Leo woke up feeling like he had been run over by a truck.
His legs ached, his back was stiff, and his arms felt like dead weight.
The soreness from the previous night's training clung to him, reminding him of every sprint, every touch of the ball, every movement.
It hadn't been the most effective training—he knew working alone couldn't replace the structure of a real team session—but it was something.
It was all he had right now.
He groaned as he pushed himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Just as he swung his legs over the bed, there was a sharp knock on his door.
"Oi, sleepyhead," Mia's voice rang through the wood.
"Sofia says if you don't get up now, you're skipping breakfast!"
Leo sighed. "I'm up, I'm up."
"You don't sound up."
"Would you like me to open the door so you can see for yourself?"
Silence. Then, the sound of retreating footsteps.
Satisfied, Leo stretched, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles before dragging himself into the bathroom.
The cold shower was a brutal but necessary wake-up call.
By the time he stepped out, his body was still sore, but his mind was more alert.
In the kitchen, Sofia stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot.
She had her hair tied back, her usual work blazer draped over a chair.
Mia sat at the table, swinging her legs as she scrolled through her phone.
Leo dropped into a chair, letting out a deep sigh.
"You look like hell," Sofia noted without turning around.
"Feel like it too," he muttered, reaching for a slice of toast.
Mia smirked. "I heard you sneaked out to train last night."
"I didn't sneak out," Leo defended. "I walked out like a normal person."
Sofia turned, giving him a pointed look.
"At what? Eleven at night?"
Leo bit into his toast, avoiding her gaze.
Sofia exhaled.
"Look, I get that you're serious about this. But if you get injured before you even have a chance to prove yourself, what's the point?"
"I'll be fine," Leo said, though even as he spoke, his sore muscles begged to differ.
Sofia gave him a long, searching look before shaking her head. "Just… be careful."
Mia, ever the instigator, grinned.
"So, does this mean Leo's actually a pro now? Should I start making a list of things I want you to buy me?"
Leo flicked a crumb at her.
"If I ever make it big, you'll be the last person I buy anything for."
Mia gasped in mock betrayal, clutching her chest.
"Unbelievable."
Sofia rolled her eyes as she glanced at the clock.
"Alright, both of you—out. Mia, school. Leo, also school. Now."
With minimal protest, Leo grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
His body still felt sluggish, but his mind was sharp, already thinking about the day ahead.
Because of his status as an academy player, his school had made his schedule flexible.
He had fewer hours in class than most students, but he still had to keep up with his studies.
Despite what some assumed, Leo wasn't dumb.
He wasn't a genius either, but he was quick-witted and did well enough to stay in the top tier of his class.
The morning lessons passed in a blur.
Math, English, and a dull history lecture about the Industrial Revolution.
He wasn't fully checked out, though.
When the teacher called on him, he answered without hesitation.
When group work was assigned, he participated without complaint.
He didn't stand out, but he wasn't invisible either.
Still, he kept to himself. No unnecessary conversations, no extra effort to make friends.
Most of the students knew him as "that guy from United's academy," but since he wasn't a star player, no one paid him much mind.
That suited him just fine.
The only time he perked up was when the final bell rang.
As soon as it did, he was out of his chair, bag slung over his shoulder, as he made a beeline for the exit.
The moment he stepped outside, Leo hopped onto his bike, gripping the handlebars tightly as he sped through the streets.
The wind whipped against his face, his pulse thrumming with excitement.
He had something to look forward to.
Dawson was waiting.
And today, the real work would begin.