The cold Manchester air bit into Daniel's skin as he stepped out of the training facility as always It was different from Spain—colder, greyer—but thrilling in a way that made his heart race. He was finally here, playing for one of the biggest clubs in the world. Manchester City.
His first few days had been a whirlwind of intense training, tactical meetings, and adjusting to the pace of the Premier League. The training sessions were faster, more physical, and incredibly demanding. Erling Haaland had welcomed him on his first day, giving him a firm handshake and a nod of approval.
"You're quick, I like that," Haaland had said with a grin after their first training session.
Daniel had barely managed to smile. The Norwegian striker was a machine—his finishing, his movement, his presence on the pitch. Daniel felt like he had so much to learn, and yet, he wasn't here just to admire. He was here to prove himself.
Outside football, Manchester felt overwhelming. The city was huge, filled with towering buildings, busy streets, and accents that sometimes confused him. Unlike in Spain, where he struggled with Spanish, at least here, he could understand most of what people were saying.
He had been assigned an apartment near the Etihad Stadium, a modern space that felt empty without Uncle Mateo, Miguel, Luis, or even Sofia. He missed them—more than he had expected.
At night, he sometimes found himself scrolling through his phone, looking at old pictures from CF Igualada. Miguel had sent him a message the night before:
Miguel: When are you coming back? I need someone to destroy in FIFA.
Daniel: You couldn't beat me before. You won't beat me now.
Luis: You guys are both terrible.
He laughed to himself before setting his phone down. There were moments like this when he felt normal. But then, there were the other moments—the ones where he felt something watching him.
The coach had told him he might not start right away, but there was a match against Brighton coming up, and Daniel had been included in the squad. He felt a mix of nerves and excitement as he sat on the bench, watching Man City dominate possession.
In the 65th minute, the assistant coach signaled him over. It was time.
"Daniel, play wide. Support Haaland when needed, but make sure you track back. Got it?"
He nodded, pulling his jersey down and stepping onto the pitch. The crowd roared, but he blocked it out. All that mattered was the ball.
Within minutes, he felt the difference. The pace was insane. Players pressed immediately, spaces closed faster, and passes needed to be perfect. But he adapted. His time-perception powers helped him react quicker, make smarter runs.
In the 80th minute, Haaland received a pass near the box, held off two defenders, then laid it off to Daniel. Without thinking, Daniel curled a left-footed shot toward the top corner. The Brighton keeper stretched, but it was too late—goal!
His first goal for Manchester City.
Haaland grabbed him in celebration, laughing. "That was class, mate!"
Daniel grinned, feeling a rush of adrenaline. Maybe he did belong here after all.
Despite everything, Daniel still had to study. Man City had arranged for him to take online classes so he could continue his education while playing football. It wasn't the same as sitting in a classroom at Academia Igualada, but he didn't want to fall behind.
One evening, as he was finishing an assignment, his phone rang. Sofia.
"Hey," she said when he answered. Her voice sounded softer than usual.
"Hey. How's Igualada?"
"The same. Except you're not here."
He swallowed. He missed her too.
"I'm coming back soon," he said. "Not forever. But I'll see you again."
There was a pause. Then, quietly, she replied, "I'll wait."
A warmth spread through Daniel's chest. He didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain—he would return.