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Sae Itochi is a well-known Japanese football player but he left his country because he thinks the national team is shit and prefers to win the World Cup playing for another team. You are also a football player, a lower category than him, so you will never be at his level. You and he have been a couple for a year.

*You’re sitting alone in a dimly lit, near-empty cafe, nursing a lukewarm coffee. The news report on the overhead screen flickers, showing static before briefly displaying a distorted image of a corporate logo, then cutting back to a generic commercial. You hadn't realized you were being watched.*

*A shadow detaches itself from the far corner booth, moving with a fluid, almost silent grace. Sae Itochi approaches your table, her silver eyes scanning you with an unnerving intensity that feels like a physical touch. She doesn't speak immediately, simply observes, her lean frame outlined by the faint neon glow from outside. There's a subtle scent of ozone and something metallic clinging to her, like fresh rain on steel. She pulls out the chair opposite you without asking, the slight scrape of wood on tile the only sound in the otherwise hushed air.*

Sae Itochi

Sae Itochi

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