Chapter 32 : Rain
As the storm outside eased into a light drizzle, the digital storm online was only beginning. Social media exploded with reactions to Luton Town's dramatic victory over Arsenal. Hashtags like #LewisWonderKid, #LutonPride, and #KingBarou trended worldwide within minutes of the final whistle.
---
Mina sat in her sleek office, her laptop open to a barrage of notifications. As the agent for Barou, Aoyama, and Wakabayashi, her inbox was flooding with interview requests, sponsorship deals, and fan messages. She had been watching the match from her desk, biting her lip during every tense moment and nearly knocking her coffee over when Hampton scored that unbelievable header.
"Unreal," Mina muttered, scrolling through the endless stream of posts. She leaned back in her chair, exhaling deeply. "Rahmat's team is rewriting football's rulebook."
Her assistant peeked into the room. "Mina, you've got about fifty emails flagged as urgent. Half of them are from Japanese media asking for a statement about Wakabayashi, and the rest are for Barou and Aoyama."
Mina waved a hand dismissively. "Let them wait. I need to see what the fans are saying first."
---
Mina clicked on the trending hashtag #LewisWonderKid, and the top tweet caught her attention:
> @FootyFanatic: "Lewis Hampton is everything you want in a keeper—and more. Scoring headers? Are you kidding me? This is football cinema at its finest. #LutonPride"
Another:
> @GoonerTears: "We got beat by our manager's ex team and with their SUBSTITUTE KEEPER scored on us. This is pain. #LutonMagic"
Mina laughed, shaking her head. "Poor Arsenal fans. Kendrik must be fuming."
The buzz around Barou and Aoyama wasn't far behind:
> @AnimeFC: "Barou Shoei is the embodiment of chaos and brilliance. That winning goal was pure fire! 🔥 #KingBarou"
> @Gigachad: "Aoyama is a magician on the field. His vision, his composure—he's making Premier League defenders look like amateurs. #MrClean"
And of course, Wakabayashi wasn't forgotten:
> @GoalkeepersUnion: "Wakabayashi must be watching Lewis and grinning. He taught him well. Can't wait to see the two of them back together. #WallOfLuton"
Mina leaned closer to the screen, a small smile tugging at her lips. The world was catching on to what she had always known: these players weren't just athletes—they were icons in the making.
---
Mina opened a group chat titled "Secret Trio" with Barou, Aoyama, and Wakabayashi.
Mina: "Congrats on the win, boys. Media's going wild, but I know your answer: no distractions. Let me know if there's anything you do want to address."
Barou, ever blunt, replied first.
Barou: "Tell them I'm focusing on the next match. I don't need interviews to prove who I am."
Aoyama's response came next, as measured as ever.
Aoyama: "Keep it professional. If it's football-related, fine. Otherwise, decline."
Finally, Wakabayashi chimed in, his tone teasing despite his injury.
Wakabayashi: "Good to see you boys have your priorities straight. Don't let Barou break any cameras, Mina."
Mina laughed softly, appreciating how the trio remained grounded despite the whirlwind of attention.
As Mina scrolled through her emails, one caught her attention. It wasn't from a brand or a journalist, but a fan.
> Dear Mina,
I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I wanted to thank Barou, Aoyama, and Wakabayashi. Tonight wasn't just a football match—it was hope. I've been a Luton fan my whole life, and to see them fight like that against Kendrik and Arsenal… it made me believe again. Please tell them they've inspired more people than they'll ever know.
Mina's chest tightened. She forwarded the message to the group chat with a simple note:
Mina: This is why we do it.
For once, even Barou had no snarky comeback.
Mina knew this victory was only the beginning. With each player's star rising higher, the offers, expectations, and pressure would only increase. But for tonight, she allowed herself a moment of pride.
"Let the world talk," Mina murmured to herself, sipping her now-cold coffee. "This is just the start of something bigger."
She closed her laptop, ready to face the tidal wave of attention that awaited her clients—and herself—the next day.
---
The locker room was still alive with celebration. Players laughed, cheered, and shouted over each other, their voices echoing off the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and rain, but no one cared. This was their night.
Rahmat leaned against the doorway, a faint smile on his face. He watched as Arhan playfully wrestled with Hubner, and Callum sat with his head buried in his hands, overcome with emotion. This was what it was all about—moments like these that made every sacrifice, every sleepless night, worth it.
He checked his phone, which had been buzzing nonstop. Messages from friends, family, and even rival managers filled his inbox. One stood out—a simple message from his mentor Kendrik : "Proud of you, kid. Keep pushing."
Rahmat smiled, pocketed his phone and turned his attention back to the players. "Alright, alright!" he called, his voice cutting through the noise. "Enjoy this moment, but don't forget—we're not done yet."
The players quieted, turning their attention to him. "This win puts us back in second place," Rahmat continued. "We're one point behind Chelsea. They're the only team standing between us and the top again. So celebrate tonight, but tomorrow, we get back to work."
---
The League Standings
After the dramatic victory against Arsenal, the updated Premier League standings flashed across every screen in the stadium and beyond:
1. Chelsea – 29 Points (10 Wins, 2 Draws, 1 Losses)
2. Luton Town – 28 Points (9 Wins, 2 Draw, 1 Loss)
3. Manchester City – 25 Points
4. Arsenal – 24 Points
The sight of Luton Town, a team written off at the start of the season, sitting just one point behind Chelsea was nothing short of remarkable. The headlines were already rolling in:
"Luton's Fairytale Continues: Rahmat's Men March On"
" Luton Town Back in Title Race"
"Chelsea Beware: Luton's Comebacks"
---
Later that night, Rahmat sat alone in his office, the hum of the stadium lights and the distant cheers of fans his only company. A tactical board was spread out in front of him, filled with notes, strategies, and possible lineups for their next matches.
He stared at Chelsea's name at the top of the standings, his jaw tightening. "One point," he muttered to himself. "That's all that separates us. One point."
Chelsea was a powerhouse—a team with depth, talent, and a manager with years of experience. But Rahmat knew his players had something Chelsea didn't: an unbreakable spirit.