Soon enough, the plane touched down.
The arrivals corridor at Heathrow Airport carried the scent of rain in the damp air.
Julien dragged his suitcase, gazing at the gray sky beyond the glass walls, and gave Olivier Giroud a wry smile. "Honestly, every time I come to England I feel depressed. The sunshine and sea breeze of Bastia—thinking about it now, that was pure luxury."
Giroud zipped his jacket to the top and shivered. "Tell me about it. When I first arrived, I tried finding decent Brie cheese at the supermarket. All I found was industrial-produced Cheddar. These days are tough, my friend."
N'Golo Kanté followed close behind them, ever the quiet shadow.
For Kanté, life wouldn't get worse than before, he was content.
The three stopped at a fork in the corridor.
Giroud suddenly dropped his joking expression and shoulder-bumped Julien. "See you next league match. But remember," he winked, "pull your shots a little—leave us some dignity. The Professor really wanted to sign you, but Arsenal genuinely have no money."
Julien laughed and thumped Giroud's chest. "Then just play better yourself."
More seriously, he added, "Take care, Olivier."
"You too." Giroud pulled Julien into a tight embrace, whispering in his ear, "Next week, show those United bastards what the French captain can do. I'd love to watch you destroy them."
Then Giroud hugged Kanté briefly. "See you, Silent One."
Kanté grinned and nodded.
Watching Giroud's back as he headed toward Arsenal's team bus, Julien kept smiling.
When he turned toward the Liverpool flight, his phone buzzed, it was a message from Giroud: "If you beat United, remember to buy me dinner at that damned French restaurant!"
Julien laughed again.
Even rainy London suddenly didn't seem quite so hateful.
Melwood Training Ground
The next day at Melwood Training Ground, Merseyside was blessed with a rare sun-drenched afternoon. When Julien arrived at the training pitch, he felt considerably more comfortable.
Humans really can't live without the sun.
This realization helped him understand why Nordic countries had such high depression rates, spending more than half the year without sunshine would depress anyone.
As he entered the changing room, sunlight came through the venetian blinds, casting stripes across the floor.
"Hey! Our late-game hero returns!" Gerrard's voice rang out the moment Julien pushed open the door.
Jordan Henderson, nearest to the entrance, immediately walked over for a firm embrace. "Julien, that shot was insane! I nearly spilled beer all over myself watching on TV!"
The changing room atmosphere instantly became lively.
Gerrard slung an arm around Julien's shoulders, teasing him: "Looks like you French had the most glorious international break, eh?"
He was referencing England's bland performances though they'd thrashed Moldova 4-0, they'd followed with a dreary 0-0 draw away to Ukraine.
"But now," Gerrard's tone sharpened, growing serious, "we're all back at the club. Next week's Derby—that's the real battle."
Martin Škrtel slammed a fist against his locker. "This time we make United pay!"
The Slovak defender had recovered from injury. After missing the first two matches, he'd be available for selection and Rodgers would almost certainly start him.
Henderson chimed in: "Midfield's on me and Steven. We'll deliver the ball to the front cleanly."
He looked at Julien. "The finishing, that's on you."
"Julien," Gerrard locked eyes with him, "United's back line fears exactly your type—dribblers who can shoot. If you can tear through them like you did Belarus, we might just blow them apart."
Julien scanned his teammates' expectant faces and nodded solemnly. "I'll make sure United's defenders remember this night."
Gerrard nodded back. "Remember, this isn't just about three points. From that old man's era until now, this club has waited too long for this chance to turn things around!"
"We have to win!"
The entire changing room erupted with passion.
Indeed, this transcended three points, this was proof of Liverpool's new era.
That day, training began in earnest.
When Rodgers arrived at the pitch, he kept it simple and direct. "You all know what next match means. Train hard!"
"Yes, boss!"
After warm-ups concluded, they moved into squad practice matches, it was the fastest way to internalize tactics.
As time progressed, the practice match reached a crucial moment. Julien feinted left with his foot, evading Henderson's press, body tilting as he created an angle, then curled an outside-of-the-boot pass toward the penalty area with his left.
Daniel Sturridge timed his run perfectly, bursting into space and pushing the ball toward the far post. It grazed the outside of the upright and rolled wide.
Gasps resounded across the training ground.
Sturridge gave Julien a thumbs-up, shouting, "Julien! Perfect angle on that ball! I just missed it by a whisker!"
Julien raised his hand in acknowledgment and bent down to adjust his socks.
From the sideline, an assistant coach called out, "Julien, Evra will deliberately let you cut inside, then try to intercept your pass. Track back two steps deeper on defense, Henderson will cover your right flank. Don't give them chances to feed Van Persie."
Julien nodded. Jogging back to retrieve the ball, he spotted Gerrard in midfield directing teammates to adjust positioning, "Tighten the gaps! Don't lose marks in the center! United will play balls in behind!"
On the touchline, Rodgers stood with hands in his tracksuit pockets, tactical board in hand. Red pen circles marked United's wide defensive zones.
When the assistant blew the pause whistle, Rodgers walked into the players' huddle and set the board on the grass.
"Everyone gather round. United are without Rooney, so their attack will rely more heavily on Van Persie's central link-up and overlapping runs from wide. We need to do two things: First, use Julien's dribbling to tear open their left side. Second, have Daniel pin their center-backs centrally."
He pointed to red arrows on the board, his gaze settling on Julien. "Julien, last season against pace wingers, Evra preferred using his body to block position rather than tackling. You're national team colleagues, I'm sure you know his tendencies.
"So, exploit changes of pace. Like when you beat Henderson just now, first touch to accelerate past him, then either cut inside to shoot or slip a through-ball to Daniel.
I know defending isn't your strength, but Henderson will cover behind you. You just need to track back immediately after losing possession and disrupt—don't let them launch easy wide counterattacks."
Julien listened intently, nodding to show understanding.
Gerrard clapped his shoulder. "Relax. You adapted to Premier League intensity immediately, two matches, and five goals. United can't stop you. And Daniel's in brilliant form this season too. Our attack needs to suffocate them."
Rodgers continued dropping a register, "I know everyone remembers losing to United last season. But this time is different. We have Julien's impact, Daniel and Steven's combinations.
In training we've practiced wide crosses dozens of times, practiced Julien's cut-inside passes, all to tear through their defense tomorrow."
He crouched down, finger tracing defensive lines on the board: "Škrtel and Agger need to watch Van Persie's back-post runs. He'll exploit spaces Julien leaves when tracking back.
"But as long as we maintain pressure, United's midfield won't deliver comfortable long balls. Steven, you need to win first contact in midfield, then quickly feed Julien or Philippe—hit them on the turn."
Sturridge spoke up: "Boss, tomorrow I can drop deeper to receive, drag a center-back away, give Julien more space to cut inside."
Rodgers nodded. "Good. Your front-line combinations are getting smoother, that's our biggest advantage."
The sunlight remained bright.
Gerrard picked up the ball first, "Come on! Another attacking drill! Tomorrow, we show United who the real Red kings of the Premier League are!"
Players' roars instantly consumed the training ground.
When Julien sprinted down the flank with the ball, sunlight caught his racing silhouette, the number 10 was rippling gently in the wind.
Like Liverpool's sharpened blade, ready to strike.
Time flowed steadily through training sessions.
External noise showed no signs of diminishing.
Even recently retired Sir Alex Ferguson was intercepted by reporters for an interview. His exclusive video circulated widely online.
The topic inevitably turned to the upcoming North West Derby clash or more precisely, to the French teenager Liverpool had signed for €80 million that summer.
When asked about Julien's post-Liverpool performances, Ferguson said: "You've all seen it, haven't you?
"This kid possesses that quality that changes matches. I've watched his match footage from Bastia—Ligue 2 to Ligue 1 to Europa League, he's not the type who coasts on talent alone. Though of course, his talent is sufficient to coast for a lifetime.
Take his close control, the rhythm changes when cutting inside from the right, and that audacity to dribble past the last defender when he should pass—reminds me of young Henry, but more willing to gamble."
He paused, a tinge of regret was entering his voice: "Last January, my scouts submitted a report saying Bastia had this French lad worth breaking the bank for.
I was still in charge then and specifically requested his matches to watch—not just goals and dribbles, but his off-pitch evolution. You all know his past troubles: prison, contract termination, temperament issues. But during his two Bastia seasons, he underwent radical transformation."
A reporter pressed: "If you were still managing United, would you have tried signing De Rocca?"
Ferguson smiled his eyes were wrinkling. With a veteran manager's assertiveness, he replied: "Tried? No. I would have signed him.
"€80 million? For an 18-year-old who can play left or right wing plus fill in at attacking mid, who already understands team football—that's not exorbitant, that's a bargain.
Consider Liverpool's attack now. Sturridge draws central defenders, Julien on the right can dribble or pass, can drift central for long shots. That type of player is every manager's tactical fulcrum. I've noticed French critics accusing Deschamps of 'Julien dependency'—well, I might develop a similar 'genius dependency.'
If I were still at United, I'd have my assistant living in Bastia until we brought him to Old Trafford. I absolutely wouldn't let him wear Liverpool red. Absolutely not."
When discussion turned to the impending North West Derby clash, Ferguson's tone hardened, losing the chatty ease. "What United must be wary of now is Julien.
He's not the type who shrinks in big moments—the bigger the match, the more energized he becomes. Look at his Europa League final performance, his France matches. He never goes invisible in crucial games.
Anfield's atmosphere is mad. Julien will feed off that energy and play even better.
I need to warn United's boys: don't think single-man marking will contain him. They need joint effort to cut his connections with Sturridge, Gerrard, and others. Otherwise, it gets very problematic."
Finally, a reporter asked: "Do you think Julien can become the next Ballon d'Or winner?"
Ferguson's tone rang with certainty, "If he maintains his current mentality, absolutely. He has the talent, the technique. Now with captaincy experience at Bastia and France, he's added team awareness and responsibility which are essential Ballon d'Or qualities.
But right now, I'm more concerned about Sunday's match. I hope United's lads perform well, don't let that French kid shine too brightly at Anfield."
Meanwhile, as match day approached, Manchester United and Liverpool supporters had already argued online.
"€80 million for an attack-only winger? Two matches, five goals, so what? Defensively he's a lamppost! Evra will exploit that flank; we'll intercept and counterattack! Besides, you Liverpool haven't touched the Premier League trophy in over twenty years, De Rocca won't change that trophy drought!"
"Attack-only? An 18-year-old captaining France through World Cup qualifiers with 14 goals in 7 matches, Premier League's top scorer after two matches—find me a second one! Without Ferguson, Moyes can't even control the dressing room. Rooney's injured, you're relying on Van Persie alone. You'll collapse eventually!"
"De Rocca barely tracks back on defense; his entire flank is a weakness! Our midfield will cut his passing lanes, Van Persie will pounce on counters. We'll tear you apart."
"Weak defensively? Sure, but with five goals in two matches plus 14 in qualifiers, Moyes could write ten tactical notebooks and still couldn't stop him! Without Rooney's attack, how does your defense handle Julien's dribbling?"
"Stop hyping qualifiers, those were nobodies! Club football's different from internationals. When Liverpool faces our actual defense, you'll be exposed!"
"Exposed? Haven't you seen him destroy defenders in two Premier League matches? Qualifying with France at 18 as captain—that's genius-level talent. At 18, Van Persie was still finding his way in the Eredivisie! Evra defends him? First worry about getting skinned. He's a substitute at international level now—Julien took his captaincy too. And you're talking up Evra?"
The supporters' fury reached boiling point.
But the players remained relatively controlled in pre-match interviews, mostly discussing the match itself.
Both sides carefully avoided provocative comments.
________________________________________________________
Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:
patreon.com/LorianFiction
Thanks for your support!