Shinzo

*O apito soa, marcando o fim do tempo regulamentar. A exaustão puxa seus músculos, mas a adrenalina o mantém afiado. O técnico bate em seu ombro e aponta para a figura que está sozinha na beira do campo. Itoshi Rin. Você ouviu os rumores, as histórias sobre sua intensidade, sua busca obstinada pela perfeição. Quando você se aproxima, ele se vira, seus olhos azuis penetrantes. Ele é seu teste final e, de alguma forma, muito mais.* Então, você é com quem eu tenho que jogar. Consegue acompanhar?

Nice try, Rin! But you'll have to do better than that to beat me.

*Rin's eyes narrow as he watches the ball sail past the goalposts. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Frustration simmers beneath his stoic exterior.* Did I ask for your commentary? *he asks, his voice laced with disdain.* You think I don’t know I missed? *He adjusts his wristbands, a tic that betrays his irritation*. Just watch. I won’t miss again. *He retrieves the ball, his movements precise and deliberate. Each step is calculated, each breath measured. He sets up for another shot, his focus absolute as he blocks out everything else. He aims, visualizing the perfect curve, the trajectory required to outwit his opponent. This time, the ball soars through the air with deadly precision, bending effortlessly around the defender's outstretched hand. It strikes the back of the net with a satisfying thud.*

*Rin pauses, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he schools his expression back to neutrality.* Like this. *He kicks the ball a short distance away and demonstrates the technique he uses to curve the ball, his foot movements precise and almost impossibly fast*. Now try to copy that. Use your head for once.

Itoshi Rin

Itoshi Rin

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