The breakfast hall felt heavier than usual. Day 8. Seven days of brutal training, interviews, and pressure that made their bodies scream and their minds fuzzy. Everyone dragged themselves to their seats like zombies.
Then Erik walked in, and something about his expression was... different.
"No training today."
Six forks clattered against plates simultaneously.
Marcus recovered first. "What?"
"No. Training. Today." Erik pulled out six envelopes from his jacket. "You've earned a break."
He handed each of them an envelope. Takeshi opened his with shaking fingers.
Two hundred euros in cash. And tickets to Efteling.
"Is this real?" Marcus breathed, staring at the money like it might disappear.
Isabella was already squealing, bouncing in her seat. Kwame held his envelope carefully, suspicion written across his face. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. I have meetings today. A guardian will take you." Erik's mouth did something that almost looked like a smile. Almost. "Be back by eight PM. Don't do anything stupid."
He left without another word.
The cafeteria erupted.
"EFTELING!" Isabella literally jumped on her chair. "The fairy tale park! I've wanted to go since we got to the Netherlands!"
"Two hundred euros," Oliver whispered, eyes wide. "That's like... that's so much money."
Even Kwame was smiling, really smiling, for maybe the third time since they'd arrived.
Elsa caught Takeshi's eye across the table, and they both started laughing—not at anything particular, just pure relief and disbelief.
When's the last time I just... had fun? Takeshi's adult mind wondered. Not trained. Not completed. Just existed.
"Pack light!" their guardian called from the doorway. A laid-back Dutch guy named Pieter who looked more like a college student than a supervisor. "Bus leaves in thirty minutes!"
Chaos. Beautiful, excited chaos.
The bus ride felt surreal. Dutch countryside rolling past the windows, six kids who'd been competing against each other for a week now just... talking. Laughing.
Takeshi sat wedged between Oliver and Elsa, Marcus and Isabella behind them, making so much noise that Kwame eventually turned around and threw a balled-up napkin at them, which only made them louder.
"According to the map," Oliver announced, unfolding a crumpled brochure he'd snagged from the bus driver, "there's this ride called Baron 1898 that goes underground and...."
"WE'RE DOING THAT FIRST," Marcus declared.
"You haven't even heard..."
"Don't care. Underground rollercoaster. First."
"Democratic process?" Elsa suggested diplomatically.
"Democracy is overrated," Isabella chimed in. "Marcus is right, that sounds amazing."
Pieter laughed from the front seat. "You kids are going to give me a heart attack, aren't you?"
"Probably!" they chorused back.
The gates of Efteling appeared like something from a dream. Massive fairy tale structures, music drifting through the air, the smell of fresh stroopwafels making Takeshi's stomach growl despite breakfast.
Even his adult cynicism couldn't withstand it. The magic was real.
"Stay together," Pieter said, though he looked more excited than they were. "Have fun. Don't get lost. And for the love of everything, nobody gets hurt or Erik will murder me."
"No promises," Kwame muttered, but he was grinning.
Baron 1898 was insane.
The queue wound through this elaborate mining facility setup, telling some Dutch folktale about spirits and mines and... honestly, Takeshi stopped paying attention the moment they hit the launch.
"OHHHHH SHIIIII—" Marcus's scream cut off as they dropped underground.
Isabella's laugh was pure joy. Elsa had her hands up the whole time. Even Oliver, who'd been nervous in line, was screaming his head off.
When they stumbled off the ride, hair wild and legs shaky, they looked at each other and immediately started laughing.
"Again?" Kwame asked.
"AGAIN," they agreed.
Three rides later, stomachs churning pleasantly, they attacked the food stands like locusts. Stroopwafels are still warm and gooey. Little fluffy poffertjes drowning in powdered sugar. Belgian fries with six different sauces, because why choose?
Isabella got vanilla ice cream on her nose and didn't notice for ten minutes. Marcus challenged Kwame to see who could eat more fries, and they both regretted it. Oliver convinced Pieter to buy him a disposable camera and immediately started taking terrible photos of everyone mid-bite.
"This is so going in the embarrassing memories folder," he announced, snapping a picture of Takeshi with chocolate all over his face.
"You're evil," Takeshi laughed, trying to wipe it off.
"Yup!"
They wandered into the Fairy Tale Forest section, and even though they were all too old for it, nobody cared. The enchanted trees and animatronic displays were beautiful in that weird, slightly creepy European fairy tale way.
Elsa stopped in front of the Sleeping Beauty castle, staring up at it with this expression of pure wonder.
"It's like something from a dream," she said quietly.
Takeshi stood beside her, watching sunlight filter through the leaves. "Yeah. It really is."
No awkwardness today. No weird feelings or confusion. Just two friends sharing a moment.
"Do you miss home?" she asked after a moment.
The question surprised him. "Sometimes. My grandmother mostly. She used to watch all my matches."
"Past tense?"
"She's still alive," he clarified quickly. "I just... I miss her."
Elsa nodded. "I miss my dog. Stupid, right? There's this whole Ajax camp, all this pressure and competition, and I miss my dog."
"Not stupid. What's the dog's name?"
"Thor. Because he's tiny but thinks he's huge."
Takeshi laughed, and they kept walking, the conversation flowing easy and natural. She talked about the pressure of being the only girl in the group, how she felt like she had to prove herself twice as hard. He talked, carefully, about feeling different from other kids, like he saw things they didn't.
"You know what's weird?" Elsa said as they caught up with the others. "I came here thinking everyone would be an enemy. But you guys are..."
"Friends," Takeshi finished.
"Yeah. Friends."
Lunch was chaos around a picnic table. Marcus did spot-on impressions of Erik's scowl that had everyone dying. Isabella tried to teach them a Brazilian celebration dance, and they all looked ridiculous. Even Kwame participated, his movements hilariously stiff but earnest.
"What do you think Erik's doing right now?" Oliver mused between bites of his sandwich.
"Plotting our deaths," Kwame said flatly.
"Counting money like some Disney villain," Marcus added.
"Maybe he's secretly fun and we just don't know it," Isabella suggested.
Everyone stared at her.
"Okay, that's stupid, never mind."
More rides. The haunted Spookslot where they all tried to scare each other and failed miserably because they were laughing too hard. The Pirana water ride that absolutely soaked them and nobody cared. The game stalls where Marcus won a giant teddy bear and gave it to Isabella, who hugged it like it was made of gold.
Somewhere between the Flying Dutchman ride and the carousel, Takeshi realized something profound.
This is what I missed in my past life. Just... being with people. No agenda. No pressure. Just existing together.
The afternoon parade was beautiful, with elaborate floats, performers in costumes, and music that made everything feel magical. They all sat together on a curb, tired and happy, watching it pass.
Pieter took a photo of all six of them with Oliver's disposable camera. They were squished together, faces sunburned and happy. Marcus's arm was around Takeshi's shoulders, and Elsa and Isabella were laughing at something Kwame had whispered.
This moment. This perfect, impossible moment.
Remember this, Takeshi's adult mind whispered. When things get dark again, remember this.
Late afternoon sun painted everything golden. They'd wandered into the massive souvenir complex near the exit, everyone wanting something to take home.
"One more hour," Pieter announced, checking his watch. "Then we head back."
"Bathroom break?" Oliver suggested.
"Good idea. Meet back here in ten."
Everyone scattered. Takeshi waved them off. "I'll wait here, grab some snacks for the ride back."
Elsa hesitated. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Just want to browse."
She nodded and followed the others toward the bathrooms. Pieter went with the main group, assuming Takeshi would stay visible.
The shop was huge, aisles packed with Dutch chocolates and stroopwafels and tourist trinkets. Takeshi wandered the snack section, grabbing packages at random. Three different chocolate bars because why not? Stroopwafel tin for his parents. Some weird licorice thing he'd probably hate but wanted to try.
He was smiling, thinking about Kwame's terrible dance moves and Isabella's joy and Elsa's laugh when—
Someone was standing too close behind him.
Way too close.
His adult instincts screamed before his child brain could process. He turned slightly, and there was a man. Well-dressed, expensive shoes, calm smile that made Takeshi's stomach drop.
The man stepped closer. Invaded his space. Takeshi's body froze, every muscle locked.
"I want you to play for me."
The words were quiet. Controlled. Kind even. But wrong. Everything about this was wrong.
"Here." A business card pressed into Takeshi's hand. "Take my card."
Takeshi couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
"You're just eight, so I can't make you leave your family yet." The word "yet" hung in the air like a threat disguised as patience. "I am nice, so here. You have my card now."
The contradiction was terrifying. Nice words. Predatory energy.
"Contact me when you're fifteen."
How did he know my age? How long had he been watching? Waiting?
Takeshi looked down at the card in his shaking hand.
A logo. Prestigious. Official. A major European club crest embossed in gold.
"BOO!"
He jumped so violently he dropped two chocolate bars. Elsa stood behind him, grin fading instantly as she saw his face.
The man was gone. Vanished like he'd never been there.
"Takeshi? You okay?" Her voice shifted from playful to concerned in an instant. "You're really pale."
He forced a smile. His face felt like plastic. "Yeah! Yeah, you got me good."
His voice didn't sound right. Too high. Too forced.
Elsa's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just, thought I saw a spider."
The excuse was terrible. She clearly didn't believe him. But the others were arriving, Marcus carrying his giant teddy bear, Isabella chattering about finding the perfect souvenir.
"Ready to head back?" Marcus asked.
"Yeah." Takeshi shoved the card deep in his pocket, his hand still trembling. "Let's go."
The bus ride back was a blur. Everyone else is tired and happy, reliving favourite moments. Takeshi sat with the card burning a hole through his pocket, one hand touching it constantly like checking a wound.
Elsa kept glancing at him. Oliver noticed both of them. But nobody pushed.
"Everyone have fun?" Pieter asked as they pulled up to the Ajax facility.
"Yes!" Everyone except Takeshi's yes came half a second too late.
Erik was waiting at the entrance, silhouetted against the evening sun. His eyes found Takeshi immediately, lingered a moment too long.
Does he know? Did he know this would happen?
"Good day?" Erik asked.
Enthusiastic nodding from everyone. Marcus already talking about Baron 1898, Isabella showing her teddy bear.
"Good. Training resumes tomorrow. Five AM."
Groans, but good-natured ones.
Walking toward the dorms, Elsa caught Takeshi's arm. Her touch gentle but firm.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Really. Great day."
"Takeshi..."
"Goodnight, Elsa. Thanks for... thanks for today."
She searched his face, wanting to push, knowing she couldn't.
"Okay. Goodnight, partner."
His room felt smaller than usual. He locked the door and pulled out the card with shaking hands.
The club crest gleamed in the lamplight. One of the biggest clubs in Europe. The kind of offer that would make most eight-year-olds' families cry with joy.
But the man's smile. The way he'd known exactly where to find him. The patience in his voice.
"Contact me when you're fifteen."
Seven years from now.
But he was watching. Now. Had probably been watching the whole time.
Takeshi's adult mind catalogued every detail of the man's face, trying to commit it to memory even as his child brain wanted to forget it existed.
How many others are watching? How many people see me as a commodity, not a kid?
Erik's warning echoed: "You're a target now."
He'd thought Erik meant scouts. Official channels. Professional interest.
Not this. Not men in gift shops pressing cards into children's hands.
Not hunters stalking prey.
The best day he'd had in both lifetimes was now poisoned by those sixty seconds in a souvenir shop.
Takeshi stared at the card until his eyes burned.
Fourteen days left at Ajax.
And they're all watching.