As we headed toward the Eindhoven Centraal railway station, the energy from the match still clung to the streets around us.
Fans in red and white flooded the sidewalks, still chanting, still singing, still reliving that moment like it had just happened seconds ago instead of minutes. Noa was walking beside me replaying the goal for what felt like the hundredth time, occasionally attempting a slowed-down version of Jay's bicycle kick in the middle of the pavement and almost taking out an innocent pedestrian.
"I'm telling you," he said, pointing at an invisible ball in the air, "the body control like how does someone even DO that?!"
"You're going to hurt yourself."
Before he could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
The vibration felt different this time.
I pulled it out slowly as we walked, my thumb hovering over the screen for a second before unlocking it. A notification sat at the top, the sender unfamiliar but official-looking enough to make my stomach tighten slightly.
I opened it.
And just… stared.
Every word felt heavier than the last as I read through it again, slower this time, making sure I hadn't misunderstood anything.
"Calling all U-20 Brazil prospects. Arrive at the Brazil national under-20 football team camp by Friday. Important notice for you."
I stopped walking.
Noa took a few steps before realising I wasn't beside him anymore.
"Oi! What are you doing?"
I didn't answer immediately.
My eyes were still locked on the screen.
"I guess this is something to do with Brazil…" I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else. "Well obviously it is, why would I get a message from a number connected to the Brazilian FA…"
Noa walked back toward me, curiosity written all over his face.
"What is it?"
I turned the phone toward him.
He leaned in.
Then his eyes widened so fast it looked painful.
"WAIT."
He grabbed my shoulders.
"WAIT—WAIT—WAIT—"
People walking past us began to stare as Noa shook me like he was trying to wake me up from a coma.
"YOU'RE GETTING CALLED UP?!"
"I don't know if it's a call-up."
"It literally says arrive at camp!"
"That doesn't mean I'm in the squad."
"That means you're CLOSE!"
His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
I looked back down at the message, my thoughts starting to race faster than I could control them. The timing didn't make sense, the suddenness of it didn't make sense.
Noa stepped back, running both hands through his hair like he was the one who'd just received the message.
"You're going to be playing international football…"
"I didn't say that."
"You're GOING to."
"I don't even know what this is yet."
He pointed at my phone aggressively.
"That is destiny, Gabriel. Think they want me aswell."
I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself as the noise of the city came rushing back in around us.
Friday, Week 26, 20XX. 1 year until the FIFA U-20 World Cup.
At that moment, I had no doubt I could thrash my own brother into the ground. The memory of it lingered vividly, the way my offence had pushed him further and further until there was nothing left for him to give, until I had completely overwhelmed him without even realising when the shift had happened.
I swallowed him whole.
That was the only way to describe it.
Everything I did felt inevitable, like the game had already been decided before we even touched the ball. I reached a point where there was no turning back, no hesitation, no second guessing, just pure instinct driving every movement I made.
And yet… I stopped.
Right at the edge.
At the length of a hair.
"However… I still don't understand that side of me…"
The thought lingered in my mind like an echo I couldn't shake. It didn't feel natural, but it didn't feel wrong either.
It felt new.
Like something that had always been there, buried deep beneath everything else, finally forcing its way to the surface.
Like my veins were dancing to some old 1950's jazz rhythm, unpredictable and chaotic yet somehow perfectly in sync.
"Hey, Osvaldo."
The voice came from behind him, soft and low, almost like the quiet buzz of a bee drifting through the air. It barely disturbed the silence of the afternoon, yet it was enough to pull him out of his thoughts.
Osvaldo didn't turn immediately.
He sat on the balcony of his home, leaning back in a worn wooden chair as the warm air drifted past him. The city stretched out in front of him, distant noise blending into a dull hum that he had long since learned to ignore.
"What do you want, Sonia?"
He finally spoke, his tone flat as he slowly stood to his feet, resting his arms on the railing as he looked out across the horizon.
Sonia stepped closer, brushing her orange locks behind her ear as she held a letter between her fingers.
"The Brazil national under-20 football team sent this in," she said calmly. "They want you at their training camp in about three hours."
Osvaldo didn't react.
"They said it's important. Something about participating in a training session."
"And how am I supposed to get there?"
His tone hadn't changed.
Sonia tilted her head slightly, almost amused.
"A car is already outside."
That made him pause. Slowly, Osvaldo turned around.
The letter stayed in Sonia's hand as he walked past her, his footsteps slow and measured as if none of this really mattered. The hallway creaked slightly beneath him, the quiet of the house stretching behind his back while something unfamiliar began to settle in his chest.
He reached the door and paused for a brief moment, his hand resting on the handle as he stared at the wood like it might give him answers. Then, without another thought, he pulled it open.
The sunlight hit first than the car.
A blacked-out SUV sat parked directly outside, engine humming softly like it had been waiting there for hours. The windows were tinted so heavily they almost reflected the world instead of revealing anything inside.
The back door was already open.
Inside the car three others sat waiting.
One of them leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes scanned Osvaldo from head to toe. Another sat back more casually, one arm stretched along the seat, but his gaze was just as sharp. The third didn't move at all, sitting upright with his hands clasped together like he'd been waiting the longest.
Footballers.
You could tell instantly.
From the way they carried themselves like they belonged somewhere bigger than this.
Osvaldo stood there for a second, taking them in.
Then one of them finally spoke.
"Took you long enough."
His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.
Osvaldo didn't react.
He stepped forward and climbed into the SUV without a word, the door shutting behind him with a heavy thud that cut him off from the outside world completely.
"Welcome Osvaldo."