Chapter 2 – A New Beginning
The first thing David noticed was the smell.
Not the sharp tang of hospital disinfectant he half-expected, but the fresh cut of grass, faint detergent from washed uniforms, and the earthy scent of old football boots.
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him was plain white, a fan spinning lazily. Around him were bunk beds, posters of Ronaldinho, Xavi, and a smiling young Lionel Messi.
David blinked. His hands were small—tiny compared to what they should have been. He sat up quickly, panic thrumming through him. A mirror on the wall caught his eye.
A boy stared back at him. Dark hair cropped short, brown skin, eyes wide with the mixture of fear and wonder only children carried.
I… I've been reborn.
The door creaked open. Another boy, maybe nine or ten, peeked in.
"¡Eh, vamos! Training starts soon, rookie!"
David's lips moved automatically. "I'm coming." The words felt natural, Spanish rolling off his tongue as though he'd spoken it all his life.
Outside, the sun bathed the training grounds of La Masia in gold. Young boys in Barcelona kits chased balls, their laughter carrying across the fields. Coaches barked instructions, whistles blew, and the sound of leather striking leather echoed again and again.
David's heart pounded. This wasn't a dream. He was in the legendary academy, alongside players destined to be world-class.
He slipped on his boots. The fit was snug, unfamiliar. He jogged onto the field, the grass soft beneath his feet, the ball rolling toward him.
One touch.
The moment his foot met the ball, his body hummed. It was different—alive, electric. Though his overall talent felt… normal, almost plain, he could feel the dormant storm in his legs. Power coiled there, waiting. Accuracy burned in his mind, whispering promises of perfection.
But he stopped himself. Now wasn't the time.
If he unleashed that shot here, among children barely scouted, he'd stand out instantly. Coaches would swarm, his future would warp. And hadn't the god warned him? "Before they uncover your true gift, you will be sold."
So he played like everyone else. Simple passes. Short dribbles. A normal academy boy.
But deep inside, he smiled.
He carried a secret that no one could see—not yet.
From the sidelines, a coach scribbled something in his notes.
"Average technique. Hardworking. Nothing special."
David heard it, and for once, it didn't sting.
Because he knew the truth: his story hadn't started yet.