<(after Four years)>
The sunlight streaming through the window of Leon's room at Aston Villa's academy was brighter, than it had been four years ago. At fourteen, Leon Fischer was no longer the lanky, slightly nervous boy who'd first stepped onto these hallowed grounds.
He stood taller, his frame lean but muscled, a testament to countless hours in the gym and on the training pitch.
His hair was a bit longer, often falling across his forehead, and his eyes, though still intense, held a deeper confidence, a knowing glint.
He stretched, feeling the satisfying pull of his muscles. Four years.
Four years of sweat, grime, laughter, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. His internal sight, that unique ability to see the glowing numbers of Potential and Current ability, had sharpened, too.
He no longer just saw them; he instinctively understood their nuances, the subtle shifts, the way they influenced a player's decision-making and performance.
He glanced at his own numbers, shimmering faintly in the mirror:
Leon Fischer – Potential: 94, Current: 75.
Seventy-five. It wasn't the top tier yet, but it was miles ahead of where he'd been.
He was now a key player in Aston Villa's U16 squad, an advanced central midfielder known for his incredible vision, precise passing, and uncanny ability to read the game.
He wasn't the fastest, nor the strongest, but his mind, aided by his sight, was his ultimate weapon.
Byon, his best friend and partner in glory, had made it too.
That final assessment two weeks after their initial trial had been nail-biting, but Byon, spurred on by Leon's unwavering support and relentless training, had shone.
Now, Byon – Potential: 91, Current: 74. He was a dazzling winger, still prone to the occasional flashy move, but far more consistent and tactically aware.
Their connection on the field was almost telepathic, a product of years of shared dreams and countless passes.
Life at the academy was intense. Every day was a cycle of training, tactical sessions, strength work, and academic studies.
They lived and breathed football. Weekends were filled with competitive matches against other top academies – Manchester City, Chelsea, Liverpool.
Leon had learned to thrive in this high-pressure environment, his "second life" mantra a constant whisper of encouragement. He felt a deep sense of purpose, a burning desire to reach the pinnacle of the sport, not just for himself, but for his mom, for Byon, for every person who had believed in him.
Today, however, was a rare, relaxed Sunday.
No training, no matches. It was World Cup season, and England was playing their second group stage match against Denmark.
The common room at the academy was packed with players, all glued to the giant TV screen, a mix of nervous energy and patriotic fervor filling the air.
"Come on, Jude!" Byon yelled, punching the air as Jude Bellingham, Potential: 92, Current: 89, narrowly missed a header. "He's everywhere today!"
Leon nodded, his eyes fixed on the screen, his internal sight buzzing with activity.
The Danish players, though good, generally hovered in the low 80s for Current ability. England, on the other hand, was a constellation of high numbers.
Harry Kane, Potential: 90, Current: 90, a living legend.
Bukayo Saka, Potential: 91, Current: 88, a blur of energy.
"....."
The game was tight, a tense midfield battle. England had dominated possession, but Denmark's defense was holding firm, frustrating every attack.
The score remained 0-0 heading into the second half.
"They need a spark," one of their U16 teammates, Ethan, muttered from the sofa beside them. "Something to break the lines."
Coach Miller, who had joined them for the match, nodded.
"It's about finding that extra gear. The moments of individual brilliance that unlock a team."
As the second half kicked off, England pressed harder.
Then, around the 65th minute, it happened.
Kane received the ball deep in England's half. He looked up, his eyes scanning the field in a single, fluid motion. Leon's sight highlighted a sliver of space opening up on the right wing, where Bukayo Saka was making a blistering run.
Kane didn't hesitate. He hit a long, raking pass, a diagonal ball that travelled almost fifty yards through the air, bypassing the entire Danish midfield.
It landed exactly at Saka's feet, perfectly in stride. Saka, with his blazing speed, took one touch, leaving his marker behind, and then, with a burst of acceleration, surged into the penalty box.
The Danish goalkeeper rushed out, narrowing the angle.
Saka looked up, then, with a calm shot, drilled the ball low and hard into the far corner of the net.
GOAL!! England 1 - Denmark 0!
The common room erupted. Cheers, shouts, and frantic high-fives filled the air.
Byon leaped off the sofa, yelling, "YES! Saka! What a finish!"
Leon stood, a silent wave of awe washing over him. That pass from Kane… it wasn't just a pass; it was a statement.
It was seeing the game three steps ahead, a perfectly executed vision.
He could practically feel Kane's Current score momentarily spike, reflecting the brilliance of the moment. This was the level he aspired to.
This was why he trained.
The rest of the match was a tense affair, but England held on, securing a crucial 1-0 victory.
The relief in the common room was palpable as the final whistle blew.
"Brilliant," Coach Miller said, a satisfied smile on his face.
"That's what elite players do. They find a way." He looked around the room, his gaze resting on Leon for a moment. "That pass from Kane… pure vision."
Leon nodded, still replaying the moment in his mind.
He felt a surge of inspiration. He wanted to make those kinds of passes, to have that kind of impact. His personal goal, already clear, felt even more sharply defined now.
He would get there. He had to.
As the room slowly emptied, Byon clapped him on the shoulder.
"Imagine doing something like that in a World Cup, mate. Crazy."
"We will," Leon said, a quiet determination in his voice. "One day."
Later that evening, as Leon scrolled through football news on his tablet, a notification popped up. It was an email from the Aston Villa academy director, copied to all U16 players.
Subject: Youth National Team Camp Invitation
Leon's heart jumped. He clicked it open, his eyes scanning the text.
"Dear Players, We are pleased to announce that several members of our U16 squad have been invited to attend the upcoming England U16 National Team training camp..."
His eyes raced down the list of names. Ethan was there. Thomas was there. And then, his name.
Leon Fischer.
He blinked, then reread it. It was real. An England call-up.
His dream was accelerating at an incredible pace.