That Monday morning, the sky was still painted with soft shades of orange as Gabriel put on the light blue preschool uniform. The shirt was a little too big, the shorts squeezed his thin thighs, and the formal shoes made too much noise in the hallway. But he was ready.
— Let's go, Gabizinho! — called Eliena, already with her backpack, fixing her messy bun. — If we don't leave now, we'll hit traffic!
Gabriel ran, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. The routine was always the same: take the elevator down, pass the corner bakery, walk to the stop, and catch the city van with the other kids.
The town was just waking up. Gas trucks passed, the smell of fresh bread drifted from bakeries, workers rushed across the streets, horns blared… Gabriel watched it all with sharp eyes. Even after a year, the urban world still felt strange compared to what he remembered—or knew was coming: the farm.
On the way, Eliena made conversation:
— Your mom told me... you're moving to the farm in the middle of the year, right?
Gabriel nodded.
— In July. When the semester ends.
— You'll have a huge yard to run in! Bet you're gonna love it.
He smiled faintly. I already know that, he thought. But some things, not even time can erase: the feeling that everything will change.
Preschool "Little Bright Stars"
The room was full of children's voices, scattered toys, chewed-up crayons, and the smell of modeling clay in the air. Gabriel sat in the circle with the others. The teacher read a story about a fish who wanted to fly. Many laughed. Some didn't pay attention.
Gabriel, however, was both there… and not.
He observed. Analyzed. It wasn't arrogance—it was instinct.
"These kids are good at playing," he thought. "But what if one of them were on the field with me?"
The answer came automatically: They'd be nothing but extras.
Not cruelty. Just a fact.
There was a difference that went beyond age or strength. It was as if his eyes already searched for more. As if he belonged to a world that only a few could see: the world of those who want to win.
At recess, while others kicked balls against the wall, Gabriel stood by the slide. He watched every move.
One boy ran fast but tripped easily.
One girl screamed loudly but lost her balance when jumping.
Instinct without control… energy without direction…
Football wasn't just that. It was more. He knew that. Even at five years old. Even there, amid laughter and chaos.
Later, at the Butcher Shop
— Busy day — muttered Eliena, taking off her blood-stained apron.
Gabriel sat on an upside-down soda crate, drawing players in an old notebook. He tried to sketch the pass he made the day before. And the goal. He wanted to understand the "empty space." The movement that wasn't there… until he created it.
His mother appeared at the back door with a tired smile and the news he already expected:
— Gabriel… we spoke with the farm owner today. We're moving in July.
— Will there be a backyard? — he asked, pretending to be surprised.
— A huge one. And chickens. And manure smell! — his father joked from behind the counter.
— But there's still some time, okay? — his mother added. — When the semester ends.
Gabriel looked at the floor. It wasn't sadness. It was focus.
The farm would bring freedom. A field of his own. No trash on the ground, no city noise. A place to truly train…
Night, in Bed
The lights were off. His sister's breathing in the next room was steady. The house slept.
Gabriel stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. He waited for it like someone waits for a call-up.
And it came.
Ego System – Night Training
An empty field. A bluish mist covering the grass. The sound of cleats echoing in the silence.
The System's voice came first:
[Starting emotional analysis session. Progress synchronization. Preparing contact with Ego unit.]
And then...
["You've started to understand... but you're still just a seed."]
The slim figure, glasses glowing with invisible light, emerged from the mist. Jinpachi Ego — or at least, what remained of him.
["Every player needs an ego. A desire greater than the world. An obsession."]
— Mine is to be the best, no matter the cost.
["Then feed it. With training. With blood, sweat, failure. Ego without action is just empty pride."]
— And how do I turn that into strength?
["Your style is forming. A rare hybrid: the wild instinct of Bachira with Isagi's lethal calculation. If you make that work… you'll have something unique."]
Gabriel took a deep breath. And then, he felt it.
A heat rising from his belly to his head.
His hands tingled.
[Weapon activated: Instinctive Dribble (Rank E) – Level 1][+10 Dexterity | "Inner monster" vision active]
The lights came on around him. Ghostly creatures emerged on the field. Shadowy players—fast, aggressive.
— Are they...?
["Fragments of your fear. And of what you'll face."]
Gabriel got into position. Ball at his feet.
— Then let's see how well I can dance with them.