The bus ride home felt different.
The city of Barcelona blurred past the window, warm light flickering between old buildings and narrow alleyways. For once, the traffic didn't annoy him. The noise didn't matter. The weight of everything faded into something else—hope.
Luca Herrera leaned his forehead against the glass and let the smile creep onto his face.
He was going to play against Real Madrid.
Not on PlayStation.Not at a street pitch.
But at La Masia. For real. In front of real coaches. Real scouts.
He couldn't wait to tell his father.
Their apartment was tucked in a crowded corner of Ciutat Meridiana, one of the poorest neighborhoods in Barcelona. Cracked pavement. Rusted balconies. But to Luca, it was home.
The smell of garlic and lentils wafted from their small kitchen when he opened the door.
"Papá?" he called.
"In the kitchen, mijo."
Luca stepped in to see his father, apron on, stirring something in an old metal pot. A soccer match played faintly from a tiny TV on top of the fridge.
"¿Cómo fue hoy?" his dad asked, not looking up. "Tired?"
Luca dropped his backpack with a thud and couldn't hold it in any longer.
"I got called up," he blurted out.
Now his father looked up. Confused. "What?"
"For the summer friendlies. Coach Navarro said they picked three players. I'm one of them. I'm going to play. Against Real Madrid. Atlético. Valencia. All of them."
His father just stared, wooden spoon still in hand, as if the world had paused.
Then a grin slowly spread across his face.
"You're serious?"
Luca nodded, heart pounding. "They said I've been incredible these last few days. They noticed. I'm in."
His father pulled him into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the air out of him.
"You did it, hijo. You're getting close. Your mother… she'd be so proud."
Luca closed his eyes. Just hearing that meant everything.
After a moment, he pulled back. "Will you come watch the game?"
His father looked away, suddenly quiet.
"I'll try. Depends on if I can get off work that day. But I'll find a way. I promise."
Luca didn't push. He just nodded, hope in his eyes.
The next morning, training at La Masia felt electric.
The players selected for the Juvenil Showcase Friendlies were moved into a separate group, given new kits, and handed schedules. Luca's name was right there—Herrera, Luca.
The coach in charge of preparing them, Coach Mateo, clapped his hands.
"Alright, boys. These matches are about more than winning. They're about proving you're ready for the next level. Show that you can perform against top academies. Play smart. Play brave. And most of all—play the Barça way."
They started with positional rondos—tight-space passing games that sharpen decision-making.
Luca felt sharper than ever. The ball stuck to his foot like magic, and his passes were smoother, more purposeful. He could sense angles, anticipate where the pressure would come from.
[System Passive Boost: Ronaldinho Template Active]+7 Dribbling+6 Vision+5 Technique+4 Shot Control+3 Acceleration
After training, Coach Mateo approached him.
"You're starting on the left wing for the first match," he said. "You earned it. Just don't try to do too much. Trust your instincts. And trust your team."
"I will, Coach."
"Oh, and Herrera…" He paused. "That pass in the scrimmage the other day—outside of the boot, cross-field? Haven't seen something like that since Iniesta."
Luca's chest swelled. "Gracias, míster."
That night, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Nerves crawled up his spine.
This was it. His moment.
[System Notification]⚽ Upcoming Match: FC Barcelona Juvenil vs Real Madrid Juvenil💡 Objective: Contribute 1 Goal Involvement (Goal or Assist)🎁 Reward: +10 XP, +2 Reputation (Scouts), Random Loot Drop
🔓 Bonus Challenge: "Dança do Rei"Requirement: Complete 3 successful dribbles with flairReward: +5 Technique, Unlock: Ronaldinho Signature Animation
He smirked. "Dança do Rei". Dance of the King. It felt like something written just for him.
He turned to his bedside table and picked up a photo—his mom, holding him as a baby, beaming with pride.
"Tomorrow's for you too, mamá," he whispered.
And drifted off to sleep with a fire in his chest.