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***
The morning after Manchester City's hard-fought 2â1 win over Leicester, the sky over Manchester was a dull grey, the kind that hung heavy but not oppressively soâalmost theatrical, as if the city itself was waiting for something.
But inside the black Mercedes cruising through the city's quieter streets, the mood was anything but somber. It was more like a nervous excitement before a field trip.
Adriano sat in the back seat, dressed in a tailored black Nike blazer over a simple but elegant grey shirt , his posture relaxed but eyes thoughtful.
Beside him sat Raul, his assistant, who was scrolling through a packed itinerary on his tablet. Up front, Jorge Mendes, Adriano's agent, had flown in specifically for the event.
He was on a call in Portuguese, speaking fast and sharp, probably negotiating something for another client, but his tone mellowed as he ended the call.
"EstĂĄ feito," Mendes muttered with a satisfied sigh, then turned halfway in his seat to face Adriano. "You ready?"
Adriano leaned his head back against the headrest and exhaled. "Ready for what, exactly?" he said with a half-smirk. "Photos? Lights? Speeches? I'm not a model, Jorge."
"No," Mendes replied, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "You're not a model. You're a brand now. This is different."
Raul added from beside him, "And it's all set. Press arrive at eleven-thirty. You go on stage at noon. Afterwards, Nike wants five minutes for photos with the executives, then the boot signing station. Then a brief press conference. Should not more than ninety minutes total."
Adriano rubbed his temples. "You forgot to mention, with twenty cameras in my face."
"You've done harder things," Mendes said flatly. "Like nutmegging defenders in World Cup."
Raul chuckled. "Or that goal against Bayern . The dribble, the curlâNike replayed it ten times in the promo cut."
Adriano shook his head, but he couldn't help smiling faintly. "It's just boots."
"No," Mendes said, voice more serious now. "It's identity. You've arrived. And now you show them what that means. The right boots, the right look, the right message. People buy into a story, Adrianoânot just goals. You'll be the Jordan of Football."
The words hung in the air for a few moments. Outside, the car turned into a private lot near the city center, where a sleek modern buildingâusually a minimalist art galleryâhad been transformed for the occasion.
Adriano looked out the window as they parked. "Alright," he said quietly. "Let's tell a story."
***
Inside the venue, the transformation was striking. The gallery had been reimagined into a luxury showroom. Matte black panels framed the space, accented with sharp gold lines running along the edges like circuit traces on a motherboard.
The lighting was soft and focused, drawing attention to key display areas without overwhelming the space. In the center, under a glass pedestal covered by black clothes, sat the boots: Adriano's first signature model.
Adriano had already told Nike about the design and color schemes. Black with gold accents. Subtle patterns embossed into the upper leather mimicked waves of movement, a nod to his dribbling style. He left the rest to the capable designers.
Cinematic highlight reels played on a loop across a massive screen at the back of the roomâAdriano's solo goals, deft passes, last-minute assists. Each clip was punctuated with subtle beats from a custom soundtrack composed just for this eventâ light and powerful, like the player himself.
Media and influencers murmured with admiration as they milled around. Some took selfies. Others filmed slow pans across the boot pedestal for Instagram reels. Nike executives shook hands, sipped espresso from branded cups, and made polite small talk.
As Adriano entered the room with Mendes and Raul at his sides, the energy shifted. A subtle hush rippled through the venue as people turned their heads. Cameras were lifted. Flashbulbs flickered. Someone called out his name, followed by another.
But Adriano kept walking, nodding to a few familiar faces without breaking stride. He posed for a few cameras with a smile and signed some stuff for fans , then entered the venue.
Backstage, the noise of the showroom dulled into a low hum, muffled by the heavy black curtains and soft carpet. It felt like a different worldâquieter, more focused, the calm behind the spectacle.
Adriano stood with his hands in his coat pockets, flanked by Raul and Mendes, both checking their watches, their posture alert but casual.
Just ahead, three Nike executives waited. The CEO stood tall, crisp in a dark grey blazer, flanked by two of the lead designers responsible for the boot's development.
They looked excited to see his response for their efforts. They were professionals who'd spent months building toward this moment, and now, like Adriano, they were ready.
The CEO smiled as Adriano approached. "You ready to see them?" he asked, offering a firm handshake.
Adriano nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching into a subtle grin. "Been waiting for this."
"Good," the CEO replied. "Because this isn't just a reveal. It's the result of watching you. Closely. For a long time. You'll love it."
They began walking together slowly as one of the designers chimed in. "We studied the way you cut insideâthose sudden shifts in tempo. The control when you trap the ball and turn in the same motion. It's not just about flair, it's precision. Calculated chaos."
Adriano listened, quietly impressed. Mendes stayed a step behind, arms folded, nodding now and then as the designers explained how they'd analyzed video footage, heatmaps, even Adriano's preferred types of first touches.
The boot wasn't based on a general templateâit was molded from his specific movement data, adjusted again and again to maximize feel and weight balance.
Raul leaned over and whispered, "I think they know your gait better than your physio."
Adriano let out a small laugh, still staring at the covered pedestal in the center of the dimmed backstage area. It was set under a narrow spotlight, casting a long, clean shadow.
Around it, the black flooring shimmered faintly, polished just enough to reflect the light without overpowering it.
The CEO raised a hand. "Alright. Let's say a few words before the unveiling."
Adriano reached the front stage, where a Nike rep greeted him with a handshake. "Adriano. Welcome. Everything's ready when you are."
Mendes whispered, "Keep it short, be yourself. Speak from the heart."
Raul handed him a mic. "Just hit the key points: what the boots mean to you, the design, the fans. Then we move on."
Adriano nodded and walked onto the stage.
The lights shifted. The music faded. The looping highlights paused on a still image of Adriano in action. The crowd turned to face him.
He cleared his throat and spoke.
"I'm not really one for speeches," he began. A ripple of laughter spread. "But thisâthis is something special."
He gestured behind him to the stands. "This isn't just a design. It's not about colours or patterns. It's about what they mean. About movement. About control.
I came from a place where football was played barefoot on concrete. Now I get to wear something that carries my name. That's crazy."
The crowd cheered and clapped as he took a pause. He looked into the crowd, expression calm.
"I wanted boots that felt like me. Simple, fast, sharp. I don't want to feel them weighing me when I playâI just want to move freely. Nike understood that. And they made it happen."
He paused again, then nodded. " I hope to give you fans more dazzling performances with these boots. Obrigado. Let's keep going."
Applause broke outâpolite at first, then building into genuine cheers. The music resumed, the highlights started looping again, and Adriano stepped down. Mendes patted him on the back.
"Well done," he said. "Short, clean, real. That's all you needed."
***
The lights around the edges of the room dimmed. A quiet bass note hummed beneath the surface, subtle but building. A control assistant pressed something on a tablet, and the pedestal in the middle began to rotate slowly. The display casing split open from the middle, like petals unfolding.
A single spotlight narrowed onto the glass stand as the display clothes opened fully, revealing the boots with camera's flashing and crowd's clapping.
There they were.
A pair of sleek black boots, refined and powerful in their simplicity. The body of the boot had a matte finish that seemed to absorb the light, while the subtle gold lines that curled across the sides shimmered gently, like the threads of a tapestry. There was nothing excessiveâno gimmicks. Just elegance and control.
The Nike logo, slightly raised, was etched in a brushed gold finish on one side. Opposite it, the letters:Â AR10âAdriano's initials and numberâstylized like a crest. Around the ankle collar, barely visible unless the light caught it right, was a detailed golden crown stitched in fine thread. The studs underneath were semi-transparent, catching the overhead light like shards of ice.
Adriano stepped forward slowly. His footsteps echoed just slightly in the silence.
He reached out and gently lifted one of the boots off the stand. The material was soft, lightâalmost like fabricâbut sturdy in his grip.
He turned it slowly in his hands, eyes scanning every detail. The shape, the balance, the weightâit all felt right.
After a moment, he looked up and nodded, voice low but sincere. "This is just⊠perfect."
Mendes stepped beside him, arms crossed, grinning. "That's not just a football boot. That's a boot for royalty. It has to be perfect."
The group laughed lightly. Cameras from Nike's in-house media team clicked into action, capturing the moment as Adriano and the CEO held one boot each for a staged photo. The audience clapped and cheered loudly as the boots were unveiled. The designers stood behind them, visibly proud.
Raul, standing off to the side, clapped slowly, nodding with real appreciation. "That's going on every kid's Christmas list in Portugal," he murmured.
Adriano looked at the boots once more, then handed it back to the display assistant carefully. "I'll wear them against Bayern," he said quietly, almost to himself.
The CEO raised his eyebrows. "In the next Champions League game?"
Adriano nodded once. "The right night to show them.."
Mendes leaned in. "That'll do more for Nike's numbers than any campaign we could pay for."
They shared a quiet chuckle. But beneath it all, the mood held a chargeâsomething deeper. This wasn't just about the look or the technology. It was about what it represented.
Back out in the showroom, media and influencers were still buzzing from the earlier presentation. Word had spread that the real boots had just been shown to Adriano backstage, and several reporters were quietly angling for quotes or photos.
Security moved discreetly to prepare for the second revealâwhere Adriano would walk back out and officially unveil the boots to the public.
As he stood just behind the curtain with Mendes and Raul again, Adriano shook out his arms and adjusted his collar. The calm was back in his expression.
Raul handed him a mic, checking his watch. "You've got about ten- twenty minutes of interview. Just say what you feel."
Mendes offered one last piece of advice. "Answer like you playâno fluff."
Adriano gave a small nod. The event staff gave the cue, and the music kicked in againâsame moody instrumental from earlier. The curtains parted, and the spotlight swept across the crowd.
He walked out slowly, boots in hand, and the room erupted in cheers and camera flashes.
***
The lights in the conference room were bright but controlled, reflecting off the matte-black backdrop emblazoned with the golden AR10 logo. Rows of journalists, photographers, and select brand reps filled the room. Most held tablets or phones, already preparing posts and clips as Adriano stepped onto the dais beside Nike's CEO.
They were flanked by a small table featuring the new boots under glass, positioned carefully to catch the light just right.
Adriano sat upright, composed, wearing a tailored black Nike blazer over a minimalist charcoal shirt. His expression was calm, but he was alertâreading the room.
The CEO, seasoned and polished, took the first few questions with ease, speaking on the technical design process and the alignment between Nike and Adriano's vision.
Then came a question from a reporter from Marca.
"Adriano, can you tell us more about the personal inspiration theme behind the black and gold color scheme?"
Adriano leaned into the mic, pausing for just a second. "It's a mix of my roots and my goals," he said. "Black represents the workâquiet, focused, no noise. Not to mention the darkness that covered my youth career early on . I once even thought I'd never be able to play again.
Gold represents the dream, the glory after darkness. You don't start with gold. You earn it through efforts. It also shows that no matter the darkness, the light will always shine. Never give up, or stop believing yourself."
The room murmured with interest. Someone scribbled the quote down. Another reporter's hand went up immediately.
"Nike said these were designed based on how you move. How involved were you personally in that process?"
"I didn't draw anything personally," Adriano said, smiling slightly. "But we had long talks. I showed them clips of how I like to turn, to pivot in tight space. I told them I didn't want something heavy. I wanted boots that felt like an extensionâso I don't have to think, I just play."
The Nike CEO followed up with technical insight: "Every groove, every stitch, every ounce of weight is tuned to Adriano's playing styleâhis touch, acceleration, balance. These aren't just boots. They're engineered to his mold, showing expressions of his game."
A few questions later, another came in from a social media representative: "How will these boots be priced and distributed?"
The CEO responded crisply. "These are premium tier, limited edition. Launching across key European markets end of this month. Youth lines are in development, but we want to get the performance line established first."
Adriano glanced at Mendes in the front row. The agent gave a small, approving nod.
"Will there be other color variations?" another reporter asked.
"No comment," the CEO replied, smiling. "But we're not done with AR10 just yet."
The press conference continued for about thirty minutes, mixing questions on design, performance, and future plans. When it wrapped, Adriano posed for a few more shots beside the boots, then exited backstage with Mendes and Raul.
Online, the reaction wasn't just loudâit was immediate, coordinated chaos. The moment Nike posted the official boot reveal video, football Twitter ignited like a flare over a derby match.
Within minutes, the video of Adriano lifting the AR10 bootsâspotlight catching the gold crown, the black leather gleamingâwas everywhere. Slow-motion edits were posted by design bloggers, fan accounts, even rival club supporters who grudgingly admitted the boots were "something else." Instagram stories were filled with clips of the rotating pedestal shot from every angle. Influencers zoomed in on the tiny detailsâstitching, texture, the crown insigniaâand posted their reactions live.
On Twitter:
@FootyFocus: "Nike AR10 boots are clean. No extra fluff. Just class."
@TheKitsman: "That crown logo? Subtle and powerful. Adriano x Nike nailed it."
@EPL_Aesthetics: "We NEED the youth line of these. My kid is asking already."
@GoalReactions: "Tell me that boot isn't screaming Ballon d'Or nominee energy."
@SerieATakes: "Adriano's gone full icon mode. That launch video is cinema."
The boot reveal sparked instant debate threads. Some fans speculated about alternate colorwaysâsilver and white for away kits? Red and gold for Portugal? Others began designing mock-ups of what an AR10 x Portugal edition might look like, overlaying the crown atop the national crest.
On YouTube:
Creators wasted no time. Some were live-streaming their reactions during the press conference. One channel, TheBootRoom, uploaded a breakdown within an hour:
"Let's talk about that crown," the host said, pointing to a freeze frame. "It's not just decoration. That's a stylized version of Dom JoĂŁo's royal insigniaâsubtle nod to Portuguese heritage. Brilliant."
Another channel compared the boot's minimalism to the iconic Mercurial Vapor IV: "We haven't seen something this deliberately elegant in a decade. Nike brought back restraintâand power."
In fan forums:
On Reddit's /r/soccer, a mega-thread was pinned within 20 minutes:
[MEGATHREAD] Adriano x Nike AR10 Boot Launch â Design, Details, Reactions
Top comment:
"Even as a United fan, I've got to sayâthose boots are cold. This is how you launch a signature line."
Fans debated whether this launch topped previous Nike collaborations with Ronaldo, Neymar, or even Totti's classics. Someone posted a side-by-side photo of Adriano's debut boots with the new AR10 and captioned it, "From academy trials to royalty."
By the time Adriano reached the private lounge in Deansgate that evening, AR10 was trending not just in the UK, but also in Portugal, Spain, France, and Brazil. Nike's main tweet announcing the launch had surpassed 100K likes. Instagram's comment sections were overflowing with fire emojis, crown emojis, and messages like "Future GOAT vibes"and "My Sunday league boots just got demoted."
Adriano hadn't spoken a word since leaving the venue, but his name hadn't left the top corner of millions of screens all day. The boots weren't just well-receivedâthey had become a symbol, a watermark on his rising influence.
Mendes, scrolling through his phone during the drive, looked over and said dryly, "You're already a trend. Tomorrow, you'll be a headline."
The restaurant was low-lit, quiet. Mendes had reserved a private room, just the three of them at a round table. Waitstaff moved discreetly in and out, never lingering. The contrast from the press noise earlier in the day was stark.
Mendes poured from a newly opened bottle of red. "You handled it well," he said, sliding a glass toward Adriano. "Media was watching every move."
Adriano took a sip and exhaled. "Still not used to that. But it's getting easier."
Raul, sitting across with his phone in hand, looked up. "Your boot video's at 1.2 million in less than an hour. Some YouTube guy is doing a frame-by-frame breakdown of your celebration against Roma. Says it matches the crown pose in the logo."
Mendes laughed. "That crown⊠smart branding. And speaking of brandingâŠ"
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a slim black folder, placing it on the table.
"Three offers," Mendes said as he opened it. "All finalized. Just needs your go-ahead."
Adriano leaned forward.
"First," Mendes began, "Louis Vuitton. They want to design a capsule collection around you. Formalwear. Appearances. Maybe an eventual signature line. Think tailored suits with a subtle AR10 tag inside."
Adriano raised an eyebrow. "I don't really wear suits."
"You will now," Raul quipped.
"They'll dress you. You just have to wear it,"
Mendes assured him. "It's a Big move in the fashion circles."
"Alright," Adriano said. "Noted."
Mendes flipped the page. "Second: Rolex. Brand ambassador deal. Classic, timeless. Good for long-term image."
"Sounds solid," Adriano said.
"And the third," Mendes said, tapping the final sheet, "is the most important. SickKids. Not a promo thing. Real involvement. You'll visit hospitals. Be the face of some campaigns. Support events. It's about impact."
Adriano didn't hesitate. "I'm in."
"All three?" Mendes asked.
Adriano nodded. "Yes. Especially that one."
Raul leaned back, smiling. "People here will love that. And you'll actually make a difference."
The conversation shifted into planningâdates for fittings, photoshoots, which Rolex model would suit him best, how to integrate the SickKids work into his travel schedule without affecting training.
Mendes brought out a mockup of a social campaign built around the theme Crown the Fightâa tie-in between Adriano's boot logo and children battling illness.
The night wore on. At one point, Adriano set down his fork and simply stared out the window toward the street below. Lights shimmered over the wet pavement. People moved fast, unaware of what had just been decided above.
Mendes noticed the pause. "You alright?"
"Just thinking," Adriano said. "Boots, brands, deals⊠it's a lot."
"You're not just a player anymore," Mendes said. "You're a name. A symbol."
Adriano gave a small nod. "Let's just make sure it means something."
By the time they finished dinner, the online numbers had doubled. Instagram edits of the boots circulated with gold-glitch effects. Twitter fan accounts began sharing old youth photos of Adriano, captioned with Started from nothing. AR10 wasn't just a product launchâit was a moment. One that pushed him into a new echelon.
As they left the restaurant, Mendes turned to him again. "It's been a good season."
Adriano gave him a confident smile.
"I'm just getting started."
***
The bitter chill of early December rolled in across Manchester, coating the Etihad Campus in a thin, frosty sheen each morning.
As the Christmas lights twinkled faintly around the outer buildings, there was little festivity to be found inside the walls of Manchester City's training grounds. The calendar was unforgivingâmatches came thick and fast.
The squad would face Everton at home, then Leicester City away just four days later. After that, three more league fixtures were crammed into the month alongside a League Cup quarterfinal and the decisive final Champions League group stage match: an away trip to Bayern Munich.
With the fixture list relentless, Manuel Pellegrini had no choice but to adapt the team's preparation. Gone were the tactical classroom sessions and video-heavy match previewsâthis week was about fitness, stamina, and surviving December without key injuries.
"We will win games in December not with skill, but with lungs," Pellegrini said sharply one morning as the players gathered near the edge of the training pitch. "Whoever runs harder, longer, and smarter wins in this stretch."
Fitness coach JosĂ© Cabello led most of the sessions, weaving the players through a demanding schedule of high-intensity interval drills, resistance runs, and small-sided pressing games designed to simulate match fatigue. By the third day, legs were heavy and tempers shortâbut the effort on display was undeniable.
Adriano, ever the quiet leader among his peers, stood out. He pushed himself through every rep, often among the first to finish sprint drills and the last to leave the gym. After one particularly grueling stamina circuit, he leaned against the goalpost, drenched in sweat, and turned to Hazard beside him.
"You keep up with me this week, and I'll pass to you twice against Everton," he joked.
Hazard, breathless but grinning, nodded. "Make it three, and I'll track back."
Salah, whose form had been steadily rising since his move from Chelsea, was equally determined. He was often paired with Kane in finishing drills, the two forming a rhythm that had staff quietly taking notes. Kane's composure in front of goal and Salah's acceleration made them an unpredictable duo.
Meanwhile, Kevin De Bruyne worked with assistant coach Rubén Cousillas on his movement in tight spaces. The Belgian had recovered fully from a minor knock and was rediscovering his sharpness.
"Kev, take one less touch here," Cousillas advised, gesturing toward the edge of the box as cones were reset for the next drill. "You already see the passâjust trust your timing."
Mangala, the young French center-back, was perhaps the most transformed figure in training. After a string of solid starts in November, he appeared renewed. Gone was the uncertainty in his body language; in its place was a sharper focus, more vocal communication, and an eagerness to engage in duels.
During one defensive shape drill, he cleanly intercepted a lofted ball intended for AgĂŒero and immediately played it forward into midfield. Vincent Kompany clapped his hands and jogged over.
"That's it, Eliaquim!" Kompany said. "Play with your chest out, you belong here."
The praise meant everything to Mangala. He smiled briefly, nodded, and returned to position, but his chest rose just a bit higher the rest of the session.
Off to the side, two players who had found themselves on the fringesâScott Sinclair and James Milnerâshared a quiet word with Pellegrini after training.
Milner, ever the professional, had taken his limited minutes with dignity, but he was restless. Sinclair, still hoping to reignite his career, approached the conversation with quiet humility.
"I just want to help the team, boss," Milner said. "Give me a role, any role. I'll do it."
Pellegrini nodded. "I admire that. You may get your chance sooner than you think."
Both players redoubled their efforts in the following sessions, Milner flying into challenges during the pressing drills, Sinclair staying late to work on his crossing.
But as some players fought for more minutes, others had already accepted their time in Manchester was drawing to a close. Veterans Alvaro Negredo, GaĂ«l Clichy, JesĂșs Navas, and Bacary Sagna had been informed of their status ahead of the January window. They were professional, but their presence in training became more muted.
Negredo, often one of the louder voices in the dressing room, had grown quieter in recent weeks. After finishing a routine shooting drill, he placed the ball down gently and walked over to Adriano, who had lingered behind.
"You have won, chico," Negredo said in Spanish. "Although I don't like it, but you have played well. They believe in you. Don't waste it."
Adriano nodded. "Gracias, Ălvaro. It was never against you guys. I respect you guys, but times are changing. If we want to win, we must keep up the tempo."
The rest however, made no attempts to communicate. Adriano never blamed them. It's natural for them to be upset.
***
Behind the scenes at Manchester City, the tempo of negotiation was picking up to match the intensity on the pitch. As December progressed and the January 2015 window crept closer, the club's transfer operations entered a critical phase. Adriano's rising influence wasn't just confined to matchdaysâhis performances and vision had earned him a growing presence in meetings with Director of Football Txiki Begiristain and the club's recruitment analysts.
Adriano had made his opinions clear: City needed to modernize their attack and invest in intelligent, technically versatile players who could contribute not just immediately, but for years ahead. His suggestions weren't seen as player-driven favoritism. They were backed by scouting data, performance analytics, and match reports. His football IQ was winning people over, and it gave credibility to the names he pushed forward.
The club began initial conversations with three major targets: Son Heung-min, Anthony Martial, and Marco Asensio.
Son, then playing for Bayer Leverkusen in the Bundesliga, was the most developed of the trio. At 22, he was already a regular starter, known for his explosiveness, relentless pressing, and two-footed finishing. City's scouts had flagged him multiple times in their reports, and Adriano vouched for him during a closed-door technical meeting.
"He's not flashy," Adriano had told Begiristain and Pellegrini, "but he's brutally efficient. Doesn't waste chances, and he'll run until the final whistle."
Negotiations with Leverkusen began through intermediaries. The German club made it clear Son wasn't on the market in winter unless a significant offer arrived. Initial numbers were floatedâÂŁ18 million, rejected. Leverkusen countered with £25 million.
After internal discussion, City were willing to meet them halfway at £20 million, but included performance-based add-ons linked to goal involvement and Champions League appearances.
The structure appealed to Leverkusen. The talks progressed quickly, with personal terms handled by Mendes' secondary negotiation team. Son's camp wanted regular minutes and a clear development path. Pellegrini couldn't promise starts immediately but assured them of integration into the rotation. The deal wasn't sealed yet, but optimism was growing.
Anthony Martial, still at AS Monaco, was trickier. Just 19 and relatively unknown outside France, Martial was raw, but his athleticism and technical ceiling were enormous. City's scouting department had been monitoring him since his Lyon academy days, but Monaco were protective of their assets. With Falcao already loaned out and Berbatov aging, Monaco didn't want to lose another forward mid-season.
Initial contact was made through Martial's agent. Monaco's valuation was £12 million, with interest already coming from Italy and Germany. City offered £10 million with structured bonuses and loan-back options, which Monaco declined. A second approach was being preparedâone that included a resale clause and a larger up-front fee. The club wasn't pushing too hard, knowing this move might be better suited for the summer if no agreement was reached by late January.
Marco Asensio was the wildcard. Then just 18, he was emerging in Mallorca's first team, playing second-division football in Spain, but his composure and left foot had already attracted Real Madrid's attention. Adriano had been following him since the youth level and brought up his name in early December.
Begiristain, being Spanish, knew the player's background well.
"He's fragile," he said during a transfer committee meeting, "but clever. High ceiling. We can't let Madrid swoop in easily."
City's first approach was discreet. The strategy was to reach out to Mallorca directly and propose a £3.5 million transfer fee with loan-back for the remainder of the season.
Mallorca, in financial strain, showed interest. However, Madrid had also made informal contact. It became a raceâone City were willing to lose only if the price inflated beyond sense. Talks were ongoing, but delicate.
While these three attacking options consumed most of the media speculation, there were two less-publicized moves that were handled with quiet efficiencyâboth defensive reinforcements that came from Adriano's own recommendations.
Joshua Kimmich, playing for RB Leipzig in the German second tier, had been flagged by City's analytics department for his defensive awareness, versatility, and spatial reading of the game.
Though a central midfielder by trade, Adriano and Mendes saw potential in him filling the hybrid right-back role behind Pablo Zabaleta. The club's recruitment head dispatched a scout to Germany for an in-person review.
Leipzig's demands were modestâÂŁ6 million upfront, rising to £8 million with appearances. Kimmich was interested, but the move required clearance from Bayern Munich, who held a first-refusal clause on him.
Once Bayern were informed of City's interest, they indicated they'd let the player go if the buyout was honored. City moved quickly to finalize personal terms. Kimmich was open to starting in a rotational role.
The left-back situation was more straightforward. Adriano had quietly recommended a then-obscure 20-year-old from Hull City: Andy Robertson.
"He's not refined yet," Adriano said, "but he has balance. Proper engine, crosses well, good body position in duels. He reminds me of Baines in his early days."
City's scouting department pulled the data and video. It aligned. Quick contact was made with Hull City. Since Robertson was still new at the club and seen as a development asset, they didn't consider him untouchable. A £2 million bid with a future sell-on clause of 10% was agreed within a week.
Kimmich and Robertson were both wrapped up before the window officially opened, with only the medicals and contract signings left pending.
Meanwhile, outgoing business was quietly progressing too. Veterans like Jesus Navas, Alvaro Negredo, Gael Clichy, and Bacary Sagna were all on the list to leave either in January or summer.
Negredo's permanent move to Valencia was nearly completeâhis loan spell was going well, and Valencia were exercising their option to buy for £24 million. Navas was drawing interest from Sevilla and clubs in Turkey, though no formal bids had arrived yet. Clichy and Sagna would likely leave at the end of the season.
Pellegrini had signed off on the transition, knowing the squad needed to be reshaped around energy and versatility. The vision was simple: keep the spine strong, integrate youth, and let Adriano's footballing insight influence the next phase of City's evolution.
As January approached, the club's direction was clear. Not just about resultsâbut about renewal.
Meanwhile, at Adriano's suggestion, the club finalized the integration of several promising young players into the youth academy: Phil Foden, the talented Stockport-born attacking midfielder; Kai Havertz, a German teenager already catching eyes with his vision and maturity; and Trent Alexander-Arnold, a Liverpool youth product whose attacking instincts from right-back had intrigued City's scouts.
Though the names raised eyebrows, Adriano had insisted on their potential. "Don't look at the size now," he told Director of Football Txiki Begiristain. "Look at the mindset. They're years away, but we need to think ten years ahead."
Begiristain was skeptical at first, especially about taking a gamble on players so young. But after reviewing the detailed scouting reports and seeing how passionately Adriano advocated, he approved the additions.
***
Back on the training pitch, Adriano spoke with Kane between drills as the team prepared for their match against Everton.
"You ever think about what kind of legacy you want to leave?" Adriano asked, casually striking a ball toward the sideline net.
Kane thought for a second. "I want to be remembered for always showing up when it mattered. Big goals in big games."
Adriano nodded. "That's what I thought. Then December's where it starts."
Kane grinned. "Let's make it count."
And with that, December loomed not as a burden but as an opportunity â a proving ground where fitness, unity, and vision would be tested.
The stars were sharpening, the future was quietly forming, and Manchester City marched forward, lungs burning, hearts focused, and eyes on every front.
***
The Etihad Stadium was alive with noise, the fans filling the stands with confident energy. After a few days of focused fitness drills and tactical sessions under Pellegrini, Manchester City looked sharp and refreshed. The players had responded well in training, and the mood around the team was solid.
Everton, on the other hand, looked disjointed. Since David Moyes' departure to Manchester United, their rhythm had been off. The team lacked a clear identity on the pitch, and it was evident even before kickoff.
Inside the City dressing room, the tone was focused, but relaxed. Adriano, who had been City's heartbeat all season, approached James Milner earlier that day.
"I want you in the eleven," Adriano had said. "You've earned it. You've trained like a starter, so play like one."
Milner looked surprised but appreciative. " I Appreciate that mate . Andâthanks. I know there's been tension before, but it's good to clear the air."
Adriano gave him a pat on the back. "Let's move forward. Team needs everyone ready. Depth wins titles."
The two had had friction earlier in the season over style and tempo in training, but that tension had faded. Adriano, ever focused on the long-term picture, saw value in Milner's work rate and versatility. He knew a deep squad would be crucial over the months ahead.
As kickoff loomed, Manuel Pellegrini barked last-minute instructions from the touchline, his eyes scanning the Everton lineup. There was an air of inevitability as soon as the referee blew the whistle.
***
As the match kicked off, City settled into control almost instantly. Silva directed traffic in midfield with his usual composure, while Milner and De Bruyne pressed up aggressively, cutting passing lanes and recovering the ball high. Everton were struggling to get beyond their own half.
Martin Tyler (commentary):
"City starting strong here. You can already see Everton dropping off⊠not much belief in their press. Silva and De Bruyne pulling the strings early on."
Salah moved on the right wing, constantly offering himself as an outlet. Hazard, on the left, tucked inside smartly to combine with Silva and De Bruyne. Aguero drifted in between defenders, always alert, always moving.
By the 10th minute, Sergio AgĂŒero had already tested Tim Howard twiceâonce with a low snapshot from a De Bruyne through-ball, and again with a sharp turn and strike just wide of the post. Everton's back four looked pinned back, unable to hold shape under the weight of City's possession game.
Then, in the 22nd minute, the pressure broke.
It started on the left. Hazard, pinned near the touchline, backheeled a clever pass into David Silva, who had ghosted inside Everton's midfield line. With one glance up, Silva sliced a vertical ball through two defenders. AgĂŒero, perfectly timed, darted in behind the center-backs, latching onto the pass without breaking stride.
Martin Tyler:
"Lovely movement from AgĂŒeroâhe's in!"
One deft touch to kill the ball. The angle tightened. Howard rushed out.
But AgĂŒero was cool as ice.
He opened his body, waited half a beat to send the keeper guessing, then calmly slid the ball with his right foot low into the far cornerâjust beyond Howard's outstretched glove.
GOAL ANNOUNCERÂ (over stadium speakers):
"GOAL FOR MANCHESTER CITY! SCORED BY NUMBER 16, SERGIOOOOO... AGĂEROOOO! CITY LEAD 1-0!"
The Etihad roared.
AgĂŒero turned toward the corner flag, composed but satisfied. No flamboyant celebrationâjust a pointed finger back toward Silva and a nod of appreciation. The two embraced quickly, followed by De Bruyne clapping him on the back and shouting, "Too sharp, Kun!" Hazard jogged over, grinning, and yelled, "Every damn time!"
Milner arrived next, patting him on the head and saying with a half-joking smile, "Don't make it look that easy, mate."
The cameras cut to Pellegrini on the sidelineâhands in pockets, just a small nod. He expected this.
Martin Tyler:
"Textbook AgĂŒero. Perfect timing, perfect execution. And how about that pass from David Silva? City lead, and it's well deserved."
From the bench, Adriano stood and applauded onceâbrief, understated, but approving. He turned to Pellegrini, seated beside him in the coaching area. "That's the level," he muttered. "That's the speed we need."
Pellegrini grinned. "They're reading each other's movements now. You see Silva didn't even look twice?"
Adriano nodded. "Trust. That's chemistry."
Back on the pitch, the City players regrouped quickly. There were no lapses in focus, no post-goal sloppiness.
Milner jogged back into position, clapping his hands and urging Salah to press higher.
"Stay on them," Milner called out. "They'll fold if we keep the squeeze."
And he was rightâEverton looked rattled. For the next five minutes, they barely crossed the halfway line. Every clearance was met with another City wave.
Pellegrini didn't need to shout; the team was self-managed in these moments, voices rising above the crowd: De Bruyne calling for switches, Hazard signaling overlap runs, AgĂŒero asking for sharper movement.
Everton struggled to break City's midfield press, and as the first half wore on, their attacks were easily snuffed out.
But just past the half-hour mark, a defensive lapse from Mangala nearly gifted Everton an equalizer. A poor clearance from the Frenchman was intercepted by Everton's Ross Barkley, who tried to feed Romelu Lukaku. However, Kompany was quick to recover and blocked the pass, clearing the danger.
The first half had already tilted heavily in Manchester City's favor by the time the 36th minute arrived. Everton, pinned deep and short on ideas, couldn't handle City's constant movement. Pellegrini's setupâa tight midfield press, sharp wide rotations, and interchanging forward runsâwas suffocating their shape.
De Bruyne drifted in from the right, drawing Everton's right-back with him, which opened the channel for Hazard. Silva spotted the movement instantly and laid a simple but intelligent pass into Hazard's path.
"Kev, wide!" Hazard called, but it was a decoyâhe'd already seen Salah making a diagonal sprint between Jagielka and Baines.
Hazard took a touch forward, glanced up, and released a perfectly weighted through ball on the ground, bending around the Everton defense with surgical precision.
Martin Tyler: "Beautiful disguise from Hazardâhe's seen the run of Salah, and that's inch-perfect!"
Salah hit top speed, his eyes locked on the ball. He cushioned it with his left foot just outside the box, let it roll across his body, and struck it first-time with his left againâa low, skimming effort that beat Howard at full stretch and nestled into the far corner.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOAL FOR MANCHESTER CITY! MOHAMED SALAH WITH A FANTASTIC FINISH! 2â0!"
The Etihad roared.
Salah pulled away toward the corner flag, arms outstretched, a smile breaking across his face as he looked skyward. He pointed toward the fans in the South Stand, many already on their feet, chanting his name.
Hazard sprinted over and wrapped him in a bear hug. "That's class, Mo! Proper class!"
Silva arrived seconds later, clapping his hands, nodding with approval. "Composure, hermano. That was ice cold."
Yaya Touré jogged over more casually, ruffling Salah's hair. "You keep scoring like that, you'll need a new song every week."
Milner passed by, tapping Salah's back. "That's why you start, mate. Ruthless."
On the sidelines, Pellegrini turned to his staff with a small smile, saying just loud enough, "That's the shape working exactly as we planned. Wide overload, timed cut inside."
Martin Tyler: "Salah's form continues to rise. That's the confidence of a player who knows he belongs. And City? They're cruising nowâEverton haven't had a shot on target, and it's hard to see that changing."
As the final minutes of the half ticked down, City eased back into their rhythm. Controlled possession. Rotations. One-touch combinations through midfield. No risks. No drop in intensity.
The whistle blew for halftime with City two goals to the good, and not even the Everton bench looked surprised.
In the Sky Sports studio at halftime, Jamie Carragher chuckled during the replay.
"AgĂŒero's movement is always a nightmare for defenders. They step up, he bends the run. That goal looked easy, but it's all calculated."
Thierry Henry, smiling, added: "And Salah⊠That's what I call a player with intention and focus. No hesitation. Many doubted him before the season, they are now eating their Jamie. Great stuff from the Egyptian."
Back in the dressing room at the half, Milner walked over to Adriano again, sweat on his brow but smiling.
"Thanks again mate. It's been good out there."
Adriano clapped him on the shoulder. "Keep it going. Everyone plays a part."
The tone was set. Two goal up. Eyes on the third.
***
The second half resumed with Manchester City in full control. Everton showed a touch more urgency, but their efforts were scatteredâno real structure, no final ball. Pellegrini stood calmly by the touchline, arms folded, watching the tempo of his team remain composed and disciplined.
In the 70th minute, the fourth official lifted his board. Number 9 off, number 10 on.
Martin Tyler: "And here comes a change for Manchester City. Sergio AgĂŒero, the scorer of the opening goal, makes way... and there's a warm ovation from the crowd. Of course it's Adriano. I was wondering when he might come on."
Alan Smith: "Good move from Pellegriniârest AgĂŒero ahead of Leicester and give Adriano some warmup minutes. The game's under control, and this is a good environment for him to experiment with himself. Who knows, maybe he'll add more goals to his tally."
As Adriano jogged on, AgĂŒero gave him a fist bump and a brief nod.
"Enjoy it," AgĂŒero said. "They're chasing shadows."
Adriano smirked. "Let's make it three."
Only moments after entering, Adriano was already making his mark. Milner, deployed deeper in midfield for the second half, recovered a loose ball near the center circle.
"Adriano, go!" Milner shouted, seeing the forward peel off Jagielka's shoulder.
Adriano darted into the left channel, and Milner, without hesitation, lifted a looping ball over the top with a perfectly measured first-time pass.
Martin Tyler: "Milner's spotted the run⊠and that's a clever ball forwardâŠ"
Tim Howard was off his line in an instant, rushing to intercept the bouncing ball just outside his box. The Everton keeper slid low, trying to close the gapâbut Adriano timed his stride with inch-perfect instinct. One quick glance at Howard's position and one calculated decision.
He reached it first with the tip of his bootâbarely a touch, but it was enough. A soft, deft flick with his right foot lifted the ball cleanly over the advancing Howard.
Martin Tyler: "Oh that's delicate⊠that's sublime! Adriano lifts it⊠and it's in! 3â0 Manchester City!"
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOAL FOR MANCHESTER CITY! ADRIANO SEALS IT IN STYLE!"
The ball dipped into the net just under the bar, sending the Etihad into another wave of applause. Adriano wheeled away towards the touchline, arms wide, face lit with that now-familiar grin. The crowd knew what came next.
"The King is here!"Â they shouted in unison, their chant echoing from the South Stand like a proclamation.
Adriano dropped to one knee for a second, then stood and turned as his teammates mobbed him. Milner arrived first, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a laugh.
"Great finish, mate," he said warmly, patting his back. "Cheeky as hell."
Adriano grinned. "You made it easy mate."
David Silva jogged over and gave a quick nod. "Nice touch. Calm like you've done it a hundred times."
De Bruyne added with a smirk, "That's why you don't sit on the bench too long."
There was no showboatingâjust smiles, high fives, and subtle nods of respect. For all the talent in the squad, every goal still mattered. Every gesture counted.
Martin Tyler: "City has dominated from start to finish. Three goals, a solid defensive display, and all three points. Pellegrini will be pleased, and so will the fans."
Alan Smith: "Everton never really threatened. City, on the other hand, were ruthless. A great all-around performance from them today."
***
As the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read Manchester City 3 â 0 Everton. The Etihad Stadium rose as one to applaud a complete performance. The players walked off with relaxed shoulders and satisfied expressions. Pellegrini clapped slowly on the sidelines.
"A clean sheet, three goals, and sharp performances," he said quietly to one of his assistants. "Professional. Just as it should be."
Martin Tyler: "A commanding win for Manchester City. Goals from AgĂŒero, Salah, and Adrianoâeach one different, each one showing the depth of talent this side has."
Alan Smith: "It's the kind of performance title contenders deliver. Clinical and calm, and they never looked threatened. Everton offered very little, but City didn't give them a chance to grow into it either."
On the pitch, the players formed small clustersâsome shaking hands with Everton players, others exchanging short laughs and gestures of satisfaction. Adriano lingered near the halfway line with Milner, still chatting as they strolled toward the tunnel.
"You're starting to look too comfortable with those lobs," Milner joked, nudging him.
Adriano chuckled. "Howard gave me the space. I just borrowed it."
Nearby, Salah gave a quick wave to the fans still singing his name. He mouthed a quiet thank you to the South Stand, where a few kids in replica shirts held up signs with his name and number. The Egyptian winger had grown into his role quickly, and the crowd had noticed.
Hazard and De Bruyne tapped gloves before jogging off together, talking about a late passing sequence that almost led to a fourth. Pellegrini waited at the tunnel entrance, greeting each player with a word or a pat on the back.
"Well played," he said to Adriano as he approached. "Sharp movement, smart decision. Keep it up."
Adriano nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just doing my part."
Inside the stadium, the energy hadn't yet died down. Fans lingered in the lower stands, soaking in the result, chatting about goals, debating player ratings, and already looking ahead to the next fixture against Leicester
Outside, on the concourses and the trams, the chatter was animated:
"Did you see that touch from Adriano? Barely even looked at the keeper."
"Salah's goal was world-class. He's on fire lately."
"Hazard didn't even score, but he was everywhere. That ball to Salah was inch-perfect."
By the time most fans had filtered out into the evening, The club's social media accounts pushed out match highlights, behind-the-scenes tunnel cam footage, and a slow-motion reel of all three goals.
The AR10 fan pages wasted no time reposting his goal from every angle, captioning it with things like "That chip was cold ", and "Adriano doesn't miss."
****
Check out my other stories. Football Manager and the Pokemon fanfic. They are pretty decent.
***
Manchester City at top with 39 points from 15 games , 12 wins , 3 draws
Current Stats of Adriano
Premier League
Matches: 13
Goals: 16
Assists: 10
Current top scorer of Premier League and top Assists list.
Champions League
Matches: 5
Goals: 12
Assists: 3
Current top scorer.