June 2015 – Madrid
The air in Madrid was dry and golden, shimmering with the sun of early summer. The city buzzed with post-Champions League energy. Tourists flocked to the Bernabéu for selfies, newspapers were still plastered with headlines from Real Madrid's European triumph, and somewhere in the center of it all stood a boy on the verge of becoming a man.
Itoshi Sae would turn seventeen in ten days.
Yet he had already won Europe's greatest prize, stood on the same stage as Cristiano Ronaldo, and dominated against the likes of Andrea Pirlo and Paul Pogba. His name was no longer whispered in Castilla corridors. It echoed across continents.
But for Sae, this was only the beginning.
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The Veteran's Warning
The sun had barely risen when Sae arrived at Valdebebas for training. The first-team facilities were quieter now, the season wrapped, but veterans like Ronaldo and Ramos still trained regularly.
That morning, Sae finished early. As he unlaced his boots, Cristiano approached, towel slung over his shoulder, sweat still glistening on his brow.
"You're not just a kid anymore," Ronaldo said. "You've won what some legends haven't. They'll come for you now."
Sae looked up, expression unreadable.
"Media. Brands. Agents. Parasites," Cristiano continued. "This is the part they don't teach you at Castilla."
He sat next to Sae on the bench, lowering his voice.
"You need someone who'll protect your interests. Not just chase commissions."
Sae tilted his head slightly. "You have someone in mind?"
Cristiano smirked. "I didn't get to the top alone. Talk to Jorge Mendes. He doesn't just represent players—he builds empires."
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Jorge Mendes – The Architect
Two days later, in the penthouse suite of the Rosewood Villa Magna, Sae met the man behind the machine.
Jorge Mendes was trim, composed, dressed in an immaculately tailored navy suit. His handshake was firm, eyes sharp. There was no small talk.
"I've followed your progress since you were 15," Mendes said. "After the final in Berlin, I made some calls. You're not just a footballer—you're a shift in the football landscape."
Sae remained silent, letting Mendes continue.
"Real Madrid will squeeze every drop out of your value if you let them. But with the right structure—legal, commercial, media—we build you your own brand. Like Cristiano. Like Figo. Maybe bigger."
Sae raised his eyes.
"I don't want fame," he said. "I want control."
Mendes leaned forward with a wolfish grin.
"Then let's take it."
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Negotiating with Madrid
The meeting with Real Madrid's senior boardroom took place inside the Santiago Bernabéu. Mendes sat beside Sae, calm and poised. Across the polished oak table sat club president Florentino Pérez, academy director Ramón Martínez, and legal counsel.
"We're very proud of what Sae has achieved," Pérez began, voice measured. "He's exceeded expectations. We're prepared to reward that."
They offered a modest upgrade from his youth contract—a fivefold raise, but still well below first-team stars.
Mendes didn't even glance at the document.
"No," he said simply. "We want a five-year senior deal. Structured bonuses. Full image rights split. Performance-based release clause. Appearance guarantees."
Ramón blinked. "He's seventeen."
Mendes didn't flinch. "And he already made you millions in brand equity last month alone."
Florentino folded his hands, silent for a moment. He looked at Sae.
"You're aware of the risk you're taking by making demands so early?"
Sae stared back. "I'm not asking. I'm deciding."
After three more meetings, one legal battle, and countless internal debates, Madrid folded. Mendes got nearly everything he asked for.
Sae became the youngest player ever to sign a senior-level contract with full image rights participation at Real Madrid.
---
A Night to Remember – The 17th Birthday
The party was held at a private estate on the outskirts of Madrid—an old vineyard renovated into a modern fortress of luxury. Mendes, ever the strategist, had orchestrated everything. Nothing was cheap, and nothing was casual.
As dusk fell, limousines arrived in procession. Security was tight. A red carpet was rolled through the front garden. Guests sipped champagne as violinists played under soft gold lighting.
The guest list was surreal:
Cristiano Ronaldo, dressed in a white linen shirt, gifting Sae a limited-edition Tag Heuer watch
Sergio Ramos, who brought Sae a traditional Andalusian dagger "for protection"
Designers from Balmain, Louis Vuitton, and Givenchy, each eager to court the next fashion-forward footballer
Sae's Castilla teammates arrived wide-eyed and overwhelmed. Many had never seen luxury like this.
Journalists from Marca and AS lingered discreetly at the gates
And at midnight, Dua Lipa performed an acoustic set—rumor had it she was booked by Mendes personally for €150,000
Sae wore a sharp black tuxedo with minimalist silver accessories. He shook hands, smiled politely, but his eyes wandered often—detached.
As the party climaxed with fireworks erupting over the vineyard, Sae stood on a second-floor balcony, glass of sparkling water in hand.
> "So this is what seventeen looks like," he muttered.
He didn't feel like celebrating.
Success had become expectation. Glory had become currency. He felt himself drifting further from something… human.
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Call-Up: Copa América 2015 – Chile
The next morning, jetlagged and mildly hungover, Sae boarded a flight to Santiago.
Japan's decision to accept a Copa América invitation had stirred debate. Critics questioned the logic of sending a young squad to face hardened South American giants. But the JFA saw opportunity—and Sae Itoshi was the crown jewel of their campaign.
The Japanese locker room in Santiago was colder than he expected.
Veterans like Keisuke Honda and Shinji Kagawa barely acknowledged him. Younger players stared with a mix of awe and caution.
During their first tactical meeting, coach Vahid Halilhodžić pointed to Sae on the lineup board.
"This is your ten. Everything flows through him."
Honda raised a brow.
"You're making a child the conductor?"
Sae didn't flinch. "If you have a problem, win the Champions League."
Silence followed.
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Under the Lights – Copa América Begins
At Estadio Nacional, the atmosphere was pure chaos. Flags waving, horns blaring, Latin drums pounding through the earth. Japan faced Chile—the hosts.
In the tunnel, Sae stood shoulder to shoulder with giants. Arturo Vidal, mohawked and snarling. Alexis Sánchez, pacing like a panther.
Sae didn't blink.
At kickoff, the world watched—many for the first time—as the boy who conquered Europe tried to conquer the Americas.
The opening minutes were brutal. Tackles flew in. Chile pressed hard. Honda looked rattled. Kagawa struggled to find space.
But Sae?
He adjusted.
By the 18th minute, he'd nutmegged Vidal near the sideline and delivered a disguised through ball that split three defenders. It didn't result in a goal—but it sent a message.
By halftime, even the Chilean fans had begun to murmur about the boy in white.
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End of Chapter 15