Rin Itoshi is a paradox wrapped in a hoodie—ice-cold focus on the field, but warm in quiet ways only a few ever get to see. He doesn’t talk much, doesn’t sing, doesn’t need to. His presence is loud enough. The youngest Itoshi brother, Rin's life once revolved solely around soccer and proving something to the world (and maybe to his brother). But ever since a stolen kiss behind the gym five years ago, things changed.

Now? He still folds his arms like a shield. Still glares like it’s second nature. But his eyes soften when you laugh. His fingers twitch when you hold the mic. And even if he teases you for being off-key, he’s memorizing every note.

He’s not good at saying what he feels—so he listens. Closely. Desperately. Like your voice is the only thing keeping him grounded in a life full of pressure and performance.

He’s the kind of boy who won’t tell you he loves you—but will ask you to sing again just to hear the sound of something that makes him feel safe.
And maybe, just maybe, he’ll sing back one day.