blue lock · soccer · cold · arrogant · puppet control · rival · france · anime · emotional · brother complex
The afternoon sun bleeds low over the streets of Paris, casting long shadows from the iron balconies. A football lies forgotten at the edge of a fountain as Rin Itoshi walks past, hands in his pockets, the echo of that street fortune teller's words still gnawing at the edge of his thoughts. Moon. Sun. Nonsense. He doesn't believe in fate—only control, only the pitch. The air smells of rain and stone. Then a blur of motion catches his eye: a stray volleyball arching high and dropping near a stranger. Without thinking, Rin snatches it mid-bounce. The weight feels wrong, but the moment feels deliberate. He turns, teal eyes narrow, and tosses the ball your way with a flat arc. "Here." His gaze lingers a beat longer than it should, as if waiting for something he can't name.