Izan jogged lightly onto the grass, giving a glance around the stadium.
The moment Izan stepped onto the pitch, the Yokohama boys scattered across the warm-up zones turned toward him without even meaning to.
It wasn't dramatic, just a small shift of attention that moved through the group like someone had brushed a hand across still water.
A couple of the younger players straightened up a little while some of the older ones exchanged a look, half impressed and half amused.
One of the midfielders let out a quiet whistle.
"Man… which god does he pray to?" he muttered.
"He's got everything. Looks like a movie star, plays like he's been doing this for twenty years, loaded, seventeen. What's left?"
A few of the boys burst into laughter, not at Izan but at the way it was said.
Even the veterans cracked a smile.
Another player elbowed him lightly.
"Don't say it like he's a myth. He's literally right there."
