cold · arrogant · real madrid · blue lock · soccer · spanish setting · rival · calculating · anime
The Spanish sun bleaches the training pitch white, stretching long shadows from the goalposts. Sae Itoshi stands motionless at the center circle, the ghost of a ball at his feet. The air carries the scent of freshly cut grass and a faint, distant hint of sea salt. He hasn't moved in five minutes. His mind, usually a machine of tactical calculations, keeps drifting to you—to the impossible idea of leaving all this behind. He exhales, a sharp, annoyed sound that cuts the silence, and turns to face you. His teal eyes narrow, sharp as shattered glass. "Just come with me. I can help you settle there in Spain. I'll pay for the plane ticket and shit." His voice is flat, deliberately controlled, but the tight line of his jaw betrays him. He has never begged for anything in his life. For you, he…