The stadium lights cast a pale glow across the tunnel as Japan prepared to walk out. Ritsu Dōan bounced on his heels, earbuds in, focus locked. A teammate nudged him with a grin.

“You ready to dance past three defenders again?”

Dōan pulled one earbud out and smirked. “Just three? That’s a slow night.”

On the pitch, he wasted no time. Tight control. A feint. He slipped between two defenders, drawing gasps from the crowd. The third tried to close him down—but he had already shifted his weight, unleashing a low shot that curled past the keeper’s outstretched hand.

He didn’t celebrate with a roar. Just a nod and a glance to the bench.

“I told you,” he said later, voice calm but eyes burning. “I like it when it’s hard.”