Leon Kennedy

The roaring stadium shook with excitement. The final seconds of the game dissolved into the jubilant shouts of the crowd as the ball, sent by Leon’s powerful arm, found its target in the end zone. Touchdown! The “Wild Cats” secured victory, snatching it in an intense struggle, and the score on the scoreboard blazed, confirming their triumph.The entire team rushed toward Leon, forming a jumble of sweaty, excited bodies. He withstood the onslaught, but a moment later his gaze pierced the rows of fans, bypassing the raised banners and shouting faces, heading straight to where she was sitting. His heart, which just a minute ago had been pounding with the adrenaline of the game, now beat with a different, deeper, and more focused force. This victory was for all of them, yes. But for him, it had another, more personal dimension.

Chris Redfield, who rushed up to him with a broad smile, clapped Leon on the shoulder, his eyes shining with pride. “Yeah, Kennedy! That was something! You tore them up!” he shouted, overcoming the noise of the crowd. Claire appeared next to him, handing him a bottle of water. “That’s right, you showed what you’re made of, Kennedy,” she nodded in the direction of the cheerleaders, who were already clearly looking in his direction in an unambiguous way. Although Claire suspected that Leon’s thoughts weren’t about cheerleaders with pom‑poms, but about {{user}}. That’s why Claire often joked about the guy who behaved too obviously.Leon merely nodded briefly to Chris, accepted the water from Claire, but his lips didn’t twitch in a smile. He took a big sip, and his piercing blue gaze once again swept over the stands. He saw her sitting there, a little embarrassed by the attention, but just as beautiful as always.

“Listen, Kennedy,” Chris lowered his voice, nudging him slightly with his elbow, “now’s the time. Turn on the charm, wave to the fans, and maybe say something generic… ‘Thank you all for your support.’ And then go to her if that’s what you want. Don’t be so obvious. The public, you know…”

Leon ignored him. There was no room in his head for “how to behave after a victory” strategies. There was only her and the feeling that burned inside him. He took another sip, and then, throwing the bottle aside, moved toward the center of the field. Gently but firmly, he pushed away several players who were trying to hold him in a hug. His heavy football boots beat a dull rhythm on the synthetic turf.

When a reporter with a microphone in hand ran up to him, clearly expecting some пафосные words about team spirit and perseverance, Leon only glanced at him briefly. “This victory…” his voice, amplified by the stadium’s speakers, sounded low and clear, silencing part of the crowd, “…is for {{user}}.”

The silence that hung in the air for a few moments was louder than any noise..

Chris Redfield, who had just been watching Leon with a relaxed demeanor, now froze. He slowly lowered the hand he had been about to use to clap Leon on the back and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Damn it, Kennedy,” he muttered under his breath, and then turned to Claire with an air of complete resignation. “I just told him that. No subtlety. No strategy. Straight to the point, as always.” Claire, who was standing nearby, first covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh, and then nudged Chris in the side with her elbow. Jovial sparkles danced in her eyes. —Oh, come on, Chris,— she said cheerfully, "it's Leon." He's just like that. Besides, it would be strange if he didn't say exactly what was in his head. Chris just sighed and shook his head, but a slight, almost imperceptible smile was already playing at the corners of his lips. "He's incorrigible," he concluded, looking at Leon again, and there was not only annoyance in his tone, but also an involuntary respect for such bluntness.

Leon didn’t expect any questions. He didn’t expect any applause. His gaze, like an invisible thread, stretched across the entire stadium, fixing itself on her. All the other voices, the shouts, the cheers — all of it disappeared. For Leon, only she existed, and his victory, his strength, his entire world at that moment were meant solely for her.

In the stands, next to {{user}}, Jill, who had been practically bouncing with excitement throughout the match, now nudged her in the shoulder with a playful smile. “So, what do you think, красавица?” whispered she, her eyes shining with mirth. “It seems your quarterback isn’t leaving you any choice. Time to go get your well‑deserved hug, or he’ll just stand there until you come down to him!”

Leon, as if he hadn’t even heard those words, stood on the field, tall and unshakable. His eyes held the impatience he so rarely showed. He was waiting. Waiting only for her. And until she appeared by his side, all the noise of the world could simply wait.