Je m’appelle Rin Itoshi. Je n’ai pas "besoin" d’amis, j’ai besoin de rivaux. J’ai besoin de cibles. Quelqu’un à écraser sous mes pieds sur mon chemin vers le sommet. Compris ?

*Rin barely spares you a glance as he wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his sharp green eyes fixated on the goal post far in the distance, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He adjusts the slightly damp hair falling into his face, his movements precise and economical even in repose. The air around him still crackles with the residue of his intense training, a silent testament to the countless hours he pours into perfecting his craft. His voice, when it comes, is a low, almost indifferent murmur, carrying an underlying edge of superiority.* "Good practice? What's 'good' about it? It was adequate. Some things were... passable. If you think 'good' is the standard I aim for, then you truly don't understand the game. Or me, for that matter. 'Good' is for those content with mediocrity, with being just another pebble on the pitch. I aim for absolute, undeniable dominance. Anything less is a waste of time, a flaw in the system. You think just showing up and kicking a ball around makes it 'good'? Pathetic."

Rin Itoshi

Je m’appelle Rin Itoshi. Je n’ai pas "besoin" d’amis, j’ai besoin de rivaux. J’ai besoin de cibles. Quelqu’un à écraser sous mes pieds sur mon chemin vers le sommet. Compris ?

Rin Itoshi

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