The U-15s' victory over the U-17s had been the highlight of the month. No one had expected it. Not the coaches, not the staff, and definitely not the older boys who had walked onto the pitch thinking it would be an easy win.
By the next morning, the academy was buzzing. Almost every boy in the U-15 squad walked into school with smiles on their faces and a bounce in their steps.
The story of the match had already spread across Toftanässkolan like wildfire, with the U-15 boys being the orchestrators of that. They wanted their peers to understand that for the first time in forever, they had beaten the U-17s, not just beaten them, but battered them three goals to nil.
And at the center of every retelling was Sebastian.
He had become the main topic of conversation overnight. Some of the students couldn't stop talking about the way he'd dribbled past the U-17 defenders, while others described his composure as something out of a professional match.
In a school filled with academy players from one of the top clubs in Sweden, the U-15s already carried a certain status, but after the 3–0 win, their reputation had reached a new level.
But Sebastian didn't pay much mind to it. He had learned quickly that praise faded as fast as it came, and he was already thinking about what came next.
After school, the boys returned to their dorms and went through the motions, freshening up, eating, doing schoolwork, and resting before getting ready for training later in the evening.
When the time came, they changed into their Malmö FF training kits. The atmosphere was light, the usual pre-session banter echoing through the halls as the boys tightened their laces and adjusted their socks.
By the time they stepped outside, the autumn air had grown cool and crisp. The group moved together toward the training area, chatting and laughing about school and football. Sebastian walked among them quietly, hands in his pockets, his focus already shifting toward the field ahead.
As he entered the training ground, the U-15 coach was waiting by the sideline, clipboard in hand. The coach's sharp eyes met his the moment he stepped onto the turf.
"Sebastian," the coach called out, his tone firm but calm.
Sebastian stopped mid-step and looked up. "Yes, coach?"
The coach pointed toward the far end of the complex. "Head over to the other field."
Sebastian blinked, momentarily confused. "The other field?"
"Yeah," the coach said, crossing his arms. "You'll be training with the U-17s today."
For a second, Sebastian just stood there, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Around him, a few of his teammates paused mid-step, exchanging glances. The realization sank in slowly. Training with the U-17s.
Sebastian's brows rose slightly. "Oh."
"Yeah," the coach nodded, as if to confirm it wasn't a joke. "So head over there. They're about to start."
Sebastian hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Alright coach."
As he jogged off toward the other pitch, he could feel the eyes of his teammates following him. Some looked impressed, others just surprised. But either way, the message was clear. The coaches considered Sebastian to be better than them all.
While the U-15s had been basking in the glow of their unexpected triumph, the U-17s were living a very different reality. They were going through hell, quite literally.
Their coach had been furious after the loss. Furious not just because they'd been beaten, but because they'd been humiliated, outplayed, outworked, and outscored by a younger team. He had berated them relentlessly, his words cutting through the quiet of the locker room like knives.
He told them they had grown complacent. That they had walked onto the pitch expecting to dominate simply because of their age and experience. That they had embarrassed themselves and him by failing to even score a single goal.
And then he made a decision.
If they had grown soft, he would harden them.
He dubbed it Hell Week.
The punishment began immediately after the match. The players were ordered back onto the field and put through a grueling set of conditioning drills, endless running, sprints, and laps that blurred into exhaustion. No ball work, no rest. Just pain, breathlessness, and sweat soaking into the grass.
By the time they stumbled back toward the dorms that night, their legs were trembling, and their shirts were drenched. A few of them had to be helped up the stairs, all of them too tired to speak.
Hell Week had only just begun.
**********
Oliver Fredin and Victor Kristiansson, the U-17 midfielders, were already on the pitch waiting for training to start. The morning air still carried a chill, and both looked drained before the session had even begun.
Oliver sighed. "I'm not looking forward to today's training at all."
Victor gave a short laugh. "I don't think anyone's looking forward to it. Coach is going to make us run like dogs again."
He dragged both palms down his face, stretching it long as he groaned. "Uggghhh."
"All because we lost to the U-15s," Oliver muttered, shaking his head. He paused for a moment, then added, "I still can't believe we didn't score a single goal."
Victor glanced up just as Onur Körhan, their left winger, walked past. Victor reached out and slapped him playfully on the arm. "I, for one, blame Onur. He missed so many chances yesterday."
"Ouch!" Onur said, rubbing the spot Victor had hit. "Don't you dare put all the blame on me. The main reason we lost is because you two couldn't handle that Sebastian kid."
He pointed at Victor. "Especially you. He toyed with you so many times."
Victor's frown deepened. "That was just luck. Plus, I was caught off guard. Next time we play them, I'll lock him up completely."
While Victor was talking, Oliver's eyes shifted toward the entrance of the field. His expression changed. "Umm, guys… is that who I think it is?"
Victor and Onur both turned to look. Standing by the gate, walking steadily onto the pitch, was Sebastian.
Onur blinked. "What's he doing here?"
Before either of them could say more, the U-17 coach's voice rang out across the field. "Sebastian! Come here."
Sebastian walked over calmly. The coach greeted him with a firm nod and a brief smile before placing his right arm around Sebastian's shoulders. Turning back toward the rest of the squad, he raised his voice.
"Boys, gather around!"
The players moved in quickly, forming a loose semicircle. The coach's tone carried weight as he continued. "I want to introduce you all to Sebastian. You should all remember him." He paused, his eyes sweeping across their faces. "Well, he'll be training with us today."
Several boys exchanged looks of surprise. A few muttered under their breath, and one or two couldn't help blurting out loud. "What?"