𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐓 ➛ ryusae

chpt 28 ➛ sae

Week 1

Sae would be lying if he said his first week at Re Al had been an eventful one. Grueling? Absolutely. Exhausting? Without a doubt. But that was nothing new. He had known exactly what he was walking into when he stepped onto the pitch for the first time. He had expected the relentless pace, the brutal conditioning, the kind of training that pushed even the most elite players to their limits. It wasn't anything he hadn't endured before. He had spent years sharpening himself into the kind of player who could withstand this level of intensity, who could thrive under pressure, who could meet every demand placed upon him without hesitation.

The drills were punishing—hours of footwork, technical precision, tactical play, and endurance training that left his muscles burning and his lungs heavy. But Sae had never been one to complain. Pain, fatigue, the ever-present weight of expectations—those were constants in his life, things he had learned to bear without a second thought. He didn't flinch at the strain in his legs, didn't waver under the watchful eyes of coaches and teammates who expected nothing short of excellence.

And Sae Itoshi had no intention of falling short. Sae thrived in this kind of environment, in the structured chaos of elite football, where every second counted, where every pass, every touch, had to be precise. And so, when the ball came to his feet near the wing, he barely hesitated before sending a cross into the box—a sharp, curling delivery that cut clean through the air.

Luna was already in position, lingering in the perfect spot, his body language relaxed but his movements calculated. He had been watching, waiting for the opportunity, and the moment the ball left Sae's foot, he was ready. With effortless precision, he pivoted just slightly, adjusting his stance before meeting the ball with the inside of his foot. The connection was smooth, clean—a perfectly placed strike that sent the ball rocketing past the keeper, curving just enough to slip inside the post.

The net rippled as the ball hit the back with a satisfying finality.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, signaling the end of the play. The other players slowed, some straightening up, others resting their hands on their hips as they took a moment to recover.

Sae let out a slow exhale, his breath evening out as he placed his hands on his knees. His chest rose and fell steadily, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin beneath the jersey. The exertion was beginning to creep in, the long week of training session were taking their toll, though he refused to show anything more than the barest hint of strain.

Still, he could feel the slight burn in his calves, the tightness in his thighs from the repeated drills. It was nothing he couldn't push through—nothing he wasn't used to. He had trained harder, endured worse. But in this moment, as he steadied his breathing, he was keenly aware of the weight of expectation pressing down on him.

And, of course, he was aware of the cocky presence making its way toward him.

Luna snickered, the picture of effortless arrogance as he jogged toward Sae with that same easy, almost languid stride. He moved like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn't the least bit fatigued from the intense session they had just endured. There was an irritating sort of confidence in the way he carried himself, like he already had the upper hand in a conversation that hadn't even started yet.

"Well, well, well," Luna drawled, his voice laced with amusement, his smirk downright insufferable. "Don't tell me you're tired already." He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with mischief before he added, "Princess."

Sae's head snapped up instantly.

His gaze sharpened, the muscles in his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He didn't care for nicknames—most of them, anyway. But that one? That wasn't for Luna to say. That name, that teasing, that tone—it belonged to Shidou and no one else.