God Of football-Chapter 621: Saviour

[BBC Sport Panel – Live Broadcast]

The studio camera widened, pulling all three guests into frame as the host leaned back, half-smiling.

"Well," he repeated, "after that, how does anyone stop Izan Hernandez?"

The former defender on the panel chuckled.

"At this point? Pray he’s got a cold. Maybe he’s sleep-deprived. That’s about all you can do currently."

The studio laughed, but the columnist leaned forward, more serious.

"Look, he’s unplayable right now. But football always balances out. This is the first time Premier League teams have seen him regularly. They’ll adapt. Coaches will adjust. His dominance might be real, but it’s also fresh. There are a lot of things that can happen in a year in football. I’m not saying something will happen to him, but let’s not crown him immortal just yet. Not until a couple more years of consistency."

"Come on," the ex-midfielder said, raising a brow.

"Six hat tricks. In your first full season in English football and before the age of 18. That’s historic. The most hat-tricks in Premier League history are 12 by Kun Aguero. Izan has 6 in his first season with 14 games to go. Who’s to say he can’t score more?"

The host cut in, voice calm and pointed, but agreeing with the words of the ex-midfielder.

"And when you say ’they’ll adapt’... you’re telling me you’ve watched what he’s done to people, and you think copying a low block from YouTube’s going to solve it?"

The defender laughed again.

"You’re not solving that. You’re surviving it. That’s the level it’s gotten to. I just hope he can keep it. "

"Well," the host said once more, smirking as he looked down at his notes, "for everyone else’s sake... maybe hope he wakes up grumpy before a match because things are about to get groovy."

[Hampstead – Hernandez Residence]

Crunch.

Izan spooned another mouthful of cereal into his mouth, half-listening to the panel while not taking his eyes off the screen.

He chuckled quietly, prompting Hori, sitting across the counter with her legs curled under her, to narrow her eyes.

"You’re a sadist," she said flatly.

He raised a brow, mouth full.

"You actually enjoy hearing people chat nonsense before you break them. It’s sick."

"I don’t break people," he said after swallowing. "I just... readjust expectations. I’m actually saving them from their delusions if you think about it."

Hori rolled her eyes. "No wonder they think you’re a villain."

"I am a villain," he said with a smirk, "Just one of those who everyone ends up liking at the end of the day."

Before she could respond, Olivia strolled into the kitchen, hair tied up into a smart bun, wearing a white shirt with a butterfly bow tie and short coat over it as well as some jeans.

She walked straight over and kissed Izan on the cheek.

"Morning, babe."

"You look smart," he said.

"And you smell like cereal and ego."

"Compliment taken."

Behind them, Hori gagged.

"Get a room," she said, but before either could respond, the soft thud of Komi’s shoes announced her entrance, followed swiftly by Miranda, tablet in hand and already in work mode.

"Peace was nice while it lasted," Hori muttered.

Komi gave her daughter a brief once-over, then a smile.

"You look very smart this morning."

Hori’s face crumpled.

"I look like I’m auditioning for a Victorian play," she said, gesturing towards her attire.

Izan looked up from his bowl.

Then pointed.

"Is that the new school uniform?" he asked, like he didn’t know but she groaned.

"Don’t start."

"Oh, it is," he said, leaning back.

"The tartan. The badge. That’s a school that serves soup in mugs and calls their football pitch a green."

"It’s a blazer," Hori growled.

"It’s a prison sentence," Izan replied.

She scowled.

"They’re making me tuck in my shirt."

"Hope they somehow cast out that sassy demon in you," Izan said with a smirk as Hori tried to sneak him a middle finger, but Komi’s voice cut through the room.

"Horikita Elowen Hernandez."

The full name stopped everyone.

"Adjust your tone," Komi added.

"And your posture. A lady does not stomp around like she’s been drafted into the NBA."

Hori froze, blinked, then slowly raised her chin.

"Not Elowen," Izan whispered, eyes wide.

"Oh, that’s worse than my middle name."

"Miura is elegant," Komi said without turning.

"Elowen is ancient and rare."

"It sounds like a wizard’s sneeze," Hori muttered under her breath, but didn’t dare make it loud.

Miranda, barely looking up from her tablet, said, "Better hope your new classmates don’t hear that."

"Why?"

"Because some of them will speak Latin. Fluently."

Hori flopped forward onto the counter, face buried in her arms.

"This is child cruelty."

Izan finished his cereal.

"You’ll be fine. Make some friends. Get into one scandal. Keeps things balanced. Tell them I’m your brother and things will work out fine."

"I hate you." Hori said as Komi adjusted her collar gently, fingers light, but voice firm.

"Chin up. First impressions last. Also, you love your brother. Remember when you used to cry when he left-" Komi tried saying, but Hori screamed out, covering her ears with her palms and screaming to disrupt Hori’s speech.

As breakfast wound down, the energy thinned into the rustle of bowls and the occasional sarcastic grunt from Hori.

Miranda glanced at her watch and stood, tapping her tablet twice to lock the screen.

"Alright, let’s go. I want us out in five. Olivia, you’re with me."

Olivia grabbed her coat from the back of the chair.

"Shotgun," she said, earning a narrowed eye from Miranda, who handed her the keys.

"You can sit there. But no playlist wars this time."

"No promises," Olivia said, already stepping into her boots.

Komi kissed Hori on the head, then looked at Izan.

"You heading in soon?"

He nodded, standing and adjusting the sleeves of his black quarter-zip.

"Yeah. Just need to grab a jacket and I’m gone."

They filtered out together, Miranda leading them to the SUV with Olivia trotting beside her, fiddling with the AUX cord.

Hori gave Izan one last middle-finger-eyebrow combo behind Komi’s back before slipping into the back seat.

He smirked, then turned toward the garage.

The Koenigsegg Gemera purred as the hydraulic door shut behind him, headlights slicing through the morning fog.

The garage bay opened slowly, sunlight spilling onto the polished front like the car had its own entrance cue.

The street was already stirring as he coasted down the road.

He soon arrived at the entrance to Colney, a few group of fans spotting and waving to which Izan waved back.

...........

The hallway lights hummed faintly as Izan stepped through the side entrance where a nurse stood, waiting by the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest.

She gave a small nod before, "Mr. Hernandez. Follow me, please."

Izan did, hands in his jacket pockets, silent as they moved through the narrow corridor.

She stopped at a door near the end of the hall and pushed it open.

"Dr. Selwood will see you now."

Inside, the room was neatly kept.

Pale grey walls.

One padded medical chair positioned beneath an overhead lamp.

Beside it, was a tray with labelled syringes and a tablet. No hospital clutter. Just quiet focus.

Dr. Selwood stood near the chair, gloved up and ready.

His silver hair looked neater today, and his smile was as calm as the room.

"Welcome back, Izan," he said, offering a hand.

"Morning, doctor," Izan took it.

"You slept well?" frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

"Well enough."

"Good." Selwood gestured to the chair.

"Go ahead and get comfortable. We’ll be starting the first dose of filgrastim today. Small injection, just under the skin. Back of the arm."

Izan rolled up his sleeve without a word and settled into the seat.

"You may feel it in your lower back or hips later," the doctor continued as he prepped the syringe.

"A dull ache, maybe some fatigue. It’s normal. That just means the marrow is starting to work overtime."

Izan nodded once. "That’s what we want."

Selwood smiled faintly. "Exactly."

The nurse gently positioned his arm and counted him down.

"Three... two..." as the sharp pinch came.

Then done.

Selwood capped the syringe and turned to make a note on the tablet.

"We’ll be doing this once a day for a few days," he said.

"On the fourth or fifth dose, we’ll draw blood again. If your markers hit the right levels, we move to apheresis."

Izan leaned back slightly, letting the cushion take his weight.

"How long before I notice something?"

"Could be tonight. Might take another day. With your biology, maybe less. Just listen to your body. And rest where you can."

The nurse beside passed him a small cold pack as Selwood smiled again.

"You’re doing something good, Izan. Really good. That boy—Leo—he’s got a shot now."

Izan didn’t answer immediately.

Just exhaled softly and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

A moment passed.

Then Izan stood, slipping his jacket back on.

The nurse opened the door for him.

"Same time tomorrow," Selwood said. "We’ll be ready."

Izan nodded once before walking out.

A/N: Last of the previous day. Have fun reading, and I’ll see you in a bit with the first of the day if I can.

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