A couple of U21 players jogged onto the field, still half-heartedly stretching and talking amongst themselves.
"Look at this," one of them, a midfielder named Jake, joked, glancing at Leo.
"Our boy here, thinking he's Ronaldo, already out here doing extra training before the rest of us even wake up."
The player said it quietly but in a quiet morning like that, Leo could here even if he didn't want to.
But he paid them no mind.
Instead, he lined up another shot, his foot sending the ball into the bottom corner with ease.
The sound of it slapping the net made Jake, a Wigan local scoff, but it didn't deter Leo's focus.
He just kept on, until then the grounds became much more lively
"Bet he's got a secret diet or something," another player, Ben, chimed in as he jogged past, not even looking in Leo's direction.
"All this extra training and we're still stuck in bed." He slapped his hands together, giving a mock salute.
"Keep it up, mate. You'll be in the first team in no time, eh?"
The conversation continued among the others, some laughing, others shaking their heads.
A few of the players ignored him entirely, accustomed to Leo's lone training sessions.
They had seen him work before—before he became one of them.
Determined, quiet, focused.
Some respected it; others just shrugged it off as one of his quirks.
As the U21 squad began to gather, the noise of light-hearted banter picked up.
Players stretched, jogged in place, and casually tossed the ball around.
A few kicked it aimlessly back and forth, warming up without much urgency.
Coach Thompson, Nolan's assistant when the former was the youth Coach arrived shortly after, clipboard in hand, his usual crispness in his stride.
He paused for a moment to assess the field, before blowing his whistle sharply.
"Alright," he said, his tone shifting from casual to crisp.
"Before we get started today, I've got someone to properly introduce—though to be honest, most of you don't need the introduction."
The group quieted. A few turned their heads toward Leo, who stood just off to the side, wiping sweat from his brow.
Coach Thompson pointed his pen in Leo's direction.
"This is Leo. As of this morning, he's officially one of you—signed and registered."
There were a few mutters in the group. Not surprise, but something else—acknowledgment, or maybe quiet annoyance.
Leo looked at the players in front of him, Ezra giving him a thumbs-up that prompted Leo to smile.
"Now, I don't expect any of you to act like strangers," Thompson continued.
"The lad had been training with you for a month. And in case you've forgotten, he bested most of you in the scrimmages during that stretch—and I mean most."
A collective groan rippled through the circle. One or two heads dropped.
A few players chuckled under their breath. Jake let out an exaggerated sigh and glanced at Ben.
"Oh, come on," Jake muttered just loud enough for the group to hear, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Didn't realize we were signing Messi."
Ben snorted.
"Next thing you know he's taking all our spots."
A couple of the other lads nearby—ones who usually orbited around Jake and Ben—grinned and exchanged quick looks, but no one dared to say much more.
The atmosphere hung on the edge, tense with the kind of ego-wounded energy that could turn fast.
Coach Thompson didn't miss a beat.
"Jake. Ben." His voice sliced through the morning like a blade.
Both players stiffened.
"You two—and your little peanut gallery—grab cones from the shed and set up the midfield grid. Now. And make it sharp."
"What? Coach—" Jake started, but Thompson cut him off with a look.
"You want to act like you're above the standards here? Then you can do the prep work while the rest of the team gets going. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to sit the session out entirely?"
"No, Coach," Ben mumbled, already turning toward the storage shed.
Jake kicked at the grass, muttering something under his breath before following.
A few of the others exchanged glances—some amused, some wary—but no one argued. Thompson wasn't the kind to bluff.
He turned back to the rest of the squad. "Anyone else got something smart to say?"
Silence.
"Good. Then let's get back to doing what we're here for—training like a team."
Coach Thompson clapped his hands twice, firm and sharp.
"Right, listen up. One-touch game, with tight spaces, and sharp movement. Four teams, rotating through. Two-minute rounds, winner stays on."
The players split up quickly, some with lazy grins, others stretching out their legs and bouncing on their toes.
The teasing had faded into the background now—this was familiar territory. Competition had a way of leveling egos.
Thompson didn't say it outright, but everyone saw where he pointed first.
"Leo, you're in. Blue bib."
Leo tugged the bib over his head and stepped into the grid.
His first touch came almost immediately—a quick trap-and-pop pass that threaded cleanly between two defenders to a teammate streaking up the side. One-touch.
Just as instructed.
The tempo ramped up fast. Voices barked. Feet clattered. Leo adjusted quickly, his movements clean, and efficient.
He wasn't trying to dazzle—just make the right decisions, quickly. That was the game.
Thompson watched from the sideline, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—not just at the team as a whole, but specifically at Leo.
Tracking his movement. Measuring every pass, every adjustment.
The ball zipped toward Leo again—awkward height, low bounce.
He flicked it across with the outside of his boot, splitting two defenders.
The recipient missed the pass entirely, but Thompson saw what mattered.
"Right idea," he muttered under his breath.
"Right idea." he said again but this time, more slowly as he thought about what Dawson had told him.
...…..
[The Day Before]
"I would have liked to promote him right now if I could," Dawson said as he stood in front of a glass screen overlooking the First team training ground.
Nolan, sitting behind him just scoffed but didn't say anything.
Before any of the two could speak, the door opened to reveal Thompson standing behind.
"Ahhh, Thompson. Come in" Dawson said, gesturing towards the seat at his desk.
A/n: hello guys. To compensate for the late release, have an extra chapter.