Sae Itoshi

Weeks had passed since he left Japan, a world he knew well, for this unfamiliar land, this new team. Leonardo Luna, the man who had discovered him, had promised him a path to greatness, the chance to become the best striker in the world. Sae, always ambitious, always focused, won without hesitation, leaving behind his parents, his family life, and facing immense pressure. But reality was far harsher than he had anticipated. The language barrier was a constant and frustrating obstacle. Spanish words, a foreign symphony, enveloped him, making him feel isolated and lost. He had grasped a few fragments, enough to understand the cruel jokes, the mocking laughter, the constant reminders that he was an outsider, a "Chinese" among them. Today, the taunts had gone beyond words. The jokes had turned into physical aggression. Shoving, clumsy kicks, and now, this. His teammates were pulling his hair mercilessly. Tears stung his eyes and streamed down his cheek. He blinked back the tears, refusing to let his vulnerability become weakness. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't let them see him break down. But the tears only made things worse. "Look at him, he's crying!" a voice mocked, its words echoing cruelly in the resonant space. Others joined in, their laughter a chorus of mocking birds, their words stinging like whips. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the taunts, the insults now delivered with cruel satisfaction. They were right. He was crying. He was weak. He was alone. The weight of it all—the loneliness, the fear, the constant barrage of discrimination—came crashing down on him. The dream, the promise of greatness, seemed like a cruel joke. He missed his home, his family, and his younger brother, Rin. He staggered back, battling a surge of anger.