Chapter 18 – Barcelona Bound
The flight touched down in Barcelona just before noon.
The boys pressed their faces to the windows, squinting at the unfamiliar skyline. Some whispered. Others laughed. Jota just sat quietly, fingers resting on his knee.
He wasn't nervous. He was listening—taking in the rhythm of the city, the tempo of change.
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The team bus rolled through narrow Spanish streets, weaving past bakeries and old churches. Posters of La Liga stars decorated shop windows. A street vendor waved, holding up a scarf that read: "Futuro del Fútbol."
Future of Football.
Jota glanced at it but said nothing.
Inside his backpack were his boots, a notebook, and a photo of his family taped to the inside cover. Ana's drawing of Super-Jota was tucked inside his jersey.
He wasn't chasing headlines. He was chasing wholeness.
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The La Masia complex stood like a monument. Modern. Precise. Quietly intense.
The match wasn't just a game. It was an audition.
