Madrid, January 2015.
The snow that fell in the capital was gentle, but inside Sae Itoshi's chest, the storm was building. He stood on the balcony of his apartment, watching the sky pale with morning light. Another matchday. Another chance.
But this one was different.
Not Castilla. Not Basel.
Atlético Madrid. La Liga. The derby.
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The War of Madrid
Atlético under Simeone wasn't just a team—it was a religion of suffering. Their players were warriors, disciplined and relentless. Their midfield was a battlefield, not a canvas.
And now, for the first time, Sae would be thrown into it.
Ancelotti had warned him in training.
> "You won't have time to breathe. They'll press you like animals."
> "Good," Sae replied flatly. "I want a cage."
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Build-Up
The press couldn't get enough.
> "Can the boy genius survive Simeone's chaos?"
"Sae Itoshi vs. Koke, Gabi, Tiago—the midfield war is here."
"Will Sae break, or will he break Atlético?"
Japanese media flew in specifically for the derby. European pundits called it the true litmus test.
The Bernabéu was at capacity by warmups.
Ronaldo clapped him on the shoulder in the tunnel. "They're going to target you. Show them you're not soft."
Sae didn't respond. He had no use for pep talks.
His only answer would be written in the spaces between defenders.
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First Half – Fire and Iron
From the first whistle, it was chaos.
Gabi came in hard. The first tackle slammed into Sae's shin with a sickening crunch. No card. No foul.
Welcome to the derby.
The ball moved like a pinball, ricocheting between bodies. Atlético's midfielders swarmed like wasps, cutting off every passing lane, forcing hurried decisions.
For the first fifteen minutes, Sae couldn't breathe.
And then he stopped trying to.
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Adapting to Hell
He shifted deeper, closer to Kroos, pulling defenders out of position. He played one-touch diagonals, not to teammates, but to zones—where space would be.
In the 27th minute, he turned under pressure, let the ball roll across his body, and slipped past two pressing midfielders with a single curved dribble.
The stadium gasped.
The pass that followed bisected the backline. Benzema was too slow to finish it, but the message was clear.
> Sae had adjusted. And now, he was calculating.
---
Atlético Responds
Simeone barked from the sideline. Sae was fouled again. And again. This time by Tiago. Then Juanfran.
But each time, Sae got up without a word.
No theatrics. No complaints.
Only sharper eyes. Hungrier passes. More venom.
In the 38th minute, he intercepted a clearance, pinged a pass to Ronaldo on the wing, then darted forward.
Ronaldo noticed.
The return pass was perfect.
Sae didn't break stride. He chipped it gently over Oblak.
GOAL.
1–0. Sae's first La Liga goal. In the Madrid derby.
The Bernabéu exploded.
And for the first time… he smiled.
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Halftime – Calm in the Storm
In the locker room, the veterans were fired up.
Ramos slapped his back. Kroos nodded in approval. Even Ancelotti raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"You're not just built for elegance," he said. "You're built for war."
Sae simply drank his water.
Because in his mind, he wasn't done.
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Second Half – Rise of the Conductor
Atlético pressed higher. But Sae had seen it all now. He moved like a phantom, drifting into half-spaces, manipulating tempo with ghost touches.
He began orchestrating not just plays—but the shape of the match.
A flick here. A delayed run there. He wasn't passing to teammates—he was pulling strings from behind the curtain.
By the 65th minute, Real Madrid looked like they were playing with twelve men.
In the 71st, Sae baited Koke into overcommitting, then backheeled the ball through his legs and started a counter.
Modrić, watching from the bench, turned to Ancelotti.
> "I've never seen someone make us look younger."
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Atlético Crumbles
In the 82nd minute, Sae assisted another goal. A disguised through-ball to James Rodríguez, who curled it past Oblak.
2–0.
Simeone screamed at his players, slamming a water bottle.
But it was over.
Sae had dominated the derby.
Without shouting.
Without brute strength.
Just with presence. Calculation. And absolute control.
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Aftermath – The World Reacts
That night, social media lit up:
> "He humiliated Atlético."
"He's a glitch in the game engine."
"Madrid has their next Galáctico. And he's Japanese."
Japanese news anchors broke from regular programming to show the highlights. Spanish children attempted his blind passes on school pitches the next day.
Sae's Instagram follower count doubled overnight.
Even Sergio Busquets tweeted a rare compliment:
> "He sees football two seconds ahead. That's terrifying."
---
But Inside Sae...
There was no celebration.
Back home, he watched the game again in silence.
He noticed the small imperfections. The fraction of a second he lost in the 54th minute. The angle he could have used to create a third goal.
> Good performance isn't enough. I want total dominance.
He pulled out his training journal.
Wrote two words:
"Metavision unlocked."
He could now see more than positions. He could predict future choices. His Blue Lock training—the true one from his past life—was activating in full.
> But where is my rival?
> Where is the monster who will try to break me?
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Final Scene
A clip played on Spanish sports television the next morning: highlights of a Barcelona youth match.
A midfielder wearing #10 made a no-look assist.
The reporter spoke in passing:
> "Barcelona's Juvenil A continue to thrive. Especially young Rin Itoshi, who many say has the same cold brilliance as his older brother…"
Sae's eyes narrowed.
A chill ran through him.
He leaned forward.
And whispered to himself:
> "Finally."
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End of Chapter 8