The stadium erupted. Fans leapt from their seats, shouting and screaming. Some were stunned, others laughing in disbelief. Hands shot into the air as chants echoed through the stands.
"Sabiti! Sabiti!" roared the crowd—a wave of sound that seemed to engulf the entire stadium.
Madi, the passionate commentator, couldn't contain his excitement:
> "What's he doing out there?! He looks like a living game console! Every move's a stroke of genius—he's playing like he's got a joystick in his hands!"
The Saint Augustin players, stunned by the blow, gathered together. Frustrated, but not ready to give up.
Ismael, their left-back, turned to Papala, the winger.
— We've got to do something about him. This isn't a match anymore—it's his personal show! he muttered, jaw clenched. We have to stop him.
— You're right. But don't lose sight of him for a second, Papala replied defiantly. He won't go down easy.
On the pitch, Sabiti didn't seem fazed by the overwhelming attention. He was already preparing to launch another attack. His face was focused, coldly composed. The crowd remained in a frenzy, but he kept his eyes on the game. No unnecessary gestures, no overdone smiles. Winning was all that mattered.
Hassan, still in motion, rushed to congratulate Sabiti, slapping him hard on the back:
— That goal was insane, Sabiti! What you're doing is unbelievable!
Khudhaïf sprinted over and embraced him:
— That was beautiful! Let's keep going! He gently pushed him back. I knew you were special, but now you're really hurting them!
Dalaso, the captain, nodded with near-paternal pride. He didn't need to say a word. A simple look was enough to show the admiration he felt for Sabiti.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the field, Saint Augustin's goalkeeper Kujo showed visible frustration. He had tried to stop the shot, but the speed and precision had beaten him. Rising with clenched gloves, he growled. Kujo wasn't one to accept defeat easily.
— How are we supposed to stop that kid?! he shouted to Rahim, clearly irritated. He's making me look like a rookie with that shot!
— He's the problem! He keeps dribbling past us! It's like he's reading our minds, Rahim replied, shaking his head, more annoyed than ever. We'll have to trap him with multiple players… or force him into mistakes.
In the center of the field, Salou Keita, one of PvP's key players, turned to Hussein, the midfielder, with a slight smile after seeing their opponents' reactions.
— They're panicking already. They don't know what to do, he said with a shrug.
— That's the difference, replied Hussein. When you've got a guy like him on your team, all you need to do is sit back and watch the magic happen.
Madi, picking up on all this intensity, continued his animated commentary:
> "If Saint Augustin thought they could contain this genius, they're starting to realize this is a whole different challenge… For now, Sabiti isn't just playing—he's putting on a show. But hold on, folks… the storm has only just begun!"
The match resumed after the goal. Though rattled, Saint Augustin's players took up their positions again. Their eyes met—each one ready to push harder to turn things around.
Sabiti, calm as ever, overheard murmurs from his opponents. He caught Rahim shooting a dark glare his way.
— You're something else, kid. But it won't last. Next time, I'll cut you off before you even start, Rahim said, half-sarcastic, half-aggressive.
Without breaking eye contact, Sabiti responded coldly:
— Try it. If you can. Then, with a nearly invisible smile, added: You're too slow.
This young prodigy had all the answers—not just with his feet, but with his words. He was shaking the opposing team to a level few players his age could reach. Some who once called Tesuka the best of his generation were beginning to doubt.
As Saint Augustin tried to reorganize, Sabiti glanced toward the goal again, his eyes gleaming with a cold fire. The challenge wasn't over yet, and he knew there was still much more to do. The game had only just begun.
> "He's going to do even more damage… I can feel it," Madi whispered, his voice heavy with suspense.
The game continued. The scoreboard showed 35 minutes since kickoff, and the U13 match between PvP FC and Saint Augustin FC was in full swing. Sabiti, already responsible for two sensational plays, had ignited the stadium. The stands were on their feet, the fans clinging to a spectacle that surpassed their imagination. In the rising heat, every breath seemed suspended, every heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the young phenom.
Sabiti recovered the ball at the edge of the midfield and Saint Augustin's box, taking advantage of Hussein and Hassan's pressing, who were surrounding the ball carrier methodically. A simple call drew two defenders toward him: Ismael on one side, Rahim on the other. The first missed his tackle, the second stared too long at the ball. Sabiti exploited the hesitation with a Messi-like dribble, followed by a double-touch, leaving the ball at his feet.
A shiver ran through Saint Augustin's defensive line—they knew something extraordinary was coming.
> "Watch out… Sabiti is in orbit!" Madi's voice echoed from the stadium speakers.
Sabiti gave a knowing look to Khudhaïf, who had already started his run into the box. But Sabiti, a complete player, didn't pass the ball right away. He was in a creative groove. In a flash, he pulled off a lightning-fast flip-flap, sending the central defender to the ground, then nutmegged left-back Ismael, whose jaw dropped as he stumbled. The crowd roared in thunderous applause.
— Did you see that, Salomon?! Dalaso, the PvP captain, shouted to the right-back.
— That kid's insane! Salomon replied, eyes wide.
Sabiti entered the penalty box. A gap opened as the defense fell apart. He faked a shot, but Amadou, the solid central defender, didn't fall for it. He slid in with a perfectly timed tackle, diverting the ball out for a corner.
> Corner! the referee announced firmly.
Kujo, the keeper, grabbed the ball from the ref's hands to prepare for the corner. Grinding his teeth, he muttered:
— He made me look like a clown again. But not anymore.
The corner was taken. Hussein headed it to his twin, who faked a shot to draw defenders toward him—clearing space for their own keeper, charging upfield. Without hesitation, the goalkeeper unleashed a powerful strike—but it was met by a miraculous save from Kujo, who caught it clean.
> What a save by the goalkeeper! He just prevented his team from conceding another goal before halftime and gave them hope of a comeback!
Oh!! Long throw toward Rahim—this is a counterattack! Rahim is all alone. Chekinah is racing back to defend—can he catch him with his speed? Oh no—Rahim is about to be caught. He goes for it anyway, the goal is wide open!
He shoots—POWERFUL STRIKE!!
No!!! Crossbar! Chekinah clears it!
Frrrreeeeet!!
The referee blew the whistle. Both teams took a breather. On the bench, PvP's substitutes stood and clapped, cheering for their teammates. On Saint Augustin's side, the players huddled in a circle, breathing heavily, trying to reassure one another.
> The ref signals the end of the first half. What a series of plays to close out this half! Both teams gave us a real treat!
On the right wing, Abou leaned toward Kobisi:
— Did you see that nutmeg? I nearly fell out of my seat!
Kobisi, the playmaker subbed off earlier, chuckled:
— At his age? I'd still be trying to control the ball!
Meanwhile, Papala rallied his Saint Augustin teammates:
— Come on, guys! Let's catch our breath and stop them. Just because they're on fire doesn't mean we lose our heads. We surprised them at the end—anything can happen. We can come back. And Kujo, that save was incredible—you saved our skins!
Madi, mic in hand, continued his excited commentary:
> Amadou's tackle was brilliant, and that save—wow! That last sequence had the quality of pro-level football, both defensively and offensively! But what domination! Sabiti already has two goals and almost bagged a magical hat trick if not for that heroic tackle. The atmosphere is electric, folks, and it's only halftime!
On the sideline, Ndikumana exchanged a look with Bayo, the U9 coach who had come to watch the prodigy. With a serious nod, he gave his instructions:
— Hold your zone. No risky plays. If Sabiti fakes, have the second defender step up—don't dive in.
Salou Keita, ever the midfield soldier, clapped his hands:
— Got it, coach! We'll tighten up!
Hussein and Hassan, the twins, positioned themselves to block passing lanes, while Endrick moved up, covered by Chekinah.
— More pressing the moment they regain possession—we don't give them a second to breathe, Dalaso ordered his teammates.
The stadium, for its part, didn't know where to look anymore. Fans waved banners: "King of Buyenzi!"; "Talents Wawe!". The chants drowned out the drums and improvised trumpets. A group of youths sang a custom chorus for Sabiti:
> "Little prince of the ball,
Your dribbles break the wall,
In the box your name rolls on,
Sabiti, you're strong!"
Mothers approached the players offering drinks, while coaches tried to cool down their protégés. The sun was beating down, necks were turning red, but the euphoria chased away the fatigue. Faces flushed with effort and adrenaline.
Stolen moments and exchanged glances
In one corner, Amadou wiped the sweat from his brow:
— That kid's everywhere! I blink, and he's already gone further…
Not far off, Abou shouted to Khudhaïf:
— You happy he's on your team? I'm just glad he's serving me assists like that!
Khudhaïf, eyes gleaming, nodded:
— That's happiness: sprinting toward goal with him by your side!
On the Saint Augustin side, Rahim and Ismael spoke quietly, almost in haste:
— We've got to change something. Maybe man-mark him—two guys on him.
— Yeah, but if he fakes… we're toast.
They cast anxious glances toward the penalty box, where Sabiti was calmly speaking with Dalaso, pointing a finger toward the goal. A silent exchange, heavy with meaning: the captain was reminding him of the strategy, and the boy nodded—ready to dominate once again.
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