##
After that first scrimmage, whispers started circulating. "He sees the game differently," one boy mumbled to his friend. "Like he's playing a different game altogether."
Bernardo caught snippets of their conversations, a curious mixture of awe and uncertainty. He knew he was different, but he also knew that he had to tread carefully. He couldn't let his past life, his knowledge of the future, seep into his present.
One evening, after training, as he was packing his bag, a boy named Ben approached him. Ben was a striker, a fearless forward who loved to run with the ball. He had a freckled face, a mop of unruly brown hair, and a smile that was both disarming and mischievous.
"You're amazing," Ben said, his eyes wide with admiration. "I've never seen anyone play like that."
"Thanks, Ben," a small smile playing on his lips. "You guys are good too."
"I've seen you watch those old football matches," Ben continued, "the ones with Pelé and Maradona. It's like you're inside their heads, knowing where they're going to pass."
Bernardo's smile faltered. He hadn't realized that his habit of watching old footage had become so obvious.
"It's just that I've always loved watching the greats," Bernardo said, trying to sound casual. "Learning from the best."
"Well, you're one of them now," Ben replied, his grin unwavering. "You're like a magician, making the ball do whatever you want."
"I'm just trying to learn," Bernardo said modestly, but inside he felt a wave of excitement. Maybe this new life wasn't just about playing; it was about sharing his passion, his knowledge, with others.
Later that week, during a team meeting, the coach announced that they were going to play a friendly match against another academy. The boys erupted in cheers, their excitement palpable.
"Now, I know we have a special talent in our midst," the coach said, his gaze sweeping over the team, finally settling on Bernardo. "Bernardo, you're going to be leading the midfield. You're the conductor, the maestro. Make sure you call the shots, understand?"
Bernardo nodded, a sense of responsibility settling over him. He didn't just want to play, he wanted to lead, to guide his teammates, to create a symphony of football. He was a boy who'd lived two lives, a boy who'd witnessed the highs and lows of the game, a boy who knew that true greatness wasn't just about individual skill, but about teamwork, camaraderie, and a shared passion for the beautiful game.
"Don't worry, coach," he said, meeting the coach's eye, his voice firm yet laced with a touch of apprehension, "I'll make sure we get a symphony going."
He could hear the murmurs of his teammates, the quiet whispers of awe and expectation. This was it, his chance, his opportunity to prove himself, to show them, and the world, what he was truly capable of. This was the beginning of Bernardo Andrade's second chapter, the chapter of the reborn maestro.