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[23/11/2020 | Leverkusen Perfromance Centre | 09:45]

The morning mist hung low over the training pitches as the Leverkusen squad assembled for their pre-match preparation. Three days until Shakhtar Donetsk. Three days to fine-tune their approach for a crucial Champions League fixture that could define their season.

Bosz stood at the centre of the main pitch, his coaching staff flanking him. The players formed a semicircle around him—some sitting on the grass doing stretches, others standing with arms crossed, all attentive. The usual pre-training banter was absent as everyone sensed this wasn't a routine gathering.

"Gentlemen," Bosz began, his Dutch accent cutting through the crisp autumn air, "we've had a good start to the season. Top of the Bundesliga table, solid performances in Europe. But I want to ask you something."

He paused, making eye contact with several players—Hradecky, the Bender twins, Wirtz, and Rakim. "What do you want to achieve this season? Really achieve?"

Silence. The question was so simple and obvious, but it hung in the air like the morning fog. "Because the next few weeks will determine everything."

Bosz continued. "We can talk about being top of the table now, but that means nothing if we don't maintain it. We can celebrate our Champions League victories, but they're meaningless if we don't qualify from the group stage. The work we've done so far has been excellent. But it's just the foundation. What we build on top of it—that's what people will remember at the end of the season."

Lars Bender spoke up first, his captain's armband visible on his training bib. "We want silverware, coach. Another trophy."

"The Bundesliga title," Hradecky added. "We came so close last year; this year, I want to get my hands around the dish."

"Champions League knockout stages," Diaby said. "We deserve to be there."

"Treble, I want to win it all, coach. How do we do that?" Rakim asked directly, stating his goal for the year: not content with just one trophy like last year. "I'm greedy, so if we're giving it our all, we should clean the table."

Looking into the intense green eyes that radiated pure confidence in achieving that goal took Bosz aback for a moment. The nearby players were quickly infected with that atmosphere, remembering how bitter it was to come so close last year. Losing the league in the late stages against Bayern, and reaching the semifinal only to lose to Paris.

Bosz let Rakim's words settle over the group. He could see it in their faces—the shift from comfortable professionalism to something sharper, hungrier. The seventeen-year-old's audacity had sparked something.

"Treble," Bosz repeated, allowing himself a slight smile. "That's ambitious. Good. Ambition drives excellence." He gestured broadly at the assembled squad. "But ambition without execution is just fantasy. So let me be clear about what the next few matches require."

He pulled out a tactical board, already marked with formations and arrows. "Shakhtar Donetsk on Wednesday. They lost all their matches so far, but that makes them more dangerous; they're playing for pride. They're fast on the counter, technical in midfield, and dangerous from set pieces. If we're not sharp, they'll punish us."

Sorg stepped forward, adding details. "Their wingers—Tetê and Solomon—are rapid. When they win possession, they attack immediately. Our fullbacks must be disciplined. No unnecessary risks in possession."

"After Shakhtar, we have Hoffenheim away," Bosz continued. "Then Inter Milan here. Then Real Madrid at the Bernabeu." He let that sink in. "As always, we will focus on one game at a time and plan from there."

Bosz clapped his hands once, the sound sharp in the morning air. "Now, let's get to work. I want to see intensity today. Show me you're ready for Wednesday."

~~~

[10:15 | Training Match - Blues vs Reds]

The squad split into two teams for an internal match. Bosz organised it carefully—the Blues representing Leverkusen's expected starting XI against Shakhtar, the Reds mimicking Donetsk's counter-attacking 4-2-3-1 setup.

---

Blues (Leverkusen's expected XI):

GK: Hradecky

Defence: Lars Bender, Tapsoba, Sven Bender, Wendell

Midfield: Baumgartlinger, Demirbay

Attack: Diaby, Wirtz, Rakim

Striker: Schick

Reds (Donetsk simulation):

GK: Lomb

Defence: Dragović, Tah, Sinkgraven, Fosu-Mensah

Midfield: Aránguiz, Palacios

Attack: Bailey, Amiri, Gray

Striker: Alario

---

[12']

Rakim started on the left wing, in his usual position, feeling as if he had returned home. But within minutes, he found himself drifting inside, occupying the space between Donetsk's right-back Fosu-Mensah and centre-back Dragović. The field seemed to open up in his view as he started appearing exactly where his teammates could find him.

When Demirbay received the ball in midfield, Rakim appeared in the space between the two opposing midfielders converging on Demirbay. He received the ball that came in at pace and flicked it into the air, looping over the head of Sinkgraven. Schick, who had been in the process of making his run bit at the ball, tapped it down with his knee. One-on-one with Lomb, he fired it past the keeper, leaving him no chance.

[18']

Rakim received again, again in a more central position, just ahead of the defensive line, in front of the two centre-backs. Tah stepped up to press, but Rakim's first touch took him a couple of steps forward, forcing the defender to follow. With the defender pulled out of position, he back-heeled the ball with his second touch, finding Schick, who had spun off Sinkgraven's shoulder.

Schick's shot went wide, but the striker was starting to adapt to the odd sets his teammate was sending his way. Rakim wasn't the only one stepping up as Wirtz began to show glimpses of his genius. The two of them combined in passing sequences that left their teammates and opponents dizzy. Wirtz received deep, forty yards from the goal.

Rakim immediately showed for the ball, drifting into the right half-space. Wirtz's pass was instant—no hesitation, already knowing where Rakim would be. His first touch was diagonal, opening up his body to face forward.

Aránguiz pressed, but Rakim had already pinged it back to Wirtz, who had continued his run forward. One-two. The simplest combination in football, executed with telepathic precision. Wirtz burst past Aránguiz, now in the final third with space opening up.

Rakim was already sprinting, reading Wirtz's intention. The pass came—a disguised through ball with the outside of Wirtz's right boot, threading between Dragović and Tah. Rakim's run was perfectly timed, staying onside by inches. He took one touch into the box and finished calmly past Lomb.

The training match continued for another twenty minutes. Rakim and Wirtz became fluid as they interchanged positions. The winger would sometimes wide left, sometimes central, occasionally dropping deep to receive from Demirbay, other times pushing high alongside Schick.

But the constant was his efficiency: two touches maximum, constantly moving the ball quickly, always creating connections. The game naturally centred on the two of them opening up outlets on the switch for Diaby to attack. "Good work. Excellent work. Rakim, Florian—stay back for five minutes. Everyone else, cool down and hydration. See you tomorrow at 10:00."

~~~

[21:45 | Rakim's Hahnwald Estate, Cologne]

Later that night, Rakim sat at his desk, laptop open, the glow illuminating his face in the dining room. On the screen, four faces appeared in a video call: his mother, Lisa; Apex Sports' design director, Jenna Rodriguez; their marketing executive, David Chen; and Ceo Grant Jones.

May was washing up in the bath, giving him time to deal with his own business. "There he is," Grant exclaimed with a bright smile as if he were seeing his long-lost son. "Beautiful performance during the international call-up, especially that game against Spain, we had chills watching that game."

Rakim laughed. "Cheers, it was definitely a weird experience, especially with hardly any fans."

"It's been a weird year, but we are all proud of how you carried yourself and what you have achieved despite it." He said, pride radiating through the screen. "And you can probably guess what this call is bout, right?"

"Is it that?" he asked, excitement begging to bubble up within himself.

"Yes, baby, it's that, you have more than smashed all the targets set last year," Lisa said with a proud smile. "You won a major trophy, raised your social media following to around 52 million, received 18 man of the match last season, boosted Apex visibility by a whopping 65% despite the pandemic. And the personal stats we don't even have to talk about."

"Rakim, we would officially like to start talks for your first signature line cleats under the Apex brand." Jenna Rodriguez, the design director with whom he had discussed various colourways for the boots he wore, said. "We have an initial design, but as stated in the contract, we ned your input with a planned launch in January for the second half of your 2020/21 season."

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To Be Continued...