Madrid, February 2015.
Outside the Santiago Bernabéu, fans sang and stamped their feet, breath fogging in the winter night. Inside the locker room, Sae Itoshi laced his boots with robotic precision, his expression unreadable.
Tonight was a Copa del Rey quarter-final against Sevilla—a team known for technical flair and ruthless counterattacks.
But Sae's mind wasn't entirely on the match.
It was on the name that echoed in every scout's whispers this week.
Rin Itoshi.
---
The Report
Earlier that morning, Zidane had called him into the analyst room.
On the screen: grainy footage of a Barcelona Juvenil A match.
A boy—taller, lean, and cold-eyed—wore the #10 shirt. He drifted through defenders like wind through reeds. The control was familiar. The composure… uncanny.
Zidane turned to Sae.
> "You know him, don't you?"
Sae nodded slowly. "He's my younger brother."
Zidane didn't speak for a moment.
> "They're saying he's just as ruthless as you. Maybe more."
Sae stared at the screen.
Rin looked back.
Not literally—but in Sae's mind, it felt like a challenge. A message.
I'm coming.
---
Kickoff – Sevilla's Trap
The Copa del Rey quarter-final began at a high tempo. Sevilla, under Unai Emery, were tactically disciplined and pressed in packs.
From the start, they targeted Sae.
Ever Banega shadowed him. Grzegorz Krychowiak tackled him twice in the first ten minutes. Every time Sae received the ball, three red shirts converged.
And yet—he didn't falter.
He absorbed it. Studied it.
In the 21st minute, he baited a press by slowing the tempo, then with one flick of his ankle, split two midfielders and launched a through ball into space.
Bale sprinted onto it—but the shot hit the post.
Sae cursed under his breath. Too soft. Too human.
---
Memories of Blue Lock
As the match raged, Sae's mind flickered to the past.
To the sterile hallways of Blue Lock.
To Ego Jinpachi's voice, echoing across the whiteboard:
> "The world doesn't need good players. It needs egotists who dominate the field."
To the younger Rin—just a boy back then—watching him from the sideline.
Sae clenched his jaw.
> He watched everything. And now… he's using it.
---
Moment of Madness
In the 37th minute, Sevilla struck on the counter. A quick turnover, a through ball to Bacca, and suddenly Real were down 0–1.
The Bernabéu gasped.
Ramos yelled. Casillas cursed.
But Sae stayed calm.
He walked back to midfield and tapped his temples twice.
Focus. Adapt. Control.
---
Second Half – The Awakening
The second half began with a different Sae.
He dropped even deeper, into a double pivot with Kroos, disrupting Sevilla's midfield shape. Then, without warning, he surged forward—timing his vertical runs with surgical precision.
In the 56th minute, he floated behind Banega's blind spot, received a pass from Marcelo, and dinked a no-look lob over the back line.
GOAL – Benzema.
1–1.
Sae didn't celebrate.
He turned to the bench and glanced at Zidane.
"I told you. I'm ready."
---
The Clash Within
But even as he dictated the match, his heart was unsteady.
He saw flashes of Rin again—on the Jumbotron pregame reel, in scouting discussions, in whispers among staff.
> "He's taller than Sae now."
"Left-footed, like his brother—but shoots harder."
"Barça are considering accelerating him into Barça B."
The pressure wasn't from Sevilla.
It was from within.
From his own blood.
---
Final Minutes – The Moment
In the 85th minute, still tied 1–1, the game hung by a thread.
Sevilla parked the bus. Madrid circled like wolves. Possession, rotation, probing.
Then it happened.
Sae drifted to the right side, faked a cut inside, then pivoted outward—dragging the fullback with him. In a blink, he sent a disguised pass back toward the top of the box.
James Rodríguez, unmarked, rocketed a shot into the net.
2–1.
The Bernabéu erupted.
But Sae's eyes scanned the crowd.
He thought he saw him.
Rin, standing near the tunnel in a black jacket, emotionless.
Sae blinked.
Gone.
---
Post-Match – The Echo
He left the field to roaring applause.
Reporters mobbed him. Cameras flashed.
> "Sae, how did you feel about tonight's win?"
"Do you think Real Madrid can count on you for the semis?"
"Have you heard about your brother's performance against Espanyol B today?"
That one stopped him.
He turned. "What?"
The journalist smiled.
> "He scored twice. One was from the halfway line."
Sae didn't smile.
He just nodded.
---
Back at Home
Later that night, in his apartment, Sae sat in the dark, watching footage Rin's agent had leaked online.
He paused on a freeze frame of Rin's face after scoring.
The same cold stare. The same narrowed eyes.
His mirror. His rival. His younger self—but darker.
> "So that's what you've become."
He stood, walked to the wall, and wrote something new on the mirror:
"Rin: My Final Trial."
---
End of Chapter 9