A Dream Ten Years in the Making
"This is tomorrow's starting lineup. In goal..."
It was the day before the first leg of the Copa del Rey round of sixteen against Celta Vigo — and the first match of the second half of the season. Camila was staring a hole straight through Coach Diena's mouth. Not, of course, because she found a woman's lips particularly captivating.
She was simply waiting for a single word to come out of it. And that word, naturally, was her own name.
Camila didn't actually believe she could beat out Barcelona's formidable seniors for a starting place. This was the Copa del Rey, though, and that left a sliver of hope she couldn't quite extinguish.
The Copa del Rey was the knockout cup that every team in Spain entered. It was a major competition, and while Celta Vigo wasn't an opponent you could sleep on, they weren't strong enough to warrant Barcelona throwing out their full first-team eleven, either. Even a loss wouldn't be fatal — as long as the scoreline wasn't humiliating, there was every chance of overturning it in the second leg. And with a league match only three days away, a side chasing the title had to put the league first.
In other words, rotation was almost a given.
And if they rotated, Camila liked her chances.
There was Yelena, the complete midfielder in every sense of the word; Lorenza, a La Masia graduate with a real attacking threat; and Lucia, the Pass Master. Lucia was currently playing as a defensive midfielder, but all three were the kind of world-class names that always cracked the top ten. Camila knew perfectly well she couldn't touch them.
Compared to the rotation players and the rest of the bench, though, Camila had real confidence. Besides, the fact that the club had called her up at this point meant they wanted to take a proper look at her match fitness. If she had to pick the one game she was most likely to play, it would be this one — the least important fixture on the calendar.
Please. Please.
So Camila clasped her hands together and prayed her name would be called. Then someone else's hand settled over hers. Startled by the sudden contact, she traced the hand with her eyes — and found Ha-neul at the other end of it.
Don't be nervous. You did great in training.
When their eyes met, Ha-neul mouthed the words at her. Hearing that she'd done well in training, a lovely smile bloomed on Camila's lips, which had gone stiff with nerves.
And then the defenders' names came and went, and at last the moment Camila had been waiting for arrived.
"Defensive midfield, Hamara. Midfield, Yelena."
One defensive midfielder slot and one midfielder slot were filled. Yelena in midfield. If Lorenza, the La Masia graduate, was a player in Camila's own mold, Yelena was a different type entirely — and Camila's heart hammered harder.
"...And Camila."
And then, at last, Coach Diena's mouth spoke her name.
"Yes!"
Camila was so overjoyed she shot to her feet and shouted, completely forgetting that a roomful of players were sitting right there. The other players burst out laughing, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over her.
But when she saw Ha-neul sitting beside her, smiling as if to say well done, the dream she'd held since the day she first met him ten years ago — the dream of playing in the first team together — felt suddenly, vividly real. Joy welled up so fiercely that tears threatened to spill, embarrassment be damned.
"Camila. It's your first-team debut. You can handle it, right?"
"Of course!"
"Hamara, Yelena — give Camila plenty of support out there."
"Yes."
"Understood."
Coach Diena's words settled her a little. And they reminded her it wasn't time to celebrate yet. The dream she'd carried since childhood wasn't fully realized.
Ha-neul's name still hadn't been called.
What if they didn't call him? What if she only played this one match and got sent back down to Atlètic? The thoughts swept through Camila's mind.
Ha-neul's a full starter now, so they might save him for the league. What if...
A tension even worse than before locked her body up, and it only eased when Ha-neul's hand covered hers once more.
"...And finally, at striker — Ryu."
And as if to laugh at Camila's fears, Ha-neul's name tumbled from Coach Diena's mouth. Camila let out a long breath of relief. The thought that the dream she'd cherished since childhood had finally come true sent a fresh wave of joy crashing through her, and her body trembled all over again.
"As for tomorrow's match..."
She wanted to share this joy with Ha-neul right then and there, but Coach Diena launched straight into the tactical briefing, so Camila swallowed her happiness and focused on the manager's words. After the meeting, on the way back to the dorms, Ha-neul bumped her shoulder.
"Cami. First time playing together in the first team, huh? Looking forward to it."
Having to look up at him — he was tall for a guy — stung her pride a little, but the moment she saw Ha-neul's smiling face, the thought vanished completely. As always whenever she looked at him, a warm smile found its way to Camila's lips.
"Looking forward to it too! Ugh, I can't believe we're actually playing on the first team. Ha-neul, I'm not the only one who's excited, right? Right? It's not just me?"
"Of course I'm excited too, Cami."
"Hah... I hope we can keep doing this together."
"Then just pass to me tomorrow. I'll get you about three assists. Then the coach won't send you down."
"Come on, if I force every ball to you, my own game will suffer."
"True. You'll probably stay in the first team even if you just play like usual. Looking at how they paired you with Hamara and Yelena — both physical beasts — they clearly want to use you somehow. As long as you don't go punching anyone like Tina, they probably won't send you down."
Valentina's name came out of Ha-neul's mouth.
The truth was, when Camila had first heard that Valentina had been called up to the first team and was playing alongside Ha-neul, a corner of her heart had felt a pang of jealousy. And when Valentina had thrown punches for Ha-neul's sake, and Camila had learned the whole story, she'd thought Valentina was cool for protecting him.
If it had been her, could she have thrown a punch at an adult like that?
Probably not.
But Camila didn't shrink from that fact. Even if her way wasn't the same as Valentina's, there were plenty of ways to help Ha-neul.
And on a football pitch, Camila was more confident than anyone that she could help him.
She'd spent more than ten years with Ha-neul now, and in all that time, no one had linked up with him more than she had. Those years had taught her to know, from a single glance at his eyes on the pitch, exactly what kind of ball he wanted.
And that confidence showed itself the very next day, in the Copa del Rey round of sixteen.
The moment the match kicked off, Camila sprayed a dangerous key pass, and with the physical support of Yelena and Hamara, she immediately took control of the team's tempo. Around the seventeenth minute of the first half, Camila's and Ha-neul's eyes met for a split second.
And in that same instant...
"...Now!"
The two of them painted the exact same picture on the pitch.
Point one seconds.
The moment my gaze brushed Camila's green eyes — eyes that looked ready to pull me under — I knew exactly what she was thinking. And Camila would have known the same about me.
As I feinted a run to the side to receive the ball, overlapping the offside line, Camila's foot moved at exactly the right moment. Even though I was slower than the average player, I'd already started my run, so I had acceleration on my side. The defender was slow to react — still turning her body — which meant I got to Camila's ball first.
Of course, if it had been a ten- or twenty-meter sprint, she would have caught me. But this was right at the edge of the box.
The ball arrived in the perfect state for a shot, and I lashed it first-time.
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!
The velocity of Camila's pass combined with the power in my ankle produced a shot faster than usual, and it ripped into the net.
Heh. That's my Cami. This is it.
I'd received plenty of passes from Lucia, the so-called Pass Master, over the course of matches. But the person who delivered the pass that fit me perfectly was always Camila. No — even counting my previous life, no one had ever given me a more satisfying ball than this.
Why? Because Camila and I had been together for over ten years.
In training and in matches, over those ten years, I'd received Camila's passes hundreds of thousands of times. And I'd nagged her thousands of times about exactly this kind of ball.
That was why Camila could tell, from my eyes alone, the weight and spin I wanted, the timing, and the destination.
And that fruit had ripened right here, right now.
"Ha-neul!!!!!"
"Cami!"
I threw both arms wide toward the onrushing Camila, and she flew into them. I scooped her up by the thighs.
Her sweat-soaked kit and her chest pressed against me, and I flinched slightly — but this kind of contact between teammates, between friends, was perfectly ordinary. Both of us pushed the thought aside and simply savored the joy of the moment.
"Congrats on your first first-team assist, Cami."
Camila, as expected, was someone I didn't need to worry about. Within a few years — no, within a year or two at most — she'd lock down a starting spot at Barcelona.