Chapter 72 – The First Spark of Recognition
The air in Penedono was crisp with the bite of early autumn. Leaves had begun to change colors, sprinkling the dirt paths with flecks of red and orange. For most children, this meant chasing one another in the narrow lanes, or sitting by the fireplaces at night. But for Jota, it meant something else entirely—a new season to test his limits.
Every morning before the roosters crowed, he was already awake. The boy who carried the soul of a fallen legend laced up his tattered boots and stepped onto the dew-soaked grass. The old ball—patched, heavy, and rough—waited like an old friend. He dribbled, not just for fun, but with the burning precision of a man who once heard the roar of tens of thousands in a stadium.
