The Ajax dining hall was massive and intimidating, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking perfectly manicured training pitches. It was past dinner time, but Takeshi's stomach was growling after the long journey from Japan.
Just grab something quick and find a corner.
The place was mostly empty except for a few staff members cleaning up. Most of the other "selected" kids had probably eaten earlier and gone to bed.
He grabbed a sandwich and some juice, scanning for the most isolated table possible. That's when he saw her.
The Norwegian girl from the airport, sitting alone by the window, methodically eating what looked like a salad. She seemed completely at ease, like she owned the place.
Should I sit far away? Or...
Before he could decide, she looked up and caught him staring.
"You were looking at me at the airport too."
Shit. She noticed.
"I wasn't... I mean..."
"Relax." She gestured to the chair across from her. "I was looking back."
Wait, what?
Her directness caught him completely off guard. He stood there holding his tray like an idiot until she smiled, not mockingly, but genuinely friendly.
"Sit. Unless you prefer eating alone while overthinking everything that just happened today."
How does she know I overthink?
He sat down, suddenly very aware of how tired and overwhelmed he felt. "I'm Takeshi. From Japan."
"Elsa. Norway." She took a sip of water. "That was quite an entrance with Erik earlier."
She saw that?
"You mean when he dragged me through the facility like I was his prize exhibit?"
"Exactly." Elsa's expression darkened slightly. "He did the same tour with me yesterday. Very... theatrical."
So she's been here longer. She knows what this place is like.
"How many of us are here already?" Takeshi asked.
"You're the fourth to arrive. There's Kwame from Nigeria, arrived this morning and immediately challenged the groundskeeper to a race. Marcus from Germany got here yesterday, barely said two words. And now you."
"What about the other two?"
"Coming tomorrow, apparently. A Brazilian girl and someone from England."
Six total. All competing for one spot.
"Nervous?" Elsa asked, reading his expression.
"Terrified," he admitted without thinking. "Back in Japan, I felt... special. Here, I feel like a fish out of water."
"Welcome to Ajax," she said dryly. "Where every fish thinks they're a shark until they meet the actual sharks."
This girl has perspective.
"You don't seem nervous."
"Oh, I'm scared shitless," she said casually. "But my dad taught me that fear means you care. Caring is good."
Eleven years old and already wiser than most adults.
"How old are you?" Takeshi asked.
"Eleven. You?"
"Eight. Almost nine."
Her eyebrows rose. "Eight? And Erik picked you?"
Great, now she thinks I'm just a little kid.
"I know I'm young.. "
"No, that's not what I meant." Elsa leaned forward, studying his face. "Erik doesn't pick kids just because they're talented. There's always something else. Something... different."
She's sharp. Too sharp.
"What makes you different?" he asked, deflecting.
She was quiet for a moment, twirling her fork. "I see patterns. In games, in people, in how things connect. Sometimes I know what's going to happen before it does."
Holy shit. She's like me.
"That must be useful in football."
"Terrifying is more like it. When you can predict your opponents' moves, the game becomes... I don't know. Too easy? That's why I'm here. To find someone who can surprise me."
Someone who can challenge her. Someone on her level.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while. Despite the competition hanging over them, talking to Elsa felt natural. Normal.
"Can I ask you something?" she said eventually.
"Sure."
"Why do you look at me like you're trying to figure something out? Since the airport, you've had this expression like you're solving a puzzle."
Because you remind me of someone. Because you feel familiar in a way that shouldn't be possible.
"You're not what I expected," he said honestly.
"What did you expect?"
"Someone more... I don't know. Competitive? Hostile?"
"Like Kwame?"
"Yeah."
Elsa laughed. "Kwame's not hostile. He's performing. Big difference."
She sees through people's acts.
"You're different too," she continued. "Most eight-year-olds would be crying for their moms by now. You're just... observing everything. Like you're taking mental notes."
Too close to the truth.
"Maybe I am."
"Smart. This place is going to test more than just our football skills."
They talked for another hour about the facility, about being away from home, about the strange pressure of being "chosen." The conversation flowed easily, like they'd known each other for years.
"The weirdest part," Elsa said, pushing her empty plate away, "is how quiet it is here. For a place full of kids, it feels... heavy."
"Everyone's probably scared to show weakness."
"Exactly. But you can't grow without being vulnerable sometimes."
This kid is dropping wisdom bombs.
"Is that why you're talking to me? Vulnerability practice?"
She grinned. "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to talk to someone who doesn't look at me like I'm either a threat or a curiosity."
She feels it too. The connection.
Eventually, Elsa glanced at the big clock on the wall. "I should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be intense."
"Yeah. Erik mentioned 5 AM training."
"Of course he did." She stood up, gathering her tray. "Takeshi?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for sitting with me. It's nice to meet someone normal in this place."
"Normal?" He laughed. "I don't think anyone here qualifies as normal."
"Genuine, then. That's rarer."
As she headed toward the exit, she turned back one more time.
"See you at 5 AM. Try to get some sleep."
Watching her leave, Takeshi felt something he hadn't expected: relief.
Maybe I'm not completely alone in this nightmare.
The facility was still intimidating. Erik was still a psychopath. The competition was still brutal.
But now he had something else: someone who understood the pressure, who saw through the facade, who felt... safe.
One ally in hell is better than none.
He finished his sandwich and headed toward the dormitories, feeling slightly more hopeful about whatever tomorrow would bring.
Day one starts in eight hours. Time to find out what I'm really made of.