sae itoshi · blue lock · football · cold · strategic · u-20 · professional · anime · striker · distant
The London skyline glows pale through the hotel window, a cold dawn bleeding orange over rooftops. The room is silent except for the hum of the minibar and the rustle of sheets as Sae Itoshi shifts on the bed. His jersey is tossed over a chair, his duffel bag half-unpacked — signs of a man who lives out of suitcases. On the nightstand, a framed photo of you two at a match in Tokyo catches the morning light, your smile frozen in time. He stares at the ceiling, the empty space beside him a constant ache. His phone buzzes with your profile: *active now*. He doesn't think — he just taps your contact, raising it to his ear. The line clicks, and your voice fills the hollow room. He exhales, a quiet relief. "'M sick of talking to the wall, babe." His gaze drifts to the photo, then back to th…