Limitless Pitch-Chapter 94 – The Road Away

It was still dark when Thiago woke up. Not the kind of darkness that meant night, but the heavy, gray kind that came just before sunrise—when everything was quiet, and it felt like the world was holding its breath.

He got dressed slowly. His backpack sat by the door, packed since last night. A plain black duffel bag rested next to it. Marina said he didn’t need much for now—just a few essentials. The club would take care of the rest once he arrived in Germany.

He checked his phone. One message from Marina.

"Car will be there in 30 mins. Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got it handled."

Thiago didn’t reply. Not because he was ignoring her, but because there was nothing else to say.

He stepped into the living room and found his mother already awake, sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee between her hands. She’d put on her nicest blouse, the one she usually saved for holidays. Her hair was tied neatly, and she had even put on a touch of lipstick, though it looked like she’d already wiped at her eyes once or twice.

Clara was on the floor, legs crossed in her oversized hoodie, her face tired but awake. She gave him a small wave, trying to smile.

No one really said anything at first. There wasn’t much to say.

His mother stood up and smoothed out her shirt. "You ready?" she asked.

Thiago nodded.

They hugged. Not the short kind. The long, quiet, arms-wrapped-tight kind. The kind that said everything words couldn’t. He could feel her hands trembling slightly as she held him. He didn’t want to let go.

But he did.

Clara hugged him next. She clung to him like she used to when they were little and watching scary movies. "You better text me every day," she mumbled into his shoulder. "And bring me something cool. German chocolate. Or boots. Or—just something."

Thiago laughed quietly and nodded. "Promise."

Then, just before the car arrived, there was a knock on the door.

It was João.

Hair still messy, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, he gave Thiago a look that said I wasn’t going to miss this. They bumped fists, then pulled each other in for a quick, rough hug.

"Germany, huh?" João said, voice half-awake.

"Crazy, right?" Thiago replied.

"You better make it, man."

Thiago nodded, but his voice was low. "I’m gonna try."

"Don’t try. Do it."

A horn sounded outside. Marina’s car.

João clapped him on the shoulder. "Go. You’ve got this."

Thiago gave his mom and Clara one last hug, then stepped outside. The sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in soft orange and pinks. It didn’t look like a goodbye kind of sky. It looked too pretty for that.

He slid into the back seat next to Marina. She wore sunglasses even though the sun was barely out. Her phone was already in her hand, fingers tapping away.

"Everyone said their goodbyes?" she asked.

Thiago nodded. He kept looking out the window as the car pulled away from the curb.

They passed the bakery he used to stop at after school. The barbershop where he’d gotten every haircut since he was eight. The church where his mother dragged him and Clara every Sunday. Each corner held a memory. Every street felt like part of him.

The city rolled past slowly, then faster as they reached the highway.

Marina broke the silence after a while. "Dortmund’s arranging a car to pick us up at the airport. Hotel’s booked. You’ll get your schedule once we check in."

Thiago nodded again. "Right."

"You okay?"

"I think so."

Marina didn’t push. She just leaned back in her seat, phone resting in her lap for once.

When they arrived at the airport, it was still early, and the terminal wasn’t too crowded. Marina handled everything—passports, boarding passes, luggage tags. She moved with the confidence of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

Thiago mostly stayed quiet. He just followed her, head down, hoodie up. Occasionally someone stared a little too long, maybe recognizing his face from the Paulista final. But no one approached.

When it was time to go through security, Marina turned to him.

"I’ll go first. Just follow me through, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks."

He hesitated, then gave her a quick hug. She was caught off guard for a moment, but returned it with a small smile.

"You’re gonna be fine," she said, adjusting the strap on her carry-on.

Then she stepped forward in line, waving him to follow.

The line moved slowly, giving Thiago too much time to think. His heart beat hard in his chest—not panic, but not calm either. Somewhere in between.

The plane was boarding when he reached the gate. He stepped on without much thought, walking down the aisle with his duffel slung over his shoulder. His seat was by the window. The cushion was too stiff, and the air smelled faintly of plastic and something chemical.

He buckled in, leaned back, and stared out at the runway.

It was really happening.

His neighborhood, his school, the alley where he learned to dribble around trash bins—he was leaving it all behind. Not just for a game, but for a dream. One that had somehow turned real.

As the engines rumbled to life, he closed his eyes and tried to picture Germany.

Snow, probably. Big stadiums. Players who didn’t speak Portuguese. Cold weather. Maybe even silence. The kind that settled over foreign places. But also new chances. New teammates. New people. Maybe even new pieces of himself he hadn’t discovered yet.

The plane lifted off, pulling away from the ground, from home, from everything familiar.

Thiago didn’t cry. But something inside him shifted. Like one part of his life had closed quietly, and a new one was cracking open.

He stared out the window as Brazil got smaller and smaller beneath him.

And he whispered under his breath, "Let’s see where this goes."

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