Brazilian Football Confederation headquarters. Three days before squad announcement.
The U-21 coaching staff sits in a conference room. Laptops open. Footage rolling.
Head coach Fernando Costa and his assistant Rafael are building the squad for two upcoming friendlies.
COSTA: "Alright. Let's finalize the attackers."
Rafael scrolls through a list of names.
RAFAEL: "We have Vinícius Souza, Matheus Lima, Gabriel Ramos..."
COSTA: "Good. Who else?"
RAFAEL: "Santos."
Costa looks up.
COSTA: "Which one?"
Silence.
Rafael glances at the stats on screen. Both have been performing well at their clubs.
RAFAEL: "That's... up to you, coach."
Costa leans back, exhaling slowly.
COSTA: "Show me their footage. Recent matches."
They watch.
Klaus: Clinical finishing. Intelligent movement. Two goals, one assist in the last three matches.
Lucas: Creative dribbling. Dangerous crosses. Three assists, one goal in the last three matches.
RAFAEL: "Both are in form."
COSTA: "I know."
RAFAEL: "So... both?"
Costa shakes his head.
COSTA: "Not after what happened last time. We can't risk it again."
RAFAEL: "Then who?"
Costa is silent for a long moment, staring at the screen.
COSTA: "Klaus."
RAFAEL: "You're sure?"
COSTA: "No. But we need a striker. We have wingers."
RAFAEL: "Lucas is more than a winger—"
COSTA: "I know. But Klaus is more reliable in front of goal. Right now, that's what we need."
Rafael nods slowly.
RAFAEL: "Alright. I'll send the email."
The next day. Morning.
Klaus wakes up to a notification.
Brazilian Football Confederation — Official Communication
His heart stops.
He opens it.
Dear Klaus Santos,
You have been selected for the Brazil U-21 squad for the upcoming international friendlies against...
Klaus reads it three times.
He made it.
Brazil U-21 training camp. Four days later.
Klaus arrives at the camp, kit bag over his shoulder.
He checks in at the front desk.
STAFF: "Welcome back, Klaus. Room 208."
KLAUS: "Thanks."
He walks through the facility. Sees familiar faces. Teammates wave. He nods back.
But he's looking for one person.
Lucas.
He doesn't see him.
That evening, during the team dinner, Klaus sits with a few teammates.
TEAMMATE: "Good to have you back, bro."
KLAUS: "Thanks."
TEAMMATE: "Shame about Lucas though."
Klaus looks up sharply.
KLAUS: "What?"
TEAMMATE: "He didn't get called up. Thought you knew."
Klaus's chest tightens.
KLAUS: "No. I didn't."
That night, Klaus lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Lucas isn't here.
He doesn't know if he should feel relieved or guilty.
Both, maybe.
The same day. Lucas's apartment. Evening.
Lucas hasn't checked his email all day.
He knows.
If he was called up, Rico would've texted by now. Emma would've called.
But his phone is silent.
Finally, he opens his laptop.
No email from the Brazilian Football Confederation.
He refreshes.
Nothing.
He locks the laptop.
Sits in silence.
Then opens his phone and searches: "Brazil U-21 squad announcement"
The list appears.
He scrolls down to the attackers.
Santos, Klaus — Queenspark City FC
No Lucas.
He locks his phone.
Stares at the wall.
One week later. Brazil U-21 vs. Colombia U-21. Friendly match.
Klaus is on the bench.
The match is tight. 1-1.
70th minute:
Coach Costa turns to the bench.
COSTA: "Klaus. You're on. Play central."
Klaus nods, strips off his bib, and jogs onto the pitch.
78th minute:
Klaus receives the ball at the edge of the box. A defender closes him down.
Klaus turns sharply, shields the ball, and lays it off to a teammate on the overlap.
The teammate crosses.
Klaus heads it in.
2-1 Brazil.
Klaus doesn't celebrate wildly. Just nods. Professional.
But inside, relief floods through him.
I'm back. I'm contributing.
Final Score: Brazil U-21 2 - Colombia U-21 1.
Klaus walks off, chest heaving, satisfied.
He proved he belongs.
Lucas's apartment.
Lucas isn't watching the match.
He's on his laptop, working on a tactical analysis for Léon's next match.
But his phone keeps buzzing.
Notifications. Social media.
He ignores them.
Then, almost unconsciously, he picks up the remote.
Turns on the TV.
Flips to the sports channel.
The match is in the 70th minute.
Brazil is attacking.
Lucas watches, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Then the commentator's voice:
COMMENTATOR: "And here comes a substitution for Brazil. Number 9 coming on... Klaus Santos. Interesting choice by Costa. Only one Santos brother made the squad this time around, and he'll be looking to make an impact."
Lucas's jaw clenches.
He stares at the screen as Klaus jogs onto the pitch.
COMMENTATOR: "After the controversy in the last tournament, it seems the coaching staff has decided to go with Klaus for now. We'll see how this plays out."
Lucas watches for five more minutes.
Then Klaus lays off the pass.
The goal.
The celebration.
Lucas grabs the remote.
Turns off the TV.
Sits in silence.
Four days later. Brazil U-21 vs. Paraguay U-21. Friendly match.
Klaus starts.
And he's on fire.
14th minute: A through ball. Klaus is there. Calm. Composed. Finish.
1-0 Brazil.
31st minute: A corner. Klaus attacks the near post. Header. Goal.
2-0 Brazil.
68th minute: A counterattack. Klaus receives the ball, turns, and curls it into the top corner.
3-0 Brazil.
Hat-trick.
Klaus doesn't run to the corner flag.
He doesn't slide on his knees.
He walks to the center circle, kisses the badge, and points to the sky.
The stadium erupts.
Final Score: Brazil U-21 3 - Paraguay U-21 0.
The next morning. Lucas's apartment.
Lucas wakes up.
Picks up his phone.
Scrolls through social media.
The first post he sees:
@BrazilFootball: "HAT-TRICK HERO! ⚽⚽⚽ Klaus Santos scores three as Brazil U-21 dominate Paraguay! 🇧🇷🔥"
The video autoplays.
Lucas watches.
The first goal. Clinical.
The second goal. Powerful.
The third goal. Perfect.
The badge kiss.
Lucas locks his phone.
Throws it on the bed.
Stares at the ceiling.
Then mutters to himself:
LUCAS: "This is your fault."
He doesn't know if he's talking to Klaus, to the coaches, or to himself.
Maybe all three.
He gets out of bed.
Puts on his training gear.
And goes for a run.
Alone.
Angry.
Determined.
I'll show them. I'll show all of them.
END OF CHAPTER