Chapter 33: Chapter 32: Ghosts of Florence [II]
Wednesday, July 17th, 2022 - 10:00 AM - Florence
The bus pulled into Florence just after ten in the morning as familiar streets appeared outside the windows, and Demien recognized the route immediately since he’d lived here his entire life while passing shops and cafes he knew by name.
Luca looked out the window with interest and said, "This is where you’re from?"
"Yeah," Demien said while watching his city pass by, and he added, "My mum’s apartment is maybe fifteen minutes from here."
The bus turned toward the Fiorentina training complex, and that’s when Demien’s chest tightened as the familiar buildings came into view, and he felt the weight of three years spent training in those facilities before being told he wasn’t good enough.
They checked into a modest hotel near the Fiorentina training complex, and the accommodations were clean and functional with two players assigned to each room, and Demien found himself rooming with Luca again as they dropped their bags inside and claimed their beds.
"Two hours rest," Coach Rossi announced in the hallway while players moved between rooms, and he added, "Sleep if you can, we’ll do a light session at noon before the match."
Demien lay on his bed fully clothed and stared at the ceiling while Luca sprawled across his own bed and closed his eyes immediately, and within minutes Luca’s breathing had evened out into sleep while Demien remained awake with thoughts circling endlessly.
Fiorentina.
The city where he’d trained for three years, where he’d believed he belonged, where Coach Baldini had looked at him with dismissive eyes and said the words that had shattered everything: "You’re not good enough for Fiorentina."
The system chimed softly in his head.
A blue panel materialized in his vision, and text appeared with clean precision.
「NEW MISSION UNLOCKED」
「Mission Name: Proving Fiorentina Wrong」
「Objectives:」 ・Score at least 1 goal ・Complete at least 5 accurate passes
「Base Rewards:」 ・4 SP ・100 TP
「Victory Bonus:」 ・+30 SP ・+300 TP ・(Awarded only if Atalanta U23 wins the match)
「Mission Description: Face the academy that rejected you. Show them what they lost. Prove that their judgment was flawed and their mistake was permanent.」
「Time Remaining: Until Match End」
Demien stared at the panel while something cold and focused settled in his chest, and he whispered, "I’ll do more than that."
The panel faded, and he closed his eyes while trying to rest, though actual sleep never came.
*******
Wednesday, July 17th, 2022 - 12:00 PM
At noon, the team gathered at the small training pitch attached to their hotel, where grass that had seen better days stretched out under the midday sun while Coach Rossi stood at the center with his hands on his hips and his whistle hanging from his neck.
"Light work only," Rossi called out as players formed a loose circle around him, and he continued, "We’re not here to tire ourselves out, just wake your bodies up and get loose."
They started with gentle jogging around the perimeter of the pitch, and Demien fell into step beside Luca while his legs felt stiff from the bus journey but gradually loosened as blood began flowing properly through his muscles.
Dynamic stretching came next with high knees, butt kicks, and leg swings that made several players groan as tight hamstrings protested the movement, and Riccardo muttered something about getting old at nineteen that made a few teammates chuckle despite their own discomfort.
Possession drills followed with two teams of seven playing keep-away in a tight grid, and the ball moved quickly between players while Rossi watched without saying much since the objective wasn’t tactical sharpness but simply getting comfortable with the ball at their feet again.
Demien received a pass from Costa, took one touch to control it, and played it square to Martinez before moving into space, and the rhythm felt natural as his body remembered what it was supposed to do even while his mind stayed partially elsewhere.
After thirty minutes, Rossi blew his whistle once and waved them in, and he said, "That’s enough, go shower and get ready for lunch, we eat at one sharp."
The team dispersed toward the hotel entrance while sweat cooled on their skin in the afternoon breeze, and Demien walked beside Luca without talking as both were already thinking ahead to what came next.
By one o’clock, the entire team had gathered in the hotel’s dining area where plates of pasta, grilled chicken, and steamed vegetables waited on serving trays, and the smell of garlic and olive oil filled the room while players loaded their plates with the fuel they’d need for the match.
Demien sat at a table with Luca, Riccardo, and Costa, and he ate methodically while barely tasting the food since his mind had already moved forward to the stadium, to Fiorentina’s purple jerseys, to Adriano’s smirk, and to the mission the system had given him.
Coaches moved between tables checking that everyone ate properly, and Rossi stopped beside their table briefly before saying, "Eat well, but don’t overdo it, you need energy but you don’t want to feel heavy out there."
"Yes, Coach," Riccardo answered for the group, and Rossi nodded once before moving to the next table.
The meal finished by two o’clock, and players returned to their rooms for the final rest period before departure, and Demien lay on his bed staring at the ceiling while Luca scrolled through his phone and occasionally showed him something funny that Demien barely registered.
At three-fifteen, Rossi’s voice echoed through the hallway calling everyone to gather in the lobby, and players emerged from their rooms with match bags slung over shoulders while nervous energy had replaced the earlier calm.
The bus waited outside with its engine already running, and this time when they boarded, nobody joked or played games as the reality of what was coming settled over them like a weight, and Demien found his seat near the middle while his heart rate had already begun climbing even though they hadn’t reached the stadium yet.
The drive took fifteen minutes through Florence’s afternoon traffic, and Demien watched familiar streets pass by outside the window as the bus turned onto roads he’d walked hundreds of times during his three years at Fiorentina’s academy, and each landmark brought back memories he’d tried to bury: the cafe where he’d celebrated making the U17 team, the intersection where Coach Baldini had once stopped to talk about his development, the corner shop where he’d bought snacks after training sessions.
Then the stadium came into view.
Artemio Franchi rose against the Florence skyline with its distinctive architecture and the purple banners hanging from its exterior, and Demien’s chest tightened as the bus pulled closer to the building where he’d once dreamed of playing professionally, where he’d imagined wearing that purple jersey in front of fifty thousand fans, where he’d believed his future was being built before everything came crashing down.
The bus pulled up to the side entrance reserved for away teams, and Coach Rossi stood up at the front before saying, "Alright, let’s go, grab your bags and stay focused."
Players filed off the bus one by one while stadium staff directed them toward the entrance, and Demien stepped onto the pavement while looking up at the building’s purple banners fluttering in the afternoon breeze.
******
Wednesday, July 17th, 2022 - 4:00 PM - Artemio Franchi Stadium
The bus pulled up to the stadium’s side entrance, and players filed off with bags in hand while staff directed them toward the away team’s facilities, and the building felt massive and professional compared to Atalanta’s U23 setup as they moved through corridors lined with photos of Fiorentina legends.
The away locker room was spacious and clean with nameplates already positioned above each spot, and Demien found his assigned area between Riccardo and Luca before dropping his bag and beginning to change into his match kit.
The room filled with the familiar sounds of pre-match preparation as players pulled on jerseys, laced boots, and wrapped athletic tape around ankles and wrists, while some listened to music through earbuds and others sat in silence with closed eyes visualizing the match ahead.
Coach Rossi gathered them after everyone had changed, and they formed a circle around him as he pulled out his tactical board and began outlining the match plan with clear instructions about formation, pressing triggers, and individual responsibilities.
"We’ll line up in our usual 3-4-3," Rossi said while marking the board with his pen, and he continued, "Fiorentina plays a 4-2-3-1, which means they’ll have an extra body in midfield, so we need to be smart about when we press and when we drop off."
He drew arrows showing movement patterns before looking up at the team and saying, "Here’s the starting eleven," and Demien’s focus sharpened as Rossi began calling names.
"Leone, you’re in goal."
Marco Leone nodded from his spot near the back.
"Defense: Ferrari, Moretti, Rinaldi."
The three center backs acknowledged their names while already looking focused.
"Wing-backs: Esposito on the right, Bianchi on the left."
Luca straightened slightly as his name was called, and Demien caught his eye with a quick nod of acknowledgment.
"Midfield: Romano as captain, Walter beside him."
Riccardo’s expression didn’t change, though Demien saw him glance over briefly before looking back at the coach, and Demien felt the weight of being named in the starting lineup settle over him like a mantle.
"Front three: Costa on the right, Parisi in the center, Di Luca on the left."
The three forwards exchanged glances while Rossi continued without pausing.
"Substitutes: Souza, Bernard, Leblanc, El-Sayed, Alvarez, Greco, Martinez, Torres, Lombardi, Rosetti, Zanetti, De Niro."
Several players on the bench nodded while others looked disappointed but professional, and Rossi set the tactical board aside before addressing the entire room with his voice rising slightly.
"This is a friendly, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter," he said while making eye contact with multiple players, and he added, "Fiorentina will take this seriously, so we take it seriously, show them what Atalanta U23 is capable of, play your game, trust your teammates, and leave everything on that pitch."
The team responded with nods and murmured agreement as Rossi finished his tactical talk before dismissing them to finish their preparations, and players began moving around the locker room with renewed purpose while the clock ticked closer to kickoff.
Demien pulled on his number eight jersey and felt the fabric settle against his skin as he sat back down and started lacing his boots with methodical precision, and his hands moved automatically while his mind drifted elsewhere.
Thirty minutes before the match, his bladder signaled insistently, and he stood up before saying to no one in particular, "Restroom," and he walked toward the door while several teammates barely noticed his departure.
The corridor outside was quieter than the locker room as Demien moved through it with his boots clicking softly against polished floors, and he found the restroom around a corner before pushing through the door.
He was washing his hands when the door opened behind him, and a voice said, "Wow, it’s Demien."
Demien’s hands froze under the running water.