Chapter Text
Rin opens his eyes before the alarm clock rings. The faint light shines through the blinds, cutting the room into strips of gray light.
The pillow is thin, the bed hard. It doesn't matter. He turns on his side, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence of the room. The clock ticks insistently, but he doesn't react yet.
He gets up slowly. His feet touch the cold floor. His body complains, but he ignores it. He walks to the bathroom.
He looks at his reflection in the mirror. His face is tired, and he thinks: What's the point of all this?
He fixes his hair. He washes his face with cold water. The shock of the water wakes him up.
His uniform is folded as always in the corner of the chair. He puts it on without hesitation, each fold, each button, each detail measured. It's just another ritual that maintains the invisible order of his life.
Breakfast is quick. He eats alone in the kitchen, his parents busy with their own routines.
The silence is comfortable, routine.
The coffee is hot, the toast crispy. Every bite is measured, every sip.
At school, Rin moves like a shadow. Head down, headphones blocking out the world, steps steady. Teachers talk, classmates comment.
He watches without paying attention, without participating.
Isolation is his shield. Some consider him strange, others ignore him, he feels no need to change that.
On Mondays and Wednesdays, the routine changes a little. He doesn't go to school. He spends the whole day at the flower shop near the city, surrounded by scents and colors, caring for plants, watering flowers, arranging vases.
The smell of damp earth is the only thing that seems to matter to him. There, he doesn't have to talk, he doesn't have to smile, he doesn't have to pretend. There, he just exists.
But unfortunately, today is not one of those days.
The end of the school day arrives, and Rin leaves for the market.
The market is crowded. The jingle of coins, creaking carts, the hiss of the refrigerator.
A lady approaches the counter. Holding a basket of vegetables. Eyes equally tired, voice low.
"Good morning... can you weigh this for me?"
Rin nods without speaking. He picks up the scale and places the vegetables on it. He watches the needle rise.
"How much is it?" asks the woman.
"One thousand fifty," replies Rin in a firm, neutral voice.
She smiles shyly.
"Thank you, dear."
Rin just nods. Behind the counter, he wipes the surface with a cloth, watching the customers pass by.
Time flows slowly. He leaves while watching the customers pass by. Always the same, every single day.
A colleague from the other side of the market runs by. He waves, Rin responds with a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
When his shift ends, he silently collects his apron, puts away the coins, and closes the cash register.
The market is still noisy, but now it's no longer his problem. He leaves, ending his shift.
He looks at the street. The sky is beginning to darken. A bright screen shines from afar, reflecting the most popular project in the country today: Blue Lock.
Rin frowns, the adrenaline, the stadium, the promise of competition. It all seems so distant, and at the same time, it brings back an uncomfortable memory.
He sighs.
Two years have passed since he gave up soccer. The decision still echoes in every corner of his life.
He keeps working to avoid thinking about it, but there are moments like this—alone—when it all comes back.
And then he thinks of Kaiser. A few days ago, his presence cut through the space between past and present in a way that Rin still can't define.
The memory of the touches, even if brief, still throbs on his skin. He feels his body get warmer, but it quickly fades away.
A cold wind hits his face. Rin pulls his coat tighter around his body.
The big screen still glows in the distance. Blue Lock. The name echoes in his mind. It's strange to see it there, so big, so impossible to ignore.
He has watched a few U-20 national team games and caught a glimpse of the game against Blue Lock. Not out of interest, but because it was a habit ingrained since he was six years old to watch the games his brother played in.
Yes, he needed to change his bad habits.
Rin feels a tightness in his chest, an uncomfortable curiosity mixed with something he can't name.
Rin remembers his brother. He remembers what happened to Sae, he remembers the weight he carried when he decided to give up.
He remembers the pain, the frustration, the shame of not being able to measure up.
The game is different, cruel, competitive.
The big screen continues to reflect on the surrounding buildings, blue light spreading across the ground. He looks away, but he can't stop thinking.
The soccer he left behind is still alive for others. For him, only the routine remains. School, work, the small refuge of the flower shop. A methodical, safe, predictable life.
And yet... there is this pull, this invisible thread that connects him to what he gave up. He still wants to see, to know, even if only from afar.
Rin tightens his coat. The cold seems like a relief from the strange heat of his own memories.
He walks home. The street is quiet, only the sound of a few cars in the distance.
He doesn't look around, he walks straight ahead, his steps hurried.
The door creaks as he enters. The house is dark, his parents must not have arrived yet, or perhaps they are already locked in their own rooms. It makes no difference.
He takes off his shoes in the hallway, leaves his coat aside, and goes straight up to his room.
He drops his backpack in the corner and sits on the bed.
Rin rests his elbow on his knee and runs his hand over his face. The routine repeats itself every day: school, work, home. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes.
He throws himself back on the hard mattress and stares at the ceiling. The same ceiling as always. The same life as always. A dull life, with nothing that really matters.
For a moment, the big screen comes back to mind. Blue Lock. The illuminated field, the screams... Kaiser. Sae.
Rin closes his eyes tightly. He clenches his fists against the sheet.
"What a mess..." he mutters irritably.
This is what his life has become. Repetition. Cheap labor. A dull routine. He turns on his side, trying to sleep. Tomorrow will be the same. And the day after tomorrow too.
Rin is already tired.
The restaurant smelled of fried food and tomato sauce. Trays clattered, orders were shouted, customers complained about the delay.
The noise of customers coming and going was incessant, but Rin didn't care. His shift was almost over, and soon the part he hated most would begin: deliveries.
He puts the bags he has already sorted onto his cargo bike. The routine is always the same. Check the addresses, tie up the packages, put on his helmet and gloves. Then cycle through the cold streets to each gate.
He adjusts the backpack on his back and fastens the leg straps when he notices someone standing in front of the store. A woman.
She stands upright, hands clasped in front of her body, staring at the street. But in fact, she was staring at him.
Rin frowns. Something about her face seems familiar, but Rin quickly dismisses the feeling. It doesn't matter. She says nothing.
When he fastens the last safety strap on his helmet, she calls out to him:
"Itoshi Rin."
The name echoes heavily. Rin slowly raises his eyes.
"Who are you?" he asks, his voice firm but low.
She takes a step forward.
"Teieri Anri. I work for the Blue Lock project."
Rin remains silent. The cold wind blows through the market entrance, messing up his hair.
Anri opens a black briefcase. From inside, she takes out an envelope with a blue stamp on it. She hands it to him.
"It's an invitation to the project. We would like you to join us."
Rin doesn't move. He just stares at the envelope as if something dangerous might come out of it.
"I'm not interested." His response is curt, almost automatic.
Anri doesn't back down.
"Think about it. It's an opportunity to play again."
The word "play" reverberates inside him. It brings back memories he tried to bury. Rin closes his eyes for a moment, trying to block them out.
She continues:
"I've watched your old matches. You and your brother... you were impressive. You have a talent that shouldn't be wasted."
His brother's name cuts like a knife. Rin feels his stomach churn. His body stiffens.
He steps back, ready to refuse.
But Anri's expression changes. Her voice becomes firm.
"If you want to continue living this mediocre life, that's your choice."
Rin freezes.
"I'm not here to beg." She calmly closes the folder. "I just recognize true talent when I see it. What you do with it is your problem."
Silence falls. The noise of the restaurant seems distant.
Anri takes a step back, ready to leave.
"Just don't give up before you try."
She stares at him for another second and walks away, without waiting for a response.
Rin stands still. He clutches the envelope, feeling the cold paper against his skin.
He feels his teeth clenched, his chest tight. Sae. Kaiser. Blue Lock. The past he tries to bury.
But the blue letter is still there. And Rin was really reconsidering whether to refuse or not.