Hale End (1)
"Another Japanese player?"
Ken Gillard, the director of the Arsenal Academy, let out a low sigh as he went over the day's schedule.
In the middle of an otherwise ordinary season, today's agenda featured a single player's tryout. To make matters worse, the boy was Japanese. Arsenal had already signed two or three players from Japan in the past, and every single one of them had been a massive flop.
The fact that they were hosting a solo tryout outside of the regular scouting season was annoying enough, but the player's nationality made it even worse. None of it sat well with Gillard.
'Still, they claim he's the greatest talent in Japan, so I suppose I have to at least look at him.'
According to their scout in East Asia, the boy applying for the tryout was currently the most hyped prospect in Japan. But Gillard wasn't holding his breath.
Sure, Japan had made it to the quarterfinals in the last World Cup, but being the "best" in a country like that didn't mean much on the global stage. It was obvious what his actual level would be.
'Luka Tachibana... He's the son of that Tachibana, isn't he?'
The boy's name was Luka Tachibana. Gillard was somewhat familiar with the father, Yuichi Tachibana, who had played in the Bundesliga back in the day. That connection only lowered his expectations further.
Three consecutive championships in Japan's most prestigious middle school tournament, combined with regular call-ups to the youth national teams. He was still young, and on paper, his resume looked impressive. But Gillard couldn't help but wonder: had the boy earned those accolades on his own merit?
The elder Tachibana was a national legend, treated like royalty in Japan. If not for the weight of that family name, Arsenal would never have agreed to host a private, tour-like tryout for a single kid. It wasn't hard to imagine how pampered the boy's life in Japan must have been.
'Well, it's not like we have any matches scheduled for the next ten days anyway.'
With that thought, Gillard walked out to greet his unwelcome guests.
Standing outside the facility were a middle-aged Asian man and a remarkably handsome young boy who clearly looked mixed-race.
'Well, if he ever makes his debut, he'll definitely sell some shirts with a face like that.'
It seemed more likely that the kid's looks would make the club money rather than his actual footballing ability. Suppressing his cynical thoughts, Gillard wore a polite smile and extended his hand.
"Ah, Mr. Tachibana. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Ken Gillard, the head of youth development here at the Arsenal Academy."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gillard. I'm Yuichi Tachibana, the one who contacted you. And this is my son, Luka."
"Ah, yes. The young Tachibana. I've actually watched some of your footage."
Even with a Japanese legend pulling strings, Arsenal wouldn't have agreed to this meeting if their scouting department didn't have any data on the boy. As the man with the final say, Gillard had personally reviewed the compilation video the scouts had sent over.
In those clips, Luka Tachibana certainly looked like a giant among boys, playing as if he found his peers boring. His dominance in his age group was undeniable.
Standing at 182 centimeters, he already possessed the height of a grown man, a sturdy frame that easily shrugged off physical challenges, impressive pace, and a powerful shot that rivaled most adults. Physically, the boy was already a finished product.
But since he was using that physical advantage against Asian kids who were half a head shorter than him, it was only natural that his stats looked incredible.
The real question was whether that physicality would translate to the professional level. To Gillard, who had scouted countless raw talents over the years, Luka's actual footballing ability seemed mediocre at best.
He was fast, but that was the extent of it. His basic dribbling and ball control looked worse than some of the U-13 kids in the academy. His shooting power was decent, but his accuracy left much to be desired.
That left only his physical dominance, but would that same physicality hold up in the Premier League? To Gillard, it seemed highly unlikely, if not outright impossible.
Furthermore, Luka's position was center-forward. The only way to utilize his pace in England would be to push him out wide, but his style of play was strictly that of a traditional target man who demanded the ball in the center to score.
There was no way a player like that could adapt to playing as a winger, where he would be expected to break down defenses on his own.
'Great physical attributes, but nothing else. Lacks the technical ability to compete at the professional level.' That was the cold, hard evaluation Gillard had written down after watching the footage.
Perhaps a Championship side or a lower-tier Premier League club might take a gamble on him, treating him like a lottery ticket. But he was absolutely, unequivocally not Arsenal material.
"Well, I hope you enjoy your week here with us."
Gillard extended his hand to Luka, his polite words masking his true thoughts. He was happy to give the boy a nice little tour, but he knew this would be the last time they ever crossed paths.
"Why? Are you retiring soon?"
"...Excuse me?"
The boy's response as they shook hands was utterly baffling. Dumbfounded, Gillard stared at the elder Tachibana, wondering if he had somehow misheard.
But seeing the father pinch the bridge of his nose and press a hand to his forehead, Gillard realized he had heard perfectly fine.
"Your son certainly doesn't lack confidence."
Gillard kept his tone polite, masking his rising irritation like a proper English gentleman. But once again, it was the boy who answered.
"You said you hoped I'd enjoy my week here. I figured that meant you were leaving for a better job soon."
"Ha! Well, I certainly hope your feet can back up that mouth of yours."
Gillard might have doubted the boy's talent, but he had to admit he didn't mind the sheer arrogance and competitive fire. Most Asian players he'd encountered were notoriously humble, like Park or Son. If a player actually had the talent to back it up, a brazen attitude like this wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
'Yes, assuming he actually has the talent to back it up.'
He wondered what kind of face this arrogant brat would make in a week's time. It was going to be highly entertaining to watch him get brought down to earth.
"Right then. Follow me."
...And as it turned out, it wouldn't take very long at all for Gillard to go running back to the front office in a sheer panic.
'Musa, Mitchell, Patino... Nope, don't recognize any of them. Not a single name rings a bell.'
Following Gillard, I was led to the training pitch where the Arsenal U-16 squad was practicing. Even though Arsenal was a massive club renowned for its world-class youth academy, none of these kids stood out in my memory.
Since this was the U-16 squad, most of them were born around 2003 or 2004. Given that they weren't much older than me and yet I couldn't recall a single one of them making it big, their ultimate ceiling was pretty obvious.
'Well, if they're still playing in their own age group at fifteen or sixteen, that says it all.'
True geniuses were already making their professional debuts at fifteen or sixteen. Kids who couldn't even manage to play up an age group in a youth academy were bound to be mediocre.
"Tachibana. We'll start with a light warm-up today."
"Call me Luka."
"Right, Luka. I look forward to seeing what you can do."
What a joke. I could tell the absolute second I laid eyes on him that Gillard was completely writing me off.
Well, it wasn't a look I was unfamiliar with. When I first moved to Sporting CP in my past life, the coaches there had looked at me with the exact same condescending eyes.
I had dominated the high school league back home and earned a spot at Sporting as an exchange student. The way Europeans looked at a kid coming from an Asian footballing wasteland was always the same.
The only way to shatter that skepticism was with raw talent. Sure, a solid Taekwondo kick worked wonders on the local bullies, but when it came to the coaches, only footballing ability could change their minds.
"Everyone, this is Luka Tachibana. He's joined us from Japan, and as you can see, he's mixed-race. Remind me, what was your other half again?"
"Portuguese."
"Right, Portuguese. Do we have any other Portuguese lads here? Ah, guess not. Anyway, Luka is a highly regarded prospect in Japan, and he'll be training with us for a week. There's a chance he might become your teammate, so make him feel welcome."
Gillard walked away after that brief introduction. Well, he didn't leave the complex entirely; he just strolled over to the U-18 squad training on the adjacent pitch.
I glanced over at the older group, and my eyes widened as I finally spotted a familiar face.
'Is that Saka?'
Bukayo Saka. The star winger who would go on to carry Arsenal during his prime. When I made my debut for Sporting, he was already a key player for the Gunners, and we had crossed paths once in the Champions League. Back then, he was a world-class winger in his mid-twenties, but seeing this teenage version of him...
'...Honestly, he doesn't look all that different.'
The other player I recognized was Harry Clarke. When I was loaned out to Ipswich Town later in my career, he was a veteran in his mid-thirties serving as the club's captain.
I recalled hearing that he had spent over a decade at Ipswich. He was past his prime and a bit slow by then, but he was a decent guy. Despite me being a massive loan flop, he had always treated me with respect.
Seeing these familiar faces in the flesh actually brought a small smile to my face.
"Welcome to Hale End, Tachibana."
As I stood in line, scanning the U-18 pitch for more recognizable faces, a rather pretty-faced boy warming up next to me spoke up.
"Hale End?"
"...Did you seriously come all the way here without even knowing this place is called Hale End?"
Wasn't this just the Arsenal Academy? I didn't realize they had such a pretentious name for it. It wasn't like this was Barcelona's legendary La Masia or anything. The kid was staring at me like I was an idiot, which immediately annoyed me.
'Is this punk trying to assert dominance?'
In any environment, an outsider joining a group faced a 140% chance of some petty hazing. It was even worse in highly competitive environments like this. I hardened my expression, instantly shifting into battle mode.
'He's about 175 centimeters? Barely any muscle on him. A midfielder, probably? One solid kick and he'd fly into the stands. How does he expect to play football with a fragile frame like that?'
"Haha, well, I guess the name doesn't really matter. I'm Charlie Patino. Let's have a good week together."
Contrary to my hostile thoughts, the boy offered a warm, easygoing smile. Still, I couldn't let my guard down. You never knew when some insidious, passive-aggressive racism might fly your way in Europe.
Usually, the kid who went out of his way to welcome a newcomer was either the team captain or a highly influential core player. Since I didn't know what his angle was, I kept my guard up as I responded.
"Luka Tachibana. Just call me Luka."
"Sure. You can call me Charlie too. What's your position? I'm a midfielder, by the way."
"Yeah, I figured. I'm a forward."
"A striker? Or a winger?"
"Both."
The moment I said that, several heads snapped in my direction. No doubt they were the other forwards in the squad. But I wasn't about to lose sleep over a bunch of extras whose names and faces I couldn't even remember.
Right on cue, the U-16 head coach stepped onto the pitch and quickly gathered us to outline the day's session.
"Alright, lads, here's the plan for today's session. We'll start with a warm-up and stretching, followed by some endurance drills. After that, we're playing a 7-v-7 mini-game against the U-18s.
Let's bring some high energy today. Oh, and Tachibana, right? Do you know how to do a standard warm-up and stretch? Don't worry if you don't. Just watch me and follow along."
'Oh, this is perfect. A match on my very first day?'
My eyes locked onto the final part of the schedule: the mini-game against the U-18s. Now I understood exactly why Arsenal had scheduled my arrival for today.
Inviting me on a day they held a scrimmage—something they only did once or twice a week—meant they wanted to test my abilities immediately. They wanted to size me up on day one and get me out of their hair.
'How petty. Throwing me straight into a match without a single tactical briefing or team practice.'
I could practically taste the malice of whoever had picked today for my arrival. Since this wasn't an official club-wide tryout, they were basically telling me: Show us what you've got right now, or pack your bags and stop wasting our time.
This was my very first real match since waking up in Luka's body. It was a high-stakes game that could dictate the entire course of my new life, but...
'Well then, shall I show these little punks how real football is played?'
...Fear was the absolute last thing on my mind.