“Hey, look.”
“That’s the Chinese-English kid.
The only midfield signing this winter.”
“He’s only sixteen, but he doesn’t look nervous.
Walks in like he belongs.”
“And he’s been sizing us up since he got here.”
The Fiorentina first-team players had gathered on the training pitch, watching Ethan Cross from a short distance.
Ethan was watching them right back.
His expression was strange.
Surprise, recognition, and something closer to disbelief.
These players had no idea what was going through his head.
Before arriving in Florence, Ethan had only a rough picture of Fiorentina’s league position and style of play.
He hadn’t studied the squad list in detail.
Now, standing in front of faces he knew far better than he should, he was genuinely stunned.
Goalkeeper Neto.
His career would be defined by bad timing.
Backup to Buffon at Juventus.
Later backup to Ter Stegen at Barcelona.
Even after breaking into the Brazilian national team, he’d sit behind Alisson and Ederson.
A tragic figure.
Not world-class, but absolutely a top-level shot-stopper.
In his previous life, Neto’s performances this season would earn him a summer move to Juventus.
This was his peak year in Florence.
His shot-stopping was among the best in Serie A.
The back line was just as familiar.
Center-back Gonzalo Rodríguez.
A few years ago, his partnership with Godín had powered Villarreal to a second-place finish in La Liga.
Godín went to Atlético Madrid and became Simeone’s defensive cornerstone.
Rodríguez came to Fiorentina and became theirs.
And the man standing next to him, Stefan Savić, would eventually follow the same path to Atlético, forming a steel-wall partnership with Godín that would carry them to a Champions League final.
Right-back Manuel Pasqual.
Ten years at Fiorentina.
Club captain.
The team’s spiritual leader.
Left-back Marcos Alonso.
In a year or two, he’d write his name into Chelsea history.
Premier League champion.
Europa League winner.
Champions League winner.
The highest-scoring Spanish defender in Premier League history.
Seven goals in a single league season, still a Chelsea record for a defender.
The midfield had names Ethan knew too.
Milan Badelj.
Tough Croatian international.
A Serie A battler.
David Pizarro.
Chilean international.
A veteran who’d seen everything the Italian league could throw at him.
Alberto Aquilani. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Italian international.
A journeyman who’d worn the shirt of several big clubs.
And Joaquín.
Former Spanish international.
A football evergreen who just kept going.
Ethan hadn’t expected this.
Fiorentina wasn’t a superclub, but their starting eleven was packed with players he could name.
Then his eyes reached the forward line.
Mario Gómez.
The man who’d powered Heynckes’s Bayern to the treble.
Thirty-nine goals in a single season across all competitions.
A genuine elite striker.
Right winger Juan Cuadrado.
Colombian international.
Serie A’s dribble king this season.
Fiorentina’s sharpest edge on the flank.
Ethan frowned.
Something was off.
If his memory was right, Cuadrado should have moved to Chelsea this winter.
January 2015.
That transfer was a sore spot Chelsea fans still complained about.
The Serie A dribble king flopped hard in England.
The fee was a total waste.
And the real knife-twist?
The deal had sent a frustrated Mohamed Salah the other way on loan as a makeweight.
Nobody knew it then, but the Egyptian would explode in Italy, return to England, and become a Premier League icon.
The timeline had shifted.
Cuadrado was still here.
Which meant Salah wasn’t.
Ethan felt a small pang of disappointment.
He’d half-hoped to meet his future Liverpool teammate early, here in Florence.
That wasn’t happening.
“Hey, man.
You’re Ethan, right?”
“I’m on loan here too.
Let’s look out for each other.”
Ethan turned.
And froze.
The man speaking was the exact person he’d just been thinking about.
Mohamed Salah.
“Salah?
You’re on loan at Fiorentina too?”
Salah blinked, then nodded, clearly caught off guard.
The kid knew his name.
On first sight.
“Salah arrived from Chelsea a few days before you,” said Pasqual, walking over with an easy smile.
You’re our midfield hope.
Let’s see both of you shine in the second half of the season.”
“Ethan, it’s your first day.
Let me introduce you to the rest of the squad.”
“No need, Captain Pasqual.
These guys are all top players.
I already know their names.”
Ethan went down the line, naming every man without a single mistake.
A low murmur rippled through the group.
“This kid’s alright.
Knows every one of us.
Not a single name wrong.”
“Wait, are we that famous?
I’m almost embarrassed.”
“Respect goes both ways.
The kid’s good people.
We’ll look after him.”
No one had expected the sixteen-year-old newcomer to greet them by name and with genuine recognition.
It landed.
Ethan was back in a teenager’s body, but he carried the maturity and awareness of a man who’d lived a full career.
The gesture was small.
The impression it left was not.
Captain Pasqual was especially pleased.
He’d dealt with plenty of young players.
Some were timid.
Some were arrogant.
Helping them settle in always took work.
Ethan was direct, confident, and sharp.
Pasqual felt genuine relief.
Within minutes, Ethan was talking easily with his new teammates.
And his mind was racing.
He scanned the starting lineup again.
The excitement was hard to contain.
A solid defense.
A midfield with experience and bite.
And that forward line.
A powerhouse striker in Mario Gómez.
Serie A’s most dangerous dribbler in Cuadrado.
And Mohamed Salah, a man on the verge of exploding.
Compared to the original Liverpool front three of Salah, Mané, and Firmino that would conquer Europe?
Maybe this Fiorentina trio was a budget version.
But a budget version of a Champions League-winning attack was still a serious weapon.
The club’s stated goal was a top-four finish.
Secure European football for next season.
But looking at this squad, Ethan couldn’t help thinking bigger.
If they could unlock this group’s full potential, fighting for the Serie A title didn’t seem impossible at all.