World football system

The soft hum of the morning breeze filtered through the partially opened balcony doors. Tobi sat alone in the nursery, rocking gently in the oversized cushioned chair, his eyes fixed on the peaceful faces of his four sleeping babies — Ava, Luna, Liam, and Thiago. The world outside was loud and demanding, but in here, it was quiet. Sacred.

It was days like this he never imagined having. Not at sixteen. Not when he had first gone back in time. Not when life was a blur of training, matches, and trying to stay afloat with a system in his head and pain in his past. But here he was — father of four, husband-to-be, Champions League winner… and still only twenty-three.

Behind him, Emilia leaned against the doorway, watching the father of her children with a faint smile. Her belly had flattened back to its elegant softness after the long postpartum months, but the light in her eyes had only grown stronger.

"Could watch you all day like that," she murmured.

Tobi turned, and his smile warmed. "Then come sit with me."

She padded over and curled herself into the chair beside him, careful not to disturb the babies. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as naturally as breathing.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked.

"Barely. Ava was up three times. But you already knew that."

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, she kicked me every time you got out of bed."

Emilia tilted her head. "Pre-season starts soon."

"I know." His voice softened. "Just a few days left."

"You ready?"

Tobi looked at her. "No," he admitted. "But I will be. Right now, I'm just… here."

There was a long silence between them, filled only by the cooing of the babies and the morning breeze.

---

Later that day, after feeding time, diaper changes, and managing Luna's sudden refusal to sleep without her plush bunny, Tobi finally stepped out onto the private training pitch behind their home. Not the Emirates, not the club's Colney base — just his own setup, quiet and complete.

He started light — jogging laps, stretching. The twins were three months old now, and he hadn't touched a ball properly since the final. His muscles groaned in protest, not from pain but rust.

He glanced toward the balcony. Emilia was there, holding Liam and waving with her free hand. He waved back, then turned and took his first real shot at the small goal post.

It missed.

"Okay," he muttered. "Let's fix that."

---

Over the next few days, a rhythm returned. Morning chaos with the babies — who somehow managed to scream in perfect stereo. Late breakfast with Emilia. Afternoon light drills. Evening walks with strollers lined up like a parade.

Sometimes they invited Declan Rice and his wife over with their own newborn. Other times, Gabriel Jesus dropped by with gifts for the babies and terrible jokes. Life, for all its unpredictability, had settled into something beautiful.

Arsenal had given him extended leave — Arteta's words had been clear.

> "You gave us the season of our lives. Take your time. Rest your mind. Come back hungry."

And Tobi intended to.

---

One evening, Emilia leaned over during dinner, feeding Ava with one hand and sipping juice with the other.

"You know," she said between spoonfuls, "we haven't told your mum about the honeymoon plans."

Tobi laughed. "She'd try to turn it into a family trip. With the babies."

"She already tried that."

"We're not taking them. I love them more than life, but they're not coming."

Emilia raised a brow. "You think you can survive three days without them?"

He smirked. "Nope. But I'm willing to suffer."

They both laughed, and that sound echoed through the dining room, bouncing off the walls of a house that had once been silent and too big.

---

As pre-season loomed, Tobi's routine intensified. Early mornings, stricter nutrition, sharper training. He could feel his body remembering — the rhythm of movement, the weight of the ball, the pulse of competition.

Yet even now, after hours of sweat and drills, he always returned to the same place — the nursery.

Sometimes he held Ava against his chest and hummed old Cape Verdean lullabies his mother used to sing. Sometimes he rocked Liam until his tiny mouth opened in a silent snore. Other times he watched Emilia sleep beside Luna, the baby curled into her chest like a heartbeat returned.

These were his trophies now. The Champions League medals were in a case. The goals? On YouTube. But this… this was living.

---

On the last night before his return to training with Arsenal, Tobi stood alone outside under the stars, looking up.

The past eight years flashed in his mind. The suicide. The system. The grinding climb. The heartbreaks. The impossible comebacks. And now?

A father of four. Still growing. Still not perfect. But alive. Fully.

"Thank you," he whispered to no one in particular.

And maybe — just maybe — the universe whispered back.

The buzz of the Premier League season was back, and the air was electric with anticipation. The sun cast a golden hue over London Colney as Arsenal's first-team squad gathered on the training pitch. The smell of freshly cut grass, the sharp bark of the coaches, and the rhythmic thud of footballs being passed around were all signs that another grueling season was about to begin. But for Tobi Oliveira, this wasn't just another season. This was the season to cement his legacy.

It had been a whirlwind of a summer. After winning the Champions League and Premier League double last season, Tobi had taken much-needed time off to be with Emilia and their four newborns: Ava, Luna, Liam, and Thiago. Nights filled with bottle feeding, lullabies, and quiet moments with Emilia had left an imprint on his soul. But now, it was time to step back onto the pitch, to become the ruthless competitor the footballing world had come to fear and admire.

As Mikel Arteta addressed the squad in the center circle, Tobi stood tall beside Bukayo Saka and Martin Ødegaard, his eyes scanning the faces of his teammates. The hunger in their eyes was mirrored in his own. They had tasted glory, but defending it was an even harder task.

"This year," Arteta said firmly, "we defend what we earned. Everyone will want to knock us off our pedestal. They will come harder, faster, and with more belief. But we know who we are. We are Arsenal. We are champions."

Cheers erupted, hands clapped, and boots shuffled as training commenced. Tobi was sharp, threading through defenders in tight rondos, delivering precise passes, and finishing with the same venom that had made him the league's top scorer. He hadn't lost a step.

The season opener was set against Manchester United at Old Trafford—a blockbuster fixture to ignite the campaign. The press was already ablaze with headlines: Tobi Returns, The Father of Four Looks to Dominate Again, Clash of Titans: United vs. Arsenal.

Emilia watched from the stands at Old Trafford, the babies in the care of Tobi's mother for the day. She wore a custom red-and-white jersey with "Oliveira #10" printed on the back, her hands clutched nervously in her lap. She knew