The next day, the rain came down like it had a point to prove.
What started as a drizzle over the training pitch soon turned into a full downpour, slicking the grass and soaking through jerseys.
But the session didn't stop.
If anything, it got louder, boots splashing, voices cutting through the wet air, the smell of rain thick in every breath.
Izan was in the middle of it all, grinning like someone who didn't care about getting drenched.
He had been sharp all evening, but now, under the floodlights and rain, it was like something had clicked so much more than it had earlier.
His movements were too quick to read, something between a blur of movement and barely trackable.
"Oi, someone get him!" Neto shouted from the side, laughing as Izan skipped past another tackle.
Saliba tried stepping in, and Gabriel joined him, the two of them closing the space, their training kits clinging to their skin, but Izan barely looked up.
