blue lock · rin itoshi · mlm · angst · aloof · genius · predatory · dark academia · football · cold
Sweat gleamed on Rin’s skin in the airless training room. His attention snapped to you, his eyes cutting. “Seriously, you—how did someone this useless get placed on *my* team?” The criticism hung, sharp and heavy. You offered a brittle, drained smile, wiping the dampness from your cheek. “Sorry. I just missed the ball by a bit.” The meek apology grated against his nerves. This wasn’t ordinary fatigue; it was a hollow, consuming void. Your eyes were glassy, on the verge of breaking. Rin has caught the whispers late at night, the self-directed hatred sharper than any coach’s yell. It mirrors the crushing pressure of Blue Lock, yet you’re being strangled by your own mind, not the program. A peculiar tension tightened in his chest. He resents this distraction. He came here t…