God Of football

Chapter 659: Home Advantage

Izan smirked as he typed back,

”How’d you ever convince yourself you’d win between the two of us anyway?”

He didn’t get a response immediately.

The three dots flickered on and off.

Typing. Paused and then, typing again.

Then another message slid in — but this one wasn’t from Lamine.

It was Jude Bellingham.

”London’s weather still as nice this time of year?” it read. ”Asking for a friend.”

Izan scoffed under his breath.

Like, Birmingham was a different country.

He locked the phone and leaned back, eyes still on the screen ahead.

”Depends on what your business is here. If you are coming to take something from London, then the weather might not be favourable for you.”

Then Mikel Arteta walked in.

The room quieted almost instinctively.

He stood in front of the screen, hands behind his back.

”Well,” he started, voice steady. ”Now we know who we play in April.”

A few heads nodded.

”That’s good. But before we get there...” He paused slightly, letting the weight settle.

”We’ve got three matches. Three important ones. And one of them—” he raised a brow slightly, ”—can bring us our first trophy this season.”

Some players straightened.

He didn’t need to spell that out either.

”Carabao Cup final. Liverpool. And yes, people might not rate it as highly. But a trophy is a trophy. It puts momentum on our side. It sets a tone.”

His gaze swept across the room.

”But before that, we’ve got Fulham on Saturday. And that’s where the focus needs to be.”

Izan could feel it — the shift.

The room that had been buzzing minutes ago now simmered down into something serious.

The Madrid match was the poster on the wall.

But Fulham was the doorway.

Arteta nodded once.

”Enjoy your meals. You’ve earned it. Tomorrow we continue with our preparation.”

Then he turned and walked out, just as calmly as he came in.

.......

The parking lot buzzed with parting voices and echoing laughs under the soft orange lamps.

The air was cooling quickly now, that late-March crispness sneaking in as the shine from the floodlights on the training pitches reached the parking lot.

”Later, bro,” Timber called, dapping up Rice before swinging his bag over his shoulder.

”Don’t forget your jacket this time,” Zinchenko warned, pointing at a still-shivering Kiwior who had underestimated the London chill.

Izan stepped through the entrance doors with his bag strapped across his back, a casual nod here, a fist bump there.

The group was splitting gradually, everyone heading toward their cars in different corners of the lot.

”Early start tomorrow, yeah?” Rice reminded as he crossed past Izan’s path toward his SUV.

”Yeah,” Izan replied, tugging his hoodie tighter.

”I’ll be in before Arteta.”

Declan grinned. ”We’ll see.”

Izan said a few more goodbyes, then walked toward the far end of the lot where his Gemera sat under one of the flickering floodlights, the wide curves of the car glowing faintly under the night.

He slipped into the driver’s seat, dropping his bag in the back, engine purring to life with a smooth thrum.

He sat in the car for a bit, then the car pulled out of the lot with the soft tires rolling over clean gravel, cutting a clean path out of the grounds and into the darkened streets of north London.

........

Hampstead, 8:50

”Don’t tell me you didn’t stop for snacks,” Komi’s voice carried from the kitchen the second the front door clicked shut.

Izan laughed under his breath, still bent over to unlace his sneakers.

”Training ended late. You’re lucky I even made it home alive.”

”Alive? Please,” Komi scoffed, footsteps shuffling closer.

”You come back from Colney like you’ve survived a war, but give you thirty seconds and you’ll be raiding the fridge anyway.”

”Not if you’ve cooked,” he said, dropping his bag with a dull thud and stepping into the hallway.

”You make me put back everything I burn calories for.”

Komi leaned on the kitchen doorway, spatula still in hand, smirking.

”Then I’m doing my job.”

She disappeared again, and the smell of grilled tilapia and spicy stew filled the air like a trap he knew he wouldn’t escape.

He exhaled, shoulders loosening, the weight of the day already shedding itself as he walked further in.

”Izan,” Komi called out. ”Come and eat before I throw it out.”

He groaned a bit as he turned towards the island near the kitchen.

”If I get overweight, I might not meet the targets for the bonuses,” Izan said, but by the time he reached the kitchen, the smell of Pisto and something slow-roasted filled the air — thick tomato, olive oil, eggplant, pepper, had done its work.

Komi was plating up beside a tray of polvorones she’d likely baked out of boredom.

”Sit down,” she ordered, not looking up from her spot at the counter.

”I should’ve just gone to Miranda’s place,” he mumbled under his breath as he grabbed a plate.

”I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Komi shot back without missing a beat.

He tried to complain, he really did, but halfway through the second helping, he was licking his fingers and sighing in resignation.

”Every time I lose weight,” he muttered, ”you find it for me.”

A few minutes later, Izan scraped the last bit of sauce with a piece of bread, shook his head like he was blaming Komi for how good it was, and dropped the plate in the sink.

He walked out of the kitchen and toward the living room, nudging Hori lightly on the head with his knee as he passed by the low table she was sprawled under.

”Hey!”

”You’re in the middle of the hallway.”

”It’s the coffee table, and it’s my office.”

Izan dropped down on the couch directly above her, stretching out with a groan.

”Office is closed for the day.”

Hori poked his ankle with her stylus.

”No one asked you to be here.”

”Then why are your toes all up in my view?”

”Because this is a shared space,” she said in a posh accent. ”Respect communal boundaries.”

He bent slightly and tapped at her iPad screen. ”Still on this question?”

She glared up. ”I was getting there.”

”It’s C.”

”I was getting there.”

”Bet you weren’t.”

She huffed and changed the answer anyway, muttering something about him being a showoff.

A few moments later, the sounds of slippers against the glassy stairs could be heard as Olivia came into view with her damp hair tied in a loose bun.

”I heard clattering,” she said, already drifting toward him. ”Was that you finishing everything?”

”Technically, yes.”

She didn’t answer — just slotted herself in beside him, legs folded and head comfortably resting on his shoulder.

”You smell like garlic and promise.”

”That’s either the best or worst compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

”I meant it both ways.”

They sank a little deeper into the cushions together.

Olivia reached for the blanket folded at the corner and pulled it over both of them while Hori shifted again below the table, mumbling her way through her assignment.

In the next minute or two, Komi appeared with a towel over her shoulder and a small bowl of fruit in hand.

She paused at the edge of the couch and then set it down before turning her attention towards her youngest.

”You’re really just going to lie there and take up half the room?”

”You live here too, Mum,” Izan mumbled without opening her eyes. ”Use your rights.”

Komi shook her head, settling into the couch next to theirs before picking up a book she hadn’t touched in weeks and was finding it hard to remember where she had paused.

”I keep rereading the first Chapter like it’s a spell.”

”That’s what you get for using TikTok as your bedtime routine,” Izan said as Komi rolled her eyes.

A loud silence settled over the room until Miranda also came into view.

She stepped into the room in her house robe, blinking slowly and still half-asleep.

”What time is it?” she asked no one in particular.

”Time for you to have woken up,” Komi answered without looking up as Miranda yawned.

”I was supposed to just close my eyes for ten minutes.”

”There’s rice in the oven if you want food,” Komi added.

”I’ll get tea.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a steaming mug, sinking beside Komi on the armchair with a tired sigh.

”And here I was thinking of coming to your place to avoid mom stuffing me?” Izan sighed before closing his eyes again.

Komi laughed under her breath while Hori finally slid out from beneath the table, now with her iPad tucked under her arm and her hair a wild mess from lying down so long.

”Someone say tea?”

”You’re fifteen,” Izan said. ”Go drink some milk, or you will stay short.”

”We are Japanese. We aren’t expected to be that tall in the first place. It is only you who mutated, plus mom let’s me drink it.”

”That’s because she doesn’t want to hear your mouth when you’re denied.”

She narrowed her eyes at him like she was going to say another jab, but didn’t and walked into the kitchen anyway.

A/N: Okay, 2 out of 5. I don’t have much to say unless a paragraph about how I need to sleep, so bye and see you after I wake up.