Japan? I'm Not Going, No Way! (1)

Receiving Saka's cutback pass perfectly, the ball leaving Luka's foot shook the net. It was a concise and precise shot, completely different from the powerful strikes he had shown so far.

To think a player only fifteen years old could finish so calmly.

Where on earth did a player like that come from...?

Watching him, Wenger marveled inwardly. And now, he was certain. Luka Tachibana. That kid was not meant to play on a youth stage like this.

Although Luka had completed his hat-trick, the U-23 team had pushed back hard in the meantime, bringing the score to 3-3. But a scoreline like that didn't matter.

The immense shooting power to unleash a threatening strike from outside the penalty box at any moment, the calm finishing in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠front of the goal, pace comparable to Theo Walcott, individual skills that flowed naturally even at that speed, ball retention that made it look as if the ball were glued to his foot during dribbles, and on top of that, the physicality to hold up the ball even from the center-forward position.

Even if they were playing against reserves, for a fifteen-year-old to put on such a performance against first-team players like Shkodran Mustafi and Sead Kolašinac? This made absolutely no sense within Wenger's realm of common sense. No matter how much Wenger loved prospects!

A physical build already complete enough at fifteen to hold his own against Mustafi and Kolašinac was nothing short of a gift from God to play football, and his flashing brilliance in attacking situations was more than enough to provide a massive boost to Arsenal's attacking options.

Of course, it wasn't without its flaws. Having joined the team only three days ago, he was only capable of basic passes, and in defensive situations, he hadn't been of much help other than winning a single header against Kolašinac. However, the talent he had displayed so far was more than enough to overlook those shortcomings.

Even with just his current abilities, he could easily play the role of a talisman for a lower-tier Premier League side, much like Wilfried Zaha or Adama Traoré.

And if he could replicate this kind of performance against first-team opponents, it wouldn't be far-fetched to rank him above the Premier League's most destructive wingers—Gareth Bale, Eden Hazard, Ryan Giggs, and Mohamed Salah.

Hmm... is that going a bit too far?

Wenger smiled wryly at the names of top-tier Premier League wingers that had suddenly popped into his head. Even he had to admit his expectations were getting greedy. Especially for a player who was only fifteen.

Showing that kind of ability in the Premier League might be impossible right now, but with just a little more time, it could very well happen.

It was still too early for such comparisons. Yet, the fact that watching a single match could summon the names of such players meant there was no denying Luka was a generational talent.

"Ken!"

"Yes, Boss."

"What did you say his situation was again?"

"He's about to graduate from middle school in Japan, and he's scheduled to enter sixth form starting in September."

Though no subject was explicitly named, Wenger and Gillard had no trouble communicating. Their attention was entirely focused on the football prodigy from Japan.

"He's fifteen, right?"

"Yes, Boss. His birthday is in July."

"A pity. If only he had been born a year earlier—no, even six months earlier, I would have had him training with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the first team right now."

"Still, after speaking with his father, it seems he's ready to send him to study abroad in England immediately if the boy wants to. Surely, the boy himself would want to train here in England, wouldn't he?"

"Undoubtedly. In that case, I must head off first. I need to prepare the contract papers. Ah, send him straight to my office as soon as the match ends."

The father, Tachibana, was also a former professional player in Europe. There was no way he would let this crucial, rapid-growth period go to waste, so he would surely send his son to England right away.

Due to his age, he would only be training for the first six or seven months, but training within the system Wenger had built was the absolute best choice for youth development. Wenger took it for granted that the Tachibanas would make the obvious choice.

"Yes, Boss! I'll send him over as soon as he showers!"

Wenger stood up immediately, eager not to let this sparkling talent slip through his fingers. On his way back to his office, however...

Ah, right.

Wenger only then remembered what he had forgotten. The reason he had carved out time from his busy schedule to watch this U-23 vs. U-18 match was to assess the performance of the first-team players recovering from injuries. But he had completely forgotten about them while watching Luka play.

Mustafi... needs to build up his match fitness a bit more. The coaches insisted he was fully recovered, but he clearly needs more time. Kolašinac looks ready to be called up, though.

And so, Mustafi's call-up was pushed back by two weeks. Arsenal fans, spared from a potential Mustafi horror show, erupted in cheers the moment they heard the news.

"Luka!"

It had been about two months since I signed a pre-contract with Arsenal. A lot had happened in that time. Attending school in the morning, training with Arsenal in the afternoon. And playing in unofficial friendlies against other London clubs.

Although I had never appeared in an official match, just as a sharp awl eventually pierces through a pocket no matter how well you hide it, my reputation had already spread far and wide across the English football scene solely through those unofficial matches. Several clubs were already trying to make contact.

Of course, I had no intention of leaving Arsenal. They were accommodating me perfectly, and the team felt like a perfect fit for me, so I had no desire to go anywhere else. Given the circumstances, it was quite common for Ken Gillard, Arsenal's Head of Youth Development, to come running over shouting my name like that.

Well, it's probably nothing important.

The things Gillard asked were always predictable. How is school? Do you like Arsenal? Your name is on the list for next season's pre-season tour, so what's your vacation schedule like? Any injuries? Just trivial questions like that.

I was exhausted and wanted to take a quick shower after training, so it was a bit of a hassle, but I waited for Gillard to approach.

"What is it this time?"

"Luka, we received a call from Japan."

However, the matter Gillard brought up was entirely unexpected.

"Japan?"

A call from Japan? I ran through the possibilities quickly, but nothing came to mind. My school transfer procedures had been completed ages ago, and there was no reason for anyone to contact Arsenal.

In fact, it was strange for them to contact Arsenal in the first place. I was still only on a pre-contract. Even if rumors were flying around English football...

Did my old school call? Well, the school I'm attending now is partnered with Arsenal, so maybe that's why?

"Yes, the Japan Football Association."

"What? The JFA? Why would they contact Arsenal?"

"They tried contacting your father first, but he told them to make the inquiry through us. The reason, of course, is a national team call-up. The March international break is coming up, isn't it?"

Hearing that, I immediately understood why the JFA had contacted Arsenal. My father, a member of the Century Club with his national team caps, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was deeply intertwined with the JFA, and I had already told him that I wouldn't be playing for the youth national teams.

Honestly, in my past life, my career had been ruined by the sheer exhaustion of flying back and forth between Europe and Asia. Going through that youth national team grind again would be something only a complete idiot would do.

Since my father, a former national team star himself, found it awkward to reject the call-up directly, he had deflected the target to Arsenal.

Of course, I had no intention of playing for the Japanese senior national team either, let alone the youth teams.

No matter the circumstances, how could a proud Korean man play for Japan? Mind you, even if I had been reincarnated in a Korean body, I had absolutely no desire to play for the Korean national team that had ruined my past life.

If I had been born in Korea in this life, I probably would have done whatever it took to move to the Premier League or La Liga and acquire local citizenship.

In any case, as someone born with dual citizenship, why on earth would I play for a national team in Asia, a footballing backwater? It was completely absurd.

Since I was still a minor and needed a legal guardian, I hadn't told my father that part yet, but my ultimate goal was the Portuguese national team.

"The senior team?"

"Haha, Luka. Of course it's the U-17s. They said it's a friendly match held in Japan."

"Please reject it."

"Right, even a quick trip to Japan would... Wait, reject it? I thought you've been called up to every youth national team level so far..."

"Come on, who has time for that? I'd rather spend that time doing tactical training here."

"Well, it's certainly good news for us. Flying so much at a young ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠age isn't good for the knees anyway."

Gillard's expression brightened. He was incredibly transparent. When we first met, he had openly looked down on me, but the moment I showed my skills, he started rubbing his hands together in flattery. Now, seeing me reject the national team, he was grinning ear to ear.

"Then what about the U-17 World Cup? It's held in October, right?"

"October is in the middle of the season. I'll be playing in the Premier League by then, so why would I bother playing in a youth World Cup?"

"Hahaha, yes, of course. You'll definitely be in the first team by next year. Boss Wenger will be secretly thrilled to hear this."

"And please reject any future call-ups from the Japanese youth national teams as well. You can handle the details, right?"

"Haha, leave it to me, Luka."

With that, Gillard patted my shoulder and walked away with a laugh. I completely wiped this trivial matter from my mind.

However, even then, I had no idea.

"What the fuck is this?"

I never could have imagined that I would be branded a traitor in Japan of all places.