Saturday, 22nd March, 2025.

The sun had barely risen when the team bus rolled out of Frankfurt. The soft hum of the engine mixed with the low chatter of players as they settled into their seats for the three-hour trip to Dortmund. A few were asleep, others listening to music, some scrolling through their phones.

Lukas sat by the window, hood over his head, watching the early morning mist drift across the autobahn. Next to him, Adeyemi leaned back in his seat with a grin.

"So, Mr. Frankfurt, how does it feel heading to my home ground?"

Lukas smiled. "You mean the stadium I'll be scoring in tomorrow?"

"Wow," Adeyemi laughed. "You really said that with confidence. You're lucky you weren't part of the team that came to Dortmund at the beginning of the season. You won't be able to experience the full force of The Yellow Wall until next season."

"Oh that's right. When I played against you it was in Frankfurt. I remember that game. It was my third appearance and first start."

"Trust me," Adeyemi said. "I remember the game. Mr. 2 goals and an assist. It's just crazy to think that this was in January, less than 4 months ago."

"Sometimes I am just as surprised," Lukas admitted. "But it's felt like more than 2 years, though. Probably cause I spend 4 days in the LTC every single morning," he thought to himself.

[*It's that a complaint that I'm hearing? You don't think you need the system anymore, huh?*]

"Heyyyyy, of course not! It was just an air observation."

[*It better be!*]

Lukas's phone began buzzing as he was in the middle of conversing with both TT and Adeyemi.

He checked the screen: Dad.

"Yo, excuse me," he said, pulling one earbud out before answering.

"Morning, son," Javi's familiar voice came through, warm as ever.

"Hey, Dad," Lukas said, sitting up straighter. "You sound early."

"I didn't want to call too late," Javi replied. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. We're on the bus heading to Dortmund right now."

"That's great. Just wanted to tell you we'll be coming to Dortmund tomorrow morning — Anne, Marco, João, Joanna, and her parents too."

Lukas blinked. "All of you?"

"Yes and a couple of surprise additions too."

"What surprise additions?" Lukas asked as his brow perched up.

" Don't worry about that. You will see them tomorrow. You've made quite the event of it," Javi chuckled. "Also, as you know, Anne's parents insisted on meeting us properly after the match. Don't forget — dinner at 7:30, at the restaurant Anne booked."

"I remember," Lukas said. "Don't worry, I'll be there. You'll finally get to see Anne's family, huh?"

Javi exhaled softly. "Yeah. It's time."

There was a pause — the comfortable kind that didn't need words.

"I'm proud of you, you know," Javi added. "What you did in Milan... that was special."

"Thanks, Dad," Lukas said, his voice quieter now. "Can't wait to see you all tomorrow."

"Get some rest. You'll need it."

"I will," Lukas said, smiling as he ended the call.

Musiala leaned forward from the row behind. "Your dad?"

"Yeah," Lukas said, slipping his phone into his hoodie pocket. "He's coming with everyone. My agent, Joanna's family too."

"Oh, it's a full house," Adeyemi said with a laugh. "Pressure's on now."

"Pressure's been on since Milan," Lukas replied, smiling.

Musiala chuckled and leaned back. "Speaking of Milan... you sure you don't want to come to Bayern?"

Lukas rolled his eyes. "This again?"

"I'm serious," Musiala said, smirking. "We're building something there. A team to dominate Europe. You, me, a couple more players — we'd be unstoppable."

Before Lukas could answer, a deep voice from the middle rows joined in.

"Forget Bayern," said Rüdiger, turning in his seat. "Real Madrid is the biggest club on earth. You want to be a legend, you come to Madrid. Modrić is leaving this summer — we need a new conductor."

Kimmich turned from the front row with a grin. "You already have Bellingham, Toni. Don't start poaching kids mid-trip."

Rüdiger shrugged. "And you already have Jamal, but that doesn't stop you from trying to steal Lukas either."

The whole bus chuckled. Musiala raised his hands innocently. "Hey, I'm just recruiting talent."

Lukas laughed quietly. "You guys are unbelievable."

Adeyemi elbowed him lightly. "Better get used to it. Once you start playing like this, everyone wants a piece."

Lukas looked out the window again, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. The landscape rolled by, grey skies, open road, the faint reflection of his smile on the glass.

Tomorrow would be another big one.

And everyone — family, friends, and the football world — would be watching.

* * *

Matchday. Sunday Evening, Signal Iduna Park

The Signal Iduna Park was roaring hours before kickoff.

The location of the iconic Yellow Wall, although not present for the international game, was still filled with fans in the the highest of spirits; banners unfurled, flares rising, flags waving in red, black, and gold. The evening sun dipped low behind the west stand, coating the entire pitch in golden light. Germany's home — for tonight — felt like the centre of the world.

The commentary team's voices cut through the background hum as the broadcast went live.

Commentator (Dan O'Hagan):

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Signal Iduna Park in Dortmund — 60,000 strong and absolutely electric for this UEFA Nations League quarter-final second leg between Germany and Italy. Germany with a 3–1 advantage from the first leg in Milan after a dramatic turnaround performance."

Analyst (Sebastian Kehl):

"Yes, Dan, and it was one of those nights that will be remembered for a long time — the debut of Lukas Brandt, the 16-year-old from Eintracht Frankfurt, who came on at halftime and changed the entire complexion of the game. A goal with his first touch, an assist, and then a beautiful goal to seal the night… a sensational debut."

O'Hagan:

"Absolutely. Three goals after he stepped on — he was involved in every single one. It's rare to see such composure and flair from someone that young in a hostile away ground. Now, here in Dortmund, Germany are ninety minutes away from the semi-finals, and the fans expect a show."

The camera panned across the stands — flags, drums, and flares illuminating the darkening sky. The atmosphere was fierce but festive.

Then, as the broadcast transitioned to the warm-ups, the shot zoomed in on Lukas, juggling the ball with calm confidence.

High above the noise and chants, the atmosphere in the executive suite was calmer — refined, yet heavy with anticipation.

Two older figures, around their mid 60s, sat by the glass, arms linked as they watched the players below.

The man had the still, steady posture of an old craftsman: silver hair, strong jaw, and an expression that seemed to carry decades of wisdom. Beside him, the lady, presumably his wife, leaned forward, eyes soft with pride, the faintest smile creasing her face.

Down below, Lukas was jogging and stretching, occasionally tapping the ball between his feet.

The camera caught him juggling the ball with both feet — light, rhythmic, perfectly balanced.

The lady clasped her husband's arm.

"Can you imagine how much he's grown?" she said softly, her voice nearly trembling.

"He's a spitting image of his father."

The man nodded slowly, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips. "He really is. Same walk, same confidence. That's Michi all over again."

The door to the booth opened behind them.

"Mom, Dad," came a familiar voice.

They turned — and there he was, Javi Brandt, tall, well-dressed in a dark turtleneck and blazer, that same easy smile Lukas inherited.

"Michi!! It's been a long time. Come give your mother a hug!" Mrs. Brandt exclaimed as she threw herself off the seat and spread her arms.

"Mom... I told you to stop calling me that. Javi or Michael. Not Michi," Javi said as he faked reluctance but still hugged his mother.

"You should save it... She's not gonna stop," Mr. Brandt said as he looked over at his son.

"Dad."

"Javi."

"It's been a while. I'm glad you could come.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Brandt said. "It's really been a while. It's also been years since we came to Dortmund. The stadium looks… enormous now."

"I'm glad you made it," Javi replied warmly, pulling up a chair beside them.

The door opened again, and Anne walked in — elegant but simple, her hair tied neatly, wearing a light beige blazer and a subtle gold necklace.

"Sorry I'm late," she said with a smile.

"Mom, Dad," Javi said, turning to his parents, "this is Anne — my fiancée."

Anne stepped forward and greeted them both politely. "It's lovely to finally meet you. Javi's told me so much about you."

Mrs. Brandt smiled — kindly, but with a subtle hesitation. "Oh, we've heard a lot about you from Michi too. Welcome, dear."

"Mom!"

"Michi, huh? Someone's been hiding a nickname from me," Anne said, chuckling as she sat down.

The four of them sat down, and small talk began — about the trip from Bremen, about the match, about how incredible the atmosphere was. But beneath the warmth, there lingered a quiet tension.

A/N: Will be trying a different type of labelling for just the commentators/analysts in-game for this particular match. Lemme know if y'all like it or not. If I don't get a response, I'll assume y'all do and keep it.

Love y'all.

-Writ.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.