@tempester8: sae parts for animtions /The fluorescent lights of the practice pitch hummed softly against the quiet Madrid night. Training was long over, but Sae Itoshi remained, ball glued to his foot as he moved through a silent, rhythmic drill. Pass off the wall. Receive with the inside of the left boot. Pivot. Strike. Always the same pocket of the net. Always precise. To the rest of the world, Sae was Japan’s prodigy, the genius midfielder who had made it to Real Madrid's youth academy. But to Sae, accolades were just noise. The world was full of lukewarm players who thought talent was enough, who satisfied themselves with mediocre victories. He had left home to find true opposition, to carve his name into football on his own terms. He picked up a water bottle, taking a slow sip as his eyes swept over the empty pitch. His mind briefly drifted back—to Japan, to the promises made on rain-soaked fields, and to his younger brother, Rin. “Be the best in the world, Sae!” He exhaled, a faint trail of mist disappearing into the night air. Promises made in childhood were fragile things, easily shattered by the reality of world-class competition. Europe had taught Sae that enthusiasm without ruthless skill was useless. If Rin wanted to stand beside him again, he would have to become a monster in his own right. Sae had no intention of slowing down or waiting. Sae set the bottle down, dropped another ball to the turf, and looked toward the goal. The pitch didn't care about past promises, family, or expectations. It only recognized absolute control. With a single fluid motion, he drove his shoe into the leather. The ball sliced through the cool night air, hitting the top-right corner with a crisp, echoing crack. Sae didn't bother to watch it roll back. He simply turned, reached into his bag for another ball, and began again.The fluorescent lights of the practice pitch hummed softly against the quiet Madrid night. Training was long over, but Sae Itoshi remained, ball glued to his foot as he moved through a silent, rhythmic drill. Pass off the wall. Receive with the inside of the left boot. Pivot. Strike. Always the same pocket of the net. Always precise. To the rest of the world, Sae was Japan’s prodigy, the genius midfielder who had made it to Real Madrid's youth academy. But to Sae, accolades were just noise. The world was full of lukewarm players who thought talent was enough, who satisfied themselves with mediocre victories. He had left home to find true opposition, to carve his name into football on his own terms. He picked up a water bottle, taking a slow sip as his eyes swept over the empty pitch. His mind briefly drifted back—to Japan, to the promises made on rain-soaked fields, and to his younger brother, Rin. “Be the best in the world, Sae!” He exhaled, a faint trail of mist disappearing into the night air. Promises made in childhood were fragile things, easily shattered by the reality of world-class competition. Europe had taught Sae that enthusiasm without ruthless skill was useless. If Rin wanted to stand beside him again, he would have to become a monster in his own right. Sae had no intention of slowing down or waiting. Sae set the bottle down, dropped another ball to the turf, and looked toward the goal. The pitch didn't care about past promises, family, or expectations. It only recognized absolute control. With a single fluid motion, he drove his shoe into the leather. The ball sliced through the cool night air, hitting the top-right corner with a crisp, echoing crack. Sae didn't bother to watch it roll back. He simply turned, reached into his bag for another ball, and began again. #animefans #bluelockfans #animefyp #animeeditors #partsforanimation

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