The afternoon sun illuminated the wide courtyard of the host's residence, where the children began to disperse after lunch. Jenny walked beside John, watching him with curiosity. His calm did not create pressure; on the contrary, it felt pleasant and reassuring.
"Do you want me to show you where we usually practice soccer?" Jenny asked, pointing toward an area marked with cones and an improvised goal.
"Acceptable," John replied, his voice neutral and steady as he mentally evaluated the space. There was no emotion—only calculations of distance, speed, and possible trajectories.
Erick approached while adjusting his sports shoes, his brow furrowing. John's presence immediately awakened a competitive impulse within him.
"If we're going to play, then make it a real challenge," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "I'm not planning to fall behind."
John turned his head toward him, observing every gesture.
"As long as the activity is efficient and safe, it is acceptable," he replied—without enthusiasm or nervousness—while registering every movement of the ball and of Erick himself.
Jenny let out a small laugh, amused by John's absolute seriousness.
"Don't be so intense, Erick. It's just a game," she said, moving toward the field. "Besides, John has never played soccer, and it's still interesting to watch him."
Erick tensed his shoulders.
"That just makes it more exciting."
His eyes shone with the determination to surpass someone who didn't seem pressured at all.
John placed his feet on the grass, adjusting his stance. There was no clumsiness; his coordination, strength, and speed were superior, allowing him to adapt to a new sport with surprising ease. Every touch of the ball, every short sprint, seemed calculated and precise. Jenny watched in awe; Erick with a mix of disbelief and challenge.
"Wow…" Jenny whispered. "He really is incredible."
Erick said nothing. He simply grabbed the ball and charged toward John with determination, ready to test himself against someone who, at first glance, knew neither rules nor tactics—yet already displayed natural mastery over his physical abilities.
The air filled with tension and expectation: three children, three different ways of facing the same challenge.
John—pure logic and efficiency.
Jenny—relaxed admiration.
Erick—competition burning from within.
And without grand words, the first "match" began.
Erick kicked the ball toward John with force, hoping to exploit his apparent inexperience. But John stopped it with a single touch, controlling the ball as if he had played his entire life. His movement was quick, efficient, and perfectly calculated to maintain the desired direction.
"What…?" Erick murmured, momentarily stunned. It wasn't just skill—it was absolute precision.
Jenny stepped forward, ready to receive the ball.
"Wow, John!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen someone learn so fast!"
John pivoted, passing the ball to Jenny with a touch that left her perfectly set up for a shot on goal. Not a trace of emotion crossed his face—only accuracy.
Erick clenched his teeth, a spark of competition flashing in his eyes. He couldn't fall behind. He sprinted faster, intercepting the ball before Jenny could shoot.
"Not so fast," he said, performing an improvised dribble that combined strength and agility. "Now it's my turn!"
John barely shifted his position, then surged forward, reclaiming the ball with flawless control. To him, soccer was merely a pattern of movement and coordination; there was no fun or pride involved—only efficiency.
Jenny, amazed, clapped softly.
"This… is so different from everything I do with Erick. John doesn't get frustrated, doesn't tire quickly… and he makes everything look so easy!"
A heat rose in Erick's chest. The rivalry was real—not just about winning, but about surpassing someone who felt nothing, who didn't "emotionally" struggle, and yet did everything perfectly.
"It doesn't matter!" he said finally, more to himself than to the others. "I'll surpass him—somehow!"
John gave a simple nod and advanced again, intercepting the ball with impeccable technique. There was no pride in him—only logic applied to motion.
Jenny stepped back, watching the two boys run and measure themselves in that improvised challenge. She couldn't help but smile; she felt comfortable with John, yet fascinated by Erick's burning competitiveness.
The sun began to tilt, bathing the grass in warm hues. Every pass, every feint, every movement mattered—not as play or entertainment, but as a real-time observation of skills, strategies, and physical efficiency.
For John, everything was data and action.
For Erick, it was a personal challenge igniting his competitive fire.
For Jenny, it was simply fascinating to witness how two such different worlds could collide on the same field.
And so, between passes, sprints, and subtle displays of talent, it became clear that the afternoon was only beginning to reveal the true extent of John's prodigious nature.
Minutes passed as the three continued moving across the grass. Every pass from John was impeccable, his physical control nearly perfect, but soon a detail became evident: although he could move, evade, and strike the ball with precision, he lacked the subtleties of the game. Anticipating Erick's movements, feints, and unexpected shots—those nuances escaped his purely logical analysis.
Jenny ran from side to side, amused by the scene.
"John! That was incredible!" she exclaimed. "Even I couldn't do it like that!"
John simply nodded. His expression remained unchanged, his body reacting swiftly, calculating each movement with efficiency.
Erick took advantage of it. In a brief lapse, as John adjusted his position to block a shot, Erick executed an unexpected feint. With a final burst of speed, he advanced to the improvised goal and fired.
"Goal!" Erick shouted, raising his arms proudly.
Jenny clapped, smiling widely.
"Well played, Erick!" she said. "But John… it's amazing how fast you adapt to something new!"
John stopped, breathing evenly. There was no frustration or embarrassment—only a registered result: he lost due to tactical unfamiliarity, not lack of physical capability.
Erick approached, his heart still pounding. His smile was wide, but in his eyes flickered respect—and a hint of unease.
"Good game, John," he said, extending his hand. "I never thought someone without experience could move like that. I'll have to work harder if I want to surpass you."
John accepted the hand naturally, without emotion, and replied:
"Acceptable. Learning recorded."
Jenny laughed softly, crossing her arms as she watched them.
"This is fun," she said, clearly enjoying the family moment. "I'm glad you're competing like this without fighting."
Erick shook his head, still smiling.
"Yeah… winning feels good, but it also makes me realize that John will be a real rival."
John didn't respond. He stepped aside, observing as Erick and Jenny played a bit longer, mentally recording movements, speeds, and reactions. For him, everything was information and efficiency; for Erick, the spark of a rivalry just beginning; for Jenny, a lighthearted and enjoyable family moment.
The sun continued to descend, painting the grass in warm tones. The children stopped, breathing and laughing softly.
That afternoon at the host's residence made one thing clear:
even without emotion, John's physical prodigy had already awakened respect and rivalry—and kept everyone alert in a coexistence that had only just begun.