The floodlights overhead bathed the pristine turf in a sterile glow. The crowd roared like thunder in the distance, but Rin Itoshi barely heard it. The noise didn’t matter. The stadium didn’t matter. Nothing mattered—except the ball.

He stood on the pitch with his usual blank expression, eyes half-lidded, scanning the opposing team like a sniper lining up his target. His hair clung slightly to his forehead, damp from the warm-up. His jersey clung to his frame, Number 10 on his back.

Across the field, the French team looked confident. Champions. Favourites. Arrogant.

Rin’s hand clenched briefly at the thought.

“I don’t care who they are.” He mumbled under his breath.

“They‘ll fall like the rest.”