Week one was hell.
Not dramatic hell. Just tedious, painful, boring hell.
Daniel's days blurred together. Wake up, ankle pumps. Breakfast, ankle pumps. Lunch, ankle pumps. Dinner, ankle pumps. Every two hours, three sets of fifteen, until his ankle screamed and he wanted to throw the boot across the room.
He didn't. Just did the reps and waited for the System to log them.
[EXERCISE ADHERENCE: 96%]
[MISSED SESSIONS: 2]
He'd missed two because he fell asleep. The System had woken him with a notification at 3 AM.
[PROTOCOL DEVIATION DETECTED]
[RECOVERY EFFICIENCY REDUCED]
No sympathy. No understanding. Just facts.
Daniel set alarms after that.
The nutrition thing was harder. His mom noticed on day three when he pushed his plate away at dinner.
"You don't like it?"
"No, it's fine. I'm just not hungry."
She gave him a look. The mom look that saw through bullshit.
"Dani."
"I'm fine."
"You've barely eaten today."
Because the System had flagged pasta as suboptimal. High glycemic index, minimal nutritional value for recovery. Daniel had looked it up, seen the red rating, and suddenly couldn't make himself eat it.
Stupid. He was being stupid.
"I'll eat more tomorrow," he said.
His mom didn't push. But she watched him closer after that.
Daniel started eating breakfast before she woke up. Found cheap protein sources online. Canned tuna. Eggs. Peanut butter. Not optimal, but better than nothing.
[NUTRITIONAL ADHERENCE: 73%]
[SUBOPTIMAL INTAKE DETECTED]
[RECOVERY TIMELINE IMPACT: +3 DAYS]
Three days. His family's poverty cost him three days.
Daniel closed the notification and didn't look at it again.
Physical therapy started on day five.
The clinic was twenty minutes by metro. Daniel took the early morning slot so his mom could sleep after her shift. Crutches on public transport was an experience. People stared. Some offered seats. Most pretended not to see him struggling.
The physical therapist's name was Isabel. Mid-thirties, strong hands, no-nonsense voice.
"Let me see the surgical report."
Daniel handed over the papers. She read them, face neutral.
"Okay. This is going to take time. You understand that?"
"Yeah."
"I mean it. No rushing. No trying to be a hero. You follow my protocols exactly."
"I will."
She studied him. "You're an athlete. You're used to pushing through pain. That doesn't work here. Push too hard, you'll set yourself back months."
"I understand."
She didn't look convinced, but she started the session anyway.
Range of motion tests. Gentle manipulations. Checking the surgical site. Everything hurt, but Isabel's hands were clinical, efficient. She knew what she was doing.
The System stayed silent the entire session. No screens, no notifications. Just watching, maybe. Recording data.
Afterward, Isabel gave him exercises. Similar to what the System had prescribed, but slightly different angles, different emphasis.
"Three times a day. No more, no less."
"Okay."
"And ice. Twenty minutes, three times a day. Helps with inflammation."
Daniel nodded. Took the instruction sheet. Got himself back on the metro and home.
The System reappeared that evening.
[PHYSICAL THERAPY SESSION LOGGED]
[PROTOCOL ADJUSTMENTS MADE]
[EXERCISES OPTIMIZED FOR COMPATIBILITY]
It had watched. Learned from Isabel's approach. Adjusted its own protocols to work alongside real medical treatment.
Huh.
Daniel did both sets of exercises. Isabel's and the System's. His ankle was throbbing by the end, but the pain felt productive. Like he was actually fixing something.
[BONE HEALING: 15%]
[LIGAMENT REPAIR: 11%]
[INFLAMMATION REDUCTION: 34%]
Numbers creeping upward. Slow. Real.
By day seven, Daniel could feel the difference. The swelling was down. The constant throb had dulled to a persistent ache. When he did ankle pumps, the range of motion was slightly better.
Progress.
Marcos visited again. Brought food from his mom. Empanadas, still warm.
"These aren't on your diet, are they?" Marcos asked, grinning.
"No."
"You gonna eat them anyway?"
Daniel looked at the empanadas. Looked at Marcos. Thought about the System logging the deviation, adding time to his recovery.
Screw it.
"Yeah."
They ate on the couch, watching highlight videos on Marcos's phone. La Liga goals. Champions League. The kind of football they both dreamed of playing.
"Rafael's back tomorrow," Marcos said, mouth full.
"I know."
"Coach is starting him immediately. Says we need the depth."
Of course he was. Rafael's hamstring was fine. Two weeks and he was ready. Daniel's ankle would take months.
"Makes sense," Daniel said.
Marcos glanced at him. "You good?"
"Yeah."
"You sure? Because you've got that face."
"What face?"
"The face you get when you're pissed but pretending you're not."
Daniel almost laughed. "I'm fine. Really. Rafael should play. Team needs him."
It was true. Didn't mean it didn't sting.
Marcos stayed another hour. When he left, Daniel felt more tired than he had all week.
The System appeared.
[NUTRITIONAL DEVIATION DETECTED]
[EMPANADAS: HIGH FAT, HIGH SODIUM, SUBOPTIMAL RECOVERY NUTRITION]
[ESTIMATED IMPACT: +0.5 DAYS]
Half a day. Worth it for actual human connection.
Daniel dismissed the notification and did his evening exercises.
Day nine was bad.
He woke up at 4 AM with his ankle on fire. Pain worse than it had been since surgery. Hot and sharp and wrong.
He lay there, breathing through it, trying not to wake anyone.
The System appeared.
[PAIN SPIKE DETECTED]
[ANALYZING...]
[LIKELY CAUSE: OVEREXERTION DURING PREVIOUS DAY]
[RECOMMENDATION: REST]
Rest. Daniel looked at the time. His next exercise session was scheduled for 6 AM.
Can I skip it?
[SKIPPING PROTOCOL NOT RECOMMENDED]
[HOWEVER: PAIN MANAGEMENT TAKES PRIORITY]
[MODIFIED PROTOCOL AVAILABLE]
Show me.
The screen changed. Showed gentler exercises. Half the reps. Different movements that avoided the most inflamed areas.
Daniel did them. Slowly. Every rep hurt, but not the bad hurt. Not the dangerous hurt.
By 7 AM, the pain had dulled to manageable. By noon, he could almost forget it was there.
That night, he slept through his 10 PM session. Woke up at midnight, realized he'd missed it, and felt his stomach drop.
[MISSED PROTOCOL SESSION]
[RECOVERY EFFICIENCY REDUCED]
[ESTIMATED IMPACT: +1 DAY]
One day. He'd lost one day because he was too tired to stay awake.
Daniel stared at the ceiling. The notification hovered in his vision, clinical and merciless.
This is what recovery was. Not a straight line. Not steady progress. Just grinding forward, sometimes losing ground, trying not to quit.
He set three alarms for the next session.
By day fourteen, something shifted.
The boot felt looser. The swelling was visibly down. When Daniel did his exercises, the movements came easier.
He could flex his ankle almost to neutral. Couldn't push past that without pain, but neutral was progress.
The System confirmed it.
[TWO WEEK ASSESSMENT:]
[BONE HEALING: 28%]
[LIGAMENT REPAIR: 22%]
[INFLAMMATION REDUCTION: 61%]
[OVERALL RECOVERY: 24%]
[PHASE 1 COMPLETION: 66%]
[DAYS TO FULL RECOVERY: 156]
A quarter of the way healed. Eight days cut from the timeline.
Daniel sat there, looking at the numbers. Not celebrating. Just absorbing them.
Isabel noticed at his next physical therapy session.
"You're ahead of schedule," she said, manipulating his ankle. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
"Just following your protocols."
"Mm." She didn't sound convinced. "Most athletes your age try to rush things. You're being smart. Good."
The praise felt strange. He wasn't patient by choice. The System just didn't give him any other options.
But he'd take it.
That afternoon, the team group chat exploded.
Someone posted a video. Match highlights from the weekend. Valencia Juvenil A had won 3-1. Rafael scored twice.
The comments poured in.
RAFA IS BACK
that second goal was filthy
we missed you tío
Daniel watched the video. Rafael looked good. Sharp. Fast. Like the injury had never happened.
Two weeks. Two weeks and he was scoring goals.
Daniel looked at his boot. 156 days left.
He locked his phone. Did his evening exercises. Mental conditioning session after.
Scenario three: 10/10.
Scenario six: 8/10.
Scenario nine: 7/10. Misread the pressing trap entirely.
[TACTICAL INTELLIGENCE: 86/100]
[+2]
Small progress. Always small progress.
On day fifteen, the System unlocked something new.
[PHASE 1: 71% COMPLETE]
[NEW TRAINING MODULE AVAILABLE: VISUALIZATION ENHANCEMENT]
[DESCRIPTION: ADVANCED MOVEMENT PATTERN SIMULATION]
[INCREASES NEURAL PATHWAY RETENTION DURING PHYSICAL INACTIVITY]
What does that mean?
[YOUR BRAIN CAN PRACTICE MOVEMENTS YOUR BODY CANNOT YET PERFORM]
[WHEN PHYSICAL TRAINING RESUMES, MUSCLE MEMORY WILL BE PARTIALLY RETAINED]
[INITIATE: YES/NO]
Daniel thought about it. His body couldn't train. Couldn't run, couldn't jump, couldn't do anything football-related. But his brain could?
Yes.
The screen changed. Became something different. Immersive. Like he was standing on a pitch, first-person view.
[VISUALIZATION SEQUENCE 1: RECEIVING PASS UNDER PRESSURE]
A ball came toward him. Defender closing in from the left. Daniel's perspective, but not real. Simulation.
He thought through the movement. First touch with the outside of his right foot, taking it away from pressure. Pivot. Look up. Pass forward.
The simulation played out his thoughts. Showed him executing perfectly.
[REPETITION 1 COMPLETE]
[REPEAT 50 TIMES FOR NEURAL RETENTION]
Fifty times. Daniel settled in and started.
By repetition twenty, the movement felt automatic. By forty, he could do it without thinking. By fifty, it was instinct.
[SEQUENCE 1 COMPLETE]
[NEURAL PATHWAY ESTABLISHED: 73%]
[TECHNICAL: +1]
His Technical stat had gone up. From visualization. From practicing movements he couldn't physically do yet.
Daniel felt something in his chest. Not hope exactly. But less hopeless.
Maybe this would work. Maybe the System would actually get him back.
That night, Lucía knocked on his door.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
She sat on the edge of his bed. He was propped up with pillows, laptop open, researching cheap protein sources.
"You're doing better," she said.
"A little."
"Mom's worried about you."
"I know."
"She thinks you're not eating enough."
Daniel closed the laptop. "I'm eating fine."
"Are you?"
He looked at his sister. Thirteen and too perceptive.
"I'm trying to eat the right things. For recovery. It's just expensive."
Lucía nodded slowly. "Is that why you've been weird about dinner?"
"Yeah."
"You should tell her."
"She's already stressed about money. The medical bills alone—"
"She's more stressed watching you not eat. Just tell her."
Daniel rubbed his face. His sister was right. She usually was.
"Okay. I'll talk to her."
"Good." Lucía stood up. Paused at the door. "You're going to make it back. You know that, right?"
"I hope so."
"Not hope. Fact. You're too stubborn not to."
She left before he could respond.
Daniel sat there. His ankle ached. His laptop was full of tabs about nutrition and injury recovery and cheap meal prep. The System hovered in his peripheral vision, waiting for his next command.
156 days.
He could do this. One day at a time. One exercise session at a time. One percentage point at a time.
Progress wasn't fast. Wasn't dramatic. Wasn't anything like he'd imagined.
But it was real.
And real was enough.