⚽ Football Reborn: The Manager from the Future
Chapter 15 – Rosario Revisited: The Lion Cub Must Be Protected
The smell of roasted meat and distant rain lingered as the taxi rolled through Rosario, a city that pulsed with the rhythm of old neighborhoods and young dreams.
Ethan hadn't even slept since landing.
The AI's alert had been urgent:
Ezequiel Barco scouted by River Plate. Proximity: Close friend of Lionel Messi.
Threat Level: Medium-High. Timeline disruption probability: 19.4%.
To most people, that would mean nothing.
But to Ethan?
It was the start of a domino collapse.
Barco signing for River Plate early would draw scouts to their school. If even one Argentine club discovered Messi's true potential before Ethan locked him in, the timeline could fracture. Barcelona might never come. La Masia might miss him. The GOAT might fade into obscurity.
It was unacceptable.
Ethan stood outside the Messi household, a modest building tucked between a bakery and a faded garage. The same as he remembered from the AI's recordings. The smell of dough and engine oil hung in the air.
Jorge Messi opened the door, surprised.
"You came back."
"I said I would."
"I thought you were just another gringo with empty promises."
Ethan pulled out the revised contract — not for football. For relocation. A school scholarship in England. A modest apartment. Tuition. Family assistance. No tricks. Just safety, time, and infrastructure.
Jorge read every word.
"I don't want Leo to grow up somewhere cold and strange."
"He doesn't have to," Ethan said. "We'll create an enclave for him. Spanish-speaking tutors. Argentine friends. A pathway through Darlington's youth system."
"He's… just a boy."
"No, Jorge. He's history."
That afternoon, Ethan visited the schoolyard where Messi and Barco usually trained after classes. As he approached the dirt pitch, the ball bounced to his feet.
He stopped it cleanly and looked up.
There stood Lionel, age 9, his oversized shirt flapping as he jogged over.
"¡Bien hecho, señor!" Leo grinned.
Ethan crouched down. "I saw you nutmeg that older kid."
Leo shrugged. "He was too slow."
"You're fast. But it's not just that. It's how you see space."
"My mamá says I see ghosts when I dribble."
Ethan smiled. "She's not wrong."
Then Leo's eyes flicked to a man by the fence. Not Jorge. Someone in a red-and-white tracksuit. Holding a notepad. River Plate's emblem gleamed on his chest.
Ethan's stomach turned.
He stood and walked toward the man.
"Scouting this age group?" Ethan asked casually.
The man smirked. "Always. Some of these kids could be gold."
"You're a little far from Buenos Aires."
"The good ones are never easy to reach."
Ethan forced a laugh. "Too bad they're not ready for the big leagues yet."
"Some of them might be," the man said, looking straight at Leo.
That night, Ethan initiated Protocol Umbra — the AI's emergency relocation sequence.
✈️ Relocation approved
✎ Messi family: Travel visas in motion
🏠 School housing unit prepped near Darlington
🎓 Scholarship value: £7,200/year
AI Warning: Timeline deviation risk reduced by 74%
By Sunday, Jorge Messi signed the agreement.
Leo would finish the school term, and then — England.
Not La Masia. Not River Plate.
Darlington.
And as Ethan boarded his return flight, his phone buzzed again.
⚠️ Timeline Update: Ronaldo relocation delayed
Issue: Father's illness worsened
Threat level: Moderate
Suggested Action: Send club representative to Madeira
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Messi was safe.
For now.
But Ronaldo?
Cristiano was in danger of being lost to fate.
Back in Darlington, Greg was waiting with more news.
"Two things," he said as Ethan stepped off the train.
"One: the board's noticed the winning streak. They're giving you room—but they want interviews. Public exposure."
Ethan frowned. "Not yet. We stay low."
"Second… our training ground was broken into."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "What was taken?"
"Nothing, apparently. But someone planted a camera. And we found printouts. Of the youth files."
Ethan stood still.
Someone wasn't just scouting against him now.
They were spying.
He entered the training ground that evening and stared at the artificial turf where Messi would soon run. Where Ronaldo would one day sharpen his will. Where Neymar would learn to fly.
The war had officially begun.
This wasn't football anymore.
It was timeline warfare.