God Of football-Chapter 262: Outside Spain.

The bus pulled up at the training ground, where players collected their cars to head home. Izan walked toward his own, greeted by Komi and Hori waiting for him.

His mother wrapped him in a tight hug, while his sister punched his arm playfully.

"You’re a menace, you know that?" Hori grinned. "You’ve made half of Spain either love you or hate you tonight."

Izan chuckled. "That’s football."

As they got into the car, Komi placed a hand on his. "We’re proud of you. No matter what happens next."

He nodded. No matter what happened next.

Because now, the footballing world was shifting its attention to something even bigger.

.....

The next morning, Valencia awoke to a new reality—one shaped by triumph, by history, by the name that now echoed across Spain and beyond.

Izan had done the impossible. At just 17, he had claimed the Pichichi Trophy, sharing the top scorer title with Girona’s Artem Dovbyk at 24 goals, while also leading the league in assists with 17.

A season like this was unprecedented. A teenager, in his first full campaign at the top level, dominating La Liga from start to finish.

Mestalla was still standing, but barely. The city had shaken overnight, the streets flooded with jubilant fans, their chants, their fireworks, their disbelief turning into roars of celebration.

Valencia was back in the Champions League, and now, they had a superstar leading them into a new era.

And the footballing world had taken notice.

Headlines flooded sports media:

• MARCA: "Izan makes history: Youngest Pichichi in LaLiga history, Valencia’s new icon."

• AS: "A Golden Boy season: Izan dominates La Liga at just 17."

• Mundo Deportivo: "Barcelona, Madrid, and Europe take notice—Can Valencia keep Izan?"

• The Athletic: "Izan’s season by the numbers: A generational talent emerges."

Even LaLiga’s official Twitter account posted a tribute:

"Hernández Izan Miura. 17 years old. 24 goals. 17 assists. Youngest Pichichi ever. A season for the ages."

The response was immediate and Clubs, legends, pundits—all eyes turned to Valencia’s crown jewel.

• Cesc Fàbregas: "Izan is different. At 17, to dominate like this? Unreal. Future Ballon d’Or winner if he keeps this up."

• Rio Ferdinand: "Not many players have that it factor. Izan has it. A natural-born star."

• Gary Lineker: "This kid is special. To do what he’s done in La Liga, at this age? Phenomenal."

• Fernando Morientes: "Reminds me of the greats. Valencia has a diamond."

While the football world erupted, Izan’s Valencia teammates flooded social media with their own tributes.

José Gayà (@JoseGaya_14): "What a season. This kid is special. We are lucky to have you, @IzanMiura!"

Javi Guerra (@JaviGuerra8): "We all knew he was crazy, but 24 goals and 17 assists?? That’s next level. Proud of you, hermano @IzanMiura."

Hugo Guillamón (@HugoGuilla24): "Youngest Pichichi ever. If you don’t respect his name now, I don’t know what to tell you. @IzanMiura 🔥."

Even in the Valencia team chat, the messages poured in:

Gayà: "Take a bow, Miura. Historic."

Thierry Correia: "Pichichi at 17? Insane. Dinner on you when we get back."

Mamadou Diakhaby: "If he’s like this at 17, imagine in five years…"

Pepelu: "If you leave Valencia, we riot."

Izan, as always, kept it simple.

Izan: "Just getting started."

But It wasn’t just Valencia. Other young stars—his closest football friends—also sent their congratulations.

Pedri (@Pedri): "You keep breaking records, hermano. Time to celebrate soon. 👏🔥"

Jude Bellingham (@BellinghamJude): "Absolute madness. Happy for you, bro. Enjoy it!"

Lamine Yamal (@Lamine_Yamal): "Pichichi at 17?! Wish I could do that. Nah, that’s not normal. Let’s link up soon."

Antony7(@Antony7): Wow. Someone’s here to challenge my throne.

As his phone kept buzzing, Izan finally posted his own message to the world.

Izan Miura (@IzanHernadez): "Pichichi. Assist leader. Champions League. History. Gracias, Valencia. This is just the beginning though so buckle up for another season"

The post exploded—millions of likes, thousands of comments, the world reacting to the birth of football’s next global superstar.

A day later, Izan was thousands of feet above the ground, watching the endless blue stretch beneath the plane.

Beside him, Komi was flipping through a magazine, while Hori had her headphones in, scrolling through her phone.

The flight to Tokyo was long, but Izan didn’t mind. This wasn’t just any trip—this was home. His mother’s home.

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His home, in a way. The place where his roots lay, even if Spain was where he had grown into the player the world now recognized.

He had been to Japan the year before but not like this. Not as the biggest name in Spanish football right now.

His phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced down. Olivia.

Olivia: Superstar. Can’t believe you’re actually gone already.

Izan: You make it sound like I left for war.

Olivia: Might as well have. Feels like you’re gonna be gone forever.

He smirked, shaking his head. They had spent all of last night talking, yet she still made it seem like he had vanished off the planet.

Olivia: I should’ve come with you.

Izan exhaled, adjusting his seat. They had talked about this—she wanted to come, but it wasn’t possible this time.

Izan: Next time, I’ll bring you.

Olivia: Promise?

Izan: I promise.

There was a pause before she replied.

Olivia: Good. Because I’m holding you to it.

He smiled, locking his phone and leaning his head back.

Tokyo was still hours away.

But he knew—this trip wasn’t just about rest. It was about something deeper.

Because when he returned?

The next battle awaited.

...…..

The plane touched down at Narita International Airport just as the afternoon sun bathed the runway in golden light.

Izan stretched in his seat, rolling his shoulders as the announcement crackled overhead. Beside him, Hori blinked awake, rubbing her eyes, while Komi closed her magazine with a soft sigh.

"Finally," Hori muttered. "Longest flight of my life."

Izan smirked. "It wasn’t that bad."

She shot him a glare. "Says the guy who slept for half of it."

As they disembarked, the familiar rush of warm, humid Tokyo air hit them. It was different from Spain—thicker, heavier, filled with a scent Izan couldn’t quite place but had known since childhood.

Their grandparents were waiting just outside the arrival gates.

The moment Komi spotted them, her face softened, her eyes shining with something deep, something nostalgic.

"Kaasan," she whispered before quickly walking forward.

Their grandmother, a petite woman with silver-streaked hair, broke into a warm smile, pulling Komi into a tight embrace.

"Hontō ni hisashiburi," she murmured. (It’s been so long.)

Their grandfather stood behind her, taller, quieter, his expression unreadable for a moment—until he saw Izan. Then, a slow nod of approval.

Before they could continue, Izan’s grandmother roared. "Why are you acting like you are the main character of the novel? Come and hug your grandkids you old sag."

The words caused people to turn in their direction but Izan’s grandmother didn’t care.

Their grandfather under the roar of their grandmother obediently approached and hugged them while looking at her wife like he wanted some sort of approval but she didn’t bat an eye.

Komi and Hori laughed while Izan stood in the back, a smile etched on his face. With his family, he wasn’t "Izan, the footballer" but a son, a brother, and a grandson.

...….

The drive through Tokyo felt natural—like slipping into a well-worn routine. They had been here just last year, but somehow, Japan always felt new and old at the same time.

Their grandparents welcomed them with warm smiles and familiar embraces, their small traditional house just as they had left it.

The wooden veranda, the neatly arranged tatami mats, the faint scent of tea brewing in the air—it was all the same.

"You’ve grown," their grandfather observed, eyeing Izan with his usual measured gaze.

Izan smirked. "You said that last year."

"And it’s still true," his grandmother chimed in, leading them inside while his grandfather shied away.

Izan looked at her grandfather, always admiring his interactions with his wife.

Komi moved through the house like she never left, touching old photo frames, adjusting small decorations, and falling back into childhood memories that still lingered in these walls.

Hori, already comfortable, stretched out on the veranda, letting the afternoon breeze wash over her.

Izan, however, took his time. This place was part of him, in a way, but not in the same way Valencia was. It was quieter here. A different kind of home.

As he stood in the doorway, his phone buzzed.

Olivia.

Olivia: Landed?

Izan: Yeah. Just got to my grandparents’ place.

Olivia: Lucky. Wish I was there.

Izan: I meant what I said. Next time, I’ll bring you.

Olivia: Okay

Izan smirked, pocketing his phone.

For now, he would enjoy this time with his family.

Because soon enough, the world would be waiting for him again.

A/n: Good evening reader. Sorry but today will be a one chapter release. I had a lot of stuff to do and my stockpile got finished so I couldn’t update twice. Anyways I’ll try to make it up before the week ends. Have fun reading and I’ll see ya