God Of football

Chapter 924: The Story.

The car slowed as it approached the entrance of the Japanese FA’s main complex in Tokyo.

Glass, steel, and wide stretches of open training ground framed the area, all of it neat in the way only federation buildings ever seemed to be.

When the vehicle stopped, a man in a navy blazer was already waiting just off the curb, hands clasped in front of him with the kind of polite excitement Izan had grown used to.

Izan reached for his bag beside him, pushed the door open, and stepped out as the man approached immediately, offering both hands in greeting.

”Thank you for coming, truly. We know your schedule is tight,” he said.

”It’s fine. I’m glad I could make it,” Izan replied, shaking his hand.

The man smiled and motioned for Izan to follow.

They walked through the entrance hall and down a corridor where framed photographs of past national teams lined the walls, each one capturing a different generation.

The man spoke as they moved, a steady mix of logistical details and earnest admiration.

”The purpose today is simple, as already made known in the proposal we sent over. We wanted our young players to see someone they can relate to. Someone close to their age who has already reached this level. Many of them watch you every week. They look up to you, even the older ones in the U21 group,” he explained.

Izan only nodded.

Compliments still sat awkwardly with him, especially when they came in long strings like that.

”You’re only seventeen, yet many consider you one of the very best right now,” the man added, casting him a proud glance as though he had something to do with it.

”After you joined the Spanish national team, our former FA president was irked because he had already said they should extend an invitation towards you, but conservativeness killed that proposal since some of them thought bringing in a kid as young as you were back then into the senior team and giving you preferential treatment would rub people the bad way but now, they kick themselves whenever your name comes up.”

Izan’s answer was a quiet exhale and another nod.

He let his attention drift across the facility until they reached a door at the end of the hall.

The guide opened it and stepped inside first.

Three men waited there, dressed in dark suits.

One of them approached, offering a small bow before extending his hand.

”Welcome, Izan. I am Tsuneyasu Miyamoto, President of the Japanese Football Association,” he said.

Izan returned the bow and shook his hand firmly. ”Thank you for having me.”

Miyamoto introduced the two men beside him, senior directors from the technical and development departments.

They acknowledged Izan warmly before the president continued.

”We’ve invited several of our promising talents today. Not only the U18S and U21S, but also a few players we believe will be part of our senior setup soon. They’re all waiting outside.”

Izan rubbed the side of his neck lightly. ”It’s a bit overwhelming,” he admitted.

Miyamoto gave a small chuckle.

”It shouldn’t be for you, not with everything you handle already.”

Izan tried to smile back, though he wasn’t sure if it looked convincing.

The president gestured toward the door again.

”Shall we? I don’t think we should keep them waiting.”

”Right,” Izan said with a quiet breath.

He followed the group as they turned toward the exit.

The training pitch was already lively when the staff stepped away and left the young players to gather in loose clusters.

The U18S hovered near the far cones, jittery in the way teenagers got when they knew something big was about to happen.

The U21S stood closer to the half line, more composed but still watching the entrance every few seconds.

A few of them had their arms crossed while others stretched absentmindedly, but most conversations kept circling the same topic.

”He’s actually coming here? Like, today?” a winger from the U18S asked, half excited, half nervous.

”I heard the Arsenal squad left yesterday, but it seems he did not go with them,” another whispered, ”and that the FA wanted him to talk to us. I don’t know what that even means. A speech? A session? Both?”

One of the older U21 defenders shook his head, smiling.

”Relax. He’s just another kid, like us.”

”Yeah, playing for Arsenal with no release clause on his contract and earning hundreds of millions of dollars every year.”

”Yep, he’s just another kid.”

”You’re funny,” another defender muttered, but even he kept glancing toward the building.

The idle talk faded once the doors at the side of the complex opened. Heads turned almost in unison.

President Miyamoto stepped out first, but it was the figure beside him who pulled every gaze like a magnet.

Izan walked with an easy expression, sunlight catching in his blue eyes.

He didn’t look tense or bothered, just quietly present, and that alone made the younger players freeze where they stood.

A few straightened their backs while others nudged their teammates to stop staring so openly.

The president stopped near the centre circle and raised his voice enough for everyone to hear.

”Good morning. Thank you all for coming on relatively short and unplanned notice than usual. As you know, we extended this invitation because today is an important opportunity. We want you to learn from someone who represents what hard work and commitment at your age can lead to.”

Izan kept his hands loosely at his sides, his attention on the players rather than the cameras positioned in the distance.

Miyamoto continued, ”Most of you watch him regularly, but today you meet him not as fans, but as fellow professionals. Please make the most of it.”

He stepped slightly aside and nodded toward Izan.

The shift in attention was immediate as Izan exhaled, stepped forward, and gave a small nod.

”Morning,” he said.

”I’m Izan Miura Hernandez, as you already know. I won’t take too much time. I’m just here to spend the day with you and see what you’re working on. So... that’s it from me.”

President Miyamoto waited a moment for the players to settle again before speaking as Izan stepped back.

”We’ll start with something simple,” he said. ”A Q and A. Ask whatever you want. Training habits, discipline, how he handled pressure, and his career choices. This is your chance, so don’t sit on your questions.”

A few heads turned among the groups, everyone silently daring someone else to speak first, while Miyamoto glanced at Izan.

”And before we open the floor, we asked him to talk a little about his own path. It might help you think of better questions.”

Izan gave a small nod, shifting his weight and letting his eyes sweep across the faces in front of him.

”Alright,” he said, almost in a conversational tone.

”I’ll keep it short. I started out like everyone else here. School football, local clubs, the usual. I wasn’t some prodigy who jumped two age groups every year. I just trained a lot because I liked it. And believe it or not, I wasn’t that good at all and was almost going to get dropped from the Valencia U15S.”

Some of the younger boys leaned in slightly after he said those words.

”And another thing too was that I played as a Left-back at the start,” he continued.

”But in one session, I asked to be played in the midfield, more so in an attacking role, and things just played out, and the coaches noticed that I was way ahead of my peers in the U15 side after some games and all of a sudden, I, 14 years old at that time, was sent to the U18S.”

”It was a bit scary for me at that time, but even after going up to the U18S, things got and more easier for me. And one thing that helped was that I was training my head off.”

”At fifteen, the first team needed bodies during preseason, so they called some of us up. I didn’t think much about it. I tried to keep up, and then they kept inviting me back. After a while, they trusted me enough to give me minutes.”

”Those first games were hard. Not the football itself, but everything around it. People asked if I was too young or too fragile or too inexperienced, even though I was putting out numbers and displays that said otherwise, but still, there were doubts. And then the teammates I had who helped a lot, and coaches who didn’t let me hide.”

He paused for a breath.

”And then after a record-breaking season for a 15-year-old, came the Euros. I was sixteen. That tournament changed everything. Winning it... you don’t forget things like that. It put more eyes on me, but it also made me think differently about where I wanted to go next.”

Some of the U21 players nodded quietly, knowing exactly what he meant.

”Then circumstances after that tournament led to me signing for Arsenal, which was a bit unplanned, but it worked out well as you all have seen.”

He let his shoulders relax and gave a small, almost apologetic smile.

”That’s the short version. If you want details, you can ask later.”

Miyamoto stepped forward again, clasping his hands behind his back.

”Thank you. Now it’s your turn,” he told the players.

”Raise your hand. Speak clearly. And don’t worry about sounding inexperienced. That’s the point.”

A few of the younger boys exchanged looks, but one finally lifted his hand.