God Of football

Chapter 885: Hard To Follow.

After nearly an hour of walking past gift shops, balloon stalls, and a parade rehearsal that had Hori spinning in circles to film everything on her phone, she suddenly stopped in front of a café with a striped awning and outdoor seating.

”Here!” she announced, spinning back toward them with the energy of someone who hadn’t been up since dawn.

”We’re eating before we ride anything. I’m not risking my blood sugar dropping mid-loop.”

Komi, slipping her mini fan out of her bag, sighed at her daughter’s words.

”You’re not six anymore, Hori.”

”Exactly,” Hori said, already pulling open the door. ”That’s why I know better.”

With no one objecting to it, they made their way towards the cafe where Izan slid into a booth near the window with Olivia, who was already scanning the dessert section on the menu.

Komi and Miranda followed, still adjusting their bags, while Hori, predictably, went straight for the counter, returning a few minutes later with a tray that looked like a sugar explosion.

Pancakes stacked too high, topped with whipped cream, strawberries, and something that was more art than food, thanks to the excessive amount of chocolate syrup.

”Is that even breakfast?” Miranda asked, eyebrow raised.

”It’s fuel,” Hori said proudly, dropping into her seat.

”For the chaos ahead.”

Izan shook his head, hiding a small smile.

He’d ordered the simplest thing he could find, just a slice of cake and a bottle of juice.

Olivia had done the same, though hers came with an extra cherry on top.

Komi and Miranda, on the other hand, had gone for more restrained options: an overglorified omelette for one and an oatmeal that would have been classified as a prop rather than food had it been found by itself alone for the other.

When Hori noticed, she looked personally offended.

”What is this? Are you both checking your salt and sugar intake now? You sound like a couple of retirees.”

Komi gave her a pointed look.

”It’s called balance darling. Knowing your limits.”

Miranda leaned forward, smirking.

”Might as well have just had a cup of raw sugar to substitute all that you are about to eat because I think, that might have even less sugar than this.”

That did it.

Hori’s grin turned wicked.

”Oh really? Let’s see who gets dizzy first when we hit Space Mountain.”

Komi straightened in her seat, that familiar spark flashing in her eyes.

”Bring it on.”

Miranda clapped her hands together.

”Finally, some competition.”

Izan leaned back in his seat, the corner of his mouth twitching.

”You all know you’ll regret this later, right?”

But they ignored him, caught up in their newfound breakfast rivalry.

He took a quiet sip of juice, glancing out the window where families passed in matching Mickey hats, and smiled.

The day was going to be loud.

A few hours later, under a shaded canopy near Adventureland, Komi sat slouched on a bench, fanning herself with a map of the park.

Her sunglasses were crooked, her expression somewhere between exhaustion and betrayal.

”No more,” she muttered.

”I’m serious. No more spinning, no more flipping, no more anything that leaves the ground.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her water bottle.

”You said that after the last one, and then you followed Hori onto the next ride.”

”I was just trying to keep up with my daughter. It’s not my fault that the attraction was trying to take off to space,” Komi said flatly.

Hori stood a few meters ahead, pointing toward the next attraction.

”It wasn’t even that fast!” she called back. ”You’re being dramatic.”

But Komi just shot Hori a glare before she felt like she was going to regurgitate the earlier breakfast.

Olivia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh while Izan, standing beside her, chuckled openly.

”I told you,” he said, tilting his head toward his mother. ”You shouldn’t have let Hori get to you.”

Komi sighed and waved a hand.

”Just... let me sit here a bit. The world’s still spinning.”

”Sure,” Izan said.

He and Olivia sat on a nearby bench, still grinning as Hori continued to argue with Miranda about what counted as a ”real” rollercoaster.

.....

The crowd had thinned a little near the quieter end of Main Street, where two men sat on a shaded bench, both looking like they had no business being in Disneyland.

One wore sunglasses that never quite fit his face; the other kept glancing at his watch, bouncing a leg in frustration.

Between the churro carts and balloon vendors, they looked painfully out of place.

”When are we even going to get him alone?” the younger one finally asked, voice low but tight.

”Every update we’ve gotten has him with his family. What’s the plan, wait till they go on the teacups?”

The older man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He had the look of someone who’d already had this conversation too many times today.

”You think I don’t know that? I was about to walk away from this whole thing when I saw the Adidas terms and conditions. The kid’s got one of the cleanest endorsement structures I’ve seen, locked in for years, airtight clauses and the money is huge too.”

”Then why are we still here?”

”Because,” the older man said, leaning back and lowering his voice, ”the people up there decided to bump up what we were working with. They’re ready to match Adidas. Maybe even beat it. And get this—they’re willing to pay off his breach penalty in full. Everything. They won’t even do the usual legal battle, manipulation and what not.”

The younger man blinked. ”That’s insane.”

”Exactly.” The older man tilted his head, eyes on the passing parade of tourists.

”But insane pays well. If this goes through, I’m asking for double my fee. I’m not chasing some wonder kid through Disneyland for charity.”

The younger man chuckled under his breath.

”You really think he’ll bite? He’s exactly shown himself to be the flashy type.”

The older one shrugged.

”Everyone’s got a price. You just have to find how to ask it.”

Before the younger could reply, a sharp crackle came through the walkie-talkie clipped to the older man’s belt.

A voice, hurried and slightly breathless, came through the static.

”Target spotted. Tiki Juice Bar. Alone.”

Both men froze for a heartbeat.

Then the older one stood so fast his sunglasses nearly fell. ”You heard that?”

The younger man was already on his feet. ”Loud and clear.”

They exchanged one quick look, before weaving into the current of people, cutting through families and stroller lines, the older one muttering curses every few steps as they pushed toward Adventureland.

Somewhere ahead, past the smell of pineapple and sunscreen, their target was finally within reach.

.....

”Hello,” the waitress said as she leaned against the counter, scanning the ticket in her hand before glancing up at Izan.

”You might want to sit for a bit. That order’s... kind of a handful,” she said, half laughing, half exasperated.

Izan let out a breath, not quite a sigh, but close before nodding at the waitress.

”Figures,” he muttered, sliding his phone from his pocket.

”Exotic tastes. Every single one of them.”

He smiled faintly to himself, shaking his head as he walked toward an empty table by the window.

The Tiki Juice Bar wasn’t crowded, but it hummed with small sounds, like whirring blenders and the occasional clink of glass against glass.

Izan slouched into the chair, elbows on the table, scrolling aimlessly until the glow of his screen pulled him in, until a headline caught his eye: Arsenal Reportedly Eyeing Victor Gyökeres to Bolster Attack.

He scrolled further, half curious, half detached, until he hit the comments section, a digital storm of opinions, jokes, and worship.

”Arsenal are the greed they talk about in the Bible.”

”Bro, they’ve already got Izan. What more could they want?”

”I’d give up every transfer window for the next ten years if it means having Izan and having him fit.”

”Izan doesn’t need more help. He is the help.”

He smirked slightly, while his thumb hovered over another thread, one where the tone shifted.

”Let him grow. He’s carrying too much. Take some of that weight off.”

The reply beneath it stopped his thumb mid-scroll.

”Who says he wants the weight off?”

Izan stopped and just stared at the reply, thinking about the words.

He was still staring at the screen when a voice came from across the table.

”You’re not an easy man to follow.”

It wasn’t loud, but it cut through everything else while Izan’s head lifted slowly, phone lowering in his hand as his eyes met the source of the voice.

”Um,” Izan stuttered, before looking behind.

”Are you talking to me?” he questioned causing the expression of the man opposite him to falter, right before another man joined him at the table.

”Yes, I am,” the man said, sliding into the seat across from him, voice low but steady.

”And I think you’ll want to hear what I’m offering, Mr. Hernandez.”