The King Of Arsenal

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And as he returned to his home with his parents, his heart was set on one goal—to fulfill the potential he had within him, and to prove to himself and everyone watching that he was ready to rise to the challenge.

After the meeting, Francesco and his parents arrived back home, each lost in their thoughts as they stepped out of the car. The afternoon light cast a golden glow over their front yard, and Francesco took a deep breath, feeling the weight and excitement of his new path settling over him.

Inside, his mother offered a warm smile. "Francesco, why don't you take a break? A shower and some time to relax could do you good after such an important day."

He nodded, grateful for the suggestion, and made his way upstairs. The quiet of his room felt comforting, a familiar space in the middle of all these big changes. He grabbed a fresh towel, stepped into the bathroom, and let the warm water cascade over him, each drop helping him unwind. His mind replayed the events of the day—the meeting, the conversation with Mendes, and the promise of something bigger than he had ever dreamed. By the time he was done, he felt rejuvenated, both mentally and physically.

Wrapped in a towel, he returned to his room, pulling on a comfortable shirt and shorts before sitting on the edge of his bed. As he reached for his phone, a sudden curiosity gripped him. Mendes had mentioned posting a photo on social media, but Francesco hadn't yet seen the response. Heart racing with anticipation, he unlocked his phone and tapped on Instagram, opening the app with a sense of excitement.

There, in his notifications, was a tag from Gestifute, Mendes's agency. He tapped on it, and the post opened, displaying the photo they'd taken together at the restaurant: Mendes standing beside him, hand on Francesco's shoulder, both of them beaming at the camera. The caption read:

"The next superstar: We're excited to welcome Francesco Lee to the Gestifute family. A player with immense talent and dedication, ready to take on the world of football. Stay tuned—this is just the beginning."

Francesco's heart skipped a beat as he took in the words. Seeing himself referred to as "the next superstar" felt surreal. He scrolled through the comments, each one adding to his growing excitement. Some people were fans of Mendes's other clients, welcoming Francesco into the fold; others were curious, wanting to know more about this new player under Mendes's wing. And there were a few who seemed skeptical, questioning if he could really live up to the title. He couldn't blame them—he had only just begun, after all.

Just then, he heard footsteps outside his door, and his father's voice called out, "Francesco? Mind if we come in?"

"Yeah, of course!" he called back, setting his phone aside.

Mike and Sarah entered, both of them looking at him with proud but thoughtful expressions. His father held a small, familiar smile, the same one he always wore when something meaningful was on his mind.

"Quite a big day, huh?" Mike said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.

Francesco grinned. "It doesn't even feel real yet. Seeing that post from Gestifute… I still can't believe this is happening."

Sarah sat on his other side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're so proud of you, Francesco. This is what you've worked so hard for. And no matter what happens, just remember—we're with you every step of the way."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, grateful for her words. "I'll give it everything I've got. But, it's a little overwhelming too. There are already people asking if I'll be able to live up to this hype." He chuckled, though there was a slight hint of worry in his voice.

Mike nodded, understanding. "That's natural, Francesco. The higher you rise, the more people will watch and judge. But you've trained for this. Just keep focusing on your goals. Prove to yourself, not to them, what you're capable of."

Francesco took a deep breath, feeling his parents' support grounding him. "You're right, Dad. I'll focus on what I can control—my effort, my attitude, and my love for the game."

Sarah's eyes softened as she smiled at him. "And that's exactly why you're going to do amazing things, Francesco. Now, how about we order some dinner to celebrate? I'm sure we could all use a good meal after today."

They spent the evening together, sharing stories, laughs, and memories of Francesco's early days playing football. It was a simple but heartfelt celebration that reminded him of the love and support surrounding him.

Later that night, Francesco returned to his room. Lying on his bed, he scrolled through his Instagram feed once more, seeing new comments and reactions pop up on the post. A message notification appeared at the top of his screen. Tapping on it, he saw that it was from one of his friends from his youth club.

"Francesco, saw the post. You're with Mendes now?? That's insane! Congrats, man—can't wait to see you on the big stage!"

Francesco replied with a quick thanks, feeling his excitement bubble up again. He knew that, in time, he'd see many of these friends again on the pitch, perhaps even as rivals. But for now, he was grateful for their support.

Finally, as he closed his eyes, Francesco's thoughts wandered to the future. He imagined himself wearing the jersey of a top club, the roar of the crowd echoing in his ears, and the thrill of the game pushing him to his limits. Mendes's words echoed in his mind: "You can reach those heights."

The morning sun poured into Francesco's room, waking him gently from a restful sleep. He reached over to grab his phone, eyes still half-closed, and his screen lit up with a flood of Instagram notifications. The post from Gestifute had gone viral overnight, and his follower count had skyrocketed—an additional 50,000 new followers since yesterday. He now had 150,000 followers. A smile spread across his face as he sat up, taking in the impact of that single post. Yet, he knew this was only the start, a small step in a much larger journey.

Shaking off the last traces of sleep, he hopped out of bed and headed to the shower. After a refreshing rinse, Francesco dressed in comfortable clothes and joined his parents in the kitchen for breakfast. His mother had prepared his favorite, a hearty omelet with toast and fresh fruit.

"Morning, Francesco," his dad greeted him, sipping his coffee. "Big day again, huh?"

Francesco grinned, nodding. "Yeah, back to training. I feel like today will be different, though. It's strange… yesterday I was just one of the academy players, and now it's like everyone's watching me."

His mom handed him a glass of juice, smiling gently. "That's natural, Francesco. Just remember, focus on your game. All this attention is exciting, but it's what you do on the pitch that really matters."

He finished his breakfast and grabbed his gear. "Alright, I'm off then. See you later!"

With a nod from his dad and a wave from his mom, Francesco stepped out and mounted his bike. The Arsenal Training Centre wasn't too far from home, and he loved the short ride—it gave him a moment of peace before immersing himself in the intensity of training. The fresh morning air filled his lungs as he pedaled, his mind already focused on the drills and tactics he'd soon be working on with his teammates.

Arriving at the training ground, Francesco locked up his bike and made his way inside. The familiar smell of grass and the distant shouts of players warming up filled him with a sense of purpose. He headed toward the locker room, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement.

As he entered, his teammates turned to him, a round of friendly grins and raised eyebrows greeting him. Jack Wilshere was the first to step forward, a playful smirk on his face.

"Well, well, look who's got the world's top agent now!" Jack chuckled, giving Francesco a light punch on the shoulder. "Congrats, mate. Big moves already, huh?"

Francesco chuckled, feeling a bit of heat rise to his cheeks. "Thanks, Jack. It's… surreal, honestly."

"Surreal? Mate, you're with Jorge Mendes!" Olivier Giroud added with a laugh, shaking Francesco's hand. "That's a big deal. Most players would kill for that."

Per Mertesacker nodded in agreement, a broad smile on his face. "You've earned it, Francesco. You've got something special—everyone can see it."

As the players gathered around, each one offered a few words of congratulations. Mesut Ozil, always calm and composed, simply gave him a nod and a small smile. "Just keep doing what you're doing, Francesco. The hard work is what brought you here. Don't let the attention distract you."

Alexis Sanchez, ever competitive, clapped him on the back. "Now you've got to live up to it, you know. Make every training session count."

Francesco took in their words, grateful for the camaraderie and support. He had looked up to these players for years, and hearing their encouragement fueled his drive. Each of them had carved their own path in football, and now, they were all standing beside him as he started his own.

Before long, Arsene Wenger entered the room, clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone! Time to get out on the pitch. Let's put in a strong session today. Francesco," he added, glancing at him with a smile, "welcome to the big leagues. We're all expecting great things from you, so give it everything you've got out there."

Francesco felt a surge of pride at Arteta's words. He changed into his training gear, lacing up his boots with a focused determination. As he stepped onto the pitch with his teammates, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The world might be watching now, but all that mattered was this moment—this training session, this chance to improve and prove himself.

The drills began, and Francesco threw himself into every movement, every sprint, every pass. Arteta's voice rang out over the field, guiding them through each exercise, pushing them to bring out their best. Francesco worked alongside Jack, Mesut, Alexis, Per, Olivier, and Aaron, feeling the rhythm of the team as they moved together. Every pass felt sharper, every touch more deliberate. The weight of expectation fueled his intensity, pushing him to go further, to be faster, to keep up with the seasoned professionals surrounding him.

Throughout the session, he caught glimpses of approval from his teammates, small nods from Aaron Ramsey and encouraging smiles from Per. It was as if they were acknowledging the shift that had happened—the step he had taken from a promising young player to someone with a real chance to make a mark.

As the warm-ups wrapped up, Arsene Wenger called everyone over with a clap of his hands. "Alright, we're going to start a scrimmage," he announced, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual calm expression. "Francesco, you're up front as the striker. Mesut, take the midfield, and Aaron, support from the left."

Francesco felt a surge of excitement. Playing as striker with Mesut Ozil's playmaking ability and Aaron Ramsey's relentless energy by his side was an opportunity to show what he could bring to the team. He knew he'd have to be sharp, focused, and ready to make the most of every pass.

With the teams set, the scrimmage kicked off at a high pace. Francesco immediately noticed the intensity, the way his teammates moved as a unit and anticipated each other's decisions. The ball shifted quickly between players, and Francesco focused on timing his runs, reading the gaps in the defense, and positioning himself for the pass he knew would come.

About five minutes in, Aaron received the ball on the left and darted down the wing, drawing two defenders with him. With a swift cut inside, he bypassed his markers and spotted Mesut, who had moved into an open space just outside the box. Francesco made eye contact with Mesut, and in that instant, they both knew what was coming. Mesut took one touch and then threaded a perfect through ball, splitting the defenders and landing it right at Francesco's feet.

Francesco felt the defender on his back, closing in fast. But he kept calm, took a steady touch to the right, and then fired a low shot across the goal. The ball flew past the keeper and into the far corner, nestling into the back of the net.

"Beautiful finish, Francesco!" Aaron shouted, jogging over with a grin.

Mesut jogged up to him, his usual composed expression softened by a small, approving smile. "Nice timing," he said, giving Francesco a pat on the back.

Francesco grinned. "Couldn't have done it without that pass."

The scrimmage resumed with even greater intensity. Francesco found himself growing more comfortable, settling into the rhythm of the game. He continued reading Mesut and Aaron's movements, adjusting his position, and anticipating their passes. The three of them started to click, moving fluidly and keeping the defense on their toes.

Soon, they were back on the attack. Mesut had the ball just outside the box, surrounded by defenders, but he lifted his head and chipped a beautiful ball into Francesco's path. Francesco leapt, meeting the ball with a powerful header that sailed past the goalkeeper. Another goal.

The field buzzed with the approving shouts and claps of his teammates. Even Olivier Giroud, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave Francesco a nod of approval. "Looks like you're fitting in well, Francesco," Olivier said as they reset. "Keep it up."

The scrimmage wrapped up shortly after, with Francesco's team narrowly winning thanks to his two goals. As they all walked off the pitch, Arsene Wenger gathered the team together. "Excellent work today, all of you," he said, glancing around with a nod. Then, his gaze settled on Francesco. "You showed strong awareness and composure, Francesco. Keep working hard, and remember, consistency is what brings real success."

As he left the field with his teammates, Francesco felt a surge of pride and confidence. He'd always dreamed of moments like these—playing alongside the stars, proving himself with every touch, every goal. Today was a taste of what was possible, and he knew he'd give everything to make his mark.

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Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 16 (2014)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : None