Limitless Pitch
Chapter 13 – Blood in the Grass
The morning before the second match of the Regional Cup smelled like sweat, wet grass, and heat.
Not sun. Not fire.
Heat.
The kind that clung to skin and soaked through shirts before breakfast. The kind that made boots feel heavier and nerves run thinner.
Thiago stood alone near the warm-up cone grid, juggling the ball with short, tight touches. No flair. No tricks. Just control. Rhythm. Focus.
He’d woken before the alarm. Couldn’t sleep.
His phone buzzed once in his locker. A short message from Caio:
"Saw the goal. My guy’s cooking. Just keep eating."
He smiled faintly. Pocketed it.
Today wouldn’t be like the last match.
Today, they weren’t the hunters anymore.
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