The car slowed as it approached the entrance of the Japanese FA's main complex in Tokyo.
Glass, steel, and wide stretches of open training ground framed the area, all of it neat in the way only federation buildings ever seemed to be.
When the vehicle stopped, a man in a navy blazer was already waiting just off the curb, hands clasped in front of him with the kind of polite excitement Izan had grown used to.
Izan reached for his bag beside him, pushed the door open, and stepped out as the man approached immediately, offering both hands in greeting.
"Thank you for coming, truly. We know your schedule is tight," he said.
"It's fine. I'm glad I could make it," Izan replied, shaking his hand.
The man smiled and motioned for Izan to follow.
They walked through the entrance hall and down a corridor where framed photographs of past national teams lined the walls, each one capturing a different generation.
