The Arsenal team bus rumbled slowly to a stop at the gates of Colney.
The sound of tires grinding against gravel echoed faintly in the cool evening air, a quiet reminder of the city's pulse just beyond the horizon.
The players filed off the bus, stretching out after the ride, their tired legs anticipating the next round of training the next day.
Izan was one of the last to step off the bus, Arteta grabbing his shoulder from behind before whispering a few words and then leaving with Carlos Cuesta and the rest of the coaching staff.
As he swung his bag over his shoulder, he felt the familiar energy of the training ground—almost like a second home now.
His eyes scanned the rows of cars parked near the entrance.
Saka was already there, grinning as he leaned against the door of his own ride, the sleek black finish of his car gleaming under the low light.
"Oi!" Saka called out, a teasing smirk plastered across his face.
