Chapter 4 : Crown Jewel

Back at home, Nico sat at the dining table, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he recounted the events of the trial to his grandma.

"Grandma, you should've seen it!" he said, his voice carrying an energy rarely seen from him. "We won 9-0! I scored five goals and assisted the other four. The coach said I was too good for the U-10s and is putting me in the U-14s!"

Danny, who had been listening with a warm smile, gasped in delight. "U-14s? But my little baby is only eight!" She reached out and cupped his face. "What did they feed you over there? Rocket fuel?"

Johan chuckled from his seat, sipping his coffee. "No, just proper training."

Danny pouted dramatically, pinching Nico's cheeks. "You're growing up too fast! Skipping four age groups, what's next? Barcelona's first team next year?"

Nico laughed but didn't deny it. A small part of him knew—that wasn't impossible.

Danny pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you, mi amor."

She pulled back slightly and gave him a teasing look. "But just because you're playing with older kids now doesn't mean you can ignore your schoolwork, you hear me?"

Nico smirked. "I'm in 8th grade at eight years old, Grandma. I think I'll be fine."

Danny huffed, ruffling his silky black hair. "You little genius."

Johan set down his cup and looked at Nico with a rare seriousness. "This is just the beginning."

__________

After dinner, Danny clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come on, Nico! We're going shopping."

Nico blinked. "Shopping? For what?"

Danny gave him an exaggerated look. "For my little star, of course! You're officially a La Masia player now. You need new clothes, new shoes, maybe even a new bag. And we're definitely getting you something special to celebrate."

Nico chuckled but didn't argue. There was no winning against Danny when she was in this mood.

They drove to one of Barcelona's high-end shopping districts, and the moment they stepped inside the first store, Danny went into full doting grandma mode.

"Try this one! Oh, this tracksuit would look so good on you! Look at these shoes—oh wait, these are better! Actually, let's just get both."

Nico sighed, smiling as he let her have her fun. He picked out a few essentials—Nike tracksuits, a stylish backpack, some casual outfits, and of course, a new pair of sneakers. But Danny? She went all out.

She ended up buying him a new watch, sunglasses, and even a leather wallet. "You're a footballer now! You need to look the part."

As they were about to leave, Danny suddenly stopped in front of a display case. Inside, there was a beautiful golden necklace with a small pendant shaped like a football.

She turned to Nico. "This. This is what we're getting to celebrate."

Nico hesitated. "Grandma, I don't need—"

Danny held up a finger. "Shh! This is from me to you. A gift for my little genius who's about to take over the football world."

She bought it without another word, then turned to him with a warm smile. "Promise me you'll wear it when you play."

Nico took the necklace from her hands, looking at it for a moment before nodding. "I promise."

Danny beamed. "Good. Now, let's go home before your grandfather wonders where we ran off to."

As they walked out of the store, Nico clutched the small pendant in his hand, feeling a wave of determination wash over him.

Tomorrow, he would step onto La Masia's training ground for the first time.

And he would make sure to honor both his grandfather's teachings and his grandmother's love—with every step, every pass, every goal.

_____________

Five years had passed since the day of the trials. The date was August 7, 2013.

Nico Cruyff was now thirteen years old. His growth as a footballer had been nothing short of extraordinary. Every year, he shattered expectations, breaking records that no one had even considered possible for someone his age. He had long since outgrown the U-14s and U-16s, and now, despite being just thirteen, he was already a dominant force in Barcelona's U-19 squad.

The numbers spoke for themselves. Over the past five years, he had scored more than 850 goals and provided over 300 assists in the youth leagues. Every coach at La Masia, from the academy level to the senior staff, agreed—he was the greatest talent the academy had ever produced. He wasn't just another promising youngster. He was the crown jewel of La Masia, a player whose name would be spoken of in the same breath as legends.

Nico had made a decision early on. Unlike most of his peers, who juggled academics with football, he had chosen a different path. He had already graduated from school, years ahead of schedule, but he had no intention of attending college. There was no need. His entire life was devoted to football. Every second, every moment, every thought—all of it revolved around the game.

Right now, it was 8:00 AM. While most of his teammates were still in their rooms, just beginning to wake up, Nico was already on the training ground at La Masia. The morning air was crisp, the sun casting a golden glow over the perfectly cut grass. A row of footballs lay neatly in front of him, each one waiting to be struck.

He took his stance, eyes locked on the target. His emerald green eyes gleamed with focus, his silky black hair slightly damp from sweat. His physique was already showing signs of a professional-level athlete—lean, powerful, and sculpted by years of relentless training.

He inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His grandfather's words echoed in his mind, the same words that had fueled him for years.

"If you have the talent to be the best in the world, it is a sin to football if you don't work hard to fulfill it."

Nico took a step forward, his right foot slicing through the air with precision.

The ball soared, curving around the mannequin like a guided missile before smashing into the top corner of the net. The net rippled violently from the force of the strike. The ball was struck so cleanly that the goalkeeper, had there been one, wouldn't have stood a chance.

But Nico didn't smile. He didn't pump his fist. He didn't celebrate.

Instead, he simply picked up another ball, placed it down, and prepared to take the next shot.

There was no need to celebrate. This wasn't luck. This wasn't coincidence. This was routine.

________

The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows over the training grounds. The air was filled with the rhythmic thud of a ball being struck and the whispering rustle of the net as it rippled under the force of yet another perfect free kick. Nico stood a few meters back from the penalty arc, breathing in deeply before taking his shot. His emerald-green eyes were locked onto the top corner of the goal, and with a single fluid motion, his foot connected with the ball.

The ball curved beautifully, arcing over an imaginary wall before sinking into the net, kissing the inside of the post before bouncing in. Another perfect shot. Another moment of perfection in his relentless pursuit of greatness.

He was about to set up for another attempt when he felt someone watching him. It was a strange sensation—not the usual presence of La Masia coaches or his teammates, but something different.

Then, a soft but clear voice cut through the silence.

"Hey… I've been watching you for a while now."

Nico turned toward the voice, his gaze landing on a girl standing near the edge of the field. She had long, light brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and her sharp yet delicate features were framed by the warm glow of the evening sun. She had a confident stance, though her fingers twitched slightly, betraying a hint of nervousness.

Her deep brown eyes met his, unwavering yet filled with curiosity. She was dressed in Barcelona's academy training gear, her cleats planted firmly in the grass. She looked like she belonged here.

"Your free kicks are incredible," she continued, taking a few steps closer.

Nico blinked, processing her sudden appearance, before responding with a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence. Then, she bit her lip, as if debating something, before clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her head slightly. "Would you… teach me?"

That caught Nico off guard.

Most of the time, people approached him either out of admiration or intimidation—rarely with a direct request for help. He studied her for a moment, noting the determination in her eyes.

He wasn't the type to turn down a request when it came to football. His love for the sport was too great, and if someone was willing to learn, who was he to refuse?

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Sure. I don't mind."

Her expression instantly brightened, relief flashing across her face before being replaced with something more playful. She extended her hand. "I'm Aitana Bonmatí."

Nico shook her hand firmly, his grip steady but not overwhelming. "Nico Cryuff."

Aitana's eyes flickered with amusement. "Oh. So you're Nico Cryuff."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've heard of me?"

She chuckled, crossing her arms. "Are you kidding? Everyone in La Masia knows about La Masia's crown jewel. You're basically a legend already."

Nico let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Legend? I'm only thirteen."

Aitana smirked. "Yeah, and you've already scored, what, 850 goals in the youth leagues? That's not normal, you know."

Nico didn't respond, but the way his lips twitched showed that he was amused. He wasn't one to boast, but hearing it from someone else made him realize just how absurd his numbers were.

Aitana shifted her weight slightly, rolling the ball under her foot. "So? Are we going to train, or are you just going to stand there looking cool?"

Nico laughed, genuinely entertained by her boldness. Most people approached him with either reverence or hesitation. Aitana, however, seemed completely unfazed.

_________

Nico placed the ball exactly 30 meters from the goal, his emerald-green eyes gleaming with excitement as he turned to Aitana. "Since you're my fan, I'll show you something special—something I've been developing. You're the first person to ever see it, so behold."

Aitana scoffed, crossing her arms. "I am not your fan."

Nico ignored her, laughing as he jogged over to set up a fake wall with training dummies, carefully positioning them to mimic a real defensive setup. He took a few steps back, studying the scene like an artist admiring his canvas.

With precise movements, he adjusted the ball, aligning it with the perfect angle. Then, he stepped back—four steps exactly. His stance shifted, his body relaxed yet coiled like a spring.

Aitana watched in fascination. She had seen plenty of great free kicks before, but something about this moment felt different.

Then, Nico moved.

His approach was smooth, controlled. His foot connected with the ball in a way that seemed almost effortless—yet the moment it left his boot, Aitana knew something was off. The ball rose, as expected, but instead of curling or dipping, it did something unnatural.

It swerved.

Not once. Not twice. But continuously, left and right, like it was being guided by an invisible force. It danced unpredictably through the air before slamming into the top-right corner of the net with a snap.

Aitana's mouth fell open.

"What the heck?!" she practically screamed, spinning to face Nico, her eyes wide with shock.

Nico smirked, enjoying her reaction. He dusted his hands off nonchalantly. "Told you it was special."

"That wasn't special. That was witchcraft!" Aitana pointed at the ball, still wedged in the net. "That—That wasn't normal! The ball—It moved like—"

"Like it was alive?" Nico finished for her, grinning.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "How did you do that?!"

He crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "I call it The Invisible Hand."

Aitana blinked. "You named it?"

"Of course. You just witnessed history. Be honored."

Aitana groaned. "You're unbelievable."

"Ridiculously talented, you mean."

Aitana ignored him, still staring at the goal in disbelief. "You have to teach me that."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "You sure? It's not something you can just learn in a day."

Aitana crossed her arms, determined. "I don't care. I want to learn."

Nico chuckled, stepping closer. "Well, since you're my first fan, I guess I can—"

"I am not your fan!"

"You literally admitted to watching me."

"Because you were scoring perfect free kicks!"

Nico tilted his head, pretending to think. "Sounds like something a fan would say."

Aitana groaned, covering her face. "I regret asking you already."

He laughed and tossed her the ball. "Alright, let's see what you've got first. Then we'll talk about making you my first apprentice."

Aitana caught the ball, shaking her head but smiling. "You're insufferable, Cryuff."

"And you're about to be the first student of football's greatest free-kick technique. You should be grateful."

_______________