The session had barely started, and Lukas was already regretting it. Ibrahimović stood over him like a smug martial arts master, arms folded, watching as Lukas tried — and failed — to hold a simple side split.

"Come on, Brandt," Zlatan said, his voice equal parts mockery and amusement. "You fly around the pitch like a falcon, but your legs move like a door hinge."

Lukas grunted, sinking lower, pain shooting up his thighs. "This… is not natural."

"It is," Zlatan replied coolly, dropping into a perfect split as if gravity itself obeyed him. "You just have weak flexibility — and weak mind."

That stung more than the stretch. Determined, Lukas kept at it, but each attempt ended the same way: him toppling over while Zlatan laughed, shaking his head.

Eventually, the Swede decided flexibility wasn't enough. "We do Taekwondo next," he announced, eyes glinting.

The first sparring session was chaos — Lukas barely had time to raise his guard before Zlatan's leg snapped past his ear like a whip. The second wasn't much better. The third ended with Lukas flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and wondering why he'd agreed to this in the first place.

Still, he kept coming back. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was because every time he got knocked down, Zlatan just smirked and said, "Good. Now you're learning."

By the fifth session, Lukas could finally parry a few kicks — not win, not even close — but at least last longer than before. And for Zlatan, that was victory enough.

* * *

Lukas opened his eyes and looked around his surroundings. He was in his living room, laying on the couch while the highlights of the first leg of the Champions League RO16 between Leverkusen and Bayern Munich was playing on the TV screen while muted.

Leverkusen were torn to shreds in that match, and in a few minutes, the second leg would commence which would most likely see the current Bundesliga champions knocked out of the competition.

"Damn... Who knew it was possible to contort your body like that? And here I was, thinking the KDB training was hell."

He had just finished his first session — which was more like a half-session as he only started training with Zlatan about 40 hours into his LTC session — but it felt like he was pushed harder than all of his training sessions with De Bruyne combined.

"Well, considering the fact I only had to play the ball with KDB during training. I never knew I would be asked to fight Zlatan, though," he thought as he stretched his body on the couch.

After that little display the Ibrahimovic Ego showed Lukas, which Lukas tried, and failed horribly as his knees gave out halfway and he hit the ground, they moved on to flexibility drills.

But just when the session was starting to seem like something he could handle, Ibrahimovic suggested a sparring Taekwondo session!

"I've never been beaten so hard in my life."

[*Pain builds character,*] TT's voice sounded in his head.

"Then I must be full of character right now."

"Are you awake? I hope we didn't disturb you?" A woman's voice came from the kitchen behind Lukas, causing him to turn around and to see who was there.

"Anne. You're here?" Lukas said, surprised to see his father's girlfriend in his kitchen.

"Yeah. I came with your dad. He's using the restroom. We just got here a couple minutes ago. Hope we didn't disturb you? I tried to stay silent when we came in and saw you sleeping."

"Oh... No, of course not. I was just getting a shut eye, I wasn't really asleep. What are you doing?"

"Well... Your father's worried about what you eat, so I brought some food for you."

"He knows I get healthy meals from the club, right?"

"I said the same. But according to him, 'The food from the club is made to be healthy, not delicious.' Or however he says it."

"I have never said that," Javi interrupted as he walked out from the corridor. "I just don't think a meal can't be both healthy and delicious," he added as he turned to Lukas. "How are you doing, boy?"

"I'm doing great, Dad. I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, I planned it as a surprise, but when I came, you weren't responding so I let myself in."

"It's okay. I was just getting some shut eye."

"Alright. There's a reason Anne and I are here," Javi started as he sat down on the couch beside Lukas while Anne walked over from behind them and sat down too.

"Anne and I... are getting engaged."

Anne stared at Lukas's face with worry, fearing that the boy would not accept her into the family or he might have some reservations about his father getting married.

Unbeknownst to her, Lukas and Javi had already had this conversation a while back before he proposed to her a few days ago.

Lukas looked at his dad, then at Anne, and back at his dad, then smiled wildly. "Took you long enough, I must say... I was wondering when you were finally going to get married."

"Wait, really? You're okay with it?" Anne asked.

"Why wouldn't I be. You make each other happy. And as long as my dad's happy, I am happy.

Also, Dad, didn't you tell you already had my blessing?"

"Wait, what? JAVI... He already knew? You... said... he... didn't," Anne said slowly as she turned to face her now fiancé.

"Ahem... What are you talking about, Lukas? When did we ever discuss that?

Don't listen to this boy, Anne, tell him about the other thing," Javi replied as he desperately tried to change the topic.

"I see what you're trying to do. I'll let you off this time," she said to Javi, before turning to Lukas. "Wanna meet my parents? They will be happy to see you."

"Yeah? Definitely. When is the meeting?"

"I know you're with the national team during the break, congratulations on that by the way, we can all have dinner after the home game against Italy."

"Oh alright then. They will be traveling to Dortmund for the match? Where do they live?"

"They're here in Frankfurt. But yeah, they will also be at the Signal Iduna Park for the match."

"I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"Me... too," Javi added as he tried to hide his nervousness. That day would be the first time he'd be meeting his future in-laws too. "By the way," he said as he turned to Lukas. "Marco says he'll be here first thing tomorrow morning. Apparently there's something very important he wants to talk to us about. It shouldn't take very long. He'll be here by breakfast."

"Alright then, no problem," Lukas responded as he increased the volume of the television as the Champions League anthem began playing on the screen.

The new family sat around with fresh fruits as the second leg between Bayern Munich and Leverkusen kicked off.

* * *

It was just past dawn on Wednesday morning, the faint light of sunrise spilling gently through the blinds of Lukas's apartment at the ProfiCamp. The air was quiet except for the low hum of the heating and the occasional distant rumble of an early train. The smell of coffee hung faintly in the small kitchen where Lukas sat at the table, still in his training hoodie, his hair tousled from sleep. Across from him sat his father, Javi, arms folded, his expression calm but watchful.

Then came a soft knock at the door. Lukas got up and opened it to see Marco — his agent — standing there, coat collar turned up against the cold, a faint grin on his face. He carried his usual leather folder and looked like a man who hadn't slept much.

"Morning," Marco greeted as he stepped in, rubbing his hands. "Sorry to come so early. But I thought you'd want to hear this in person."

They gathered around the table, and Marco wasted no time. He opened his folder, sliding a paper across the table — figures, numbers, and a letterhead that Lukas instantly recognized: FC Bayern München.

"They're serious," Marco began, leaning back. "A representative met with me yesterday in Munich. They're offering five times what you're earning here. Base salary, bonuses, image rights — everything. They even said, and I quote, they're willing to pay whatever it takes to get you out of Frankfurt."

Javi gave a quiet whistle under his breath. "That's… quite something," he muttered.

But Lukas didn't say anything. He simply stared at the paper, eyes flicking across the numbers. It was absurd — the kind of offer that would have made most players jump without thinking. Yet his expression didn't change.

"I'm not leaving Frankfurt," Lukas said at last. His tone was steady, certain. "Not now. Not for Bayern."

Marco looked at him, not surprised but still a little taken aback by the firmness in his voice. "You're sure? This is—"

"I'm sure," Lukas cut in. "This club gave me my chance. I'm not walking out just because someone flashes money."

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