The Rise of a New Brazilian Baller

Lucas had always known that football ran in his veins. From a young age, he kicked anything in his path—cans, stones, makeshift balls made from socks. The streets of São Paulo's outskirts were his first arenas, where he dribbled past friends amidst laughter and shouts, believing that one day, the world might witness his talent.

However, as he grew older, reality set in. The dreams of a young boy were confronted by the harsh truth that for every Neymar, there were thousands of Lucas who would never make it out of the local leagues. Working as a delivery driver during the week and playing football on weekends became the fate Lucas accepted, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

That afternoon, under the scorching sun, Lucas stepped onto the field for yet another local match. It was just a friendly game, but the rivalry between neighborhoods always turned these matches into true battles. Sweat dripped down his face as he ran, looking for an opening in the opposing defense.

In a moment of pure anger and frustration, Lucas clashed with one of the players from the opposing team. Harsh words quickly turned into shoves, and before he knew it, Lucas was thrown to the ground, hitting his head on a stone. The world went dark within seconds.

When he opened his eyes, he expected to see the sky above him, but instead, he found himself in a strange room, decorated with toys and posters of legendary players he immediately recognized. There were images of Pelé, Ronaldo Nazario, Maradona, Neymar... but the largest of all was Messi, occupying almost the entire wall beside the bed. It was clear that Messi was the room owner's idol.

As he tried to get up, he felt pain all over his body, as if he had just come out of a battle. He dragged himself to a nearby mirror and, upon looking at his reflection, saw the face of a child around ten years old, with his head bandaged. The wide eyes reflected the innocence of youth, but the thoughts... those were still Lucas. He had transmigrated, not into an adult with a lifetime of shattered dreams, but into a boy, with a new chance to rewrite his story.

Lucas stared at the boy in the mirror, looking at the young face with a mix of curiosity and determination. The bandaged head were a clear reminder that this body had undergone some kind of trauma, but none of that mattered at the moment. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips. He had been given a new chance, an opportunity he never imagined possible.

"This time, I will become a player," he whispered to himself, firm in his resolve. "I just hope this body is healthy."

With that decision made, he began exploring the room. His eyes landed on the large poster of Messi, plastered on the wall opposite the bed. The previous owner of this body clearly had a special fondness for the Argentine player, but Lucas didn't share the sentiment. Without a second thought, he tore the poster off the wall, leaving an empty, glaring space.

"Sorry, kid, but Messi isn't my thing," he said, with a slight touch of humor. "Nothing personal, but I was never a fan."

Next, his eyes fell on another poster, this one of Maradona. Lucas frowned. Having posters of two of the greatest icons in Argentine football seemed sacrilegious for a Brazilian. He quickly removed the Maradona poster as well, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Having posters of Argentine players? That should be a crime for a Brazilian," he thought, still smiling.

With the posters in hand, Lucas didn't hesitate. He ripped them both into small pieces and threw them in the trash, as if eliminating any trace of a rivalry he never accepted.

Lucas continued exploring the room, still getting used to the idea that he now inhabited the body of a boy. He took a good look around, noticing how different this space was from his own childhood room. The walls were well-painted in a soft tone, there were finely finished wooden furniture, and the toys were organized on shelves that seemed almost decorative. There were no signs of poverty here; everything indicated that this boy's family was, at least, middle class.

"That's a relief, this could make things easier," Lucas thought, feeling another pang of hope growing within him. He was certain that things would be different this time, that he would have more resources to pursue his dreams.

After reflecting a bit more on his new life, he walked over to the closet. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a familiar sight that brought an instant smile to his face: a football rested on the floor, next to a pair of cleats.

The cleats were a bit dirty, a clear sign that the boy who previously inhabited this body played football regularly. Lucas bent down, picked up one of the cleats, and ran his fingers over the dusty surface. "The kid really played," he whispered to himself, feeling a growing curiosity.

Taking the ball to the center of the room, Lucas decided to test how the new body would react to some basic techniques. He positioned the ball at his feet and started juggling it, something he did effortlessly in his old life. To his surprise, the boy's legs responded quickly and lightly. The ball rose and fell with precision, as if it were a natural extension of his body.

Lucas felt a renewed energy as he continued juggling the ball. His movements were fluid, almost instinctive. He didn't know if it was due to the boy's physical condition, who likely played football regularly, or if it was simply the vigor of youth, something he had lost long ago. Either way, what mattered was that he felt the same passion as before, perhaps even more intense.