As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Komi rested her head against Miranda’s shoulder, exhaling in contentnt.
Miranda responded with a casual arm around her waist, her fingers lightly tracing small circles against the fabric of Komi’s dress.
Izan shook his head. "You two are acting like I’m not even here."
Izan shook his head. "You two are acting like I’m not even here."
Komi smiled but didn’t move. "You’ll survive."
Miranda chuckled. "You’d better get used to it."
Eventually, the conversation returned to football.
Miranda outlined the offers that had been coming in—endorsent deals, a potential long-term brand partnership, and of course, growing interest from other clubs.
"I know your focus is on Valencia," Miranda said. "And that’s exactly where it should be. But that doesn’t an we ignore what’s happening around us."
Izan nodded. He had been through enough dia noise to know how these things worked. "So, what do we do?"
"For now? Nothing. Play the final. Win it. The rest will follow." Miranda said as she brought Komi’s wine glass to her mouth.
Simple enough.
As the night wound down, Miranda eventually stood to leave. Komi walked her to the door, and Izan noticed the way they lingered for a mont, exchanging quiet words he didn’t quite catch.
As the door closed behind Miranda, Komi turned back toward the living room, catching Izan’s knowing look.
"What?" she asked.
Izan smirked. "Nothing."
Komi gave him a playful shove on the shoulder before heading toward the kitchen. "Get so sleep. You’ll need it."
"I think you should too" Izan shot back and ran before Komi could recover from the situation.
Getting to his room, Izan fell onto the bed, sinking into the sheets. Acteraying there for a while, he stretched as he stood up, exhaustion finally winning over.
As he made his way to his bathroom, he couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease.
....
The days leading up to the Copa del Rey final were nothing short of relentless at Paterna.
Training had shifted into an entirely different gear—no more casual drills, no more lighthearted banter.
Every session was a battle, with every player pushing themselves to the limit.
The air was thick with tension, but also with hunger. They knew what was at stake.
On the training pitch, Baraja stood with his arms crossed, watching as his players ran through tactical exercises.
The defensive unit worked tirelessly on shape and transitions, ensuring they could withstand Bilbao’s aggressive pressing.
anwhile, Izan led the attacking drills, orchestrating plays with a sharpness that left his teammates both impressed and exhausted.
During one of the scrimmages, Izan picked up the ball near the byline, quickly glancing up to assess his options.
With a burst of acceleration, he drove past two defenders before slipping a perfectly tid pass through to Hugo Duro, who finished with a crisp strike into the bottom corner.
Baraja nodded approvingly. "That’s the kind of movent we need in the final. Quick, decisive, and clinical."
Pietro jogged past Izan, shaking his head. "Man, you’re making us look bad."
Izan smiled before speaking, "Try keeping up."
"Yeah. Easy for you to say" Pietro said before chasing after the ball again.
Despite the exhaustion, the squad’s morale remained high.
They could feel the weight of the final looming over them, but there was no fear—only determination.
At the end of training, Baraja gathered the team in a circle.
"Listen up," he said, voice firm. "We’re one ga. Just one ga away from sothing special.
One ga away from bringing this club back to where it belongs. Lets Play like warriors.
Play with heart. And most of all—enjoy it. These monts don’t co often."
A collective nod went around the squad. They knew.
Outside the training ground, the footballing world was buzzing. Every Spanish sports channel, every online debate, and every radio discussion was centered around one thing—the Copa del Rey final.
Journalists dissected every angle of the upcoming clash, comparing the strengths and weaknesses of both teams.
Statistical breakdowns flooded the airwaves:
Valencia’s top scorer: Izan (26 goals this season in all competitions. 21 in Laliga)
Athletic Bilbao’s top scorer: Iñaki Williams (16 goals this season in LaLiga)
Valencia’s key playmaker: Izan (18 assists in all competitions)
Athletic Bilbao’s most creative player: Oihan Sancet (7 assists, 9 goals)
Head-to-head record in the last five etings: 2 wins each, 1 draw
"Valencia’s resurgence this season has been nothing short of remarkable," one analyst said on national television.
"But Bilbao has the experience. This is going to be a battle of energy versus resilience."
Fans online engaged in heated discussions, debating everything from starting lineups to predicted scores.
So believed Valencia’s attacking prowess, led by Izan and the others, would be too much for Bilbao’s defense.
Others argued that Bilbao’s ability to grind out results in high-pressure gas gave them the edge.
anwhile, betting sites saw a surge in activity as people placed their wagers.
....
In a small café in Valencia, Mateo sat with a few friends, his phone in hand as he scrolled through betting odds.
His eyes lit up as he saw the numbers—Valencia to win in regular ti was going for decent odds.
He leaned forward, tapping on his stake. "All in on Valencia," he said with a grin.
His friend Rafa raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Bilbao is tough."
Mateo shrugged. "Izan, Duro, and the boys are in form. This is their mont. Plus, they won a lot against Barcelonaso I should be ready to stake at least this much"
The group laughed, so agreeing while others remained skeptical. Regardless of their opinions, the excitent was undeniable.
"Just imagine," Mateo continued, "if they pull it off. The city’s going to erupt."
.....
On Valencia’s official social dia accounts, the buildup to the final was in full force.
Fans flooded the club’s Twitter and Instagram pages with ssages of encouragent, desperation, and anticipation.
@ValenciaCFFan94: Please, bring the cup ho. We’ve waited long enough.
@IzanMagic: Izan, this is your ti. Show them why you’re the best!
@VCFHeart: Whatever it takes. Just win. JUST WIN.
The club’s official account finally responded with a simple but powerful ssage:
"We hear you. We see you. And we’ll do whatever it takes."
The post went viral almost instantly, spreading across fan forums and news outlets.
The connection between the club and its supporters had never felt stronger.
As the city of Valencia settled into the evening before the final, the atmosphere was electric.
Restaurants and bars were filled with fans discussing the ga, their voices tinged with a mix of excitent and nerves.
Inside the team hotel, the Valencia squad had finished their final preparations.
The coaching staff had gone over the ga plan one last ti, reminding the players of their roles and responsibilities.
In his hotel room, Izan lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed with ssages from friends, family, and teammates, but he kept his replies short. He needed to stay locked in.
A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. It was Gaya.
"You good?" Gaya asked, stepping inside.
Izan nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking."
Gaya smirked. "About how many goals you’re going to score?"
Izan chuckled. "Sothing like that."
They stood in silence for a mont before Gaya clapped him on the shoulder. "Get so rest. Tomorrow, we make history."
As Pietro left, Izan took a deep breath. The ti for talk was over. Tomorrow, it was all or nothing.
anwhile, in the northern city of Bilbao, their team was going through its final training session.
Unlike Valencia’s high-intensity, attack-focused drills, Bilbao’s preparation was thodical and calculated.
Their emphasis was on defensive structure and counter-attacks—readying themselves for the inevitable waves of pressure Valencia would bring.
Coach Ernesto Valverde drilled into his players the importance of discipline. "They will co at us with speed, but we control the pace. Our ti will co."
As they finished training, the ssage in the Bilbao camp was clear: they were ready for war.
The final hours before the Copa del Rey showdown were eerily calm. In Valencia, fans went about their routines, but the anticipation was unbearable.
At ho, Komi and Hori sat watching the pre-matchday analysis that night.
"You nervous for him?" Komi asked with a small smile.
Hori shrugged. "Maybe a little. But he’ll be fine."
Komi leaned back. "He’s worked hard for this."
As the caras zood in on Valencia’s training footage, a reporter spoke over the highlights.
"Izan, just 16 years old, has already made a na for himself as one of Spain’s most exciting young talents and solidified his stance as an object of interest to most teams.
But tomorrow, arguably, the biggest test of his career awaits."
Hori smirked. "No pressure, right?"
Komi exhaled, looking at her phone where ssages from family and friends filled her notifications. The entire city was behind Izan.
No matter what happened tomorrow, it was already clear—this final was going to be unforgettable.
A/n: first of the day. Have fun reading and I’ll see you with the second in the afternoon. Byeeee
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