The next few weeks at La Masia were heavy with unspoken tension. Nico Serrano's quiet resentment simmered beneath every training session, every match, every team meeting. Azul sensed it, but chose silence over confrontation.
Yet silence, in a place where ambition ruled, was often mistaken for arrogance.
During drills, Nico began subtly undermining him — delayed passes, slight hesitations, the kind that made Azul's runs look mistimed. Coach Morales noticed the growing friction. "You two," he barked one afternoon, "either play together or sit out together. This academy builds teams, not egos."
Azul nodded instantly. Nico muttered something, looking away.
That evening, during a video review, Morales paused a clip. Azul had dropped deep, drawn two defenders, and released a through ball — only for Nico to ignore the space and force a shot wide.
Morales turned to them both. "Talent means nothing without trust. Fix it."
Afterward, Azul approached Nico outside the locker room. "If you don't trust me," Azul said calmly, "I can't help you play your best."
Nico's eyes flickered. "I don't need your help."
Azul shrugged. "Then help me. We're supposed to make each other better."
For a long moment, Nico said nothing. Then, almost grudgingly, he nodded. "One match," he said. "Let's see."
---
That weekend, they faced Villarreal's academy — fast, tactical, relentless. Morales paired Azul and Nico in central midfield, a deliberate experiment.
At first, it was chaos. Their timing was off, their communication nonexistent. But as the minutes passed, something began to shift. Nico's aggression complemented Azul's calm; Azul's awareness covered Nico's risks.
By halftime, they were in sync. A perfect rhythm.
Then came the 68th minute. Azul intercepted a pass near halfway and instantly saw the field unfold — defenders out of shape, Nico breaking through the right channel. One touch. Two. Pass.
Nico took it in stride, curved around a defender, and buried the shot.
For a heartbeat, the stadium fell silent — then erupted.
When Nico turned back, Azul was already smiling faintly. No words. Just acknowledgment.
Later, in the locker room, Nico clapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe you're not so bad, Argentina."
Azul laughed. "Maybe neither are you."
The tension, for the first time, cracked open into something else — respect.
---
## **Chapter 13 – The Rival's Shadow**##