it doesn't interfere with school."

Gabriel nodded. "It won't."

Yumi turned back to the kitchen. "Dinner's ready."

Gabriel tucked the paper into his pocket. "I already ate."

Without waiting for a response, he walked toward his room.

His mother watched as he disappeared behind the door. She glanced at Hiroshi, concern flickering in her eyes.

"It's the second time he's missed dinner," she murmured. "And he already ate before coming home…"

Hiroshi said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Behind the closed door of his room, Gabriel exhaled. He stared at the registration form in his hands before setting it down on his desk.

It was official now.

Gabriel lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the city seeped through the window, blending with the muffled sounds of his family moving around. His fingers absentmindedly tapped against his stomach, his mind still lingering on the match, the ramen shop, the feeling of cooking again.

This had always been something that connected him to home—to his father. But football... that was his.

He turned his head, eyes settling on the registration form resting on his desk.

A knock on the door broke his thoughts.

"Come in," he said after a moment.

The door creaked open, and Satoshi stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

"You missed dinner again," he said flatly.

Gabriel sighed, rubbing his temple. "I already ate."

Satoshi leaned against the door frame, watching him. "She was worried."

Gabriel shrugged. "She doesn't need to be."

There was a pause. Satoshi's gaze flicked to the registration form on the desk.

"You're really joining the football club?"

Gabriel sat up, resting his arms on his knees. "Yeah."

Satoshi clicked his tongue. "You're serious about this?"

Gabriel met his gaze. "Yeah."

Satoshi didn't say anything for a moment, then sighed. "Just don't screw it up."

Gabriel clenched his jaw slightly. "I don't plan on it."

Satoshi rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but as he did, a small voice came from behind him.

"Gabi…?"

Aiko peeked around Satoshi, her tiny hands clutching the sleeve of his shirt. Her hair was messy from sleep, and she blinked up at Gabriel with tired eyes.

"You didn't eat with us," she mumbled.

Gabriel's expression softened. He stood up and walked over, crouching down in front of her.

"I ate earlier," he said gently.

Aiko pouted. "But you're supposed to eat with us."

Gabriel chuckled softly and ruffled her hair. "Next time, okay?"

Aiko hesitated, then nodded sleepily. She reached up, and Gabriel scooped her into his arms, carrying her toward her room.

Satoshi watched quietly as Gabriel tucked her into bed. When Gabriel stood back up, their eyes met for a moment, but neither said anything.

Gabriel turned and walked back to his room, closing the door behind him.

He glanced once more at the registration form on his desk. His fingers traced over the signature at the bottom.

Tomorrow, he'd turn it in.

Tomorrow, he'd take his first step toward something that was his.