"This is your right-back, Stacey," she said, her expression deadly serious. "He pushes way too high up the pitch, leaving this huge, gaping channel behind him."

She then slid a balled-up napkin into the space.

"This is my winger. He's going to live there. All game. You're welcome."

Ethan just laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're ruthless, you know that? I thought we were having a nice evening."

"This is a nice evening," she retorted, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm getting free pizza and a complete tactical breakdown of my next big rival. It's the perfect date."

"It's not a date," he reminded her, a grin tugging at his lips. "It's a 'tactical debriefing'."

"Right," she said, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "So, tell me more about your team. And I don't mean the virtual ones. You mentioned your friend, the one whose team you beat in the cup. The one who had to wear your tracksuit."

"Leo," Ethan said, a warm, fond smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah, that's him. He's... the best. He's been my best friend since we were kids. He's the only other person, besides you, who I can really talk to about all this." He chuckled. "He's taking his role as Orion FC's manager very seriously. He calls his defense 'The Fortress' and refers to his S-Rank defender as 'The Wall'. It's hilarious."

"It's good to have someone like that," Maya said, her playful, analytical tone softening. "Someone who just... gets it."

"It is," Ethan agreed. "And he's not even my best scout."

Maya raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? You have a secret weapon?"

"Something like that," Ethan said, and he told her about Liam.

He told her about his friend's promising career, the devastating injury, and how he had transformed his hospital bed into a global scouting headquarters. He told her how Liam had found James McCarthy, the lottery ticket who had just upgraded to an S-Rank.

"No way," Maya breathed, completely captivated.

"So you have an actual professional player feeding you inside information?"

"He's more than that," Ethan said. "He's our friend. It gives him a way to stay in the game, you know? To use his brain while his body heals. It's... good to see the fire back in his eyes."

Maya was quiet for a moment, a look of genuine admiration on her face. "That's an amazing story, Ethan. You guys are a proper team, in and out of the game."

"We try," he said, feeling a surge of pride.

He then found himself telling her about his family. He told her about his dad's toy shop, a charming, analog relic in a digital world. He told her about his mom's accident, the terrifying night in the hospital, and her slow, steady recovery. And he told her about his sister, Sarah.

"She's the real hero of the family," he said, his voice filled with a newfound, profound respect.

"She's younger than your brother, but she's been carrying us for years. She works these insane hours at a law firm so I can have the chance to go to university, so my dad can keep his dream alive. For a long time... I didn't really see it. I was just a stupid kid lost in my own world. But the last few weeks... I see it now. She's the captain."

He looked up, a little embarrassed by his sudden sincerity.

But Maya wasn't looking at him with pity.

She was looking at him with a deep, genuine understanding.

"My brother's the same," she said softly. "He worked two jobs to put himself through school after our dad left. He's the reason I have anything. It's nice when you finally get old enough to see it, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ethan said, his throat suddenly tight.

"It is."

They sat in a comfortable silence, the remnants of their pizza-based war game forgotten.

The tactical debriefing had become something else entirely.

It had become a real conversation. A connection.

He walked her to the bus stop, the cool night air a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the restaurant.

"So," he said, breaking the silence.

"Despite my team's glaring, fundamental weaknesses... did you have a good time?"

She laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet street. "I did. It was the most fun I've ever had being told I'm going to lose a football match."

"I never said you were going to lose," he corrected her.

"Just that my SSS-Rank magician was going to make your S-Rank Maestro look like a pub player."

"Keep dreaming, Couch," she shot back, but she was smiling. "I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he said. "The cheese aisle needs me."

The bus arrived, and with a final, sparkling glance, she was gone. The bike ride home was a happy, thoughtful cruise. He felt a sense of balance, of rightness, that had been missing from his life. His two worlds weren't at war anymore. They were just... his life.

The next day was the final training session before their weekend league match. He logged into the pod, feeling refreshed and focused.

He appeared in his office and went straight to the training ground.

His players were already there, the mood light but professional. The sting of the Accrington defeat had been replaced by a quiet, steely resolve.

"Alright, lads," Ethan began, gathering them in a huddle. "Last session before we travel to Fleetwood. You all remember what happened last week. We got arrogant. We got sloppy. And we got punished. That is not happening again. Today is all about focus. Every pass, every tackle, every run—I want it to be sharp, crisp, and with purpose."

He looked around the circle of determined faces. "We are top of the league. But we are not champions. Not yet. We have to earn it, week in, and week out. Fleetwood are a tough team, especially at their place. They will try to bully us. They will try to frustrate us. And we will not let them. We will be calm, we will be professional, and we will let our football do the talking."

He brought up the tactical display. "We're going with the 4-3-3. But I want our midfield to be more disciplined. Kenny, Jacob, you two are the shield. Your job is to protect the back four and win the ball. Emre," he looked at his star player, "you have a free role, but I want you to be smart. Pick your moments. Don't try to force it."

"We've learned our lesson," he concluded, his voice ringing with a quiet, unshakeable confidence. "Now, let's go out there tomorrow and prove it. Let's get back to winning ways."

The players responded with a low, determined roar.

The training session that followed was the sharpest, most focused one they had ever had. The defeat had been a bitter pill, but it had also been the perfect medicine.

His team wasn't just a collection of talented kids anymore. They were a wounded, motivated animal. And Ethan couldn't wait to unleash them.

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