God Of football - Chapter 764

Chapter 764: Hero’s Welcome.

The night in Paris still carried a pulse, the echoes of the match lingering in every streetlight and every taxi engine humming outside.

For Arsenal, though, the celebration was cut short.

Mikel Arteta had made his decision clear: no drawn-out dinners, no champagne detours.

The Champions League final was still weeks away, but the Premier League, their Premier League, could be on the line in just four days against Liverpool.

Every hour mattered, and his players needed rest, not late nights.

They would fly back to London tonight.

Inside the team bus that pulled away from the Parc des Princes and rolled toward Charles de Gaulle Airport, the mood was tired but quietly content.

Some of the players slouched in their seats with hoodies pulled over their heads and earbuds in while a few scrolled on their phones, replaying clips from the game, their own touches or Izan’s sharp bursts down the wing, sharing small laughs.

‘

Arteta, sitting near the front, glanced back once or twice, his expression one of satisfaction laced with calculation.

His mind was already moving on, already sketching ways to outthink Arne Slot’s Liverpool.

But the moment the bus doors opened at the airport, the calm dissolved.

A wall of flashing lights and raised voices rushed at them.

Reporters had been camped out long before the team even arrived, and now they pounced like hawks, swarming the entrance.

“Izan! Izan! Do you think this performance tonight makes you the favourite for the Ballon d’Or?”

“Seventeen years old and already in a Champions League final. How does it feel?”

“Do you believe you can beat Barcelona at the Allianz Arena in the next couple of weeks?”

Microphones thrust forward, cameras shoved in close, every angle hunting for a quote.

The security staff moved in, forming a barrier, but it was impossible to completely shield the players.

Kai Havertz and Martin Ødegaard kept their heads down, politely brushing past as Gabriel Magalhães muttered something under his breath in Portuguese.

Declan Rice offered a half-smile, a wave, then ducked away.

And then came Izan.

The swarm seemed to double in volume the instant his figure appeared, his hood up, his headset snug over his ears.

The questions turned sharper, more insistent.

“Are you ready to go head-to-head with Yamal at Wembley?”

“Ballon d’Or, Izan—are you thinking about it?”

“Some say you’ve already surpassed any player in the world right now. What do you say to that?”

But Izan didn’t break stride.

The headphones shielded him, though whether he was actually listening to music or just using them as armour, no one could tell.

His face betrayed nothing but calm.

Still, he didn’t ignore the people who mattered.

Beyond the barricade, fans had gathered, Arsenal shirts scattered among them, flags waving, camera phones held high.

Some had tears in their eyes, as though simply being this close to him, to the team, was worth everything.

Izan slowed for a moment, raising his hand in a small wave, a gesture that sent a ripple of cheers through the crowd.

A boy no older than ten, perched on his father’s shoulders, waved back frantically, clutching an Arsenal scarf.

Izan’s eyes caught his for the briefest second, and he gave the boy a nod before moving on.

Security ushered him and his teammates into the protected corridor that led toward the VIP passageway as the cacophony of shouts and flashes faded behind them, replaced by the low hum of airport staff and the steady footsteps of a team heading home.

In that narrow hallway, away from the chaos, Izan finally pulled one earcup off, letting a faint beat escape, something mellow and grounding.

His mates were just ahead, joking in low voices, bags slung over their shoulders, already talking about grabbing sleep on the plane.

He adjusted his backpack, gave one last look over his shoulder toward the fading crowd, and then disappeared with them down the tunnel to the plane.

….

Hampstead sat quiet under the wash of streetlamps, an hour to midnight, the sort of hour when even London seemed to hush itself.

Inside the Hernandez estate house, the living room lamp still burned, throwing a soft yellow glow across the polished floorboards.

Miranda stood in front of the coat rack, tugging on a long beige coat and slipping her phone into the pocket.

She was efficient in her movements, practised, her mind already on the logistics.

“His flight will be landing soon,” she said matter-of-factly, adjusting the collar around her neck.

“From the airport to Colney, it won’t take them long at all. If we leave now, we’ll be there before the bus pulls in.”

On the sofa, Olivia straightened at once, as though she had just been waiting for that cue.

She reached for her phone, checked the time, and then said with a little grin, “Then I’ll grab mine. No way am I standing out there in the cold without one.”

She slipped out of the room, footsteps light against the stairs.

Komi was already halfway to the door, a soft wool coat wrapped neatly around her frame.

She had prepared as soon as Miranda voiced her intention, like she had been expecting it.

The faintest smile played on her lips as she wound her scarf around her neck, watching Miranda fuss with her buttons.

As the trio went about, it was Hori who hadn’t moved.

She was curled in the chair by the corner, chin tucked into her palm, letting out a long groan.

“Oh, I knew it would come to this,” she muttered, the kind of mock-dramatic complaint only half-meant.

“Drag me out in the middle of the night, why don’t you? And then tell me to get up early for school tomorrow.”

Miranda turned toward her with that cool, amused look she carried so well.

“You say that like you don’t want to go,” she replied lightly.

Komi, tightening the strap of her handbag, added in a gentle tone, “You know you’ll be happy when you see him.”

Hori tilted her head back against the chair, let out another sigh for show, then swung her legs down.

“Fine, fine,” she relented, pushing herself up.

“But if I’m leaving the house at midnight, I’m not doing it without supplies.”

She padded into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and came back with a bag of gummy bears in her hand, tearing the top with her teeth.

When Olivia returned, coat buttoned and hair tied back, she caught sight of Hori with the sweets and nudged her shoulder with a teasing grin.

“You and those gummy bears… You’d bring them to your own wedding if you could.”

Hori chewed one deliberately and answered, “Of course. They don’t judge me.”

Her voice was playful, but her eyes softened when she glanced at the others waiting by the door.

Finally, the four of them gathered at the door, coats pulled tight as they stepped out into the cold of the compound.

Olivia gave Hori one last playful nudge as she stepped outside into the crisp night.

“Come on, don’t drag your feet. You’ll thank me when you see his face and his reaction to us meeting him.”

Hori rolled her eyes but smiled, slipping another gummy bear between her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go bring back the hero.”

……

[Colney Parking Lot]

“See you in a bit, yeah,” Saka called as he walked towards his car.

The parking lot at Colney was quiet, engines purring as players drifted off in twos and threes, each slipping behind the wheel of a sleek car.

Izan nodded at the former’s words, phone in hand, ready to call James, the driver.

A few teammates of his teammates had offered, leaning out their windows to offer him a lift, but he shook his head politely.

“Nah, my driver’s coming. Thanks, though.”

One by one, the cars pulled away, taillights fading into the night until Izan was almost alone.

Then, a black Mercedes SUV turned into the lot, its polished frame catching the floodlights.

Izan’s brow lifted as the car rolled to a stop in front of him, and as the tinted window slid down, a smile tugged at his lips.

He chuckled, leaning in slightly.

“What are you all doing here?”

Before anyone answered, his eyes flicked past the driver’s seat where Hori sat slouched in the back, a packet of gummy bears dangling loosely in her hand.

“Even you?” Izan asked, half-amused, half-incredulous, but Hori only rolled her eyes, popping another gummy into her mouth.

“Don’t start.”

From the back, Komi’s gentle voice carried forward.

“Get inside, Izan. It’s cold.”

That broke his resistance.

With a small nod, he slung his bag over his shoulder, walked around the hood of the car, and slipped into the front seat beside Miranda, who was already adjusting the mirrors.

“Buckle up,” she said briskly, though the corner of her mouth curved into the faintest smile.

The SUV eased out of the lot, leaving the empty spaces and dim lights of Colney behind.

This is the promised extra chapter. Have fun reading and I’ll see you in a bit with the last of the day plus another extra chapter if I can.