Beyond the Pitch

Gabriel Yukito stood at the gates of Kagoshima High, his bag slung over one shoulder and his uniform already feeling like a straitjacket. The neatly trimmed hedges, the orderly rows of bicycles, and the bustling students in their uniforms were a far cry from the vibrant, chaotic streets of Paraná he used to frequents. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, the fabric itching against his skin, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Another day to endure," he thought, his jaw tightening as he stepped through the gates. The sound of students laughing and chatting in Japanese washed over him, a meaningless hum that only emphasized how out of place he felt. His mind drifted to Paraná, where he used to pass time with his father. The memory was bittersweet—a mix of warmth and pain. "If only I were back there," he thought, "instead of being stuck... here."

Football was the only thing that kept him grounded, who keep connecting him to his past and his father's memory. But even that felt distant now, like a dream he couldn't quite reach.

The classroom was quiet when Gabriel stepped inside, the chatter dying down as all eyes turned to him. At 5'11, he towered over most of his classmates, his tanned skin and relaxed posture making him stand out even more. The teacher, a stern but kind woman in her late 40s, gestured for him to come forward.

"Class, this is Gabriel Yukito. He's just moved here, he from Brazil. Let's make him feel welcome."

She mispronounced his name—"Gabri-eru"—and Gabriel didn't bother to correct her. He gave a curt nod and muttered, "Just Gabi is fine."

The students whispered among themselves, their curiosity palpable. "Is he mixed?" one girl asked. "He's so tall," another commented. A boy in the back snickered, "Bet he thinks he's better than us."

Gabriel was assigned a seat near the back, next to a quiet, studious student who kept his head down, avoiding eye contact. Gabriel slouched into his chair, his expression unreadable. As the teacher began the lesson, his attention drifted. He stared out the window, his mind wandering to the football field he'd glimpsed on his way in. "If only I were out there," he thought, "instead of stuck in this classroom."

His fingers tapped restlessly on the desk, mimicking a rhythm. The teacher noticed it but said nothing, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she continued.

The cafeteria was a cacophony of noise and movement, but Gabriel sat alone at a corner table, picking at his food. The bento box his mother had packed for him felt like a poor substitute for the meals he used to have in Brazil. He poked at the rice and fish, his nose wrinkling slightly. "Im still not used to the Japanese food," he thought, sighing as he took a reluctant bite.

The noise and chatter around him felt overwhelming, and he longed for the simplicity of his life in Brazil—the warmth of the sun, the smell of grilled meat, the sound of his father's laughter. His eyes drifted to a group of students wearing football jerseys sitting at a nearby table. They were laughing and joking, their camaraderie evident. For a moment, Gabriel felt a pang of envy, but he quickly pushed it aside. "I don't need them," he thought, turning his attention back to his food.

After the final bell rang, Gabriel wandered the school grounds, drawn by the sound of a ball being kicked. He followed the noise to the football field, where the team was practicing. The players were for being nice dull, their movements sluggish and uninspired. Gabriel watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed, his expression a mix of disdain and disappointment.

"Is this how they play football here?" he thought, shaking his head. "No wonder they're struggling."

The coach, a middle-aged man with a gruff demeanor, noticed Gabriel watching and approached him. "You lost, kid?" he asked, his tone dismissive.

Gabriel met his gaze, unflinching. "Just watching," he replied, his voice nonchalant.

The coach sized him up, unimpressed. "If you're here to try out, don't bother. The team's full, and we don't need another wannabe."

Gabriel's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he smirked and said, "Don't worry. I'm not interested in joining your team." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the coach staring after him.

Gabriel returned home to find his mother in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She looked up and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "How was your first day?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Gabriel shrugged, dropping his bag by the door. "Fine," he muttered, heading straight for the fridge.

His stepfather entered the room, holding Gabriel's half-sister in his arms. "Did you join any clubs?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Gabriel grabbed a drink and shook his head. "I'm not interested," he said, his tone dismissive but not hostile.

His half-sister, oblivious to the tension, reached out to him with a giggle. "Gabi! Play!" she demanded, waving a toy in his direction.

Gabriel hesitated, then took the toy from her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe later," he said, his voice softer than usual.

Alone in his room, Gabriel stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. He felt out of place—at school, and at home. But beneath the frustration and loneliness. he thought, clenching his fists. "I'll prove I don't need anyone."

Gabriel lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of the evening traffic outside his window was a dull reminder of how far he was from home. Paraná felt like another world now—a world of sun-soaked fields, the smell of freshly cut grass, and the sound of his father's laughter echoing in his ears. He clenched his fists, the memory of his father's face flashing in his mind. "I'll make you proud," he whispered to the empty room, his voice barely audible.

The door creaked open, and his half-sister, Aiko, peeked in. At three years old, she was a bundle of energy and innocence, completely unaware of the tension that hung over the household. She toddled over to his bed, clutching a stuffed rabbit in one hand.

"Gabi, play!" she demanded, her voice high-pitched and full of excitement.

Gabriel sighed, sitting up. He wasn't used to being around kids, and Aiko's constant demands were both exhausting and endearing. He took the rabbit from her and held it up, making it "hop" on the bed. Aiko giggled, clapping her hands.

"Again!" she squealed.

Gabriel obliged, forcing a small smile. For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and he allowed himself to be distracted by her joy. But the moment didn't last long. His mother appeared in the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and hesitation.

"Dinner's ready," she said softly, her eyes darting between Gabriel and Aiko.

Gabriel nodded, setting the rabbit down. Aiko pouted but quickly forgot about it, running off to the kitchen. Gabriel followed, his stomach growling despite his lack of enthusiasm for the meal.

The dining table was quiet, the only sounds the clinking of utensils against plates. Gabriel's stepfather, Hiroshi, sat at the head of the table, his face buried in a newspaper. His mother, Yumi, busied herself with serving the food, her movements quick and nervous. Aiko sat in her high chair, happily munching on a piece of bread.

Gabriel picked at his food, the flavors bland and unfamiliar. He missed the bold, spicy dishes of Brazil, the feijoada his father used to make, and the rich aroma of grilled meat. Here, everything felt muted, like the colors had been drained from his life.

"You didn't really explain to me how was school?" Yumi asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was tentative, as if she were afraid of the answer.

Gabriel shrugged, not looking up from his plate. "There nothing to say much it was just the firs day."

Hiroshi lowered his newspaper, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Gabriel. "Im sure you'll later find an interest in a club." he said, his tone more demanding.

Gabriel shook his head. "Like i said i'm not interested."

Hiroshi frowned, setting the newspaper down. "You should get involved. It'll look good on your record."

Gabriel's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. He didn't care about his "record" or what Hiroshi thought. Football was the only thing that mattered, and he wasn't about to waste his time on anything else.

Yumi glanced between them, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Maybe you could try the football team," she suggested, her voice hopeful. "You used to love playing if i remember."

Gabriel's grip on his chopsticks tightened. "The team here is garbage," he said bluntly. "It just being a wast of time with i join them."

Hiroshi's frown deepened, but before he could say anything, Aiko let out a loud giggle, drawing everyone's attention. She had somehow managed to smear mashed potatoes all over her face, and she beamed proudly at the mess she'd made.

Yumi sighed, standing up to clean her. "Aiko, what am I going to do with you?"

Gabriel watched them, a strange ache settling in his chest. He didn't belong here—not in this house, not at this table. He feel like an outsider, a stranger in his own family.

After dinner, Gabriel retreated to his room, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through old photos—pictures of him and his father on the football field, their smiles wide and carefree. His throat tightened, and he quickly put the phone away, unable to bear the memories.

He grabbed a football from the corner of the room, the familiar weight of it in his hands grounding him. He dribbled it slowly, the rhythmic sound of the ball hitting the floor calming his nerves.

 He had a dream to chase, and nothing was going to stand in his way.