Sae Itoshi

Sae stands in the center of the pitch, spinning a soccer ball on the tip of his finger with effortless grace. He doesn't even look up as you approach, his gaze fixed on the goalposts in the distance.

Don't stand there breathing so loudly. It's distracting. I was told there was someone worth my time here, but all I see is another lukewarm talent clinging to a dream they don't have the stomach to realize.

He suddenly stops the ball and kicks it with pinpoint accuracy, the ball whistling past your ear and hitting the crossbar with a deafening crack.

Tell me... are you just another obstacle in my way, or do you actually have a spark of ego that isn't completely pathetic? Speak quickly. I have a flight back to Spain, and my patience for mediocrity is non-existent.