"There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness."

Prodigy Dougenis, 10.

My lungs are burning, my legs aching, head throbbing in pain as my cleats dig into the turf, kicking up plastic bits of green into the air. A pounding beat is echoing in my chest, crashing against my ribs and attempting to break free. Warm, humid air passes through my lips and down my parched throat that can't decide whether it wants water or air more.

The boy ahead of me is listening to the heart and the throat and the legs and slowing down his pace to a jog, the ball tepidly rolling just ahead of him, nothing standing between that ball and the goal except for a goalie who's already flinching in fear and anxiety.

He rocks back his foot, planting himself and preparing to rocket the ball into the net. But I'm there, sliding as I extend my foot in his path, the ball ricocheting off my ankle sharply as it skids out of bounds.

The ref blows a whistle as they run down the ball, and I break my focus away from the game for a moment, long enough to take notice of everything surrounding me. There's the scoreboard and the clock, reading out 1-1 and 89:05, just minutes away from a tie game. Beyond that is the bleachers, usually empty aside from a few parents and coaches during practices and scrimmages, now filled to capacity. There's a camera too, waiting to capture highlights to show on broadcast for the whole country, and a reporter next to it, a notepad open as he scribbles in it absentmindedly.

My parents are up there too, and my eyes find them in the crowd as I wander to my position, the two of them cupping their hands as they cheer me on. I flash a weak smile before fixing my gaze to my feet as they settle into the turf. I focus on my breathing, forcing air in and out as I dig into the ground, narrowing my eyes on the ball.

A tie means penalty kicks. Penalty kicks means it's out of my control, that anything could happen no matter how well I play. It means we could lose, just short of winning it all. Every other district came and went, but now it's the championship, and the Capitol is all that stands between District One and the U-12 cup.

It feels like everyone's eyes are on me. It's as if I'm sinking into the turf under the weight of their stares, the cleats digging deeper and deeper into the ground. This is where I make a play. This is where I have everyone cheering and celebrating. The tank of water is already being prepared on the sideline to be dumped on my head, my teammates getting ready to lift me up on their shoulders.

This is just another moment where I prove that I'm as special as everyone always says I am. There's nothing unique or unexpected that's about to happen. Everyone knows what's going to happen. They're just waiting for me to do it.

The whistle blows, and one of the Capitolite kids tosses the ball in-bounds. It floats lazily to one of his teammates, and I leap into action, shouldering the boy aside and slamming my head into the ball.

He's barely moved a step by the time that I've sprinted past him and toward the ball that's now trickling down the sideline. Two defenders rush at me, and I slide the ball sideways, passing it to my teammate. He doesn't even hold the ball for a moment, immediately kicking it back to me as I double my speed, forcing myself past the defenders even as my legs shake and threaten to collapse underneath me.

I get ahead though, and all I can see now is net. Another defender comes at me, and I dig my cleats into the turf, cutting so sharply that the girl falls down when she tries to cut back herself. Now there's just one defender left, and he comes directly at me like a train barreling down the tracks.

I try to cut away from him, but I'm too late. His shoulder collides with my chest, stopping me in mid-air as the top-half of my body swings backward. I'm only half-aware as I fall roughly to the ground of my foot, which picks itself off the ground and kicks wildly at the ball, sending it sailing towards the net.

The back of my head slams against the turf as I drop to the ground. I gasp for air, and for a moment panic fills my aching chest as none comes. My ears are filled with screaming and noise and what takes me a moment to realize is cheering.

Air floods back into my lungs as I shoot up into a sitting position, the ground spinning so that I can barely spot the black and white soccer ball tucked into the back of the net, behind the outstretched fingertips of the goalie.

Relief washes over me, and I fall back to the ground, a single moment of calm slipping past all the pain and exhausting before it's ripped away from me as I'm dragged to my feet by my teammates.

A flurry of hands are reaching out, patting me on the back, shoving me around like I'm at the center of a mosh pit, and ruffling my hair beyond recognition. Eventually they pull away, and I have just enough time to flinch before the water bucket is dumped over my head.

Water drenches my hair, dripping down the front of my forehead and trickling down like raindrops onto my cheeks. A few more people hang around me, slapping me on the back and opening their mouths to say words to me that I'm not hearing. All I can feel is relief, and it washes over me so that nothing else matters while I sit on the turf in the center of the field, parents and friends and my teammates bustling all around me.

"Hey Diggy." A familiar voice cuts through that barrier. I turn my head around, and wave to Priya.

"It's like I haven't seen you in like, twenty years," I say. She smiles a little bit at that, and sits down next to me.

"Yeah," she says quietly, her voice trailing off into a whisper as she looks away from me. After a second she shakes her head, and turns back to me. "So is Freeman Academy cool?"

"Pretty cool," I confirm, smiling. "The teachers are all nice, and everyone is crazy about soccer there, and they're all actually really good."

"So a school full of Diggys." She giggles. "Sounds scary."

"Yeah, it's pretty spooky." I laugh.

It's quiet for a bit after that, and us two keep on sitting in silence, both of us staring in opposite directions, her foot tapping impatiently against the turf while I fiddle with my thumbs. It feels so strange not knowing what to say around her. It used to be that I could talk around her for hours without even having to think about it. She was my best friend, and she got me like nobody else ever did. And now I can't even think of a single thing to say to her. One year away at Freeman Academy and it's like we're barely even friends anymore. It sucks. And it makes me wish that I wasn't even going there sometimes, not that I'd ever say it out loud.

"Congrats, by the way," Priya eventually says. She looks around the stadium, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's like you're already some famous superstar."

"I guess," I say quietly. I look down at my feet, my voice so low that I'm not sure if she'll even hear me, not sure if I even want her to hear me. "I'm just happy I didn't screw up."

She blows a raspberry, shoving my shoulder teasingly. "You never screw up. You're like, perfect at everything, Diggy."

"Yeah," I reply, digging my heels into the turf and resting my chin on my knees.

"It was fun seeing you Diggy, but I gotta run home before my mom freaks out." She stands up, and I wave at her.. She turns, but then stops, and spins back around to face me. "I'll see you again soon, promise?"

I flash a smile, and nod my head. "Promise."

With that she's off, running off the field and out toward the falling sun in the distance. I imagine I'm chasing after her, and it's like before Freeman Academy again, when it wasn't cameras and practices and all the pressure and everyone expecting me to live up to my name. It's just fun, and that's all. There's none of that squeezing, tight pain in my chest while I run across the field even when my legs still feel strong and my throat isn't dry.

But that's not where I am. I wonder if any of those cameras are on me right now. How long will it be before mom and dad walk up to me with one of those reporters, and they ask me all the same questions that I memorized the answers to? All the confidence and promises that feel like lies to say.

I let out a deep breath, ignoring the squeezing pain in my heart, tightening of my throat, and flimsy, floppy arms. I lay down on the turf, and stare up at the sky, then close my eyes, and focus on my breathing, feeling the air entering into my lungs as my chest contracts, and pushing it out with a sigh.

And for a moment, there's no expectations. No looming threat of that unspeakable f-word. I don't need to be perfect in a way I know I won't always be able to be. For a little while, I'm just here, in the middle of a field, the sky above me, wind in my ears, water still dribbling down my cheeks, and in a minute I'll be up on my feet again, running off into the sun.

A/N: Well this took a while. I only have 3 more weeks of school left, so hopefully I can start actually updating this story soon. In the meantime, here's a long overdue update that I hope y'all enjoy, the first of our intros! These intros will be a bit shorter than I usually do b/c I'm not doing 36 6k word intros lmao, but hopefully this was enough to get to know Prodigy still. Thank you cc for this awesome kiddo, I love him so much and can't wait to write him some more!

Thanks to all of y'all for the patience, and I'll see you next time with the D2 intro!