Chapter 833: Youngsters!

They walked toward the dressing room together.

The corridor was quiet, since most of the squad had already gone home. Their footsteps echoed off the bare walls in a steady rhythm, and Rafa spun the ball on one finger as he went.

"Did you see the interview?"

"Which one?"

"Hiro’s... after the match."

Matteo nodded. "I saw it."

"And?"

Matteo was quiet for a few steps. Then he said, "He’s hiding something."

Rafa’s finger stopped, and the ball wobbled and fell into his hand. "What?"

"Hiro. He’s hiding something."

"Like what?"

"I don’t know." Matteo’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment his gaze seemed to rest on something that wasn’t in the corridor at all. "But he isn’t telling the whole truth."

Rafa stared at him. "You got that from a post-match interview?"

"I got it from the way he spoke, and the way he moved, and the way he looked at the camera."

"That’s creepy."

"It’s an observation."

"Same thing."

"It isn’t."

Rafa groaned. "You’re doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Being weird."

Matteo didn’t answer. He had stopped looking for logic in his responses. Hence, he just kept walking, and Rafa jogged to catch up with him.

"Okay, fine. What do you think he’s hiding?"

Matteo was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was very calm.

"Something that will change everything."

Rafa blinked. "That’s ominous."

"It’s accurate."

"How do you know?"

"I don’t." Matteo glanced at him. "But I can feel it."

Rafa was quiet for a moment, and then a grin spread across his face. "You’re terrifying, you know that?" ℯ𝕝.

"I’ve been told."

The dressing room was empty. The other players had gone, and the benches stood bare in the dim light of the corridor. Rafa dropped onto one and stretched out his legs, while Matteo sat across from him, methodical and upright, folding his training top into a neat square.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then Rafa said, "I want to face him."

"Hiro?"

"Yes."

"You’ll get your chance."

"When?"

"The World Cup. Maybe sooner."

Rafa’s eyes lit up. "Sooner?"

Matteo shrugged. "Real Madrid plays Atlético next month."

Rafa’s grin widened. "The derby."

"Yes."

"He’ll be there."

"Probably."

"And I’ll be there."

"Yes."

"And I’ll destroy him."

Matteo studied him. "You’re confident."

"I’m Brazilian."

"That isn’t a reason."

"It is for me."

Matteo shook his head, and for once something that was almost a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Later that evening

The two of them sat in a small café near the training ground.

It was a quiet place, tucked away from the main streets, and the people who came here were locals who didn’t care about football. The owner knew them by name, and the waitress never asked for autographs.

One of the fans turned slowly overhead, and the smell of coffee and warm bread hung in the air.

Rafa ordered a coffee. Matteo ordered tea.

"Tea?" Rafa wrinkled his nose. "You’re in Spain. Drink coffee."

"I don’t like coffee."

"You don’t like coffee?"

"No."

"What’s wrong with you?"

"Many things."

Rafa laughed. "At least you’re honest."

"I’m always honest."

"I know. That’s the problem."

Matteo tilted his head. "How is honesty a problem?"

"Because sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth."

"Then they shouldn’t ask."

Rafa shook his head. "You really don’t understand people, do you?"

"I understand them perfectly."

"No, you don’t."

"I do."

"Prove it."

Matteo was silent for a moment, and he turned his cup slowly on its saucer before he spoke. "You’re afraid."

Rafa blinked. "What?"

"You’re afraid of facing Hiro. It isn’t because you think you’ll lose. It’s because you think you’ll win, and then you’ll have nothing left to chase."

Rafa stared at him, and the grin slid slowly off his face.

"That’s..."

"Accurate?"

"Creepy."

"Same thing."

"It isn’t."

Matteo sipped his tea without comment.

Rafa was quiet for a long time, watching the steam rise from his coffee, and the noise of the café washed over them both. Then he said, "You’re right."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a moment longer. Then Rafa smiled, slowly at first and then fully.

"But I’m glad you’re on my team."

Matteo looked at him. "Why?"

"Because if you were my enemy, I’d be terrified."

Matteo considered this for a moment.

"That’s reasonable."

Rafa laughed. "You’re impossible."

**** ****

Three weeks before the Madrid derby

The phone rang at 7:43 in the morning.

Hiro was already awake. He sat on the couch with a cup of tea going cold in his hands and the morning news playing on mute.

Upon hearing the ring, he picked up his phone, and at once the screen lit up. Just as the content of the screen was revealed, his heart started pounding.

Japan Football Association.

The call he had been waiting for had finally arrived.

He answered. "Hello?"

"Hiro Takahashi?" It was a woman’s voice, polite and professional. "This is the JFA. We’re calling about the upcoming World Cup qualifier against Vietnam."

Hiro straightened his back as he heard the voice. "Yes?"

"The coach would like to call you up for the match. It’s the final qualifier of the campaign, and he believes it’s important for you to reintegrate with the squad before the World Cup."

Hiro’s throat tightened. They want me back. After everything.

"I’ll be there."

"Excellent. We’ll send the details shortly. Congratulations, Hiro."

The call ended, and he sat there in silence with his heart pounding. Then he smiled. He had earned his spot despite the setback he suffered.

I’m coming home.

For a while, he found it rather hard to believe. He had been hoping for this call for months.

The news broke within hours.

"Hiro Takahashi Called Up for Japan’s Final World Cup Qualifier" — Sports Nippon

"The King Returns: Hiro Back in National Squad" — Nikkan Sports

"Japan’s Final Qualifier: Hiro’s Chance to Prove He Belongs" — ESPN FC

The football world reacted at once. Some people celebrated, some doubted, and some asked whether he deserved a place after so many months away. But most of them simply watched and waited.