I felt it the moment I stepped onto the turf.
No pressure. No noise in my head. Just the ball, the boots, and the rhythm coming back.
Coach Navarro's whistle blew, sharp as ever. "Let's see if yesterday's heroics translate into today's drills!"
Kenji jogged past, clapping my shoulder. Musa grinned from across the pitch. Soren gave me a subtle nod. Even that was progress.
We kicked off with rondos. Tight spaces, sharp passes.
Tap. Move. Scan. Tap again.
I wasn't chasing ghosts this time.
The Xavi Vision wasn't active, but my eyes... they were clearer. The field looked simpler somehow. Not easy. But readable.
Musa switched to one-touch. I matched him.
Kenji pressed hard. I didn't panic.
I turned, dragged the ball past him with the Berbatov Hold I'd been grinding in simulation, and released it with a perfect curve into Soren's path.
"¡Vamos!" someone yelled. I think it was Navarro.
Training progressed to shooting drills. That was where I felt something shift.
Not just in my legs. In my intent.
Ball. Space. Net.
One after the other, the shots found their target. Inside post. Low corners. One with backspin off a chipped through-ball.
Navarro raised an eyebrow. "Looks like Ruiz remembered how to use his feet."
I didn't answer.
I was too locked in.
Even Elira, analyzing quietly from the sideline, had stopped taking notes. She was just watching.
Final scrimmage of the day. Two-touch. Full intensity. No mercy.
I played simple, sharp, and always one pass ahead. Not perfect, but electric. The kind of player I'd dreamed of becoming.
The whistle blew. Practice ended.
But for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel tired. I felt ready.
Coach Navarro called us in. "Next game is close. You all want to be starters? Good. Prove it again tomorrow."
We all nodded. Musa still barking orders. Kenji nodding, already scanning footage in his mind.
But me? I glanced to the edge of the field. Elira was still there.
She gave me a small, proud smile.
I didn't say anything.
I didn't need to, why?
Because my game had done the talking.