The final whistle blew.
Valencia had survived.
The team huddled together, exhausted but elated. They had been tested, they had nearly crumbled, but they had found a way.
As the fans sang their hearts out, Sosa walked over to the stands, raising his arms. stalla answered back with deafening cheers.
"This is a massive win for Valencia," one of the pundits said post-match. "They were made to suffer, but they showed character. And in the race for the top four, monts like this are what make the difference."
For Valencia, it was one step closer to Champions League football.
But with four more battles ahead, they knew—the war was far from over.
....
The sun peeked through Izan’s bedroom window, casting golden streaks across his walls the next morning. His body still ached, and his ankle was stiff from the recovery process, but that was nothing new.
He had gotten used to the discomfort—the quiet price he paid for his ambitions.
The echoes of last night’s match still rang in his ears. Valencia’s narrow 3-2 win against Alavés had been a rollercoaster.
It had been frustrating watching from the stands, unable to influence the ga, but when Sosa scored the last-minute winner, Izan had felt the sa rush of euphoria as if he had been on the pitch.
Now, it was back to reality.
He was still a high school senior, just a few months away from completing his studies.
His na was becoming a worldwide football sensation, but in school, he was still just another student—albeit one with an absurd amount of dia attention.
He knew balancing football and school was tough, but he couldn’t afford to let one suffer because of the other.
He sighed and pushed himself out of bed, careful not to put too much pressure on his injured leg. He had a long day ahead—recovery at Paterna, school, and then back ho to study.
...
Izan arrived at school to the usual sight—students whispering and stealing glances at him. So walked up to congratulate him on Valencia’s win.
Others, mostly younger students, tried to take photos when they thought he wasn’t looking but he had seen them.
He had gotten used to it by now, but he still found it amusing how quickly things had changed.
Just a year ago, he was just another teenager playing youth football. Now, he was a La Liga star.
"Izan!" a familiar voice called out.
He turned to see Sosa jogging toward him, his face beaming with excitent.
"Yesterday was definitely one of the best days of my life," Sosa said, slinging an arm over Izan’s shoulder. "The ndizorrotza went crazy after my goal. I think I almost lost my hearing."
Izan chuckled. "I know dummy. I was there but good technique for that goal."
Sosa smirked. "What can I say? I learn from the best."
They both laughed, walking side by side toward the school building. Even though they were teammates, their bond extended beyond football.
"So, how’s recovery?" Sosa asked.
Izan sighed. "About 3 weeks left. The physios have on RICE—rest, ice, compression, elevation. I’ll probably only be back for the last ga of the season."
Sosa whistled. "Damn. That’s gotta be frustrating."
"It is," Izan admitted. "Watching you guys play while I’m stuck on the sidelines? It’s torture."
"You’re missing the best part of the season too," Sosa added. "The fight for the top four is getting crazy. We needed that win yesterday, but there’s no room to slip up."
Izan nodded. "Yeah. Bilbao are right behind us. We can’t afford to drop points."
Sosa leaned in slightly. "And Madrid?"
Izan gave him a knowing look. "They’re running away with it. If they don’t bottle it, the league is theirs."
"But Barcelona won’t let it go that easily," Sosa countered. "They’ve been on fire."
"True. Either way, we have our own battle to focus on," Izan said.
Sosa stretched his arms dramatically. "And that ans I might have to score in every ga until you get back."
Izan laughed. "Then you better get your scoring boots on because that is a hard task to fulfill. I would not want soone to take your place"
They both chuckled, but there was truth in their words. Football was ruthless. No matter how good you were, soone was always waiting to take your place.
As they reached the school entrance, Sosa groaned. "I almost forgot—I have an exam today."
Izan raised a brow. "You studied, right?"
Sosa shrugged. "I an… kind of?"
Izan shook his head. "Man, you can’t slack off now. We’re almost done with school. Just a little more effort."
"Easy for you to say," Sosa muttered. "You’ve always had your school stuff together."
Izan sighed. It wasn’t easy keeping up with his studies while being a professional footballer, but he had made a promise to himself—and to his family—that he wouldn’t neglect his education.
"Look, if you need help, I can send you my notes," Izan offered.
Sosa’s face lit up. "Bro, you’re a lifesaver."
Izan smirked. "Just don’t fail, or I’ll have to stop associating with you."
They laughed as they entered the school, blending into the chaos of students rushing to their classes.
For a mont, it almost felt like a normal day—two teenagers going about their business, cracking jokes, and dealing with school stress.
But deep down, they both knew that their paths were anything but normal. They weren’t just students.
They were professional footballers, fighting for their place in the sport they loved.
....
The week moved quickly for Izan, yet each day felt painstakingly slow. His body was stuck in recovery mode, but his mind raced constantly, filled with thoughts of the team’s next match.
He was supposed to be out on the pitch helping Valencia, not watching from the sidelines. But the reality was reality—he had to recover properly if he wanted to return stronger.
Every morning, Izan made his way to Paterna, Valencia’s training complex, where he continued his rehabilitation under Luis Navarro and the club’s dical staff.
The swelling in his ankle had reduced significantly, and he had started light mobility exercises, but full training was still a few weeks away.
"You’re progressing faster than expected," Navarro told him on Wednesday morning as Izan pushed against a resistance band with his injured leg.
"But don’t let that get to your head. We need you back at 100%, not 80%."
Izan exhaled and nodded. "I know."
Navarro chuckled. " You don’t want to miss gas and I get it. That’s the ntality of a top player, but trust , this break might do you so good.
You’ve been pushing yourself hard all season. Use this ti to recharge, ntally and physically."
That was easier said than done. Izan was still balancing his final year of high school, and with exams approaching, his mother Komi had been particularly strict about his studies.
At ho, Hori took every opportunity to tease him. "Imagine failing your exams after all this football hype," she smirked one evening. "What will the headlines say? ’Valencia’s Golden Boy Can’t Solve X Y’?"
Izan rolled his eyes. "I’ll be fine. Just focus on your grades"
Even though Izan’s daily schedule revolved around training and recovery, school was still a major part of his life.
He t Sosa between classes on Thursday, and the two found themselves discussing Valencia’s last match.
They both knew the upcoming ga was a critical one. Valencia was still in the thick of the race for a Champions League spot, and with only four gas remaining after this, every point mattered.
By Saturday morning, the anticipation had fully settled in. Even though Izan wasn’t traveling with the team, he woke up early, already restless.
The squad’s group chat was buzzing.
Hugo Duro: "Matchday, boys. Another three points incoming."
Sosa: "A goal is guaranteed from , don’t worry."
Mamardashvili: "Just make sure you defend better than last ga after you ca on."
Thierry Correia: "@Sosa, stop chatting and deliver on the pitch."
Gayà: "Focus, guys. Vallecas isn’t easy."
Izan smirked at the ssages. The squad’s chemistry was solid, even in tense monts. He sent a quick response:
• Izan: "Make sure you win. Don’t make suffer watching another stressful ga."
After breakfast, he turned on his laptop and rewatched Rayo Vallecano’s last match to analyze their strengths and weaknesses.
They were a compact, aggressive side, strong at ho and relentless in pressing. Valencia would have to be sharp in possession and clinical with their chances.
As the hours passed, his nerves built up. No matter how much he tried to relax, he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to be on that pitch. The team had prepared all week, but now it was ti to execute.
At 8:30 PM, the match would kick off at Estadio de Vallecas, and Izan would be watching from his couch, hoping his teammates could deliver.
A/n: I’m really tired. Anyway, have fun reading. I’ll see you in the afternoon with an extra chapter or tomorrow. Byee. I’m really down bad for the euros chapters.
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