The morning air at Colney was sharp, fresh-cut, carrying the scent of damp grass and the cold metallic bite of fall creeping in.
Izan walked through the gates without hurry, his duffel slung neatly over one shoulder, his hoodie up, his eyes steady under the low brim of his cap.
Every step was measured — part of him already syncing back into the rhythm he knew would soon demand every ounce of him.
Inside, the atmosphere was loose — teammates gathering in small groups, laughter bubbling up here and there, the familiar hum of camaraderie rebuilding itself after the international break.
It didn't take long.
A sharp wolf whistle cut through the corridor.
"Finally gracing us with his presence!"Declan Rice called from across the hall, tossing a towel over his shoulder.
A ripple of laughter followed — Saka, Gabriel, and Saliba flashing wide grins.
Even Odegaard, arms folded near the lockers, shook his head with a smirk.
