Blood Passion Ch. 11

Krystal stood in the line inside the tunnel, waiting for the walkout for the next game of the season. Her spectacular pass, and subsequent goal by Bianchi hit the presses like a thunderstorm. In soccer crazed Italy, even the overlooked woman's game got into the papers and news media from the audacious combination. The game sold more tickets than usual. People wanted to see if she got lucky or the foreign import could deliver more magic.

Walking with the teams for the ceremonial opening, Krystal wanted to put on a good show again. The opening game would not be a fluke, however she needed Bianchi to have a great game too if her silky passes would see the back of the net. Unbeknownst to her, Nik sat watching the game again from across the ocean with fervent interest.

The game started. A couple quick passes and interceptions on both sides made for a hectic first couple minutes. Both teams were finding their footing. From the opening whistle, Krystal did not stop running. She ran from box to box, tackling like a fiend to get the ball at any opportunity, and strip the opposition of any attacking attempts.

Her coach wanted them to remain cautious in the opening half. The home team would come out like a cannon, wanting to get on the scoreboard early to please the home fans. Absorb the pressure and hit them on the counter attack.

"Lucchese strips the ball away, lobbing it through the middle. Knight and Agri go up for the header. Down goes Knight holding her mouth. Agri got up close and personal with the elbow," the TV commentator shouted, excitedly.

Krystal took a knee, hand on her mouth, as blood started to gush from her lip. She heard something told to her in Italian by Agri but didn't understand a word of it. Standing up, she glared at the opposing player as others rushed over to keep the pair separated. The referee ran up too, a yellow card immediately held out in the air as she showed it to Agri.

Spitting the blood onto the grass, Krystal knew they would go in rough after the display from the last game. They tested her mettle. Would she break from the rough style, or would she tank it and make them pay? She wasted no time in getting her revenge. As the players were breaking up to restart the game, Krystal pulled Bianchi quickly aside.

"One bounce," she told her.

Bianchi slightly nodded her head, just enough to confirm it to Krystal and not let the opposition know they were setting up a play. Lining up for the free kick from just past the halfway line, Krystal waited just long enough for Bianchi to start her run. Of course a defender went with her, but none knew what they had planned. Instead of lobbing the ball high into the air, Krystal aimed for an open space outside the box.

Once the ball hit the spot with pinpoint accuracy, it made a single bounce, popping up at waist level while also curling right. It bounced right in front of Bianchi's path as she stayed in front of her defender. Angling her body correctly, she twisted her hips to sideways kick the ball. It shot towards the top corner of the net, leaving a stunned goalkeeper wondering what just happened.

"Goal! Goal! Goal!!!" the commentator shouted in joy. "Bianchi! Two wonder strikes in as many games. What will this pairing think of next?"

Nik sat there in his room stunned, again, soaking in all he saw. Cool and calm, his aunt got the perfect revenge. A highlight reel pass into a highlight reel goal. He knew she had the skills to produce such results. Some people were envious of him because his aunt played pro sports but part of it was she played at an elite level.

Ups and downs followed Krystal's career. A championship here, and hard loss there, but in the twilight of her career when she should be on the downward spiral, she found a striker that could read her mind. Midfielders are made to set up the strikers. Assists are not sexy stats people track or care the most about in soccer lore. It's all about the goals, much like it's all about the dingers in baseball. Despite being two games and a pre-season into their partnership, Krystal felt a connection to Bianchi. They clicked on the field. If they could keep this up, bringing a championship to Roma would not be out of the question.

Nothing else happened during the first half. The opposition parked the bus, not wanting to let in any more fancy goals to dismay the home fans more. One wondergoal was enough. The coach gave them the usual, generic pep talk about keeping their heads in the game, watch for any counterattacks, and not overlook their fundamentals. Simple, efficient coaching. Nothing more needed to be said.

Nik ran out of snacks before the end of the first half, quickly hopping out of his chair to scurry down the stairs for a refill. Veronika heard him blaze through the hallways, relaxing in her bed by reading a fashion magazine.

"Must be half time," she chuckled. "Some things never change."

Before the halftime finished, and the commercials ran their due, Nik's butt sat back down in the chair to continue the match.

"Knight jumps in the air. Simple header to the wing. Picked up by Moretti. Ouch! Slide tackle gone wrong. Moretti got sideswiped by the opposing player. The referee immediately runs over with a yellow. It has been a rough game for Roma. They are still up one to nothing but Leece are making them pay for it."

One of the Roma defenders took the simple free kick. Krystal ran towards the open space in the middle, receiving the lob. Chesting it downward, she deftly jumped over another slide tackle. More open space stood in front of her, open space to get selfish. Quickly sprinting into the opening, she counted in her head. Five seconds, the time she theorized she'd have before another opponent caught up with her. Five seconds to get as close as possible before letting a shot fly.

Four seconds...three seconds...two seconds...the opposition closing in...one second...BANG! Her right cleat struck true. The soccer ball cannoned towards the goal. Krystal saw it long before anyone else. The goalie stood in the right area, agonizingly close enough to stretch out for the save. Fingers deflected the ball against the post, bouncing outwards into the box. Before the goalkeeper could react, Bianchi flew in from the flank to tap the ball into the back of the net. Two goals, two assists, the beautiful partnership heated up for the second game in a row.

Bianchi pumped her fist into the air, running over to the corner flag in celebration. Teammates followed suit, including Krystal. The pair smiled before their hands stung from a loud, hard high five. They did not notice the stinging sensation. Excitement and adrenaline filled their veins, giving them the athletic high so many craved to experience.

The supporters in the crowd cheered as loudly as the players, caught up in the emotion from the new partnership blossoming. The opposing goalie tossed her water bottle at the netting, disgusted by a spectacular save ruined by Bianchi sneaking in. The defence had no answer for her this night.

In typical Italian fashion, Leece kept parking the bus like Parma did the match before. It made for a boring finish, and the wonder pair could not sneak through another goal for the hat trick. Regardless, once the whistle blew, no one on the team felt upset by winning two straight matches.

Inside the dressing room, the coach gave a complimentary speech, encouraging the team to keep the momentum going. A shutout made sure they were not perceived as gunslingers, searching only for the headlines. After a quick shower and change, the team were on the team bus heading back to Rome overnight. The over six hour bus ride felt more comfortable with the jubilant air.

"Hey, Krissy, check this out," one of the players sitting behind Krystal called out.

The brunette leaned over the back of Krystal's seat. In her late twenties, she kept her youthful figure despite a lot of miles on her body from entering the league young.

"What is it, De Luca?" Krystal asked, staring at the screen.

"Your fancy goal already got posted on social media by the team. Look at all the hits."

"Bianchi scored, not me."

"Only cause the goalie went into Buffon mode. That shot needed one more inch. Hey, Bianchi, look."

De Luca poked Bianchi's shoulder to get her attention away from the window. As the pair began talking in Italian, Krystal felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Taking it out, she could see the message in all caps.

"FANTASTIC! NEVER QUIT!"

Krystal chuckled, slipping the phone back into her pocket.

"Ohhhh, who is the lucky guy, Krissy? I thought you didn't hit the clubs and you already have a heart next to a guy's name?" De Luca teased her, having peeped at the message.

"I don't go to the clubs. I can barely order food in Italian. How am I going to hook up with a guy?"

"I don't know how you fuck overseas but over here speaking isn't required. Met him in France?"

"It is my nephew, and I'm only telling you so you don't become the team gossip," Krystal replied.

"Lighten up, Krissy, we're not on the field."

"Indulge her," Bianchi interrupted, "or else she won't shut up the rest of the trip."

"What do you want me to talk about, Luna? Just my nephew sending his support. I got him a free membership to watch the games, so he saw it all live."

"Goal of the year material," De Luca added. "Can see Bianchi's name on the trophy already. Move aside men."

"Next week we play Lazio then week four is the big game against Juventus away from home. I'd save some of that magic for then, merc," the woman sitting on the isle next to Krystal said in broken English. "How about dusting some magic my way next week?"

Krystal looked over at an average sized woman with short cropped, blonde hair.

"I'm always looking, Greco."

The woman stared back, blankly, holding a piece of paper in her hand. The teammate to her left whispered Italian in her ear, eliciting a small nod. Krystal noticed the same words on the paper, immediately taking for granted some of her teammates spoke English to communicate but it was still an Italian team. All the coach's speeches needed to be translated in her ear by another teammate, Emilia, a rookie on the team.

No one batted an eye where Krystal chose to sit on the team bus, and with whom, as the women on the team sporting the best English hung around in that area. A few who spoke not a word of English felt relieved, spared the awkward conversations of broken English and Italian mixing together. At the end of the day they all spoke the same language on the field, and like with any foreigner on any team in sports, success made people forget any hindrances.

After some of the excitement from winning died down, the team slowly fell asleep one by one. Dawn broke when the first awoke, stretching audibly. Like a domino effect, each member woke up. The bus driver needed a little more time to make it to the stadium where they all got off and departed. This much was the same regardless of country in Krystal's experience.

Heading to the nearest bus station, the eyes adjusted to the morning dawn. The walk allowed her to think and reflect on the win and the game ahead. She never felt better in her career, and never felt the same connection so early on with a striker. Even though Krystal wanted to not get ahead of herself, that it was only a couple games into the season, she felt positive she made the correct choice as a free agent.

X

Nik led the jogging rows, hustling around the soccer field. Coach Rodriguez wanted her captains leading the troops, so to speak, during fitness training. The boys and girls circled around the field, each on polar opposites from each other. The teams tried to stay in formation. Some slower players, or those lacking stamina started falling behind. The lines kept moving as they lapped around the stragglers.

Coach Rodriguez blew her whistle, signaling for both squads to jog towards her.

"Alright teams, it is the start of the week. Perfect time for a hardcore running session so I don't burn you out before the game later in the week. We got some good goals during the last game but I don't want you to get complacent. It is only one game. Bigger teams have fallen when choosing to coast. Now..."

Zoya paused, looking over the various students. Some were sucking wind as if their life depended on it. Others were standing there as if out for a Sunday stroll.

"We should make it interesting. You win as a team and lose as a team, so let attrition take its course. Two rows. Boys row and girls row. Pair off with each other. Last team standing wins. The moment you start walking is the moment you lose. Simple."

"What do we win?" one of the boys asked.

"Pride. Do you need any other incentive? Get lined up and wait for my whistle. Captains, you know where to be."

Nik and Tiffany jogged up to the front. All the others filed in behind them. Onlookers would think Zoya ran a military boot camp but they'd be wrong. This differentiated the professionals from the amateurs, the players who wanted to improve from those looking for an extracurricular activity. Whistle to her lips, she blew it loudly.

The captains led their lines at a decent pace. Not too fast nor too slow. Around and around the same path they just did. The sound of heavy breathing filled the air. It took only a couple laps for the first few players to begin walking, already out of gas in the tank. Nik and Tiffany did not look back to see anyone behind them. They both knew the coach put them up front for a reason aside from being the captains.

Three laps later and more players walked to the middle, cheering on their respective side. Coach Rodriguez had a stopwatch in her hand, keeping times of the laps on her clipboard. Two more laps blitzed by and even more dropped out until there were only a handful of players left chugging away. Each lap equaled four hundred meters. Each lap ticked closer to another kilometer ran on tired legs.

There were four left as the next lap finished. Nik and Tiffany were joined by Rico and Raquel. No one batted an eye seeing those two keeping up. Both were on the track team, and Raquel specifically ran long distance. All four sweated hard, lungs on fire, leg muscles burning from the lactic acid buildup. The coach's words rang true. Pride kept them going. Rico and Raquel wanted to beat their captains. Nik and Tiffany did not want to lose to a rival.

Raquel broke first, losing speed after the next lap. Slowly her pace withered away, falling further and further behind until she could not help but walk. Leg muscles rebelled against the brain's commands. Rico soon followed. His breathing got louder and louder trying to keep pace with the front runners before disappearing. As they kept circling the track, they saw the crowd gathered in the middle get bigger and bigger. With each new lap they kicked up the pace ever so slightly. Attrition, pure attrition.

The pair faced off. Blood pumped fresh reserves of energy into their muscles. Both did not know the other's secret. If one got a foot ahead, the other caught up. A couple more laps went by. The cheering continued, neither looking like quitting. Standing near the track, Coach Rodriguez wrote on the back of a sheet in big letters: TWO LAPS LEFT.

Holding it out long before the pair came around a bend, they knew to look for the message. Two laps. An easy signal to finish the race. Attrition threshed the chaff. Now they needed to crown a winner. The pair picked up the pace a little more, edging each other out inch by inch. Back and forth they ran, saving their best for last. Neck and neck they passed Coach Rodriguez again, the message now saying FINAL LAP!

Four hundred meters to go. Four hundred meters to put a notch in the belt in this rivalry. Both willed blood into their muscles, picking up more and more speed. As they got faster, the cheering got louder. Onlookers believed adrenaline coursed through their veins, pushing them to keep up the intensity. Teammates knew from previous practices that Nik and Tiffany's relationship heated up out of nowhere. Some were surprised Tiffany kept pace with Nik this entire time. The girls cheered louder, wanting to fortify Tiffany's steely determination.

As they came around the first bend during the final lap, Nik took the lead. A small lead but a sustained lead for the first time this entire race. Tiffany pumped her arms faster, like the T-1000 trying to catch up to the escaping car. With every step Nik inched further away. Around the second bend to the home stretch he kept a four stride lead. Both let out loud grunts to will any extra power into tired muscles. Five strides, three, four, the fight kept going to the spot Coach Rodriguez stood marking the finish line.

Too many strides, too little time left, Tiffany saw Nik's body glide past the coach first. Two strides. Seconds. She needed seconds to catch up to him. As she glided past the coach those seconds later, she heard the boys shout out their excitement and cheer towards Nik. Hands on her hips, she stood there, defiant in defeat and pissed off at losing by seconds. All her teammates jogged up to support her, praising her effort. She tried to put on a brave face, play the good leader that Coach Rodriguez tried teaching her, but it ate her up inside. So close, yet so far. She needed to get stronger. If she beat him then it'd be one step closer to her dream career.

"Good spirit, everyone," Coach Rodriguez commented over the celebration. "Hit the showers, and don't forget to hit the books. No passing grades means off the team. I'll see you all tomorrow in class."

The coach walked off, clipboard in hand, leaving the other gear left to be cleaned up and carried by the team.

"Tiff, how'd you improve your speed and stamina so much compared to last year?" Raquel asked, helping grab one of the ball bags.

"Mom put the cash together to send me to a camp, yeah, I improved a lot there," Tiffany replied, thinking on her feet.

"Lucky, I can't wait for the next game. No one will get past you with that speed."

"Dude, no need to go easy on her," Rico whispered to Nik. "You cut it way too close for comfort."

"It got the crowd cheering, didn't it?" Nik replied.

"I thought so. No way Tiffany can keep up with you. Just don't hold back during the next game."

"Yeah, sure, definitely won't."

Nik played it smooth, not letting on that he did not hold back. Somehow, someway, Tiffany kept pace with him and it fried his brain figuring out how. That soccer camp upgraded her skills a ton. She never ran like that before the summer hit.

After everyone brought the gear to the equipment room, they left in spurts to the school parking lot, ready to head home for the night. Veronika sat in her car, reading a magazine, as she waited for Nik. A few parking spots over, Jinny did paperwork while waiting for Tiffany. Neither spoke to the other. Neither did Nik or Tiffany too, walking separate from each other as they headed to their own cars.

Inside, Veronika leaned over to give Nik a warm hug. Her hands rubbed his back briefly, motherly, before letting go.

"You smell like you ran a marathon," she commented, nostrils wrinkled from the scent.

"Coach made us do an impromptu marathon-style race to get us in shape for the game this week."

"Did my big boy win it?"

"Close, but I did."

"Good, you'll be number one and all the university scouts will be drooling over you."

Turning on the car, Veronika drove them away. Jinny and Tiffany still remained in the school parking lot.

"How could you let him beat you?" Jinny asked, upset.

"I don't know, mommy, I should have beat him. I used my power. I think I used my power. I felt my legs getting stronger. The fatigue lessened, and I kept pace with him. He kept pulling away every time I caught up."

"We need to redouble our efforts. Next time your coach makes another one of these random races, you'll be ready. You'll have more than enough power."