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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And from this point forward, there would be no tomorrow guaranteed.
As the final whistle had finished echoing around Volgograd Arena when the England players began making their way back toward the tunnel.
There was still a smile on almost every face.
The 4–1 victory had been convincing, but more importantly, it had completed exactly what Gareth Southgate had wanted from the final group match.
Three matches.
Three victories.
Nine points.
And, perhaps most encouragingly, the players who had been waiting patiently for their opportunities had shown that they could be trusted.
Rooney had scored twice.
Vardy had scored.
Francesco had come off the bench and scored.
Kane had added another.
Trippier had provided an assist.
Lingard had created another goal.
It had been the kind of evening a manager could look back on with satisfaction.
As the players disappeared into the stadium corridors, the noise from the supporters gradually became more distant.
Inside the dressing room, however, the mood remained lively.
Rooney walked in first and immediately received a round of applause from several of the substitutes.
"Two goals!" Lingard shouted.
Rooney laughed.
"Calm down."
"You're supposed to celebrate!"
"I am celebrating."
"You don't look like it."
Rooney pointed toward his boots.
"My feet hurt."
That earned another burst of laughter.
Francesco walked in behind him.
Kane looked over.
"Good goal."
"Thanks."
"You only played about twenty minutes."
Francesco smiled.
"Twenty minutes well spent."
Trippier walked past them.
"You forgot something."
Francesco looked confused.
"What?"
"The assist."
Francesco laughed.
"Yeah. That was pretty good."
Trippier shook his head.
"Pretty good?"
"It was perfect."
"Better."
The laughter continued for a few more minutes before the exhaustion of the match began to take over.
Players slowly removed their boots and shirts.
Water bottles were passed around.
Some simply sat with their backs against their lockers, breathing deeply.
The adrenaline was beginning to disappear.
The reality of ninety minutes of football was returning.
Southgate had already left for his press conference, so there was no immediate team talk.
There didn't need to be one.
The message had already been delivered.
The group stage was complete.
Now everyone needed to recover.
One by one, the players headed toward the showers.
Steam quickly filled the room.
The sounds of running water mixed with occasional conversations and laughter.
Vardy was still talking about his first-half finish.
Rooney insisted that the pass had been easier than everyone was making it sound.
Nobody believed him.
"You waited until I was completely free," Vardy said.
Rooney shrugged.
"That was the idea."
"You nearly waited too long."
"But I didn't."
"Fair."
Francesco stood nearby, washing the sweat from his hair.
Kane looked across.
"You thinking about Japan?"
Francesco paused.
"A little."
Kane nodded.
"Me too."
Neither said much more.
There would be plenty of time to think about Japan.
For now, they had just finished a World Cup match.
After showering, the players returned to their lockers.
Fresh clothes were pulled on.
The official England jumpsuits replaced the match kits.
Boots were packed away.
Phones and wallets were collected.
Bags were zipped.
The dressing room gradually transformed from a football environment back into a departure point.
Francesco looked at his England shirt one more time before placing it into his bag.
Another World Cup shirt.
Another goal attached to it.
He smiled faintly.
Then he closed the bag.
Outside the dressing room, the mixed zone was already waiting.
Reporters and television crews had gathered behind the barriers.
Microphones were held out.
Cameras were ready.
The players began passing through in small groups.
Rooney stopped.
Kane stopped.
Trippier answered a few questions.
Then Francesco was approached.
"Francesco!"
He turned.
A journalist stepped forward.
"Can we have a word?"
Francesco nodded.
"Sure."
The camera started rolling.
"Congratulations. Four-one tonight, three wins from three. How satisfied are you with the performance?"
Francesco thought for a moment.
"Very satisfied. We wanted to finish the group stage strongly, especially because we knew there were a lot of players getting an opportunity tonight. Everyone wanted to show they were ready."
"You came off the bench and scored. How did that feel?"
He smiled.
"It felt great."
The journalist laughed.
"That's it?"
Francesco laughed too.
"Of course it felt great. You always want to score at a World Cup. I was just trying to come on and help the team, keep the intensity high and find spaces. Then Trippier played an excellent ball, so I had the easier part."
The journalist nodded.
"Rooney scored twice tonight. How important was his performance?"
"Really important."
Francesco glanced briefly toward the dressing-room entrance.
"Wayne was excellent. He's been working hard, and tonight he got his opportunity. Two goals is a great way to respond."
"Three wins. Nine points. Did you expect England to finish the group perfectly?"
Francesco smiled.
"We hoped for it."
Then he became slightly more serious.
"But now it doesn't really matter."
The journalist raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because the group is finished."
He nodded toward the stadium behind him.
"We've done what we needed to do. Now everything changes. Japan is next, and that's a knockout game. We can't carry the group-stage results into that match. We have to start again."
The journalist asked one final question.
"Are you already thinking about Japan?"
"Absolutely."
A small smile returned.
"But tonight we can enjoy this one. Tomorrow we recover. Then we prepare properly."
He thanked the journalist and stepped away.
As Francesco continued down the mixed zone, another reporter called after him.
"Good luck against Japan!"
Francesco turned briefly.
"Thank you."
Then he disappeared through the exit.
The England team bus was already waiting outside.
Most of the players had taken their familiar seats.
The atmosphere was quieter now.
The excitement of the victory remained, but fatigue had begun winning the battle.
Francesco climbed aboard.
Kane was sitting near the front.
Rooney had his headphones around his neck.
Lingard was looking through his phone.
Trippier was talking quietly with Henderson.
Francesco sat near the window.
Kane looked back.
"How was the interview?"
"Fine."
"Did you say anything stupid?"
Francesco smiled.
"No."
"Good."
Rooney leaned across the aisle.
"What did they ask?"
"Japan. The goal. You."
Rooney nodded.
"Hopefully you said nice things."
"I did."
"Good lad."
The bus remained stationary.
A few minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
Southgate was still inside completing his mandatory post-match press conference.
The players weren't particularly bothered.
Some were already half-asleep.
Others quietly discussed the match.
Eventually, the subject returned to Japan.
"Japan," Henderson said.
Lingard looked up from his phone.
"That's going to be interesting."
Rooney nodded.
"They'll be organised."
Kane added quietly, "And they'll have nothing to lose."
Francesco looked through the window.
The same phrase seemed to have followed England all evening.
Nothing to lose.
Tunisia had played with that freedom.
Japan would have their own version of it.
Eventually, the rear doors opened.
Southgate climbed aboard.
The players immediately applauded.
"Good one, boss," Rooney called.
Southgate smiled.
"Thank you."
He walked down the aisle before taking his seat.
"Three wins," he said.
A few players nodded.
"That's what we wanted from the group stage."
He paused.
"Enjoy tonight. Recover tomorrow."
His expression became more serious.
"Then we start again."
Everyone listened.
"Japan is a different game. Different pressure. Different consequences."
He looked around the bus.
"From now on, there are no second chances."
Nobody needed reminding.
Southgate leaned back.
"Get some sleep."
The doors closed.
The bus pulled away from Volgograd Arena.
Outside, the stadium lights gradually disappeared behind them.
The city passed quietly through the windows.
Supporters were still celebrating in some parts of Volgograd.
Flags remained visible.
But inside the bus, most of the players were exhausted.
The journey toward the airport was almost silent.
Eventually, the team arrived.
The familiar travel routine began.
Bags were unloaded.
Passports checked.
Security completed.
Equipment moved through.
Players walked toward the aircraft without much conversation.
The excitement of the victory had been replaced by tiredness.
Once aboard, everyone settled into their seats.
Some players immediately put on headphones.
Others opened their phones.
A few watched clips from the match.
Rooney leaned back and closed his eyes.
Kane was asleep within minutes.
Lingard watched something quietly on his screen.
Francesco sat by the window.
The aircraft began moving.
He watched the lights of the airport slide past.
Then the engines increased.
The plane lifted into the night.
Volgograd disappeared beneath them.
Francesco remained awake.
He thought about the group stage.
Belgium.
Panama.
Tunisia.
Three wins.
Nine points.
Another World Cup goal.
And now Japan.
He looked down at his hands.
It was strange.
Only weeks earlier, the tournament had felt impossibly distant.
Now they were already preparing for the knockout stage.
There was no room for complacency anymore.
One bad game could end everything.
One mistake.
One deflection.
One penalty.
One moment.
Francesco finally leaned his head against the seat.
The exhaustion caught up with him.
He closed his eyes.
The aircraft continued through the night.
By the time England landed back in Saint Petersburg, the squad looked completely drained.
Nobody rushed off the aircraft.
Players collected their belongings slowly.
Some stretched as they walked.
Others simply followed the person in front of them.
The team bus was waiting.
Everyone climbed aboard.
The journey back toward ForRestMix Club Sport & Relax Resort was quiet.
Most players were asleep before the bus had reached the hotel.
When they finally arrived, the squad disappeared toward their rooms almost immediately.
No celebrations.
No long conversations.
Just rest.
Francesco entered his room, dropped his bag beside the bed and sat down.
He checked his phone briefly.
Messages.
News.
Highlights.
His goal already circulating.
He smiled.
Then he placed the phone down.
Japan could wait until morning.
He fell asleep quickly.
Then the following morning, Southgate gave the players another day off.
There was no early alarm.
No tactical meeting.
No bus waiting outside.
No training boots lined up by the door.
For the first time in several days, the players could simply breathe.
Some stayed at the resort.
The common areas gradually filled with familiar faces.
Players sat around talking.
Others took advantage of the facilities.
Some had long, leisurely meals.
A few simply found comfortable chairs and did absolutely nothing.
After the intensity of the tournament, doing nothing felt like a luxury.
Francesco spent part of the morning relaxing with several teammates.
The conversations were lighter.
There was joking again.
Arguments about television shows.
Stories from the match.
A little teasing about Rooney's two goals.
Rooney eventually walked past.
"I've heard enough."
Lingard laughed.
"You scored twice. You have to accept it."
"I've accepted it."
"You've mentioned it six times."
Rooney pointed at him.
"Seven now."
Everyone laughed.
Later, Francesco decided to get out for a while.
Saint Petersburg was still alive with World Cup energy.
He walked through familiar streets, taking in the atmosphere.
Supporters from different countries moved around the city.
Cafés were busy.
Flags remained everywhere.
People were still talking about the tournament.
For a few hours, it almost felt like an ordinary day.
Almost.
Because every so often, Francesco's thoughts returned to the same thing.
Japan.
He knew the relaxed atmosphere couldn't last.
Soon the training ground would be waiting.
The tactical meetings would begin.
The intensity would return.
And everything would feel different.
By evening, the players gradually returned to the resort.
The jokes became fewer.
The tiredness returned.
Everyone knew what tomorrow meant.
Training.
Proper preparation.
The knockout stage.
Francesco returned to his room and prepared his things for the morning.
Boots.
Training clothes.
Water bottle.
Everything ready.
He looked at his phone once more.
A message from Rooney appeared.
Tomorrow. No excuses.
Francesco smiled.
He replied:
Wouldn't expect anything else.
Then he put the phone away.
Then the following morning, England were back at the training ground.
The change was immediate.
The relaxed atmosphere of the previous day had disappeared.
Players walked onto the pitch with a different kind of concentration.
Southgate stood with his coaching staff.
The message was simple.
The group stage was over.
Japan was now the only thing that mattered.
The first session focused on physical preparation.
Short runs.
Acceleration work.
Movement.
Recovery exercises.
Then the ball came out.
Passing patterns became sharper.
Positional exercises followed.
The coaches demanded quick decisions.
"Two touches."
"Move."
"Again."
The players responded.
Then came tactical work.
Southgate positioned the team against a simulated Japanese structure.
The shape shifted.
The ball moved.
The coaching staff stopped the exercise repeatedly.
"Look over your shoulder."
"Don't get caught square."
"Move the ball before they can settle."
The attackers worked on combinations.
The midfielders practiced receiving under pressure.
The defenders worked on maintaining distances.
Set pieces followed.
Corners.
Free kicks.
Defensive assignments.
Every detail mattered now.
The video analysis sessions became longer too.
Japan's movements were studied carefully.
Their defensive organisation.
Their midfield rotations.
Their attacking transitions.
The players sat quietly as clips played across the screen.
Southgate paused one sequence.
"That's where we have to be careful."
Another clip.
"Here."
Pause.
"They'll punish this if we give them the opportunity."
Nobody spoke.
Everyone understood.
The World Cup had changed.
There was no group-stage safety net anymore.
No opportunity to say, we'll fix it next match.
There was only the next ninety minutes.
Francesco sat forward in his chair.
He thought about the goal against Tunisia.
The celebration.
The travelling supporters.
The nine points.
All of it was already beginning to feel like the past.
Now came Japan.
Now came the knockout stage.
Later, back on the training pitch, Francesco worked through attacking patterns with Kane and Lingard.
Trippier delivered another cross.
Francesco attacked it.
This time, the finish went wide.
He shook his head.
"Again."
Trippier smiled.
"Again."
The ball was returned.
Another movement.
Another cross.
Another finish.
Nobody complained about the repetition.
They knew why they were doing it.
Eventually, Southgate's whistle brought the session to an end.
The players gathered their things.
Francesco stood for a moment, looking across the pitch.
The group stage had been perfect.
Three games.
Three wins.
Nine points.
But perfection no longer mattered.
Japan would not care.
The knockout stage didn't care.
Football didn't care.
The only thing that mattered now was what happened next.
Francesco picked up his bag.
Kane walked past him.
"Ready?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
Kane smiled.
"Good."
They walked toward the dressing room together.
Behind them, the training pitch slowly emptied.
The carefree days were finished.
The laughter would still be there.
The friendships would remain.
But underneath it all was something new.
Pressure.
Real pressure.
England had entered the part of the World Cup where one mistake could send them home.
And as the squad disappeared inside, Southgate and his coaches began preparing the next session.
Japan was waiting.
The first knockout battle of England's World Cup journey was coming.
As the following days passed differently from the ones before them.
There was still laughter around the England camp.
There were still arguments over television shows, jokes during meals, and the occasional attempt by Lingard to annoy Rooney simply because he knew it would get a reaction.
But underneath all of it, something had changed.
The group stage had been comfortable.
The knockout stage was not.
Every morning at Saint Petersburg began with the same understanding.
Japan was coming.
And nobody at England's training ground was pretending otherwise.
The players arrived earlier now.
Boots were already being tied when some of the coaching staff entered the dressing area. Conversations were shorter. Music still played quietly in the background, but nobody lingered for long.
Francesco noticed the difference immediately.
He felt it in himself.
Against Belgium, Panama and Tunisia, there had always been a certain freedom. Even when matches became difficult, England knew that qualification could be managed.
Now there was nothing to manage.
There was only survival.
Southgate addressed them before the first serious tactical session.
"The group stage is finished."
He stood at the front of the room with his hands resting against the table.
"Nine points. Good. Three wins. Good."
He nodded once.
"But none of that helps us if we don't perform against Japan."
The room remained silent.
"This is a different tournament now."
He looked around at every player.
"One mistake can decide the match. One poor decision. One moment of losing concentration."
A pause.
"And there won't be another game to fix it."
That sentence stayed with them.
The first session was physical.
Short accelerations.
Change-of-direction work.
Explosive movements.
Recovery runs.
The conditioning staff pushed them hard enough to remind everyone that the tournament was becoming a test of endurance as much as football.
Francesco finished one sprint and bent forward with his hands on his knees.
Lingard came alongside him.
"You look finished."
Francesco looked up.
"So do you."
"I look magnificent."
"You look like you're about to collapse."
Lingard laughed.
"That's because I'm conserving energy."
"For what?"
"The important moments."
Francesco shook his head.
"You're ridiculous."
"Still faster than you."
Francesco immediately straightened.
"Oh, really?"
Lingard grinned.
"Don't."
Francesco started walking toward him.
Lingard backed away laughing.
"I'm joking!"
Kane, passing behind them, shook his head.
"Children."
Rooney heard him.
"You're not exactly old, Harry."
Kane turned.
"I didn't say I was."
Rooney smiled.
"Good answer."
The jokes lasted only seconds before the coaches called them back.
"Ball work!"
The mood changed instantly.
The football returned.
Passing circuits became sharper.
The coaches demanded two-touch football, then one-touch combinations. Players had to receive while checking their shoulders, move immediately after releasing the ball and make themselves available again.
Southgate stopped the exercise.
"Too slow."
The ball was reset.
"Again."
Francesco received from Rooney.
One touch.
Return.
Move.
Rooney immediately shifted position.
The next pass arrived.
Francesco played it toward Lingard, then spun away.
Lingard found him.
"Good."
Southgate pointed.
"That's the movement. Don't admire your pass."
Francesco nodded.
The repetition continued.
Then came positional work.
The coaching staff recreated the kind of compact defensive structure they expected from Japan.
The attackers had to find solutions without forcing passes.
Kane moved between centre-back and midfielder.
Lingard searched for pockets.
Francesco alternated between starting wide and drifting centrally.
Rooney remained slightly deeper, controlling the rhythm.
Trippier and Young provided width.
Every movement had a purpose.
Every mistake was corrected.
"Francesco!"
He stopped.
Southgate pointed toward the space behind the simulated full-back.
"You're arriving too early."
Francesco nodded.
"Wait."
"Exactly. Let Kane move him first."
Kane looked across.
"I'll take care of that."
Francesco smiled.
"Appreciate it."
They reset.
This time Kane moved toward the near side, drawing the defender with him.
Francesco waited.
One second.
Two.
Then he attacked the space.
Rooney saw it and slipped the ball through.
Francesco reached it and finished.
"Better," Southgate called.
Trippier applauded.
"That one."
Francesco turned toward him.
"Keep crossing them like that."
Trippier grinned.
"You'll have to keep making the runs."
"Deal."
The work continued.
After training came recovery.
Ice baths.
Stretching.
Massage.
Physiotherapy.
Nobody enjoyed every part of it, but nobody complained either.
They knew what it was for.
At lunch, the atmosphere relaxed again.
Henderson sat across from Francesco, eating quietly.
"You getting used to this?"
Francesco looked up.
"To what?"
"The waiting."
Francesco thought about it.
"Not really."
Henderson smiled.
"None of us are."
Rooney joined them.
"You'll get used to it."
Francesco looked at him.
"You've played enough tournaments."
"Exactly."
Rooney picked up his drink.
"And I'm telling you, the waiting is worse than the game."
Henderson laughed.
"He's right."
Francesco nodded.
"I'd rather play."
"So would everyone."
Rooney leaned back.
"But that's the point. You prepare until you're ready, then you play."
Later that afternoon, the squad gathered for video analysis.
The room darkened.
The screen came alive.
Japan.
The first clips showed their defensive shape.
Compact.
Disciplined.
Players moving together.
The coaching staff paused the footage repeatedly.
"Look here."
The image froze.
"This midfielder steps forward."
Another pause.
"And when he does, the space behind him opens."
Southgate pointed toward the screen.
"That is what we want to attack."
Another sequence played.
Japan won the ball.
Three players immediately sprinted forward.
Southgate stopped it.
"This is the danger."
He looked toward the midfielders.
"If we lose the ball badly, they will attack immediately."
Rooney leaned forward.
"So the first pass matters."
"Exactly."
Another clip.
Japan defended a cross.
Then another.
Their full-backs narrowed.
Their midfield compressed.
England's analysts explained the distances, the rotations and the patterns.
Francesco watched carefully.
He wasn't simply thinking about where he could score.
He was thinking about where the Japanese defender would expect him to go.
That was becoming one of the biggest changes in his approach.
He had always possessed instinct.
Now he was learning to combine instinct with patience.
After the meeting, Kane walked beside him.
"They're organised."
"Very."
"But there's space."
Francesco nodded.
"There always is."
Kane smiled.
"That's what I like to hear."
The next morning brought another demanding session.
This time, the emphasis was on transitions.
England defended a simulated Japanese attack, recovered possession and immediately had five seconds to launch their own.
The first attempt failed.
Southgate blew his whistle.
"Stop!"
Everyone froze.
"Too many players are watching the ball."
He pointed toward the midfield.
"Look at your teammates. When we recover it, we need movement immediately."
Rooney nodded.
"Again."
The exercise restarted.
Dier stepped forward.
Henderson moved across.
The ball was recovered.
Rooney received.
Immediately, Lingard sprinted into space.
Kane moved centrally.
Francesco attacked the left channel.
Rooney waited half a second before releasing the pass.
Francesco collected.
Trippier overlapped.
Francesco returned the ball.
Trippier crossed.
Kane attacked it.
Header.
Goal.
"That's it!"
Southgate clapped.
"That's the transition."
Kane jogged back.
"Better."
Francesco smiled.
Rooney pointed at him.
"Good decision."
The next sequence was even faster.
Japan's simulated pressure forced England backward.
The midfield compressed.
Francesco dropped to help.
He received under pressure and protected the ball before finding Rooney.
Rooney immediately switched play.
Trippier was free.
The cross came.
This time Francesco had moved toward the far post.
He met it first time.
The finish flew just over.
Francesco groaned.
Trippier laughed.
"Still want my crosses?"
"Absolutely."
"Good."
The ball was already being returned.
"Again."
Nobody needed telling twice.
Over the following days, the sessions became increasingly specific.
Set pieces were rehearsed repeatedly.
Corners were taken from both sides.
Defensive assignments were changed.
Players practiced second-ball reactions.
Free kicks were worked on.
The defenders rehearsed marking responsibilities while Pickford organised everything behind them.
Southgate demanded compactness.
"Closer."
The players shifted.
"Not that close."
They adjusted.
"Now hold."
Another cross came.
Cahill cleared.
Stones collected the second ball.
Rooney moved into space.
The exercise transitioned immediately into an attack.
That was the constant theme.
Nothing was isolated anymore.
Defending became the beginning of attacking.
Attacking became preparation for defending.
Every action connected to the next.
Francesco felt himself becoming more comfortable with it.
He wasn't chasing every opportunity.
He was choosing them.
During one finishing drill, Lingard found him standing outside the box.
"You're thinking too much."
Francesco looked at him.
"What?"
"You used to just shoot."
"That's because I was sixteen."
Lingard laughed.
"Fair."
Rooney walked past.
"He's growing up."
Francesco looked at him.
"Don't sound so surprised."
"I am."
"Why?"
Rooney smiled.
"Because you're still annoying."
Francesco laughed.
"That's not changing."
"Good."
The friendship remained.
So did the pressure.
By the final days in Saint Petersburg, the team had established a routine.
Morning training.
Lunch.
Recovery.
Video analysis.
Afternoon tactical work.
Dinner.
Rest.
Repeat.
There were no complaints.
Even the players who weren't certain whether they would start understood their role.
Everyone needed to be ready.
Because knockout football could change in seconds.
One afternoon, Southgate gathered the attackers after training.
Kane.
Rooney.
Lingard.
Francesco.
Trippier remained nearby.
The manager looked at them.
"We don't need to force anything."
He pointed toward the penalty area.
"If the space isn't there, move them."
Kane nodded.
"Keep rotating."
"Exactly."
Southgate looked at Francesco.
"And you."
Francesco looked up.
"Don't stay in one place."
"I won't."
"Make them decide."
Francesco nodded.
That phrase stayed with him.
Make them decide.
That was what he wanted to do.
Make defenders choose.
Make them hesitate.
Make them react rather than anticipate.
The final evening in Saint Petersburg was unusually quiet.
The players had finished dinner and gradually disappeared toward their rooms.
Francesco stood by the window for several minutes.
The city lights stretched beyond the glass.
The World Cup was moving quickly.
Only days earlier, they had been celebrating nine points.
Now those victories felt distant.
Tomorrow they would travel again.
Rostov-on-Don.
Japan.
The knockout stage.
He packed his training gear carefully.
Boots.
Shirt.
Shorts.
Socks.
Everything in its place.
His phone buzzed.
Kane.
Ready for another trip?
Francesco replied.
Always.
A second message appeared.
Don't forget your boots this time.
Francesco smiled.
Very funny.
He put the phone down.
The next morning began early.
The hotel corridors were quiet as the players emerged with their bags.
No one needed to be reminded of the schedule.
They knew it.
Airport.
Flight.
Rostov-on-Don.
The team bus waited outside.
Players climbed aboard carrying their equipment.
Some were still waking up.
Others had already put headphones on.
Francesco took his usual window seat.
Rooney sat a few rows ahead.
Kane was beside Henderson.
Lingard and Trippier were discussing something quietly.
As the bus approached the airport, the familiar travel routine began.
Security checks.
Equipment inspections.
Luggage.
Passports.
Boarding.
Nothing glamorous.
Just another day of tournament football.
Once aboard the England aircraft, the squad gradually settled.
Some players watched films.
Others reviewed clips from previous matches.
A few watched footage of Japan again.
Francesco noticed Rooney studying his phone.
"What are you watching?"
"Japan."
Francesco smiled.
"Again?"
Rooney glanced over.
"Can't hurt."
Francesco nodded.
He looked toward his own screen.
A few minutes later, he found himself watching the same footage.
The plane began moving.
Outside, Saint Petersburg slowly disappeared behind the runway lights.
Francesco turned toward the window.
He thought about how quickly everything had happened.
The opening match.
The celebrations.
The second victory.
The final group game.
Three wins.
Nine points.
Another goal.
And now they were leaving the city behind because the tournament had entered its decisive phase.
The aircraft lifted into the sky.
The conversation gradually faded.
Some players slept.
Others listened to music.
A few continued watching football footage.
Francesco rested his head against the window.
Soon the clouds swallowed the ground beneath them.
Several hours later, the aircraft descended toward Rostov-on-Don.
The atmosphere changed the moment they stepped outside.
Different city.
Different surroundings.
Still the same tournament.
Supporters stood behind barriers.
England flags were visible along the route.
Security personnel guided the squad through the airport.
Cameras waited nearby.
World Cup signs were everywhere.
The knockout stage was becoming real.
The players collected their luggage and climbed aboard the waiting bus.
Southgate entered last.
Once everyone was seated, he stood briefly near the front.
"Right."
The bus became quiet.
"We settle in tonight."
He looked around.
"Recover properly."
A pause.
"Tomorrow we begin at FC SKA Rostov-on-Don."
Nobody moved.
"And just because we've changed cities doesn't mean our standards change."
He looked toward the players.
"Every session from tomorrow is about Japan."
The bus pulled away.
Southgate sat down.
Francesco watched Rostov-on-Don through the window.
Flags.
Supporters.
Police.
World Cup volunteers.
The city had its own rhythm.
But football was everywhere.
The hotel was quieter than the airport.
The players received their rooms and carried their bags inside.
Francesco unpacked only what he needed.
Training clothes went into one drawer.
Casual clothes into another.
His boots remained beside the door.
At dinner, conversation was subdued.
Henderson discussed Japan with Rooney.
Kane listened.
Lingard occasionally joined in.
Francesco mostly ate and listened.
Afterward, he returned to his room.
The unfamiliar surroundings felt strange.
A different bed.
A different view.
A different city.
But tomorrow would be the same.
Football.
He laid out his training clothes before turning off the light.
The following morning, England arrived at FC SKA Rostov-on-Don.
The training ground was already prepared.
Fresh grass stretched beneath the morning light.
Equipment had been positioned along the edge of the pitch.
Cones.
Mannequins.
Goals.
Medical equipment.
The coaching staff moved between the changing facilities and pitch.
The players emerged one by one.
Warm-up first.
Then physical preparation.
Then football.
Southgate watched closely.
"Sharper."
The players increased the tempo.
"Move it."
The ball moved.
"Again."
The passing became faster.
Then tactical exercises began.
The coaches recreated Japan's structure.
England's attackers searched for gaps.
Francesco worked alongside Kane and Lingard.
Trippier stayed wide.
Rooney operated deeper.
The pattern developed.
Kane dropped.
Francesco moved inside.
Lingard ran beyond.
Rooney switched play.
Trippier crossed.
Kane attacked.
Goal.
Southgate stopped them.
"Again."
The next sequence began.
This time Japan's simulated midfield stepped higher.
Francesco dropped toward the ball.
Kane moved away.
Lingard found the space.
Rooney played through.
Lingard crossed low.
Francesco arrived late.
Finish.
"Better."
The defensive group worked separately.
Dier, Stones, Cahill and the midfielders practiced protecting against counterattacks.
When England lost the ball, everyone had to react immediately.
"Press!"
Southgate shouted.
"Don't retreat!"
The players closed down.
Then came defensive compactness.
The distances between the lines were measured carefully.
Too much space meant another correction.
"Closer."
The team shifted.
"Hold."
They held.
"Now go."
The press triggered.
The ball was recovered.
The attack began again.
The session seemed endless.
But nobody wanted it to end early.
Because every repetition mattered.
Afterward came recovery.
Stretching.
Ice.
Treatment.
Food.
Then another video session.
Japan appeared on the screen once again.
The players watched quietly.
Southgate paused an attacking sequence.
"This."
He pointed.
"This is where they can hurt us."
Another clip.
"And here is where we can hurt them."
The image froze on a gap between defenders.
Francesco leaned forward.
Kane did the same.
Southgate continued.
"Patience. Then speed."
That became the message.
Patience.
Then speed.
Over the next few days, the pattern repeated and intensified.
Attacking combinations.
Defensive transitions.
Set pieces.
Finishing.
Physical conditioning.
Recovery.
Video analysis.
The team became sharper.
Francesco became quieter.
Not withdrawn.
Just focused.
He still laughed with Lingard.
Still joked with Rooney.
Still exchanged comments with Trippier after crosses.
But there was a maturity in the way he approached each session.
He knew what was coming.
At the end of one training session, Trippier delivered a cross toward him.
Francesco finished.
Trippier nodded.
"Good."
Francesco collected the ball.
"Again?"
Trippier smiled.
"Always."
Francesco placed the ball back.
He looked toward the penalty area.
Kane was waiting.
Lingard was moving.
Rooney stood outside the box.
The coaching staff were watching.
Japan was only days away.
Francesco took a breath.
The ball came again.
He attacked the space.
Finished.
This time, Southgate didn't stop the exercise.
He simply nodded.
That was enough.
As evening approached, the training ground gradually emptied.
The players gathered their bags.
The grass was marked by footprints from another demanding session.
Francesco stood near the edge of the pitch for a moment.
Rostov-on-Don still felt unfamiliar.
But England no longer did.
They had settled into their rhythm.
They had prepared.
They had worked.
They had studied Japan until the patterns were beginning to feel familiar.
The group stage was now firmly behind them.
Three victories.
Nine points.
A perfect start.
But none of it could protect them anymore.
Francesco picked up his bag.
Kane walked past.
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
Kane nodded.
"Then we play."
Francesco looked back toward the pitch.
The relaxed freedom of the group stage was gone.
The jokes would remain.
The friendships would remain.
But now there was something heavier underneath them.
Expectation.
Pressure.
Responsibility.
Japan would be the first true knockout test of England's World Cup campaign.
And every player knew exactly what that meant.
There would be no second chance.
No tomorrow guaranteed.
Only one match.
One opportunity.
One path forward.
Francesco finally turned toward the dressing room with the squad followed, as first knockout battle was getting closer.
__________________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, and Champions League 2017/2018.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 59
Goal: 76
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 7
Goal: 7
Assist: 1
MOTM: 3
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9