September 2014. The international break had arrived. Spain's national team was off for Euro qualifiers. Real Madrid's first team was temporarily thinned—no Sergio Ramos, no Casillas, no Isco or Carvajal. But training didn't stop. The remaining stars would prepare for a high-profile friendly against Bayer Leverkusen.
Zidane called Sae in after Castilla's session.
"You're with the first team tomorrow," he said simply. "Be at Valdebebas at 7 sharp. Don't be late."
Sae just nodded. But inside, something stirred. A familiar tightness in his chest.
Not fear. Not excitement. Something sharper.
Hunger.
---
A New Stage
The next morning, Sae arrived at Valdebebas before sunrise. The massive facility, usually bustling with Castilla players and academy youth, was quiet at this hour. But one figure was already on the pitch.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Even from a distance, Sae recognized the movement—the relentless repetition of shooting drills, sprint bursts, cone work. Ronaldo wasn't just training. He was competing with himself.
Sae watched for a moment, then moved inside to change. When he stepped into the first team dressing room, the air felt heavier. The walls held history. Legends. Ego.
Luka Modrić gave him a small nod as he passed. Kroos was lacing his boots. Marcelo, joking with Benzema, paused when he noticed Sae and whispered something that made the striker laugh.
Carlo Ancelotti walked in moments later with a clipboard.
"This is Sae Itoshi," he said casually. "Castilla midfielder. Zidane says he sees the field like a veteran. Let's see if that's true."
Sae said nothing. He just bowed slightly and sat down.
He wasn't here to talk. He was here to measure the world's best.
---
The First Training
The drills began with warm-ups and possession games. The intensity was immediately higher than Castilla. The touches were cleaner, the pressing faster. No one here hesitated. Sae quickly realized: there was no time to think—only to react.
But this was his domain.
In the first rondo, he slid a no-look flick past Kroos, drawing a surprised glance from the German. In the mini-match that followed, he made a first-time through ball to Benzema so precise that the striker gave him a brief thumbs-up after scoring.
Ancelotti raised an eyebrow. Modrić began watching him more closely.
Then came the tactical drills—Ancelotti broke them into groups, and Sae was placed between Kroos and Modrić in midfield.
"Try not to slow the tempo," Kroos said in German. It wasn't hostile. Just matter-of-fact.
Sae answered in fluent German: "Only if the tempo's worth keeping."
That earned a flicker of a smile from the German maestro.
---
The Shadow of a King
Then there was Ronaldo.
During one exercise, Sae intercepted a loose pass and launched a perfect long ball across the pitch to switch play—right to Ronaldo's feet.
The Portuguese star killed it with one touch, then buried a shot in the corner. No celebration. Just a glance back at Sae. A flick of the chin.
Recognition.
Sae didn't grin or smirk. But his heartbeat quickened.
He had trained in a manufactured ecosystem like Blue Lock, built to develop egos. But here, the ego was earned. Ronaldo was ego incarnate—but built on work, excellence, and obsession.
And Sae wanted to surpass it.
---
The Test: Friendly vs. Leverkusen
The friendly against Bayer Leverkusen was scheduled for that Saturday evening at the Estadio Alfredo Di Stéfano. With several regulars away, Ancelotti included a few Castilla talents on the bench. Sae was one of them—shirt number 41.
"Don't try to impress anyone," Zidane told him before the match. "Just do what you always do—control everything."
Sae entered the stadium with a blank expression. The crowd was modest but buzzing—real Madrid fans always watched, even in friendlies.
From the bench, he watched as Modrić, Kroos, and Ronaldo orchestrated the game with surgical precision. Benzema scored early, Ronaldo added another before halftime. Madrid led 2–0.
Then, in the 65th minute, Ancelotti turned.
"Sae. You're in. Central midfield. Replace Modrić."
Sae stripped off his warmup, pulled on his shirt, and jogged to the fourth official. His pulse slowed. He tuned out the noise.
The world is watching. Good.
---
Debut on the Big Stage
He stepped onto the pitch, and the first touch came instantly—Kroos gave him a short pass under pressure. A Leverkusen midfielder closed fast.
Sae's answer?
A cheeky roulette into space and a one-two with Marcelo that left his marker behind.
The crowd let out a gasp.
Then, he switched play to Jesé on the right wing with a perfect 40-yard diagonal pass.
Ancelotti leaned toward Zidane in the dugout.
"He doesn't look nervous."
Zidane didn't reply. He already knew.
Minutes later, Sae received the ball just outside the box. He froze the defender with a slight shoulder drop—then chipped a delicate ball over the backline to Benzema, who volleyed it over the bar.
Kroos jogged past Sae afterward.
"Nice idea."
Sae didn't look at him. "It should've been a goal."
Kroos smiled.
---
Ronaldo's Challenge
In the 80th minute, Ronaldo took a throw-in quickly, catching Leverkusen off guard. He passed it inside to Sae, who was shadowed by two defenders.
Ronaldo barked, "Turn!"
Sae did—and threaded a nutmeg through the nearest defender before chipping the ball back into Ronaldo's path.
The Portuguese icon struck it without hesitation.
GOAL.
3–0.
The stadium erupted.
Ronaldo didn't celebrate. He jogged back toward midfield and muttered only one word to Sae as they passed each other.
"…Good."
That was all. But from him, it was monumental.
---
Post-Match Buzz
In the locker room, Sae sat quietly, towel around his neck, staring at the floor. Around him, the team laughed and chatted.
Modrić approached, holding a bottle of water.
"You don't smile even after a debut like that?" he asked, amused.
Sae looked up slowly.
"I didn't win anything yet."
Modrić chuckled. "Good. Keep that mindset."
Kroos walked by and ruffled Sae's hair, earning a rare frown.
"You're annoying," Sae muttered.
"Good players should be annoyed," Kroos replied.
Even Ancelotti approached before they left.
"You made Zidane look good today," he said. "Let's see if you can keep doing it when the pressure matters."
---
Ronaldo's Verdict
Later that week, in the gym, Sae was doing core work when Ronaldo walked in. Without saying anything, the superstar began training next to him. They went rep for rep—planks, crunches, leg raises.
It was a silent challenge.
After twenty minutes, Ronaldo finally broke the silence.
"You don't play like a kid."
Sae glanced at him. "I'm not one."
"Zidane's watching you closely. That means you're special."
Sae didn't answer.
Ronaldo looked him dead in the eye.
"Don't waste it. And don't expect anyone to hand you anything."
Sae didn't flinch. "I don't expect anything. I take what's mine."
Ronaldo grinned.
"Good answer."
---
Return to Castilla
Back with Castilla, things changed.
Players looked at Sae differently. Carlos Domínguez no longer made comments. The squad seemed quieter around him. Zidane noticed the shift too—but more importantly, he noticed that Sae himself had changed.
His passes had more bite. His movements were tighter, cleaner. He didn't just read the game—he dictated it.
And he spoke more. Issued instructions. Took control.
Zidane finally approached him after a 3–1 win in which Sae had 2 assists and a goal.
"You're almost ready," he said. "But remember, this world is bigger than the academy. Bigger than Japan. You're not fighting kids now."
Sae met his gaze evenly.
"I don't care who I'm fighting."
---
Whispers from the Top
Inside Real Madrid's football hierarchy, whispers began circulating.
Who is this half-Japanese midfielder?
Zidane says he reads space like Xavi.
He might be fast-tracked.
Ancelotti even mentioned him to Florentino Pérez in passing.
"Kid's got vision. Zidane's project might bear fruit."
---
The Drive Home
As Sae rode back to the dorms that night, he opened his phone and watched a clip someone had sent him.
A replay of Ronaldo's goal—with Sae's assist.
He stared at it for several seconds, then locked the screen.
This wasn't enough.
One goal. One assist. One friendly.
He wanted the Champions League. He wanted El Clásico. He wanted to stand in the Bernabéu while 80,000 fans screamed his name.
No.
He didn't just want it.
He was going to take it.
---
End of Chapter 3