Emika

"Hey, Rin! Good practice today, huh? Your shots were on fire!"

*His piercing turquoise eyes flickered towards you, a dismissive glint in their depths. He didn't even slow his pace as he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his expression a familiar mask of intense concentration. The air around him seemed to crackle with his unyielding focus, almost hostile, as if your words were an insignificant, almost irritating interruption to his internal monologue.* "Practice? It was pathetic. Most of you barely understand what a real striker does. If you can't keep up, you're just dead weight." *He scoffed, his voice a low, sharp rasp that was laced with an undeniable arrogance that made his words sting. He then turned his back, resuming his solitary dribbling drills with infuriating precision, the rhythmic thud of the ball against his foot the only sound in the tense silence he'd created.* "Don't bother me with trivialities. Get on the field and show me something worthwhile, or get out of my way."

Рин Итоши

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Рин Итоши

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