Become A Football Legend-Chapter 185: Once Upon a Time

Chapter 185: Once Upon a Time
The cool Bremen night wrapped around them as they stepped out of the house, the quiet hum of the neighborhood settling like a blanket over the narrow street. Lukas shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, walking side by side with Javi, who for a moment didn’t speak. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just... heavy in a way Lukas couldn’t yet place.
Javi broke it first.
"So," he said lightly, "how’s life treating you, Superstar?"
Lukas huffed a small laugh. "It’s okay. Busy. Very busy."
He kicked a stray pebble on the pavement. "Some days it feels like everything is happening way too fast, but... I love it. I really do. I wouldn’t trade any of this for anything."
"And school?" Javi nudged him with his elbow. "Still managing both?"
"Trying my best," Lukas replied. "It gets difficult sometimes, but I’ve worked out a routine. I’m coping."
"That’s good."
But Javi’s voice wasn’t teasing anymore. There was a sincere undertone—something like quiet pride mixed with worry.
They turned into the path leading toward the old neighborhood park. The lamps lining the walkway cast long shadows across the grass, and Lukas could hear the soft rustle of early spring leaves.
"This place..." Javi murmured as they walked past the rusty swings and faded benches. "Back when I was in the academy, I used to come here after training. Every day."
Lukas glanced at him.
"After training? As in... more sessions?"
Javi nodded, a small, almost embarrassed smile on his face.
"Yeah. I’d finish the normal sessions at the club, then come here in the evenings to do my own extra work. Sprints, ball work, shooting, sometimes until it got dark. I wanted it too badly, I think."
He lifted his foot slightly, as if feeling the phantom ache in his Achilles.
"I suspect that’s why it snapped the way it did. The tackle in the reserve match wasn’t anything special, nothing dirty. But my body was already overworked. I kept pushing through the pain, telling myself I had to do more, and then... one harmless challenge, and everything went."
Lukas swallowed, something tightening in his chest.
"Dad... you didn’t deserve that."
"It’s fine," Javi said gently. "I made my choices. I’m just telling you so you don’t make the same mistake."
He gave Lukas a sideways look. "Even when you feel like you have to train more, remember your body isn’t a machine. Rest is part of the job too."
"TT, did you hear that? Allow me rest for once."
[*Rest? You? After missing a single dribbling drill yesterday? Don’t make me laugh.*]
"You’re impossible."
[*And you’re dramatic. Keep walking.*]
Lukas sighed quietly and refocused on the path ahead.
They reached the middle of the park—an open stretch of grass bathed in soft yellow light. A small bench stood nearby, and Javi stopped next to it.
"You took your first steps right here," he said quietly. "On that patch of grass."
Lukas blinked, taken off guard.
"...I did?"
"Yeah. Sunday morning, picnic blanket, your grandmother yelling at you for trying to eat a dandelion." Javi chuckled softly. "You were stubborn even as a baby."
Lukas stared at the ground for a moment, then slowly nodded—half to himself.
"Huh... so I really was born here."
Something about the place, the familiarity, the strange sense of déjà vu—it had always tugged at him. A suspicion he’d carried for years.
But Javi exhaled softly and said:
"No, Lukas."
His voice wasn’t sharp—not even corrective. Just honest.
"You weren’t even born in this country."
The words landed like a stone dropped gently into water—quiet, soft, but rippling outward in every direction.
Lukas froze. His heart stilled in his chest.
"...What?"
Lukas’s breath caught in his throat.
"...Not born here? Then... where?"
Javi exhaled, long and slow, his eyes drifting toward the orange glow of the streetlamp.
"I’m not completely sure," he admitted. "But probably Edinburgh. Scotland. That’s where your mother was studying at the time."
"Edinburgh...?" Lukas repeated, his eyebrows knitting together. That answer only raised more questions—questions that piled on top of one another in a swirl of confusion—but before he could ask even one of them, Javi lifted a hand as if to steady the flood.
"There’s... something I need to tell you first," he said quietly. "About the day everything changed; the day she brought you back."
Lukas fell silent.
The cold evening air suddenly felt heavier, as if it were settling onto his shoulders.
Then Javi began.
"I know Anne told you your mother is alive. I’m sorry I didn’t clarify that to you earlier. It’s something I should have done."
His voice slowed, softened.
And Lukas could tell — this wasn’t a story Javi had told many times. Maybe he had never said it out loud before.
"It was almost seventeen years ago..." Javi murmured. "But I remember every minute."
And just like that, the world around them: the park lights, the cool pavement, the distant hum of evening traffic, dissolved into the memory Javi carried.
* * *
About 17 years ago, Bremen.
It was a Saturday evening during the winter season. The sun already gone down, the sky painted a dark, heavy blue. Street lamps flickered on one by one like slow-moving fireflies.
Javi — Mickey to his teammates back then— walked down the quiet residential street with two of his closest friends from the academy:
Nico, a lanky defender from the U23s, and Leon, a fiery-mouthed winger who never stopped talking unless he was asleep.
Their bags were slung over their shoulders, and they were in that post-training high when the body aches but the heart feels light.
"That session was insane," Leon said as he flicked a small stone on the pavement with the tip of his shoe. "I swear Diego isn’t human. Did you see that touch? The outside-of-the-boot flick thing?"
Nico rolled his eyes. "He does that every day. You’re just noticing now?"
"Shut up, Nico," Leon shot back. "Even Özil couldn’t believe that pass."
Javi laughed under his breath. "Ozil is unbelievable himself. I’m telling you, he’ll end up at Bayern or Madrid one day. He’s too good."
"Oh absolutely," Nico agreed instantly. "He’s a joke. I feel like he will be unstoppable this weekend."
"He definitely will," Leon nodded too. "Hopefully we can get our chance to shine too," he added with a hoping smile.
"That probably won’t happen this season," Nico said, shaking his head. "Coach Schaaf is going full strength for the UEFA Cup and the Pokal. We’re already in the semis for both, he’s not risking anything. No chance we sniff first-team minutes before the end of the season."
Javi sighed. "Yeah. If we see the pitch at all this year, it’ll be because the entire squad gets food poisoning."
Leon bumped shoulders with him. "Still, Mickey, your left foot today? You were showing off."
"Shut up," Javi muttered, but he was smiling.
They turned the corner toward the Brandt home, a familiar three-story building with ivy creeping along one wall and old, white-painted window frames.
Leon and Nico slowed their pace.
"Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow, Mickey," Leon said as he stretched his arms above his head. "Same time?"
"Yeah," Javi nodded. "Night, boys."
"Night."
They turned away, their voices fading into indistinct chatter as they continued down the street.
Javi walked toward his front door—
And froze.
The door was cracked open.
Not wide. Just a sliver.
But it was enough to make every muscle in his body go rigid.
He swallowed.
"Mom?" he called, pushing the door a little wider.