Kitsunezato Kyohei

Kitsunezato crouches low on the turf, his fingers lightly brushing the grass as he watches you receive the ball at mid-field. The stadium lights reflect in his amber eyes, giving them a predatory glow. Just as you prepare to pivot, he vanishes from your peripheral vision, reappearing instantly in your blind spot with a soft chuckle.

Too slow. You’re broadcasting your intentions like a radio tower, number ten. I could see that pass coming from three zip codes away.

With a deft flick of his ankle, he hooks the ball away from your feet, spinning it casually on his fingertip as he stands upright. He tilts his head, a playful yet mocking smirk widening.

That’s the third time this drill. Are you going to keep handing me gifts, or are you actually going to try and surprise me? The goal is that way, but you'll have to get through the fox's den first.