The week leading up to Azul's first official match at La Masia passed in a blur of drills, tactical sessions, and restless anticipation. For the first time since arriving in Barcelona, he felt something stirring deep inside — a mixture of excitement and pressure that made sleep difficult and mornings sharp.
The academy halls buzzed with energy. The U13 squad was set to face Espanyol's academy, their local rivals. Matches between the two academies were always intense, even at the youth level. Coaches treated them as tests of not just skill, but temperament — a glimpse into who could handle the expectations that came with wearing the crest of FC Barcelona.
Azul tied his boots carefully, his hands trembling slightly. The locker room was alive with chatter, jokes, and bursts of laughter, but he stayed quiet, focused. He looked around at his teammates — boys who had grown up with the Barça philosophy, who knew the system like a second language. He was still the outsider, but today, he would prove that he belonged.
Coach Morales entered, clipboard in hand, voice steady but commanding.
"Listen up," he began. "This isn't just another game. Espanyol will press hard. They'll test your patience, your discipline, your ability to trust the system. Possession, movement, communication — that's how we win. Reyes, you start at central midfield."
Azul's breath caught for a second. Starting. His pulse quickened, but he nodded, expression steady. Morales met his eyes briefly and gave a subtle nod — trust, but also expectation.
---
The bus ride to the Espanyol training grounds was quiet. Azul sat by the window, watching the city pass in blurs of color and movement. Barcelona was alive that morning — the narrow streets full of vendors, tourists, and traffic, the air thick with sea salt and promise.
Pablo sat beside him, tapping his knee nervously. "You ready?"
Azul gave a faint smile. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"You'll do great," Pablo said. "You always do. Just… don't think too much. Play."
Azul nodded, though inside his thoughts churned. He'd waited for this chance since the day he arrived. Every morning drill, every late-night practice, every mistake corrected — it all led here.
---
When they arrived, the Espanyol field gleamed under the late morning sun. The blue and white kits of the home team contrasted sharply with Barça's iconic red and blue. The stands weren't full, but the sound of parents, scouts, and younger players created a low hum of anticipation.
Azul jogged onto the pitch, breathing in deeply. The air felt heavier, charged. He bounced lightly on his feet, stretching, eyes sweeping the field. He watched how Espanyol's players warmed up — aggressive touches, short passes, focused eyes. They played a fast, physical game.
He reminded himself of Morales's words: *Possession. Movement. Communication.*
The whistle blew.
---
The first few minutes were frantic. Espanyol pressed high, swarming every Barça player who touched the ball. Azul barely had time to settle before two defenders closed him down. He turned sharply, passing back to reset possession, but the pace was relentless.
His vision flickered — a quick analysis of positions, angles