Training intensified as the week went on. David pushed the entire squad hard on possession drills and quick transitions, setting up scenarios that forced them to make decisions under pressure. The coach had them working in tight spaces, moving the ball with purpose while defenders closed in fast. Will found himself at the center of most of the exercises, playing as the attacking midfielder in the 4-2-3-1 shape they were working on. He stayed involved in every rep, dropping into pockets, linking midfield to attack, and trying to dictate the tempo the way David wanted.

He used the system overlay constantly to spot runs before they developed and played more decisive passes. The faint green arrows and player markers in his vision helped him see opportunities a split second earlier than the others. He was learning to hold the ball for that extra second when it was needed instead of rushing everything forward like he might have done weeks earlier.

That patience came from the hours spent in the time capsule, where he had practiced slowing games down deliberately. The recovery potions were a game changer too. They let him stay after the main sessions for extra work in the evenings without feeling completely destroyed the next day. He would finish the group training, grab a quick bite, then head back out or into the capsule, push hard, and drink a potion afterward so his body recovered fully overnight.

After one particularly sharp session where he had linked up well with Marcus and Liam several times, creating several dangerous chances in the small sided games, Marcus pulled him aside during the cool down period. They were both breathing hard, sweat dripping down their faces as they walked slowly toward the water bottles near the sideline. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the training pitch.

"You’re moving different lately," Marcus said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He took a long drink from his bottle before continuing. "It’s like you see things before the rest of us even know they’re there. Those passes into the half spaces, man. How are you finding them so consistently? It feels like you’ve got eyes in the back of your head sometimes."

Will shrugged with a small smile, trying to play it casual even though the compliment meant a lot coming from someone like Marcus. "Just putting in the work. Watching a lot of footage at home and trying new things in training. Been focusing on scanning more before I get the ball, trying to picture the whole pitch."

Marcus nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. He studied Will for a moment longer, then shrugged himself. "Whatever it is, keep doing it. You’re making the rest of us look better too. Keep feeding me those balls and we’ll both be eating soon enough."

They shared a quick laugh and finished their water before heading back toward the changing rooms. Will felt a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest. The improvements were showing, not just to himself through the system stats but to the people around him on the pitch.

David noticed the improvement as well. After training that day he called Will into his small office near the changing rooms. Will sat down across from him, still in his training kit which was damp with sweat, and waited while David leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. The office was simple, with a desk covered in notebooks and a whiteboard on the wall showing tactical diagrams from earlier sessions.

"You’re starting to show real promise in that ten role," David said after a moment, his voice steady and thoughtful. "The vision is there, the decision making is getting sharper week by week. Those little details, the way you’re holding play up and then releasing at the right time, that’s what separates good players from reliable ones. Keep building on it like this. The league games start soon and I need players I can trust from the very first whistle, not just ones who show flashes every now and then."

Will nodded, keeping his excitement under control even though his heart was beating faster. He could feel the weight of the words, the trust David was placing in him after everything that had happened. "I’ll keep working at it, gaffer. Every day."

David gave a short nod of approval. "Good. That’s what I want to hear."

That night after dinner with the family Will decided it was time for another session in the time capsule. He went up to his room, lay down on his bed as if going to sleep, and activated the system. The familiar ding sounded and the white space enveloped him. Inside the capsule he spent the equivalent of several focused hours on tempo control, learning when to slow the play down deliberately with sideways passes and short holds, and when to accelerate it suddenly to catch defenses off guard. The shadow players moved realistically, pressing hard and forcing him to adapt constantly. Ten full hours of intense mental and physical training passed in the simulated Old Trafford environment.

When the session ended and he opened his eyes again in his actual bed, only about ten minutes had passed in the real world. He felt the benefits immediately. His mind was sharper from all the deliberate practice, yet his body was rested as if he had simply taken a short nap. He drank a recovery potion right away to lock in the gains and felt completely fresh. After that he joined the family for a bit in the living room. His legs no longer carried any fatigue and his mind felt clear.

The next afternoon after another strong training session David gathered the full squad in the changing room. The atmosphere was attentive as everyone sat or stood around, still in their kits, waiting to hear what the coach had to say. David held up the team sheet for the first league match of the season. Will sat on the bench with his boots still laced up tight, hands resting on his knees as he listened carefully. The room felt charged with anticipation. When David reached the attacking midfielder position he read the name clearly and without any hesitation.

"Smithson starts."

A few of the lads clapped immediately and Marcus gave him a solid nod from across the room. Liam even whistled once. Will kept his face calm and composed on the outside but inside his chest tightened with a powerful mix of nerves and pure satisfaction. This was his first league start. Home against Derby County U18s. He had earned every bit of it through the cold mornings on the rebounder wall, the extra sessions when no one else was around, and the refusal to accept being released.

After the meeting wrapped up David pulled him aside once more near the exit of the changing room. The corridor was quiet now that most of the players had started heading out. "You’ve worked your way back from a really bad spot, Smithson," David said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Now prove to everyone why I decided to keep you around. No holding back out there on Saturday. Show them what you’re capable of when it really matters."

"I won’t let you down," Will replied firmly, meeting his coach’s gaze without looking away.

He walked home that evening with the news burning brightly in his mind. The streets of Acklam felt different somehow, like the weight he had been carrying for weeks had finally started lifting properly. The houses looked the same but everything carried a new sense of possibility. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

At dinner he told the family the good news and the reaction was everything he could have hoped for. His dad clapped him hard on the back with genuine pride, his face breaking into a wide grin as he talked about watching his son start the first league game.

His mum smiled wide enough to light up the whole room and immediately started asking what he wanted for a pre-match meal.

Janet rolled her eyes at first but she looked pleased underneath the usual sarcasm, even asking a few real questions about Derby and how he planned to play against their press.

Later that evening he texted Chloe about making the starting lineup. Her reply came almost immediately saying she would definitely be there to watch and that she was excited for him.

Will read the message a couple of times with a small smile on his face before putting his phone down. He went to bed early that night, the anticipation keeping him awake longer than usual despite his best efforts. Thoughts of the match, the crowd, and proving himself kept running through his head.

He used one more recovery potion before sleep just to make sure his body would be fully ready for what was coming. As the potion worked its magic and his muscles relaxed completely, he lay there in the dark thinking back to that rainy night on the second pitch. The difference between then and now felt massive. He closed his eyes and finally drifted off, ready for Saturday.

A/N:

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