Chapter 33 – Sparring Shadows
The whistle cracked through the morning chill.
Thiago’s boots bit the turf as he surged through the first sprint cone, the air still thick with dew. The January sky was barely lit — that dim grey before the sun decided whether it was rising or not. Palmeiras training ground didn’t wait for the sun. Neither did Eneas.
"Reset!" the coach barked.
Thiago dropped into formation without a word. It was his third lap through the transition drill, and his legs were just starting to hum with heat. Not burn — just alert. Alive. The way he liked it.
Three-touch buildup. Wide pivot. Cut-in. Layoff.
Again.
And again.
No music. No joking. No banter today.
Especially not from Nando.
The older winger had said exactly zero words since they stepped onto the pitch. He wasn’t lazy. He hit his marks. He made his rotations. But every pass he gave Thiago was half a second late, or just wide enough to dull the rhythm. Not sabotage — just salt in the cuts.
Thiago said nothing.