The weeks after the Clásico disappointment passed quickly.
Much quicker than Rio expected.
At first, the defeat against Real Madrid remained in everyone's minds.
The players remembered it.
The supporters remembered it.
The media certainly remembered it.
But football never stopped.
Matches continued.
Training continued.
The season continued.
And gradually, Barcelona moved forward.
The team responded well.
Not perfectly.
No team ever did.
But well enough.
The remaining league matches saw Barcelona regain consistency.
Ronaldinho continued producing moments of magic.
Messi kept improving almost every week.
Xavi controlled matches.
Puyol led the defense.
And Rio continued growing.
Every match seemed to teach him something new.
Every month made him stronger.
More confident.
More mature.
The injury from the Clásico slowly became a distant memory.
Soon, people were talking about his performances instead.
His passing.
His vision.
His composure.
The same newspapers that questioned whether he was ready for the first team now discussed him as one of Barcelona's most exciting young players.
Rio tried not to pay attention.
Mostly.
Though Bella occasionally made that difficult.
One afternoon she entered the living room carrying a newspaper.
A very dangerous sign.
"Look."
Rio immediately regretted looking.
The article was about him.
Naturally.
Bella grinned.
"'Future superstar.'"
A pause.
"'Generational talent.'"
Another pause.
"'One of Europe's brightest prospects.'"
She lowered the newspaper.
"Should I start calling you Your Majesty?"
Rio took the newspaper.
Then threw a cushion at her.
Bella considered that a victory.
The season eventually reached its final weeks.
By then the league title race had become clear.
Barcelona fought until the end.
But they couldn't quite catch the leaders.
Not this year.
The gap was simply too much.
Still, second place represented a strong finish.
Especially considering the team's ups and downs.
Especially considering how many young players had become important contributors.
When the final league match ended, the atmosphere inside the dressing room felt strange.
Not celebratory.
Not disappointed.
Something in between.
The feeling of a job mostly well done.
The feeling of a team heading in the right direction.
Rijkaard addressed the squad afterward.
The coach stood before his players one final time that season.
"You should be proud."
The room listened.
"We didn't win everything."
A pause.
"We didn't achieve every goal."
Another pause.
"But we grew."
Many players nodded.
Because it was true.
The younger players had improved dramatically.
The team had overcome setbacks.
The squad had become stronger.
And perhaps most importantly, the future looked bright.
Very bright.
After the meeting ended, players began saying their goodbyes for the summer.
Some would travel.
Some would rest.
Some had international duties.
Everyone had plans.
Ronaldinho promised to enjoy his vacation more than anyone else.
Nobody doubted that claim.
Messi promised to continue training.
Nobody doubted that claim either.
The two men approached life very differently.
Yet somehow both remained football geniuses.
As players departed, Messi stopped beside Rio.
"Good season."
The compliment was short.
Typical Messi.
Rio smiled.
"You too."
The Argentine looked at him.
Then shook his head.
"No."
A pause.
"Next season will be better."
And just like that, he walked away.
Rio laughed quietly.
Some people never changed.
Later that evening, he returned home.
For the first time in months, there was no upcoming match.
No training tomorrow.
No tactical meeting.
Nothing.
The season was over.
Bella had already prepared a celebration.
Mostly because she enjoyed celebrations.
His mother looked happier than Rio had seen in a long time.
She had watched her son go from a La Masia prospect to a first-team player in a single season.
The pride in her eyes was impossible to miss.
Sofia arrived shortly afterward.
As she had so many times throughout the year.
The four of them spent the evening together.
Talking.
Laughing.
Remembering.
At one point Bella began listing Rio's most embarrassing moments of the season.
A very long list.
An alarmingly long list.
Rio questioned its accuracy.
Nobody supported his argument.
Not even Sofia.
A betrayal he would remember.
As the night continued, the conversation eventually shifted toward the future.
Next season.
The words carried a different weight now.
Because next season wouldn't begin with Rio as an unknown academy player.
It would begin with expectations.
Real expectations.
Supporters knew his name.
Opponents knew his name.
The media knew his name.
Everything was changing.
The pressure would be bigger.
The challenges would be harder.
The competition would be stronger.
And Rio couldn't wait.
Much later, after everyone had gone home and the house had become quiet, he stepped outside.
The warm summer air filled the night.
Above him, the stars shined brightly.
The season was over.
Barcelona had finished second.
Not perfect.
But good.
A season filled with growth.
Filled with lessons.
Filled with memories.
The first true season of his professional career.
And as he looked toward the future, one thought remained clear.
The next season wouldn't be about proving he belonged.
That question had already been answered.
The next season would be about proving just how great he could become.
The season was over.
For the first time in months, Rio woke up without an alarm.
No training.
No match preparation.
No recovery session.
Nothing.
The feeling was strange.
For nearly an entire year, every day had followed a schedule.
Now suddenly there wasn't one.
The first morning of vacation felt almost wrong.
Bella found this hilarious.
"You're bored already."
"I'm not bored."
"You've checked football news six times."
Rio looked away.
Unfortunately, Bella was correct.
The problem wasn't that he missed training.
Not exactly.
The problem was that football had become part of who he was.
Without it, the days felt unusually quiet.
His mother noticed too.
Which was why she immediately announced something.
"We're taking a vacation."
Bella nearly jumped from her chair.
Rio looked suspicious.
"A vacation?"
"Yes."
"An actual vacation?"
His mother sighed.
"Normal families do those."
Bella pointed at her brother.
"He needs one."
"I don't need one."
"See?" Bella said.
"That's exactly why he needs one."
The decision was made.
Rio lost the argument immediately.
As usual.
A week later, the family found themselves on the coast.
Far away from Barcelona.
Far away from football.
At least in theory.
Because football somehow followed Rio everywhere.
One afternoon he joined a group of local kids playing on a beach.
Nobody recognized him at first.
Then one of them did.
Within minutes, everyone wanted him on their team.
Bella laughed for nearly ten minutes.
"You can't escape it."
Apparently not.
The vacation ended up being exactly what he needed.
Sleep.
Relaxation.
Time with family.
Time away from pressure.
For the first time in a long while, Rio allowed himself to simply enjoy life.
No expectations.
No headlines.
No pressure.
Just normal days.
And Sofia remained part of many of them.
Some days she joined the family for outings.
Other days she and Rio spent hours walking around town.
Talking about everything.
And nothing.
The conversations always seemed easy.
Natural.
Comfortable.
One evening they sat overlooking the sea as the sun began to set.
The sky glowed orange and gold.
The waves rolled gently below.
For a while neither spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It never was.
Finally Sofia smiled.
"You've changed."
Rio looked over.
"What do you mean?"
She thought about it.
"A year ago you were worried about making the academy team."
A pause.
"Now people fill stadiums to watch you play."
That sounded strange when she said it.
Because it was true.
And yet it still felt unreal.
Sofia continued.
"But you're still the same person."
Rio laughed.
"Bella would disagree."
"Bella disagrees with everyone."
A fair point.
The sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.
For a few moments they simply watched.
Then Sofia spoke again.
"I'm proud of you."
The words surprised him.
Not because of what she said.
Because of how sincere it sounded.
Rio looked away toward the ocean.
For some reason, hearing it from her mattered.
A lot.
More than hearing it from journalists.
More than hearing it from supporters.
More than hearing it from newspapers.
Because Sofia had been there from the beginning.
Before the headlines.
Before the first-team matches.
Before any of it.
"Thanks."
The answer was simple.
But genuine.
As summer continued, football slowly began returning.
Not matches.
Rumors.
The annual tradition.
Newspaper speculation.
Transfer stories.
Predictions.
Every day seemed to bring a new article.
Some claimed Barcelona would sign three stars.
Others claimed five.
One newspaper somehow claimed eight.
Nobody believed that one.
Even Bella laughed.
Meanwhile, another type of story appeared more frequently.
Stories about Rio.
Stories linking him with future greatness.
Stories discussing his potential.
Stories discussing his future role at Barcelona.
Rio ignored most of them.
Mostly because Messi had already given him advice.
"Never believe headlines."
Simple advice.
Good advice.
And as August slowly approached, another realization spread through Barcelona.
The new season was coming.
Fast.
Very fast.
The rest would soon end.
The work would begin again.
New matches.
New expectations.
New challenges.
And for the first time, Rio wouldn't be entering the season as a surprise.
He would be entering it as a player everyone expected to perform.
A completely different challenge.
One he was eager to face.
Summer always felt long.
Until it ended.
Then suddenly it felt far too short.
One day Rio was relaxing by the coast.
The next he was standing outside the training center again.
Preseason had arrived.
The beginning of a new year.
The beginning of Arc Two.
The parking lot was already filling with cars.
Players arrived one after another.
Veterans.
Youngsters.
New signings.
Everyone looked rested.
At least for now.
That would change quickly.
Preseason had a reputation.
And not a pleasant one.
Rio entered the facility and immediately heard a familiar voice.
"Vacation made you slower."
Rio turned.
Messi.
The Argentine looked exactly the same as always.
Focused.
Calm.
Ready to play football.
"Good morning to you too."
Messi nodded.
"Good morning."
A pause.
"You're still slower."
Rio was beginning to remember why training with Messi could be annoying.
A few minutes later Ronaldinho arrived.
Unlike Messi, the Brazilian entered as if he owned the building.
Smiling.
Laughing.
Greeting everyone.
Within five minutes half the training center was smiling.
Nobody understood how he did it.
Nobody questioned it.
Some talents couldn't be explained.
Soon the entire squad gathered for the first meeting of the season.
New faces stood among familiar ones.
Several academy players had been promoted.
A few new signings had joined.
Everyone introduced themselves.
Everyone learned names.
The usual preseason routine.
Rijkaard eventually entered.
The room immediately quieted.
The coach looked around.
Then smiled slightly.
"Welcome back."
Simple words.
Yet they carried significance.
Because a new season meant new opportunities.
A fresh start.
The mistakes of last year no longer mattered.
The victories of last year mattered even less.
Everything would have to be earned again.
The coach spent the next thirty minutes outlining expectations.
Fitness.
Discipline.
Improvement.
Then came the most important message.
"No one keeps their place."
Several players straightened slightly.
Because they understood.
Football had no guarantees.
Not for veterans.
Not for stars.
Not for young talents.
Everyone started at zero.
Everyone had to prove themselves.
Including Rio.
After the meeting came fitness testing.
Which everyone hated.
Without exception.
Ronaldinho complained dramatically.
Several teammates agreed.
The medical staff remained unsympathetic.
As always.
By lunchtime most players were exhausted.
The season hadn't even started.
Yet everyone already felt tired.
That was preseason.
The afternoon brought football.
Finally.
The moment everyone had been waiting for.
The first training session.
The first touches.
The first drills.
The first competition.
Immediately the intensity surprised some of the newer players.
Barcelona trained hard.
Very hard.
Every pass mattered.
Every movement mattered.
Mistakes were corrected instantly.
The standard remained high.
Because the goal remained high.
Win trophies.
Nothing less.
Rio felt good.
Better than good.
The injury from months earlier was completely gone.
His body felt strong.
His confidence felt stronger.
Several times during training he found himself combining naturally with Messi.
The same understanding that had developed last season returned immediately.
One pass.
A run.
Another pass.
Simple.
Effective.
Dangerous.
At one point Ronaldinho watched one of their combinations.
Then shook his head.
"You two are becoming annoying."
Messi looked pleased.
Rio decided that was probably a compliment.
The session ended after nearly two hours.
Players collapsed onto the grass.
Breathing heavily.
Sweating.
Tired.
And strangely happy.
Because football was back.
Real football.
Not vacation football.
Not beach football.
Barcelona football.
As the players headed toward the dressing room, Rio noticed something.
The atmosphere around him felt different.
Last preseason he had been fighting to be noticed.
Trying to prove he belonged.
Trying to earn opportunities.
Now teammates expected him to be there.
Expected him to contribute.
Expected him to help lead the future.
The realization was strange.
But exciting.
Because expectations meant responsibility.
And responsibility meant progress.
That night, after returning home, Rio sat quietly in his room.
The city lights stretched across Barcelona.
The same city.
The same club.
Yet everything felt different.
Last year had been about arrival.
This year would be about achievement.
Last year had been about potential.
This year would be about results.
And somewhere deep down, Rio could feel it.
This season would be bigger than the last.
Much bigger.
The football world knew his name now.
The easy part was over.
The real challenge was about to begin.
Barcelona's first preseason tour took them across Europe.
Friendly matches.
Training camps.
Media appearances.
The usual summer routine.
Most players didn't particularly enjoy it.
The travel was exhausting.
The schedules were packed.
Yet everyone understood why it existed.
Football never truly stopped.
One of the biggest matches of the tour was against Manchester United.
Even as a friendly, it attracted enormous attention.
Two of the biggest clubs in the world.
A packed stadium.
Millions watching around the world.
The media treated it like a major event.
Especially because both teams possessed incredible young talent.
Barcelona arrived in Manchester two days before the match.
The city felt different from Barcelona.
Colder.
More industrial.
Rio found it interesting.
Though Bella's opinion was much simpler.
"It rains too much."
An entirely fair observation.
The day before the match, both clubs attended promotional events.
Sponsors.
Photographs.
Interviews.
The usual football obligations.
Rio wasn't particularly excited about them.
Then he heard a familiar name.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
The young Portuguese winger was already becoming one of the most talked-about players in Europe.
Fast.
Skilled.
Confident.
Very confident.
Some journalists called him the future of football.
Others said he was still too inconsistent.
Everyone agreed he was talented.
Extremely talented.
Eventually the players from both teams gathered backstage before a media event.
That was where Rio met him for the first time.
Cristiano stood talking with several teammates.
Tall.
Athletic.
The confidence people wrote about seemed very real.
The Portuguese star noticed Rio approaching.
Immediately recognizing him.
Which surprised Rio slightly.
Cristiano extended his hand.
"Rio."
Rio shook it.
"Cristiano."
The Portuguese smiled.
"Good season."
The compliment sounded genuine.
Rio nodded.
"You too."
A pause.
Cristiano laughed.
"The newspapers keep comparing us."
Rio groaned immediately.
Of course they did.
The media loved comparisons.
Especially between young players.
Cristiano shook his head.
"They compare everyone."
"That's true."
The Portuguese smiled again.
Then added:
"Still annoying."
That earned Rio's agreement.
Very quickly.
The conversation continued for several minutes.
Mostly football.
Training.
Matches.
The challenges of becoming first-team players at massive clubs.
Surprisingly, they had a lot in common.
Both were young.
Both faced enormous expectations.
Both had entire countries discussing their futures.
Neither had asked for that attention.
Yet both had learned to live with it.
Eventually teammates called Cristiano away.
Before leaving, he looked back.
"See you tomorrow."
Rio smiled.
"On the pitch."
Cristiano's grin widened.
"Exactly."
The following day, the stadium was packed.
Far more packed than a preseason friendly had any right to be.
But supporters wanted to see stars.
They wanted to see Ronaldinho.
Messi.
Rooney.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
And increasingly, they wanted to see Rio.
The media immediately focused on the meeting between the two young players.
Articles appeared everywhere.
"THE FUTURE OF FOOTBALL?"
"RIO VS RONALDO."
"EUROPE'S NEXT SUPERSTARS COLLIDE."
Both players found the headlines ridiculous.
Neither said so publicly.
But privately?
Absolutely.
The match itself was entertaining.
Fast.
Open.
Attacking.
Exactly what supporters wanted.
And several times during the game, Rio and Cristiano found themselves directly involved in the action.
A brilliant dribble from Cristiano.
A clever pass from Rio.
A dangerous shot.
A dangerous tackle.
Neither player dominated.
Both played well.
And by the final whistle, supporters left satisfied.
The result barely mattered.
The performances did.
After the match, players exchanged shirts.
Rio and Cristiano met again near midfield.
Both exhausted.
Both smiling.
Cristiano pointed toward a group of reporters.
"They're going to ask us about each other."
Rio sighed.
"Definitely."
"They'll do it for years."
The frightening thing was that Cristiano sounded completely serious.
Because he probably was.
The Portuguese offered one final handshake.
"Good luck this season."
"You too."
Then they went their separate ways.
Neither knew it yet.
But football history would connect their names many times in the years ahead.
For now, however, they were simply two young players trying to become great.
Two teenagers carrying enormous expectations.
Two competitors beginning journeys that would eventually reach the very top of world football.
And somewhere in the stands, the first seeds of a future rivalry had quietly been planted.