If you guys are looking for a good Naruto fic, I recommend, Naruto: Ashes of the Leaf, lol.
Link: https://www.webnovel.com/book/naruto-ashes-of-the-leaf_34559048308213005
It's not a translation.
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Stade Bollaert-Delelis – Full-Time Whistle
Three sharp blasts.
England 3. Wales 1.
The stadium erupted before the echo of the whistle even faded. A tidal wave of cheers crashed over the pitch as England's players turned, arms raised, fists pumping.
Kane scanned the crowd, chest still rising and falling, grin breaking through the exhaustion just as Vardy leapt onto his back.
"Oi," Kane shouted over the noise, "you meant that pass, yeah?"
Vardy laughed, but it didn't quite hit his eyes. "Meant to bury it. Ball just had other plans."
The grin stayed, the tone stayed—but inside, Vardy felt a little disappointed. Another game without a goal. Compared to his form in the league, he was dog shit but he wasn't pressing the panic button, not yet. The runs were still sharp, the chances were coming, and Tristan had been feeding him and will continue to feed him.
Kane could feel Vardy's disappointment but he wasn't that worried as he just knew Vardy would score soon."You're in the right spots. It'll come."
Vardy nodded. "Yeah," he muttered, then louder, "I'll bag in the next one for sure."
Walker jogged over, sweat still clinging to his jawline. He bumped Vardy with a shoulder.
"If you don't score next game," he said, "I'm putting money on Tristan for the Golden Boot."
Vardy snorted. "He's already leading the Ballon d'Or race. Leave something for the rest of us."
Behind them, Dele locked eyes with Chilwell and broke into a grin. "I SCORED BRO!"
Chilwell raised both hands. "Yeah, yeah, no need to shout."
Dele laughed and slapped his hands. "Bro, I've never hit a cleaner left footer in my life."
Tristan walked past them, pulling at the collar of his jersey, already half turned toward Bale. He paused just long enough to glance back at the team. "Round everyone up. We've gotta thank the fans."
Henderson caught that and nodded. "I'll get Roy and the subs."
"Meet at the corner flag," Tristan added, already moving toward the Welsh players still milling near the sideline where he spotted Bale near the halfway line crouching down, breathing hard beyond exhaustion
Looking up he saw his nightmare.
Tristan just stood there looking awkward.
Bale stood slowly.
He didn't know what to say. Didn't even know if there was anything to say. Because all game long, that kid hadn't felt human. He'd felt like a demon like he'd let Wales score just so he could take their joy apart with his bare hands.
Every time Bale looked up, Tristan was doing something, always moving, always shaping the match. Sometimes it was just running at defenders like they weren't real people. Sometimes it was gliding past them as if the pitch was tilted in his favor. Sometimes it was the passes, the ones that bent the entire match to his will. It was whatever the hell he decided to do in that moment and Wales had no answer for any of it.
Bale knew greatness. He'd lived around it. He'd trained with Ronaldo, played with him, seen him at his most ruthless. He'd faced Messi at his sharpest and survived matches he didn't think he'd get out of. He thought he was great until now.
This kid?
He was both.
He didn't know what cosmic mistake had let someone like that be born.
And yet, looking at him now standing looking awkward… Bale almost forgot.
He was just a kid who just turned 21 years old. The world had to deal with him for maybe a whole decade.
So which one was real? The ruthless version or this one standing in front of him.
Bale had no idea.
Tristan stepped closer. "Hell of a goal,".
Bale let out a breath. "Yeah. Pity it didn't matter."
"It did," Tristan said. "It was tough, the guys almost panicked after you scored."
Bale gave a half-laugh. "Didn't look like it slowed you down."
Tristan hesitated. "It did. For about five seconds."
That actually made Bale smile, a bitter one.
He reached down, peeled off his shirt, and offered it out. "Take it. Might be worth something when I retire."
Tristan took his own off and handed it over. "You'll still be running past people when I'm thirty."
Bale shook his head, accepting it. "If I still have knees by then."
They shook hands again.
Rooney jogged up behind them, clapping twice. "Look at this. Two Galacticos swapping shirts."
Bale rolled his eyes. "You gonna say something embarrassing?"
"I was," Rooney grinned. "But now I'm just impressed you're still standing. Not everyone survives ninety minutes with this little bastard. You good?"
Bale nodded. "I'm alive."
Rooney looked over at Tristan. "The guys are waiting for you, I will be right there."
Tristan turned and jogged back toward the touchline, where the rest of the squad was forming a loose arc in front of the England end. Arms waving, clapping, shirts half-drenched. Fans on their feet, flags flying, scarves held high.
Walker called out. "Where you been, Captain?"
Tristan fell into the middle of them, one hand raised to the fans. "Diplomacy."
The squad laughed.
And together, shoulder to shoulder, England walked toward their supporters.
Post-Match Press Conference | Stade Bollaert-Delelis
Flashbulbs popped like lightning behind glass. The media room was packed, British journos in crisply rolled sleeves, foreign correspondents tapping translations on their phones, cameras perched like vultures waiting to catch a crack in the armor.
Tristan sat centered at the table, flanked by Roy Hodgson on one side and Jordan Henderson on the other. His hair a little wet with the Jersey swapped out for an FA press polo. A faint red mark just below his left eye from where Williams caught him earlier.
The moderator nodded toward the first hand raised.
"Tom Hargreaves, BBC Sport. This question's for Tristan."
Tristan leaned forward slightly.
"With all the noise surrounding the team, the media, the brawl fallout, the pressure on you personally… did you honestly expect to dominate Wales the way you did? Because it wasn't close."
There were a few chuckles in the back. Not from Tristan or Henderson though.
He answered slowly. "No match at this level is easy. And it wasn't 'domination.' It was execution. We respected them. But we believed we were better, and we proved it."
He paused, then added, "And as for the noise? We hear it. We just don't let it drive us."
Next question came fast.
"Samir Kazi, Sky Sports News. Tristan, you're 21. You're captaining England at a major tournament. You met the Queen last month. She literally asked if you could bring football home. Every tabloid, every pundit, every ex-player, you're under a level of scrutiny I have personally never seen in my lifetime. I don't believe any player in history has this much burden placed on a single player. How are you dealing with that pressure? Genuinely."
Tristan chucked a little before answering.
"Pressure's not new for me. It started when I broke into the first team, when I got called up for Brazil. It's only gotten louder since."
He looked out over the rows of cameras.
"I've learned to live with it. Pressure means expectations. Expectations mean you've done something worth watching. That's not a burden. That's a privilege."
He sat back slightly.
"The only thing worse than being under pressure... is no one expecting anything from you."
The room went silent for a second as reporters just knew they had their next great quote and headline.
Henderson leaned toward the mic. "And just to add he doesn't carry it alone. None of us are passengers. We trust him because he earns that trust every day. That's our captain."
A few seats over, another hand went up.
"Mark Doyle, The Guardian. Roy, what did you make of today's performance? Especially the shift from the opening match to this one?"
Roy adjusted his glasses, gave a tight smile.
"Well, it's not easy to go again with the same lineup when you've already played at such a high level. But the boys wanted to play. There's belief in that room with strong momentum. And today they showed it wasn't just one good day. It's who they are."
He glanced at Henderson, then Tristan.
"And when your best player plays like that? It lifts everyone."
Another hand.
"Lucy Morton, ITV. Tristan, are you worried about Vardy? Two games, no goals. He's used to scoring every week. Are you or the staff concerned about his form?"
Tristan's face didn't show much emotion at the question.
"Nah, mate," he said, leaning into the mic. "No one's worried about Vardy. We played like a hundred matches before this tournament and he's like forty years old. He just needs a few days to adjust, especially after partying like we did before the tournament."
The room cracked up. Even Roy snorted.
Henderson shook his head. "He's gonna love that."
Tristan shrugged with a grin. "He'll score when it matters. And when he does, he won't shut up about it."
The moderator gave the signal for last question. Tristan leaned back, hands clasped on the table.
They'd done the job. Time to focus on the next.
.
Twitter melted.
The final whistle hadn't even stopped echoing and Twitter had already melted with hot takes and debates.
@Storm22: I can't believe what I just witnessed lmao. I feel so bad for Bale, he tried he really did but that don't mean shit against Tristan.
🔁@Acaro_venduto: Bro was sprinting through the midfield like he was chasing rent money. I think seeing the opposing star players just drives a fire in Tristan, lmao. Like oh you think you're good, watch me. Like it gives him extra motivation to say fuck you with. Bale gave up at 60 mins, can't even blame him."
@Demonic_Divine: That chop on Ashley Williams sent my man back to Swansea 2011, you really can't stop Tristan in 1 on 1, just give up and let him pass you. This way you won't be embarrassed live in front of your friends and family.
🔁@Aaron_Hand_4795: We need a UN intervention. This is player abuse.
@FuckGarp: My captain got cooked but at least he ain't Joe Allen. Man got turned into Tristan's personal cone.
Meanwhile, Ronaldo was catching strays as his game ended.
@MihawkISaFruadlikeRonaldo: Reminder: Ronaldo has 0 goals, 0 assists, and 7 shots to the parking lot.
@Fuck_Garp: Tristan Hale got more G/A in 2 games than Ronaldo's entire international group stage career combined. Dude is useless just like the Marines in one piece when it comes to actually saving cilvians
🔁@Maelstrom443: We tried to tell y'all every single god damn time there is a interntional compeition. Ronaldo's just Portuguese Lukaku with abs.
🔁@Myth: [Photo of Ronaldo skying a shot] – "Me when the exam asks for the square root of 62." Caption: "SIUUUUU to the moon."
@Sengoku_Bum: "Real Madrid fans watching Tristan Hale outplay Ronaldo and Bale in the same tournament like 😐"
But it wasn't just England and Portugal under the spotlight. Everyone who weren't performing up to expectations was getting slandered.
The headlines for Euro 2016 Group Stage Headlines So Far
🏴 England – 2 wins out of 2. Tristan Hale: 3 goals, 1 assist, 2 MOTM.
🇵🇹 Portugal – 2 draws. Ronaldo: 0 goals, 0 assists, 13 shots. All off-target.
🇫🇷 France – 1 win, 1 loss. Pogba benched. Benzema iced out. Deschamps under fire.
🇩🇪 Germany – Unbeaten but unconvincing. Goals not flowing. Pressure mounting.
🇮🇹 Italy – Old, slow, toothless.
🇪🇸 Spain – 80% possession. 0% fear factor. Too old.
It's only been a week, but the headlines were already forming. The favorites crumbling, the dark horses stalling, and England led by a 21-year-old phenom were the ones carrying the flag of dominance. And in the midst of it all… one truth is beginning to echo louder and louder from every pub, panel, and post…"
Is this finally the year football comes home?