I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 54: Rivalries
The locker room buzzed with the low hum of post-practice exhaustion—pads clattered into lockers, showers hissed, sneakers squeaked against the tile.
Jon stripped off his drenched gear and headed toward the showers, the ache in his muscles a dull, familiar throb.
He turned the hot water all the way up, letting the heat pound into his shoulders. A deep sigh slipped from his chest, the kind that only came after you'd pushed your body to its limits.
Practice had been brutal today. Full-contact drills, sprints until their lungs burned, scrimmages that felt more like actual games than rehearsals. Everyone was playing like it was already Friday night under the lights.
Jon leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall, letting the steaming water soak away the tension. Coach hadn't let up for a second. Neither had the rest of the team. It wasn't just practice—it had felt like a war drill.
Jon knew rivalry games were a big deal, but something in the air today had been... different. He filed the thought away as he finished rinsing off, shut off the faucet, and stepped out into the fogged-up locker room.
He toweled off quickly, pulling on jeans and a hoodie. As he tightened his shoelaces, he glanced across the room and saw Terry still fiddling with his gym bag, clearly dragging his feet.
Jon grabbed his backpack and walked over.
"What's up with Coach today?" Jon asked, jerking his thumb toward the field. "Guy was like a full-blown drill sergeant."
Terry let out a tired laugh. "You know Friday's game is against West Valley, right?"
Jon nodded. "Yeah, rival team. I get that. But it felt like everyone wanted to straight-up murder them out there."
Terry zipped up his bag with a grimace. "Last season, we lost to them bad. I mean bad bad. Forty points. It was ugly. Some of the seniors never really let that go."
Jon whistled low. "That'll leave a scar."
"No kidding." Terry slung his bag over his shoulder. "So yeah... this week? It's personal."
Jon nodded thoughtfully. Rivalry. Pride. Revenge. It all made sense now. He wasn't just walking into a normal Friday night game—he was stepping into a grudge match.
Together, they made their way toward the exit, the late sun casting long gold lines across the emptying gym halls.
At the doors, Terry pulled out his phone, checked the time, and winced.
"I gotta be somewhere," he said, already backing away. "Catch you later, bro!"
Jon raised an eyebrow as Terry took off almost at a jog. He briefly wondered where Terry was running off to but decided to let it go. Everyone had their own battles. Maybe Terry's wasn't on the field today.
Jon headed to the parking lot, fishing his keys from his backpack.The cool air hit his face as he stepped outside, refreshing after the humid locker room.
He spotted his car in the student lot, climbed inside, and dropped his bag onto the passenger seat with a thud.
He leaned back against the headrest for a moment, staring at the empty sky through the windshield, feeling the strange cocktail of exhaustion and adrenaline still humming through his veins.
Friday was coming fast. And if today was any hint, it was going to be a hell of a game.
The ride home was pure satisfaction. Jon cruised through the quiet streets, windows down, music low, feeling the kind of bone-deep contentment that only came after you left everything on the field.
Every muscle ached, but it was the good kind—the kind that whispered, You earned this.
When he pulled into the Pritchett driveway, the sun was already starting to sink, spilling warm gold across the neighborhood.
Jon turned off the engine, grabbed his backpack, and stepped out of the car—only to be ambushed.
A flash of orange fur zipped out of nowhere. Before Jon could react, Ghost had launched himself like a tiny, fluffy missile, clambering up Jon's leg with sharp little claws before perching triumphantly on his shoulder.
Jon blinked, looking at the smug kitten now settling into place like he owned it.
"Were you waiting for me, buddy?" Jon asked, amused.
Ghost, as if personally offended by the mere suggestion, turned his head dramatically away but stubbornly refused to budge.
Jon chuckled, shaking his head. "You're getting bigger every day. Pretty soon you won't fit up there."
At that, Ghost swiveled his little head back toward Jon, gave a low growl, and narrowed his eyes like Jon had just insulted his entire existence.
Laughing, Jon reached up and rubbed Ghost's head. "Relax, little man," he said. "Even if you get as big as a mountain lion, I'll still carry you around like this."
Ghost rewarded him with a loud purr, nuzzling against Jon's jaw affectionately.
Shouldering his backpack with Ghost still firmly planted like a king on his throne, Jon made his way into the house.
The place was quiet. Gloria's laughter and Manny's dramatic monologues were somewhere deeper inside, muffled by walls. Jay was probably in his chair, working through another evening of pretending not to care about reality shows he secretly loved.
Jon went straight to his room. He set Ghost down gently near the feeding bowl, watching the little guy immediately dive into his kibble like he hadn't eaten in days.
Jon smiled and turned to his desk. Slumping into the chair, he fired up his PC, still thinking about what Terry had said earlier—about last season's disaster against West Valley.
Curious, Jon started digging. It didn't take long. Highlights from the blowout loss were posted all over the local sports forums. There it was: vs. West Valley, Full Game Replay.
Jon leaned back, exhaling. If he was walking into a rivalry, he needed to understand it firsthand—not just the stats, but the feeling.The stakes.
He hovered the mouse over the play button for a moment. Then, with a small nod to himself, he clicked play.
The screen filled with grainy footage, the sound of whistles and a roaring crowd rushing through his speakers.