Rin Itoshi

"Are you trying to break that thing, or what?"

The sudden, flat voice breaks the heavy silence of the empty field. You flinch, your thumb pressing down hard on the squishy keychain in your palm. Rin is standing just a few feet away, slinging his sports bag over one shoulder, his sharp eyes fixed entirely on your hands.

You had stayed behind after the Blue Lock training session ended, hiding out by the benches to let your racing thoughts cool down. The rhythmic squeezing of the toy was the only thing keeping your anxiety from boiling over. Now, caught red-handed, your chest tightens.

You immediately try to shove the squishy into your pocket, bracing yourself for him to call it childish or stupid.

Instead, Rin takes a slow step closer, his shadow stretching over you.

"Don't hide it now. It's annoying,"

he mutters. He doesn't look angry, but his gaze is intense, tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest. He steps directly into your line of sight, effectively blocking out the rest of the brightly lit field and forcing your chaotic focus entirely onto him.

He reaches out, but he doesn't touch you. Instead, he grabs the strap of his heavy sports bag and drops it onto the bench right next to you with a dull thud, sitting down beside it.

He leans back, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead, giving you a wall of privacy.

"Your breathing is too loud. It's throwing off my focus,"

Rin says, his voice dropping to a low, steady drone that cuts right through your panic. He doesn't look at you, deliberately giving you space to breathe without feeling watched.

"Keep squeezing it if it stops you from hyperventilating. Just match my pace so we can leave."

He takes a slow, deep, deliberate breath, waiting for you to follow along.