A week and a half after the Clásico injury, Barcelona weren't in the best mood.
The loss to Real Madrid still lingered.
Not because players kept talking about it.
Because results afterward hadn't helped.
One victory.
One draw.
One defeat.
Three matches.
Not the disaster some newspapers claimed.
But not good enough for Barcelona.
Especially not for a team with championship ambitions.
The media immediately started creating narratives.
As always.
One newspaper published:
"IS BARCELONA MISSING RIO?"
Another wrote:
"MIDFIELD LOSING ITS BALANCE."
A third blamed tactics.
A fourth blamed fatigue.
A fifth blamed something entirely different.
Nobody agreed.
Which usually meant nobody knew.
Inside the club, nobody was panicking.
Disappointed?
Yes.
Concerned?
A little.
Panicking?
No.
The season was still long.
But everyone wanted improvements.
Especially the players.
That was why training intensity had increased.
And that was why, on a bright morning ten days after the injury, Rio arrived at the training ground feeling something he hadn't felt in a while.
Excitement.
Real excitement.
Because today was different.
Today he was returning to the pitch.
Not full training.
Not match preparation.
Just the pitch.
Yet that was enough.
Jordi met him near the training area.
The physiotherapist was carrying a clipboard.
A terrifying object.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Jordi smiled.
"You answered too quickly."
Rio ignored him.
The medic laughed.
Some things never changed.
They walked onto one of the smaller training pitches.
The grass looked perfect.
The familiar smell immediately hit Rio.
Fresh grass.
Footballs.
Training equipment.
Home.
For the first time in nearly two weeks, he was back where he belonged.
The session started cautiously.
Light jogging.
Then movement exercises.
Then controlled changes of direction.
Nothing complicated.
Every movement was monitored.
Every reaction observed.
Jordi watched carefully.
The coaching staff watched carefully.
Rio mostly ignored them.
Because for the first time in days, he was moving freely on a football pitch.
That alone felt incredible.
Halfway through the session, a ball rolled toward him.
Instinct took over.
One touch.
The ball stopped perfectly.
Rio smiled immediately.
Without thinking.
Without realizing.
A genuine smile.
Jordi noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"You've missed that."
Rio looked at the ball.
"A little."
The medic nearly laughed.
"A little."
The understatement deserved an award.
The session continued.
Passing drills followed.
Nothing intense.
Simple touches.
Simple movement.
But every pass felt like progress.
Every touch felt like another step forward.
Meanwhile, the first team trained on a nearby pitch.
At one point, Messi noticed.
Then immediately abandoned whatever conversation he was having.
The Argentine jogged over.
"You're back."
"Sort of."
Messi looked at the football.
Then at Rio.
Then at the football again.
"Good."
A pause.
"We need help."
The honesty was impressive.
And unfortunately accurate.
Barcelona hadn't looked quite the same recently.
The team still possessed tremendous quality.
But rhythm had been harder to find.
Several injuries and inconsistent results had disrupted momentum.
Messi folded his arms.
"Come back quickly."
"I'll try."
The Argentine nodded.
Then returned to training.
A very Messi conversation.
Short.
Direct.
Later that afternoon, Rio returned home exhausted.
Not from the workload.
From happiness.
The difference mattered.
A few hours later, Sofia arrived.
As usual.
She immediately noticed something.
His mood.
"You trained."
Rio looked surprised.
"How do you know?"
She laughed.
"You're smiling."
A pause.
"More than normal."
Rio shook his head.
But couldn't completely hide the smile.
Sofia sat beside him.
"How was it?"
For a moment he thought about the answer.
The grass.
The ball.
The movement.
The feeling of being a footballer again.
Then he nodded.
"Good."
The answer was simple.
But Sofia understood immediately.
Because sometimes one word said enough.
That evening, while newspapers continued debating Barcelona's form, while supporters worried about recent results, and while rivals enjoyed discussing dropped points, one thing had quietly changed.
Rio's return no longer felt distant.
It felt close.
Very close.
And for the first time since the tackle against Real Madrid, Barcelona could finally see the finish line.
Twelve days after the injury, Rio finally received the news he had been waiting for.
Partial team training.
Not full contact.
Not full intensity.
But team training.
To most people, it sounded like a small step.
To Rio, it felt enormous.
The moment he arrived at the training ground that morning, he was already in a better mood.
Not that he would admit it.
Of course.
But the medical staff noticed.
Jordi noticed.
The coaches noticed.
Even the receptionist noticed.
Apparently Rio smiling twice in a single morning was enough to alarm the entire building.
The first-team squad was already warming up when he stepped onto the pitch.
Several heads turned immediately.
Then Ronaldinho spotted him.
Which was unfortunate.
Very unfortunate.
Because Ronaldinho immediately threw both arms into the air.
"HE LIVES!"
The entire training pitch erupted.
Players laughed.
Staff laughed.
Rio regretted arriving.
Messi jogged over.
Unlike Ronaldinho, the Argentine simply nodded.
"Good."
A pause.
"We've been boring without you."
"That's not true."
"It is."
Messi looked completely serious.
Which somehow made the statement even funnier.
Soon training began.
Rio wasn't allowed to participate in everything.
The medical staff made that very clear.
Every few minutes someone seemed ready to stop him.
"Careful."
"Not full speed."
"Stay controlled."
Words Rio was getting tired of hearing.
Still, he followed instructions.
Mostly.
The passing drills felt natural immediately.
One touch.
Two touches.
Movement.
Positioning.
The rhythm returned surprisingly fast.
Football had a way of feeling familiar.
Even after time away.
The tactical exercises came next.
Rio participated in a limited role.
No hard challenges.
No risky situations.
Just movement and decision-making.
Yet even that felt wonderful.
Because for nearly two weeks he had been watching.
Now he was participating.
The difference was impossible to describe.
At one point, a small-sided possession game began.
The intensity increased naturally.
Players forgot about limitations.
Competition took over.
The ball moved quickly between Xavi, Deco, and Messi.
Then arrived at Rio.
Without thinking, he delivered a first-time pass through a narrow gap.
Messi reached it immediately.
The Argentine stopped.
Looked at the pass.
Then at Rio.
"Okay."
"What?"
"We definitely need you back."
The surrounding players laughed.
The session continued.
For the first time in weeks, the squad looked genuinely energized.
Not because Rio was their best player.
Barcelona had world-class players everywhere.
It was because teammates always enjoyed seeing one of their own return.
Especially after a difficult injury.
Especially after recent results.
One win.
One draw.
One loss.
The squad knew they needed improvement.
And another healthy player always helped.
After training, Rijkaard called Rio aside.
The coach had been watching carefully all morning.
Every movement.
Every sprint.
Every turn.
"How do you feel?"
"Good."
Rijkaard smiled slightly.
The answer had been predictable.
The coach folded his arms.
"The medical staff are pleased."
That was encouraging.
Very encouraging.
Then came the important part.
"We'll see how the next few days go."
Rio nodded.
He already knew what they were talking about.
The second leg.
Real Madrid.
The decisive match.
The biggest game remaining before the end of the cup tie.
Everyone was thinking about it.
Nobody was saying it directly.
Yet everyone knew.
That evening, the team received more good news.
Barcelona had managed to win their latest league match.
Not brilliantly.
Not comfortably.
But they won.
Three points.
After the recent inconsistency, that was enough.
The mood around the club improved immediately.
Confidence returned.
Belief strengthened.
Momentum slowly rebuilt itself.
Meanwhile, Rio completed another recovery session before heading home.
His leg felt stronger.
The pain was almost gone.
Not entirely.
But close.
Very close.
Later, Sofia arrived as usual.
By now her visits had become part of the routine.
Neither of them really thought about it anymore.
She sat beside him while he reviewed clips from training.
A habit she found amusing.
"You know normal people stop working when they get home."
Rio looked up.
"Football isn't work."
Sofia laughed.
That answer explained everything.
A few minutes passed.
Then she asked the question she knew he was thinking about.
"The Clásico."
Rio nodded.
"The Clásico."
A brief silence followed.
"Do you think you'll play?"
The question hung in the air.
For the first time in days, Rio didn't answer immediately.
Because he genuinely didn't know.
He wanted to.
More than anything.
But wanting and being ready weren't the same thing.
Finally, he shrugged slightly.
"We'll see."
It wasn't much of an answer.
But it was the truth.
The decision wasn't his.
Not completely.
It belonged to the coaches.
The doctors.
The next few training sessions.
Yet as the evening continued and another day of recovery came to an end, one fact was becoming harder to ignore.
The return wasn't a question anymore.
Only the timing was.
And with the second leg against Real Madrid approaching fast, everyone at Barcelona hoped that timing would be perfect.
Four days remained until the second leg against Real Madrid.
Four days.
That was all.
The closer the match came, the more intense Barcelona became.
Training sessions grew sharper.
Meetings lasted longer.
Players spent more time studying opponents.
Nobody needed motivation.
Not for a Clásico.
Especially not after losing the first match.
The defeat still bothered everyone.
Not openly.
Not dramatically.
But it remained there.
Quietly.
Waiting.
Every player wanted another chance.
Rio perhaps more than anyone.
The memory of walking off injured still frustrated him.
Not because of the pain.
Because he had been forced to watch.
And watching was the worst part.
Now he was finally close to returning.
Not fully cleared yet.
But close.
Very close.
Training began under clear skies.
The squad immediately launched into possession exercises.
The intensity surprised even some of the coaches.
Nobody wanted to lose.
Not even a training drill.
Messi and Ronaldinho spent half the session trying impossible passes.
The annoying thing was how often they worked.
One moment defenders believed they had stopped an attack.
The next moment the ball somehow reached a teammate.
Nobody understood how.
Including the defenders.
Rio participated in almost everything now.
The medical staff still watched carefully.
But their concern had visibly decreased.
That was encouraging.
For the first time since the injury, he felt almost normal.
The turning.
The acceleration.
The movement.
Everything felt natural again.
During a tactical exercise, Xavi received possession and looked forward.
Immediately spotting Rio's run.
The pass arrived.
Perfect.
Rio controlled it.
Turned.
Played a through ball between defenders.
Messi reached it.
Goal.
The exercise stopped.
Several players nodded.
Not because of the finish.
Because the combination looked familiar.
Barcelona football.
Quick.
Precise.
Simple.
Exactly what had been missing recently.
Afterward the squad gathered for tactical preparation.
The coaches spent nearly an hour discussing Madrid.
What they had done well in the first match.
What they had done poorly.
What needed to change.
The players listened carefully.
The room remained focused throughout.
Because nobody underestimated Madrid anymore.
Not after the last result.
One defeat was enough to earn everyone's full attention.
The following days passed quickly.
Training.
Recovery.
Meetings.
Then repeating the process.
Every session felt important.
Every detail mattered.
Meanwhile the media worked overtime.
Some journalists questioned whether Rio would be ready.
Others questioned whether Barcelona could overturn the deficit.
Several newspapers published predicted lineups.
Most of them were wrong.
As usual.
Inside the club, nobody paid much attention.
The focus remained entirely on preparation.
One afternoon, after training ended, the players stayed on the pitch longer than normal.
Nobody had asked them to.
Nobody had ordered it.
Yet almost half the squad remained.
Practicing crosses.
Practicing finishing.
Practicing free kicks.
The closer the match came, the more everyone wanted extra work.
Even veterans.
Especially veterans.
Puyol stayed.
Xavi stayed.
Ronaldinho stayed.
Messi stayed.
Rio stayed too.
Not because he needed to.
Because he wanted to.
The sun had already begun dropping when the final footballs were collected.
The players slowly headed toward the dressing room.
Tired.
But satisfied.
The feeling around the club was changing.
The disappointment from recent results remained.
Yet confidence was returning.
The squad looked sharper.
More organized.
More determined.
Most importantly, they looked hungry.
Hungry to correct mistakes.
Hungry to respond.
Hungry to face Madrid again.
As Rio walked toward the tunnel, he glanced back at the pitch.
The injury felt farther away now.
Not forgotten.
Just behind him.
Ahead was something much more important.
Another Clásico.
Another chance.
And this time, if everything continued going well, he intended to be part of it from the very beginning.
Three days before the second leg, Barcelona's training ground felt tense.
Not nervous.
Focused.
Every player knew what was coming.
A Clásico.
The chance to erase the disappointment of the previous defeat.
The chance to continue fighting in the competition.
The chance to prove Barcelona could respond.
Training that morning was intense from the first whistle.
Challenges flew in.
Passes moved quickly.
Mistakes were punished immediately.
Nobody wanted to give less than their best.
Especially with starting positions still undecided.
Rio trained well.
Very well.
His movement looked sharp.
His passing looked natural.
His confidence had returned.
Several times during the session, he forgot he had even been injured.
That alone felt like a victory.
After training ended, however, everyone knew what came next.
The squad meeting.
The lineup discussion.
The coach's decisions.
Players showered.
Changed.
Then gathered in the meeting room.
The atmosphere became noticeably quieter.
Nobody spoke much.
Even Ronaldinho.
A rare event.
Rijkaard entered carrying several papers.
Immediately every player focused.
The coach spent several minutes discussing tactics first.
Defensive responsibilities.
Pressing triggers.
Set pieces.
Then he finally reached the topic everyone cared about.
The squad for the match.
Names were read.
One by one.
Every player listened carefully.
When the starting lineup arrived, Rio already suspected the answer.
The doctors had cleared him.
But only recently.
He had missed nearly two weeks.
Starting immediately in a Clásico would be a huge risk.
Then Rijkaard said it.
"Rio will be available."
A pause.
"On the bench."
Nobody seemed surprised.
Not even Rio.
The coach continued.
"We may need him."
Another pause.
"But we're not risking a setback."
The reasoning made sense.
Even if part of Rio wished otherwise.
Competitors always wanted more.
Always wanted to play.
Yet deep down he knew the decision was correct.
The season was bigger than one match.
His health was bigger than one match.
The meeting continued.
Tactical instructions followed.
Specific responsibilities were assigned.
Possible substitutions were discussed.
And throughout it all, Rio listened carefully.
Because being on the bench didn't mean being unimportant.
Far from it.
In matches like this, substitutes often changed everything.
After the meeting ended, players slowly left the room.
Messi appeared beside him.
"You'll play."
Rio looked over.
"What makes you so sure?"
Messi shrugged.
"Clásicos are never normal."
A fair point.
A very fair point.
The Argentine continued walking.
Then added:
"And if we're struggling, you'll definitely play."
That sounded less comforting.
Yet somehow reassuring at the same time.
Over the next two days, preparation reached its final stage.
Training became slightly lighter.
The heavy work was finished.
Now the focus shifted toward freshness.
Sharpness.
Mental preparation.
The squad looked ready.
Puyol looked ready.
Xavi looked ready.
Ronaldinho looked ready.
Messi looked especially ready.
The Argentine had been outstanding in training all week.
Several defenders privately admitted they were happy to stop facing him in practice.
That was usually a good sign.
The night before the match arrived quickly.
Barcelona gathered for one final meeting.
One final review.
One final reminder of what was at stake.
Then everyone headed home.
To rest.
To think.
To prepare.
At home, Rio found it difficult to sleep.
Not because of injury concerns.
Those were mostly gone.
Because he wanted to play.
Because he wanted to help.
Because watching from the sidelines during the previous Clásico had been miserable.
Tomorrow would be different.
Maybe he would play twenty minutes.
Maybe thirty.
Maybe more.
Nobody knew.
But he would be available.
And for the first time since that tackle, that was enough.
As midnight approached, Barcelona's players scattered across the city.
Each preparing in their own way.
Each carrying their own thoughts.
Yet all thinking about the same thing.
Real Madrid.
The rivalry.
The match.
And the chance to write a very different ending than the one from two weeks earlier.