Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 520: One more time

"Communication," Ms. Tongues said. "It is not just about words. It is about understanding. Context. Nuance. A gesture can mean a thousand words."

Alex sat at his desk. He was looking at a phrasebook.

Italian for beginners.

He already knew Ciao. And Pizza. And Scudetto.

"Mr. Finch," Ms. Tongues asked. "How do you say ’victory’ in Italian?"

Alex looked up.

"Vittoria, Miss," Alex said.

"Correct," Ms. Tongues smiled. "And how do you say ’defense’?"

"Difesa."

"Excellent."

Mark sat next to Alex. He was wearing a fake mustache and holding a baguette (again).

"I speak fluent French!" Mark announced. " Omelette du fromage!" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"That is from a cartoon, Mark," Ms. Tongues sighed.

"It is a classic!" Mark argued. "Also, I can speak Spanish. Hola! Fiesta! Nachos!"

"Mark," Alex whispered. "We are going to Italy. You need Italian."

"Italian is easy!" Mark said. "You just wave your hands like this!"

Mark started waving his hands wildly, knocking over a pile of dictionaries.

"Mark!" Ms. Tongues shouted. "Please stop communicating with the furniture!"

The bell rang.

Alex packed his bag.

Italy. Milan.

Champions League. Semi-Final. Second Leg.

Inter Milan vs Arsenal.

The San Siro.

They had a 2-1 lead from the first leg. But the San Siro was a different beast. It was loud. It was hostile.

Alex walked out to the car park.

Milo was waiting.

Milo was dressed as... a Gladiator.

He was wearing a plastic breastplate, a red cape, and sandals with socks. He was holding a foam sword.

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?" Milo screamed at a passing pigeon. "ALEX! I AM THE WARRIOR! I AM SELLING GLADIATOR SANDALS! THEY ARE JUST FLIP FLOPS WITH STRAPS! BUT THEY ARE HISTORIC! TEN POUNDS A PAIR!"

"Milo, it is raining," Alex said. "Your sandals are getting wet."

"A TRUE WARRIOR DOES NOT FEAR PUDDLES!" Milo yelled, stepping in a puddle and splashing his socks. "SQUISH!"

They drove to the airport.

Steve, the manager, was waiting on the plane.

"The San Siro," Steve said. "It is intimidating. The fans are close. They whistle. They scream."

He looked at the team.

"Inter will attack. They need a goal. They will throw everything at us. Thuram. Martinez. Barella."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You speak the language of football. Translate the pressure into power."

"I will be the interpreter," Alex promised.

Milan. The San Siro.

The stadium was a cauldron. The Inter fans had created a giant tifo. It showed a snake eating a cannon.

"That is rude," Mark said, looking at the picture. "Snakes should not eat metal. It is bad for digestion."

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Lautaro Martinez stood next to him. The Bull.

"You are in my house now," Lautaro said.

"Nice house," Alex replied. "Big roof."

Lautaro frowned. "We will close the roof on you."

The whistle blew.

The game started.

Inter came out fighting. They pressed high. They tackled hard.

In the fifth minute, Dumfries ran down the wing. He crossed.

Thuram jumped. He headed the ball.

Raya saved.

The crowd roared. Inter! Inter!

"They are angry!" Rico shouted. "They are shouting in Italian!"

"Ignore the words!" Alex yelled. "Focus on the ball!"

Arsenal struggled. The 2-1 lead felt fragile.

In the twenty fifth minute, Barella got the ball.

He shot from distance.

It took a deflection off Gabriel.

It spun past Raya.

Goal.

One zero. Inter Milan.

Aggregate score: 2-2.

The stadium erupted. The noise was deafening.

Alex stood in the center circle.

"Reset!" Alex shouted. "We start again!"

But Inter had the momentum. They pushed Arsenal back.

Halftime. One zero.

The dressing room was tense.

"They are bullying you," Steve said. "They are using the crowd. You are letting them speak louder than you."

He looked at Mark.

"Speed. You are quiet. Why?"

"They are shouting at me!" Mark said. "They said something about pineapple on pizza! It was very offensive!"

"Ignore the pizza," Steve said. "Run."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Change the conversation."

Second half.

The game was tight. Tense.

Sixtieth minute.

Alex had the ball.

He saw the Inter midfield. They were compact.

He saw Rico.

Alex played a "Wall Pass".

He passed to Rico. Rico passed back.

Alex ran into the space.

He was thirty yards out.

He saw Mark making a run.

But Bastoni was tracking him.

Alex did not pass.

He drove forward.

He did a "Feint". He pretended to shoot.

The defender flinched.

Alex dragged the ball to his left.

He was on the edge of the box.

He saw the bottom corner.

He hit it.

Low. Hard.

Sommer dived. He got a hand to it.

The ball hit the post.

It bounced out.

Saka was there.

Saka tapped it in.

Goal.

One one. (3-2 Aggregate).

"Yes!" Alex screamed.

Arsenal had the lead again.

But Inter were not done.

Seventy fifth minute.

Dimarco crossed.

Martinez volleyed.

Goal.

Two one. Inter. (3-3 Aggregate).

The stadium went crazy. We were heading for Extra Time. Again.

"Not again," Mark groaned. "My legs are jelly!"

Ninetieth minute.

Injury time.

Alex had the ball.

He looked at the clock. 90+4.

One minute left.

He saw a gap. A tiny gap in the Inter defense.

He started to run.

He ran past Calhanoglu. He ran past Acerbi.

He was in the box.

He could shoot.

But he saw Mark.

Mark was at the back post. He was unmarked.

Alex clipped the ball.

It floated over the defense.

Mark watched it.

He jumped.

He did not head it.

He did a "Scorpion Kick".

He threw his legs behind his head. He hit the ball with his heels.

It was insane. It was acrobatic.

The ball flew into the net.

GOAL.

Two two. (4-3 Aggregate).

Mark landed on his face. He jumped up. He ran to the corner.

"SCORPION KING!" Mark screamed. "I AM THE VENOM!"

Alex ran over. "You did a scorpion! In the last minute!"

"It was the only way!" Mark yelled. "I channeled my inner arachnid!"

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Inter Milan 2.

Arsenal won 4-3 on aggregate.

They were in the Final.

Alex fell to the ground.

Another final. Another chance at glory.

Lautaro walked over. He looked crushed.

"You are annoying," Lautaro said. "But you are a warrior."

"Grazie," Alex said.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a toga and a laurel wreath (he must have stolen it from Mark).

"THE EMPEROR!" Milo screamed. "WE CONQUERED ROME! (Well, Milan!). ALEX! I AM SELLING PIECES OF THE COLOSSEUM! IT IS JUST ROCKS FROM THE GARDEN! BUT THEY ARE HISTORIC ROCKS!"

"Milo, put the rocks down," Alex laughed.

They walked into the dressing room.

The team was singing.

Alex checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Linguistic analysis: You spoke the universal language of football. Mark’s scorpion kick had a probability of 0.001%. It was statistically impossible. But highly entertaining. Also, Ms. Tongues says you passed the oral exam. Barely."

Alex smiled.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was trying to do the scorpion kick again on the massage table.

"Look!" Mark shouted. "I am flexible!"

He fell off the table. Thud.

"I am okay!" Mark yelled from the floor. "My shell protected me!"

Alex shook his head.

They were going to the Final.

Against who?

He checked the screen.

Real Madrid.

Again.

The Trilogy.

"One more time," Alex whispered.

"One more lesson."