The dorm room of Team Z was a jungle of chaos and joy, the kind that only comes after a hard earned victory and the sweet taste of validation. Pillows flew like missiles, socks were discarded in every direction, and someone had cranked the Isagi's newly acquired phone in the corner to blast triumphant J-pop at full volume.
"STEAKS ARE ON ME, PEOPLE! WE'RE EATING GOOD TONIGHT!" Kunigami roared, holding a fake steak made of folded socks above his head like a trophy.
The guys erupted in cheers.
Isagi was bouncing on his newly acquired bed, his mop of dark hair flopping with each leap, a goofy grin stretching across his face as he launched into another jump. "I haven't moved like this since elementary school!" he laughed.
Beside him, Bachira mimicked a frog, springing up and down with wild abandon. "Boing boing~! Victory frogs! Ribbit!"
"Igaguri, get in here before we jump without you!"
The door slammed open, Igarashi charging in like a bull. His cheeks were soaked with joyful tears, fists pumping wildly in the air as he sprinted toward the bed like it was a temple of salvation.
"OH YEAH! FINALLY, I CAN HAVE SOMETHING THAT ISN'T PICKLED RADISH!" he cried, leaping onto the mattress with the grace of a bowling ball and crashing into the other two.
"You better get used to it, Igaguri!" Raichi shouted from the corner, where he and Kuon were wrestling over who got to sit closest to the small fridge stocked with juice boxes. A reward that Chigiri and Bachira pooled together to acquire with a small donation from Isagi. "Your rank went up by a ton, you'll be able to get all the food you want!"
Igaguri froze. Then, slowly, he turned to the screen on the wall, where their ranks were displayed like a leaderboard in a game.
Where once the number 275 had loomed over him like a death sentence, now it gleamed boldly: 260.
His eyes trembled. "My… my soul has ascended," he whispered, clasping his hands in prayer. "Thank you, Buddha…"
But he wasn't the only one. The entire room seemed to shimmer with a new sense of worth.
Isagi Yoichi: 265 221 Bachira Meguru: 266 225 Chigiri Hyoma: 268 238 Kunigami Rensuke: 267 248 Raichi Jingo: 270 257 Kira Ryosuke: 269 255 Gagamaru Gin: 271 266 Kuon Wataru: 272 261 Igarashi Gurimu: 275 260 Iemon Okuhito: 274 270 Naruhaya Asahi: 273 274
"…Damn," Kuon muttered, folding his arms but unable to hide the pleased grin on his face. "We actually did it. Our whole team went up."
"Except Naruhaya,"
"Hey! Don't kick a man while he's down!" Naruhaya groaned from under a pile of jackets he'd been buried under during the celebration. "It's just one game, damn it!"
"Dude, it's been two. And you fumbled more times than I can count in each of them. How the hell are you even in Blue Lock right now?" Raichi laughed at Naruhaya's sullen expression, taking joy in the comedic misery he was inflicting.
Chigiri, lounging against the bedrest with a towel draped over his shoulders, looked at his new rank and smiled quietly. "I'm finally getting closer to where I belong…"
"You mean the top?" Kunigami asked, clapping him on the back.
"Exactly."
"Just letting you know, I'll be surpassing you really soon. I've been developing weapons of my own to take me further into this paradise."
"You're not the only one doing that, you muscle bound gorilla. I'm working on some too."
Meanwhile, Isagi sat on the edge of the bed now, sweat drying on his brow as he stared at the glowing number 221 beside his name. A small smirk was on his face, inwardly laughing at the poor method Ego chose to hide his true rank. It didn't really matter, since it meant he was the best player of his stratum.
As Isagi mulled over it some more, the sounds of celebration around him slowly faded into a background hum. His thoughts drifted toward the match, of the most intense game he had ever played. Niko's pressing, the volley, the narrow lanes of passing and pressure, the way he had moved through them not by speed or strength, but through logic. He could still feel it thrumming in his veins, the high that came with the taste of evolution.
"Man…" he muttered under his breath, lips curving into a crooked smile. "That was seriously fun…"
WHAP!
A pillow slammed into his face like a sneak attack from a sniper, cutting his thoughts clean off. He jolted back, blinking once before the soft cotton thunked to the floor.
Across the room, Bachira stood on the bed like a mad jester, arms raised, his wild hair bouncing with every movement. "No brooding allowed after victory!" he announced like a general rallying his troops. "We're partying, not philosophizing!"
"That's right!" Igarashi chimed in, already swinging another pillow over his head like a greatsword. "You can be deep after dinner!"
"Oi, I'm finna smack the lot of ya!" Isagi laughed, ducking just as Igarashi hurled his next one. It whizzed over his head and smacked Gagamaru, who hadn't even noticed the war had begun.
"Huh?" Gagamaru blinked. "Are we fighting now?"
A moment later, chaos erupted.
Pillows flew in every direction. Bachira somersaulted over the bed, cackling. Igarashi screamed war cries with every toss. Raichi joined in with a competitive gleam in his eyes, shouting, "I'm not letting you clowns beat me in this too!"
Chigiri tried to stay elegant, sidestepping with precision and flicking pillows like crosses into the fray. "This is getting ridiculous," he said, but the small smile on his lips betrayed his enjoyment.
Isagi picked up another pillow, turned it in his hand, and smiled.
"Alright!" he yelled, stepping into the heart of the chaos. "If I'm the king of the soccer field, then I'm claiming this battlefield too!"
With precision, he launched the pillow directly at Igarashi's face.
BOOM.
Direct hit.
"GAH—MY SOUL!" Igaguri dropped to the floor like he'd been smote by divine judgment.
"Bwahahahahaha! Feel the might of the mighty Thor! Thoust shall fall in the face of mine hammer- OOF!"
"Shut up and fight, ya roleplaying maniac!"
"You shouldn't even be talking, you superhero loving buffoon! Mark my words, Kunigami, by the end of this night I WILL have my revenge! YAAAAARGGHHHHH!"
He launched into a flying leap, both hands clutching a giant body pillow like it was Mjölnir itself. Kunigami yelped, stumbling backward as the pillow collided with his face, sending him crashing into the ground.
From across the room, Bachira cackled like a man possessed, spinning with two pillows gripped in his hands like twin nunchucks.
"Cha-cha-cha~!" he chanted, a streak of absolute chaos as he darted between friend and foe with reckless glee.
Chigiri, cool and clinical behind the one bed in the room, took another deep breath, lined up his shot, and launched a pillow like a guided missile, right into Raichi's back.
"RAWR—ACK!" Raichi twisted mid-swing, turning just in time to catch a second one straight to the chest. "WHO DID THAT?! FIGHT ME FAIRLY, YOU COWARDS!"
Chigiri smirked and silently retreated, vanishing like a phantom assassin.
Kuon and Iemon, meanwhile, sat triumphantly behind a wall of mattresses and futon cushions, their pillow fort resembling a cartoon stronghold. Every few seconds, one of them would pop up like a whack-a-mole and lob a pillow into the fray, before ducking back down.
"Protect the fortress!" Iemon shouted.
"Only those who pass the trials may enter!" Kuon added, hurling a pillow at a passing Isagi who wasn't even aiming for them.
Igarashi and Gagamaru were deep in a duel unlike any other. They circled each other slowly, knees bent like sumo wrestlers, each holding a single pillow like a sacred blade.
"You've grown stronger, Gagamaru," Igarashi muttered.
"As have you, Igaguri," Gagamaru replied solemnly. "This ends now."
And with a simultaneous war cry, they collided, pillows smacking together like thunder, staggering back from the force. Neither would yield.
Amid all this bedlam, Isagi had taken the field like a strategist, picking his moments carefully. He was done getting beaten up by Kunigami, who somehow managed to wrap the blanket around him like it was a cape and was now singing "FOR JUSTICE" or something like that.
Thoroughly humiliated by his one sided beatdown, he aimed to vent it out, causing every pillow he threw hit its mark. One to the back of Raichi's head. Another to Chigiri's sniper perch. A perfectly arched toss into Kuon and Iemon's fort that sent the whole left side crumbling.
But in the corner of the room, removed from all the joy and chaos, Naruhaya sat alone.
Wrapped in his blanket, arms crossed and lips pressed into a tight line, he watched the others. Pillow fluff dust hung in the air like smoke, and the roars of laughter echoed off the walls.
He looked down at the floor. "Stupid…" he muttered. "This is just a bunch of childish crap…"
But no one noticed his sulking. Not because they didn't care, but because they knew better than to force him into something he didn't want to do. He had always been a bit quieter, especially after their last game.
A stray pillow rolled near him.
He glared at it, as if it had personally offended him.
"INCOMING!"
BOOF
A pillow exploded against the wall inches above his head, sending fluff into his hair.
"…What the hell?" he muttered, brushing it off.
He looked up to see Bachira offering a grin from across the room. "Oops~ My bad, Naruhaya!"
Isagi waved from beside him. "You good?"
"…Tch." Naruhaya looked away, but the corner of his lip twitched just a little.
The battle raged on.
Raichi was now crawling across the floor like a jungle predator.
Igarashi was holding two pillows and preaching about divine punishment.
Chigiri had commandeered Gagamaru's massive wingspan to use him as a shield.
Even Kira had joined in, gracefully ducking and weaving through the carnage with an elegance that didn't belong in a pillow fight.
Another pillow landed near Naruhaya. This time, no one apologized. It just sat there, waiting. Like it was calling to him.
He stared at it.
The blanket slid off his shoulders. He picked it up slowly, giving it a test swing in the air.
Thwump.
It felt… satisfying.
He stood up.
And with the quiet rage of someone who had had enough, he turned, narrowed his eyes at Bachira, who was now dancing across a coffee table, and hurled the pillow with perfect aim.
THWACK.
Bachira went down with a squeal.
"MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!" Kunigami bellowed from his fortress of flipped futons, peeking out just long enough to see Bachira flopping like a fish.
"HE'S JOINED THE WAR!" Chigiri's voice rang out, both impressed and horrified as he ducked behind his mattress barricade.
"EVERYONE WATCH OUT! NARUHAYA'S UNLEASHING HIS TRUE POTENTIAL!" Raichi screamed, crawling on all fours toward safety like a deranged jungle cat.
"SAVE MEEEEEEEE~!" Igarashi wailed from under a mound of cushions, his legs sticking out like a fallen table.
But Naruhaya? He stood tall—calm, composed, reborn.
A slow, wicked smile pulled at his lips. "Took you long enough to notice," he muttered, cracking his neck like he was entering the final round of a boss fight.
He grabbed another pillow.
Thunk.
Gagamaru caught it mid-air with a single hand.
Their eyes met across the room. A mutual understanding passed between them. This was war. No alliances. No hesitation.
Naruhaya charged. He sprinted across the room, ducking under a high toss from Iemon, vaulting over Raichi's prone form, and shoulder checking Isagi out of the way with unexpected ferocity.
"BRO WHAT THE—?!" Isagi yelled, spinning like a tornado from the impact.
"REVENGE!" Naruhaya roared, launching himself like a missile straight at Kuon's pillow fort.
"DEFENSE! DEFENSE!" Kuon cried, stacking cushions like sandbags in a panic.
Too late.
CRASH.
Pillows flew. Cushions exploded. Kuon screamed in fright, rising several octaves higher than a dog whistle. Iemon tried to run but was grabbed by the ankle and yanked back into the carnage.
"KUON, YOU TRAITOR!" he yelled as he disappeared beneath a wave of flailing limbs and laughter.
And still, Naruhaya wasn't done.
He turned next to Kunigami, who was still half-standing behind the futon, jaw hanging open.
"…You're next," Naruhaya said.
Kunigami blinked. "Wait, wha—"
WHUMP.
The pillow hit him square in the gut, and Kunigami collapsed in slow motion like a building being demolished.
Bachira, still lying in a daze, lifted his head just enough to watch the chaos unfold. "He's… so powerful,"
Across the room, Chigiri cursed under his breath and fired off a sniper shot. Naruhaya spun, swatting the pillow mid-air. Counter-shot. Perfect accuracy.
"Direct hit!" Raichi howled from under a blanket. "Chigiri's been neutralized!"
At last, Naruhaya stood in the center of the wreckage, chest heaving, eyes blazing with the kind of intensity only found in men who had been pushed too far.
Around him, the once-proud warriors of Blue Lock lay in ruin, pillow stuffing scattered like snow, limbs flung over one another, one shoe hanging from the ceiling fan. Gagamaru stood frozen, unsure whether to clap or run.
Naruhaya dropped his pillow and turned to walk back to his corner like a cowboy in an old Western. Not a word spoken. Not a look back.
"Yo…" Isagi wheezed, face half-buried in a pillow. "I think he just won the whole damn thing…"
"Best character arc I've ever seen," muttered Kira, sprawled across a futon with a pillow balanced on his face.
"King," whispered Chigiri with a terrified nod.
Igarashi, holding a crumpled blanket like a white flag, raised it in surrender. "We yield to the madman. All hail the tyrant, the next of Genghis Khan."
Naruhaya finally sat back down, not in his blanket burrito this time, but arms behind his head, basking in the glow of victory.
"…Told you it was stupid, but you all didn't listen." he said with a smirk. "Kneel before your knew king and reap the karma that you sowed."
"We're not worthy, my liege. Unworthy, I say."
The room burst into laughter, groans, and more than a few weak high-fives.
"Well, I don't know about you all, but I'm gassed." Isagi grumbled, forcing himself on his feet and flopped on his bed. "I'm gonna hit the sack now, g'night."
"Good night."
It was now quiet in the room, replacing the rambunctious noise that permeated it before.
"Hey, you guys know what they say about what happens to the first guy that falls asleep at a sleepover, right?"
"I swear to every fuckin god out there, Igaguri, I will castrate you and force feed you your own dick if you even think about getting near me."
—
Sae was alone on the pitch, the cool metal of the indoor facility walls echoing every breath he took. His chest rose and fell heavily, each inhale sharp and greedy for oxygen. Sweat dripped from his jawline, trailing down his neck, soaking into his jersey like ink bleeding across a page.
He stared at the space in front of him as if it had betrayed him. His left foot rested on the ball, barely keeping it in place as his legs trembled slightly from exhaustion.
"Damn, that's not it either," he muttered, voice low and gritty. He spat on the turf to clear the sour taste of failure from his mouth. Again. "That isn't it at all…"
He closed his eyes and replayed the last few minutes in his head, his feet weaving through cones, his body swaying, stopping, starting, faking one way and cutting the other. The movement was fast, logically destructive as all of his other plays were.
But it wasn't right.
It wasn't what he was looking for. It wasn't unfair, the kind of unfair movement and skills that shattered defenses before they even knew what happened.
It was just… good. And good wasn't good enough.
"Every damn elite defender can read this shit," he hissed, dragging the ball back under his sole with a frustrated jerk. "I can't figure out how to do this damn maneuver no matter what I do, it's starting to piss me the fuck off.."
He dropped into a stance again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The ball sat silently in front of him. He moved, quick step left, sudden shift right, a low drag behind the leg, then a burst forward.
Everything he did was smooth, at no point was it choppy or awkward. But it was still readable, still predictable for any defender to read.
"FUCK!" Sae snapped, punting the ball halfway across the turf. It clattered against the boards with a dull echo. His head dropped, hands on his knees with his breaths shaking.
He didn't even know how long he'd been at it. Two hours? Three? He'd told Ego he was staying on the field until he was satisfied. No one else was around, just him and the silence.
And the doubt.
"...Why can't I crack this?" he whispered to himself, more genuine confusion in his voice than anger now. "I see it in my head. I can feel it perfectly through my body. So why can't I do it?"
"Seems like you need a little help"
The voice slithered through the silence, sharp and knowing. Sae turned toward the massive screen mounted on the wall. Ego Jinpachi's face lit up the display, elbows resting on a desk with his hands folded beneath his chin like a chess master staring down a crumbling board.
"What are you doing here?"
"The match between team Y and team Z has concluded, I figured now would be the best time to share the footage with you since you didn't stick around to watch the rest of it."
Sae clicked his tongue, annoyed but intrigued. "Well go on, then. Roll the tape."
With a gesture, Ego tapped something off-screen. The video feed flickered for a moment before replacing Ego's face with match footage. The camera centered on the field, a chaotic, unrefined mess.
Then, the screen shifted, the footage zeroing in on Isagi.
Sae's eyes sharpened immediately, locking onto the familiar figure of Isagi Yoichi moving across the screen. For a while, it was exactly what he expected, Isagi taking control of the match like a chess master in cleats, dictating the pace and dragging players into his orbit for his convenience. Every action he took bent the field to his advantage, facilitating and expanding his options to play.
The opposing players of Team Y were laughably underwhelming by comparison. Watching them attempt to contain Isagi was like watching toddlers try to catch smoke. Their defense collapsed with every pass, every dribble, reduced to nothing more than human shaped obstacles as Isagi carved through them like a hot knife through butter.
But then, in the second half, his opinion changed rapidly. The banged kid he had casually dismissed earlier, the one who had barely registered as a threat in Sae's mind, suddenly lit up the screen with a level of play that forced Sae to sit up straighter. Gone was the hesitant background player; in his place stood a striking general with the composure of a veteran and the precision of a scalpel. Each touch was intentional, each movement laced with intelligence and control.
Sae watched, eyes narrowing, as the kid took the reins of the team, dragging Team Y through the depths of the gutter with sheer grit and otherworldly logic. He dictated the rhythm, controlled the flow, and dismantled the opposition like he'd been playing in the top flight for years.
In Sae's opinion, that was when the real match truly began. From the moment Isagi and Niko started their clash for dominance, the match transformed into something far greater than a battle between two teams. It became a duel between rising titans, a breathtaking exchange of genius and grit where every second felt like it hung on the edge of evolution.
Super plays were unleashed, one after the other like strikes from rival gods. Niko and Isagi threw everything they had onto the pitch—mind against mind, vision against vision, body against body—each move more daring than the last, each moment a step closer to unlocking something deeper within themselves.
Towards the end of the game, at the final play in fact, Sae's eyes widened.
"Hey, rewind it for a sec." It was for a moment, but Sae saw it. The move Isagi made against Ranmaru, just before releasing that devastating long volley of his.
The footage rolled back.
Playing once again, he watched the moment Isagi faced off against Ranmaru with analytical eyes. It was the play directly before launching that devastating long-range volley. The video slowed down to a crawl, each frame bleeding into the next with deliberate clarity, and Sae's eyes honed in.
Isagi feinted a hard right, with all the weight and momentum of someone fully committing to the move. Ranmaru bit, his body followed the bait like a moth to flame.
Then, in the same motion, Isagi snapped left, his center of gravity shifting so abruptly it was like the laws of physics gave him a free pass. Ranmaru crumpled, tripped by his own momentum, and hit the ground as Isagi surged forward untouched.
Sae's eyes widened slightly.
"...Zoom in," he murmured. "I only want to see those two."
The screen obeyed, cropping the chaos out of view. The camera locked onto just Isagi and Ranmaru, just the predator and his prey.
And now, with the play isolated, Sae saw it fully for the first time, the economy of motion, the perfect manipulation of space and expectation, the cold execution.
And the reason for the tumbling.
"Heh… Well what do you know, I think I found my answer."
His head dropped, strands of hair falling over his eyes, his shoulders bouncing as silent laughter bubbled in his chest.
"Heh, I've found it, the answer to the problem I've been having. I didn't think it'd be that simple, but it makes the most sense."
On the screen, Ego gave a slow, knowing nod.
"Well, I'm glad I was of help to you then. I've done my part, so I'll be leaving now."
With a soft click, the screen powered down, all the life vanishing into a hollow black void.
Sae stared down at the ball at his feet, as if seeing it differently for the first time. There were no more vestiges of frustration in him, of the anger that had rapidly built up.
"Then, let's give this another try, shall we?"
—
"Eat up, bois! We got some serious training to do later, so feast now and forever hold your peace!" Isagi announced, raising his tray above his head like it was a goblet and he was leading a warband into battle. A thick cut of steak, glistening with sauce, rested on his plate like a trophy, accompanied by an assortment of rice and eggs.
It was 7:00 AM, and the cafeteria lights buzzed to life with a warm artificial glow. Outside, the world remained gray and groggy, but inside Blue Lock, Team Z was already wide awake, bustling with that chaotic, mismatched energy only they could bring.
"Oi oi, no need to shout so early," Raichi groaned, dragging his feet to the table. He looked like he'd barely escaped the clutches of sleep, hair sticking out in odd directions.
Bachira spun in behind him with a plate piled so high it defied physics. "Mornin', fellas! I gave my eggs a smiley face!" he beamed, showing off his food art like it was a sacred masterpiece.
"Looks cursed," Kunigami muttered, sitting across from Isagi and immediately beginning to cut into his protein.
"You're just jealous 'cause you lack imagination," Bachira replied, plopping down beside Isagi and making his eggs "talk" in a high-pitched voice."You think I'm adowable, wiiigggght~~~?"
"I don't lack imagination at all, I just value my life."
"You look like Cthullu's ugly mom's deadbeat homeless even uglier stepfather just crapped out diabetes on a cancer stick and then proceeded to dip it in galactic acid before chewing it and spitting it out."
"…"
Kuon arrived next, carrying a tray far more nutritious than anyone else's. He looked smug, setting down boiled chicken, salad, and plain rice. "Eat smart, not stupid,"
"Wow," Chigiri said from behind him, already halfway through his yogurt. "You must be so fun at parties."
Gagamaru was at the back of the line, looking lost as he stared down at a banana and three protein bars. "Can I put ketchup on this?" he asked Iemon, who only responded with a horrified shake of the head.
Igarashi sat to Isagi's side, tears pouring down his face like a waterfall. In front of him, his plate of food shined like a holy relic in fantasy. "Oh, my sweet yummy loves, how I've missed thee… "
At the far end of the table, Naruhaya sat quietly with a piece of toast and a blank stare, still not over yesterday's pillow war betrayal. No one said anything about it, they knew better. The toast was his coping mechanism now.
As the last of the seats were taken, the noise settled into a cozy buzz. Clinks of forks, bites of bread, idle smack talk. It felt like a strange, dysfunctional family breakfast.
"Hey, pass the pepper," Kunigami mumbled through a mouthful of egg.
"Say please," Chigiri replied, not even looking up from his yogurt.
Kunigami grunted, rolled his eyes, and reached across the table instead. "Fine, I'll get it myself."
"You could just say please, you know."
"It's too early for manners."
Raichi jabbed his thumb toward Isai's plate. "Bro, how are you already on your second steak?"
"Metabolism,"
"Nah, that's not metabolism. That's gluttony," Igarashi chimed in, pointing at his own modest plate. "This is what a balanced meal looks like. Mind and body in harmony."
"You and Gagamaru literally ate a protein bar dipped in jelly and steak sauce yesterday," Iemon said dryly.
"...It was experimental."
Bachira leaned over toward Isagi, whispering loud enough for half the table to hear, "If Igarashi starts talking about chakra next, I'm leaving."
Isagi snorted. "Honestly, I'd pay to see that."
Meanwhile, Kuon was silently judging everyone's plates with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like a disappointed nutritionist. "You guys are gonna cramp up halfway through training at this rate."
Raichi snorted. "You say that like we don't always cramp halfway through training,"
"Yeah," Bachira added, grinning, "that's how you know it's working."
"Still can't believe Naruhaya's not talking," Gagamaru said, glancing toward the corner. Naruhaya sat there, poking at his toast like it had personally offended him.
"You okay over there, buddy?" Isagi called out.
Naruhaya didn't even lift his head. "I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine," Chigiri said, leaning back in his chair. "You still mad about the pillow war?"
"Nah, not that, I'm just frustrated about my ranking is all."
"And now you're stuck with nato and toast! Hah!"
"You're a traitor, Igaguri." Naruhaya muttered darkly, biting into the toast like he was imagining it was Igarashi's smug face. "You should be here suffering with me…"
"I swear, Blue Lock is gonna break all of us," Iemon said, shaking his head.
"Nah. This is deadass the most fun I've had in years."
"Ditto"
There was a pause. Then, quietly, Raichi muttered, "...Still can't believe I lost to a flying pillow kick."
Bachira giggled. "I call that one the Feather Fist of Fate."
"Shoulda been called the Fattest Flop of Fuckery."
"Oh my god," groaned Kunigami.
Everyone laughed.
Quickly finishing up their food, Team Z left the cafeteria and made their way into the adjacent training grounds, an expansive indoor facility echoing with the low whir of overhead lights and the occasional thud of a soccer ball against synthetic turf. The air was cool, the kind of sterile chill that helped you shake off any lingering drowsiness.
As soon as they entered, everyone peeled off in different directions, falling into their own warm-up routines without a word. It was a quiet kind of chemistry, built from weeks of surviving, struggling, and growing together.
Isagi made a beeline for the treadmills lining the far side of the room, towel around his neck, still patting the last crumbs from his mouth. He stepped onto one, set it to a steady pace, and let his legs move on autopilot.
It wouldn't do him any good to start sprinting right after breakfast. Side cramps were the enemy, and Isagi Yoichi had enough enemies already.
His eyes wandered across the room as he walked, scanning his teammates. Chigiri was already knee-deep in dynamic stretches, hair tied up and focused as always. Kunigami was at the weights, silently pumping iron with Raichi like it was just another day at the office. Bachira was juggling a ball near the sideline, lost in his own little world as usual, humming to himself between flicks and taps.
His headphones hugged his ears, music playing low in the background as a steady beat kept him focused. After an hour of walking and letting his breakfast settle, Isagi stepped off the treadmill, wiped the light sweat from his brow, and grabbed his water bottle. He scrolled through his playlist again, fingers tapping in search of the perfect song to zone into.
New music on, he plopped down on a nearby bench and continued to be on his phone, his eyes diving into another soccer manual he'd bookmarked earlier. Even when he was sitting still, he refused to waste time. If his body was resting, then his mind would do the heavy lifting. That was just how he operated.
Positioning diagrams, pressure triggers, off-the-ball movement, his eyes scanned through it all with a quiet hunger, nodding slightly as the beat of the music synced with the rhythm of his thoughts.
A shadow appeared in the corner of his vision.
"Yo," Kuon said, hands in his pockets. "You free?"
Isagi paused his music, sliding one earcup off. "What's up?"
"I was thinking about running some strategy simulations. Wanted to bounce a few things off you if you're up for it."
Isagi gave a short nod, already locking his phone and standing. "Of course. Let's bounce."
That was just the kind of environment they'd created here: casual, focused, and always moving forward. Whether it was drills, scrimmages, or theory, every moment was an opportunity to sharpen the blade. Complacency had no place in Blue Lock, only growth.
The mind mattered just as much as the body, and Isagi Yoichi had no plans of letting either fall behind.
Around them, their teammates were immersed in their own training. Raichi was shouting at Igarashi for missing a pass during their passing routine, Chigiri was gliding through cone drills with smooth, precise footwork, and Bachira was going against Kunigami in a one on one.
Every corner of the indoor training space echoed with the rhythm of hunger, filled with the sounds of shoes squeaking, balls thudding, voices barking commands and laughter.
The two of them walked off together toward one of the most exclusive rooms in the facility, one only high-ranking players could access. Thanks to Isagi's rising rank, they'd been granted clearance into the holographic simulation chamber: a large, domed space built for tactical warfare of the mind.
As they stepped in, the lights dimmed slightly and the massive 360 holo-display shimmered to life, illuminating a small sized digital soccer pitch before them. It wasn't just for show, this simulation used Blue Lock's high-speed AI players to enact the strategy given to them and let players train their leadership and logical skills in real time.
"Man, this place is so cool," Kuon wowed, eyes scanning the translucent field with awe. "I'm so jealous you can use this anytime you want, Isagi."
"You should work on improving your rank so you can come in here too, because I just decided that I'm going to be living here forever."
"Haha, there's no doubt in my mind that you would. This place makes me feel like I just walked into an anime."
"Tell me about it. Blue Lock is seriously the best."
Sitting on the chairs in their respective booths, they stood across each other with competitive smirks on their faces.
Fiddling with the control panel, Kuon gave a challenging grin. "Get ready, Isagi. I'm going to beat you here."
"You can try," Isagi replied, already pulling up the player icons on his interface tablet. "But I'm going to destroy you like I do everyone else."
Each of them began assembling their digital squads, selecting formations, setting up triggers, and defining player behaviors with the ease of seasoned tacticians. Every tweak to spacing or movement patterns mattered here. This was a chess match with cleats, and neither of them would hold back.
When both teams were locked in, a calm voice echoed overhead:
"Simulation commencing in 3… 2… 1."
The holographic field lit up with motion. Players, realistic projections down to the twitch of muscle fibers, sprang to life and began moving according to the commands they'd been given. Isagi's team gained possession of the ball first and set off on the attack, using the heavily offensive formation their master gave them.
Five minutes go by and Isagi's team still had the ball. Kuon smirked, issuing commands for his team to follow. "Let's see how you deal with this, Isagi."
Kuon's players compacted into the middle, surrounding the AI that had the ball at his feet and preventing any serious plays without the risk of having it stolen.
Isagi watched as his forwards staggering their runs, precisely as he anticipated. A confident grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Saw that coming a mile away. Get ready, Kuon, because I activate my trap card! Left wing, switch diagonal and sprint down the sideline!"
The simulation responded in an instant. The left winger broke away like a bullet, catching Kuon's backline mid-shift. The diagonal ball arced through the air with pinpoint precision, landing cleanly at the runner's feet. The defense scrambled, but the damage was already done.
"Tch,seriously?" Kuon scowled, fingers flying across his control pad. "You baited me into that?"
"Don't just watch the ball," Isagi's eyes gleamed. "Watch the flow of the whole field."
The AI players responded to their commands like living extensions of their will, their actions fluid and reactive. Every pass and movement they made was a brushstroke on a canvas of strategy.
Kuon adjusted quickly, repositioning his central midfield to collapse the space. "Fine. Let's see how you like this counter."
Isagi didn't flinch. "Too slow. I already rotated my midfield into support. You're boxed in."
The pace of the simulation picked up. Sweat beaded on Kuon's brow from mental fatigue. This was a match that demanded complete focus, and the strain his brain had was way more than he had bargained for.
Outside the chamber, the rest of Team Z continued their physical routines, but in here, it felt like another world entirely. One made of data, logic, and vision.
Five more minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.
When the match simulation finally concluded, the screen froze on the final play. Isagi's team netted a clean, unstoppable goal off a complex three-pass sequence that had broken the defense wide open.
"Simulation complete. Final score: 3–1. Victory: Isagi Yoichi."
Kuon slumped back in his seat, groaning. "Ughhh, that was so unfair. You completely destroyed me."
"Obviously I did," Isagi replied, rising to his feet with a smirk. "I study everything about soccer like it's my religion. I wouldn't lose to anyone against this, not even Sae Itoshi or Pablo Cabasoz."
Kuon rolled his eyes, still looking slightly defeated but managing a half hearted chuckle. "Guess I'll need a rematch next time."
"Anytime. I'll be sure to beat you even worse."
"Oh hardy-har-har, shut up you dumb rabbit." Kuon waved him off with a playful push .
Isagi grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "Someone's salty."
"I'm not salty," Kuon shot back, crossing his arms. "I'm just learning from my mistakes, so next time, I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."
"Sure, sure," Isagi said, not at all convinced. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Kuon gave him a sidelong glance, feigning indignation. "You'll see. Next time we play, you won't even know what hit you."
As they made their way toward the door, Isagi couldn't help but laugh. There was something satisfying about these little moments of competition. In this environment, they could push each other, test their limits, and still come out stronger for it.
The training grounds outside awaited them, but for now, the moment was theirs to enjoy.
"Alright, let's get back to the grind," Isagi said, clapping Kuon on the back. "I'm going to go hit the racks."
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't get too cocky, you'll need all your energy for the real game ahead."
"No need to worry, I don't get tired all that easily." Isagi said with a grin. "I've got stamina for days."
—
After an intense day of training, everyone piled into the cafeteria, muscles sore and minds buzzing from the nonstop action. The clatter of trays and the hum of casual chatter filled the air as Team Z made their way through the line, grabbing whatever food they could get their hands on. The atmosphere was tired but familiar, the kind of fatigue that only comes after pushing yourself to the limit.
Isagi sat down at one of the long tables, stretching his legs under the table as he plopped his tray down. He was starving, but the satisfaction of a productive training day made the food taste even better.
"Man, I'm wiped," Kuon muttered, taking a seat near him. He reached for his drink, cracking it open with a tired sigh. "But you were on fire today. I've never seen anyone your size lift the weights you're lifting."
Isagi shrugged, a modest grin creeping onto his face. "I built this body brick by brick with my training, so it's only natural. And bro, you gotta stop glazing me just because you got destroyed in the simulation."
"Hey, I gave it my all!" Kuon protested. "You were just too fast for me. I couldn't even predict your next move."
Bachira, ever the energy ball, plopped down across from them, a wide grin plastered on his face. "I don't know what you guys are talking about, but I'm feeling great!" He dug into his food like he hadn't just spent hours on the field, his enthusiasm as high as ever. "You know what would make this day even better? A rematch! Who's up for it?"
"Not me," Isagi said, shaking his head with a laugh. "I think I need a break from the amount of dubs I'm racking."
"Hey,don't be a coward!" Bachira shot back, sticking his tongue out. "It;s just a friendly one on one. We still need to continue our match from the first day, you know?"
As the team settled into the usual banter, Raichi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Honestly, though, today was solid. I've never managed to squat 200kg before today. It's proof that we're getting better with every passing day."
"Yeah, I can definitely tell," Chigiri added, his usual cool demeanor still intact despite the grueling training session. "We've come a long way, but there's still more to work on."
"Always more," Isagi said, nodding. "It's all about improving little by little. We're not even close to where we can be yet."
Just then, Iemon piped up from across the table, eyes gleaming with an idea. "So... what's the next big challenge? Any big matches coming up?"
The question caused a ripple of murmurs around the table as everyone leaned in, considering what lay ahead.
"I'm sure we've got something coming up soon," Kunigami said with a grin. "I wouldn't expect anything less than a tough opponent."
With a wave of his hand, Isagi shot down Kunigami's prediction ruthlessly. "Nah, we're going up against team W. Basically, they're the worst in our group, a band of idiots just like team X. They got smoked by team V with the final score being five nill, and completely broke apart during the match. They were the ones slotted with the break for the second games, so we only have one clip to reference off of."
"So basically you're saying we're going to steamroll the hell out of them." Raichi's fanged grin was accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
Isagi nodded, his confirmation making Raichi cackle like a madman.
"Either way, we still shouldn't underestimate them. Cornered dogs bite harder, so we'll need to be careful on how we go about this." Kuon's words brought nods of agreement among his teammates. His wisdom and charismatic demeanor once again shined on the team. "Isagi and I have been honing in on our strategies and figuring out what would work best for us, but we won't know exactly what we'll need until we see their game on the screen."
"Yup, so before we go to sleep, we'll be watching their game against team V."
Another round of nods gave them the clear that they were on board with the decision. Kira, now done with his food, stood up with the tray in hands. "I'm gonna go shower, then. I'll see you guys in the room later."
"Right."
"See ya."
"I'll come join you." Naruhaya took the opportunity to remove himself from the table as well, walking over to Kira. "I'm feeling all grimy right now and I don't like it."
Slowly, everyone departed from the table, their trays clattering into bins and their footsteps fading into the background hum of the facility. Only four figures remained, locked into their own peculiar world like the last standing kings of a crumbling court.
Bachira, Isagi, Kunigami, and Chigiri—the top dogs of Team Z.
Chigiri was still delicately forking his food with an elegance that could shame royalty, chewing slowly like each bite had to pass some sort of taste test for divine approval. It was less "eating" and more "performing a sacred ritual." His long hair shimmered as he moved, and at some point Bachira had joked about him being a princess in a past life. No one argued it, much to Chigiri's chagrin.
Said yellow tip haired teen, meanwhile, was the opposite of grace. The human equivalent of chaos incarnate. He slurped his noodles while making deliberately disgusting noises, then mashed a ball of rice into the shape of a smiley face before proceeding to stab it violently with his chopsticks. Every few minutes, he'd glance at Chigiri and snicker just loud enough to be a nuisance, then flash Isagi an upside down peace sign like it was a code only they understood.
Isagi sat hunched over his tray like a man starved for years, carving into his pork cutlet and steak with the reverence of someone reunited with the love of their life. Every bite was followed by incredibly loud hums of satisfaction, giving way to the bliss he felt. His eyes had that glazed over, blissed out look to them, the same kind you'd see on a man who just stepped into sunlight after years underground. It was almost scary how gluttonous the teen was with his pork cutlets, it reminded everyone of an chronic drug addict with a vape
And Kunigami? Kunigami sat like the picture of discipline. Back straight, elbows in, chewing each bite thirty times like he read it in a textbook. But there was nothing dainty about him. The sheer volume of food on his tray was borderline illegal. Meat, carbs, more meat, a protein shake, and an actual mountain of rice. If Isagi ate like an addict and Bachira like a gremlin, Kunigami was a soldier fueling up for war. Every movement screamed body temple energy, like he was a monk treating himself as Nirvanha.
The four of them sat there in a kind of unspoken harmony, their quirks clashing and blending like chaotic instruments in a jazz band. The silence was only occasionally broken by Bachira's idiocy, Isagi's obscene moans of culinary pleasure, or Chigiri letting out a long, judging sigh.
After a while, Kunigami set his chopsticks down and glanced around the table. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "it's weird. We're all freaks in our own way, but somehow it works."
Chigiri snorted. "Barely. I feel like I lose brain cells just sitting next to Bachira."
"Rude," Bachira said, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. "I'm the fun one."
"You're the nightmare that dances in the corner of my vision every night," Chigiri deadpanned.
Isagi chuckled, finally taking a breath from the warpath he led on his food. "Still. Kunigami's got a point. We're completely different with our personalities, but on the field we sync perfectly."
Bachira leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "That's 'cause we're all monsters, right? Monsters recognize monsters."
"Quit projecting your schizophrenia on me, weirdo," Chigiri shot back without missing a beat, flipping his hair back with glamorous bravado. "I do not need the image of a beauty like me being as grotesque as something from your imagination."
"But it's true!"
"Either way, our chemistry together is really good," Isagi interrupted smoothly, cutting between the two before they could spiral further into madness.
Bachira quieted down with a grin, and Chigiri only sighed, flicking a carrot chunk in his direction without looking.
Isagi continued, "We've got different styles, but when we're on the field, it just clicks. We might have our individual talents, but we're all able to synergize with each other really well. That's what sets us apart from the rest."
Kunigami gave a short nod, still chewing, his tray almost barren except for a protein shake. "We're not perfect. But if we keep building this chemistry, no one would be able to beat us."
Just as the conversation mellowed into thoughtful silence, the shuffling of uncertain footsteps approached their table. The four of them looked up in sync, like a pack clocking the presence of something foreign.
A thin, quiet guy, someone none of them had paid much attention to before, stood awkwardly a few steps away from their table, his tray clutched tightly in both hands.
"Uh… hey," he mumbled. "Mind if I sit for a second?"
The four glanced at each other. Bachira raised an eyebrow dramatically, and Chigiri made no effort to hide the suspicion on his face.
Isagi gave a small shrug. "Sure. Go ahead."
The guy sat down slowly across from them, eyes flicking up then back to his tray like he was trying not to break some unspoken rule. He cleared his throat.
"I'm Ukon. Team W."
"Okay?" Chigiri said flatly.
Ukon hesitated, then leaned in slightly. "Look, I know this is gonna sound weird, but I wanted to propose something… A deal."
"A deal?" Isagi rose an eyebrow at him,
Ukon nodded. "I want you guys to let me score three goals on you in the next match."
There was a pause.
Kunigami blinked. "I'm sorry,what?"
"Let me score three," Ukon repeated, a bit faster this time. "In exchange, I'll help you beat Team W. I know their tendencies, their weak links. I can sabotage them in small ways without anyone noticing. It'll be enough to tilt the game in your favor."
Kunigami frowned, arms crossed. "Why the hell would you betray your own team?"
Ukon shrugged. "I'm not trying to be the hero of Team W. We're doomed to fail, and none of us have scored any goals, so I just need three goals to secure my position as the top scorer for my team and survive this phase. After that, I don't care what happens to them."
Chigiri narrowed his eyes. "You really think we'd trust you to play double agent for us?"
"Please, just trust me. I'm giving you a shortcut. I score my three, you guys get the win, and everyone walks away with what they need. It's efficient."
The table went silent again, each of them processing the offer.
Isagi's eyes were locked on Ukon, completely still. "You're saying you're willing to sabotage your own team… just so you can stay here?"
Ukon nodded. "Yeah. It's my dream to become a member of the U-20 team, so I'm willing to do anything for it"
Bachira leaned back, smirking. "Oooh, creepy little rat vibes. I kinda respect it, but it's way too cowardly for me."
Chigiri, on the other hand, looked thoroughly disgusted. "You really are the lowest of the low"
"I couldn't have said it better myself." If his words weren't enough, the hard gaze in Kunigami's eyes gave away his opinion on the matter.
"You'd do the same thing if you guys were in my position." Ukon said, a little too loudly. His eyes flicked around to see if anyone heard. "I'm here to survive. That's what Ego said, right? Only the best stay. I just— I just want to stay. Please."
Isagi exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring Ukon down like he was looking at a roach.
"Let me get this straight," he said, voice low and venomous. "You came over here thinking you could beg your way into survival by stabbing your own team in the back... and then have the nerve to pretend it's strategy?"
Ukon flinched.
Isagi's tone dripped with poison as he spoke. "That's pathetic. How the hell can you even call yourself a soccer player? You want us to drag your useless body across the finish line because you're too scared to fight for it yourself. Disgusting."
Ukon's lips trembled, but he didn't speak.
"You're right about one thing," Isagi continued, standing. "This place is about survival. But it's also about proving you're worth something. And all you've proven is that you're a coward who doesn't belong here."
He stepped past the table, tray in hand. "It's good to have dreams, Ukon…"
He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a cold glare.
"But your dreams will never become a reality."
Ukon sat frozen, face drained of color as the four walked away one by one. Kunigami shaking his head in disgust, Chigiri not even sparing him a second glance, and Bachira flashing him a smile that was somehow more mocking than anything else.
As the four of them walked away from the table, the weight of the conversation still clung to their silence like a bad stench.
"I seriously can't believe what I heard, dude." Kunigami was the first to speak, shaking his head mockingly at the ghost of Ukon. "That guy seriously thought we'd just let him betray his own team and reward him for it?"
Isagi scoffed. "He's the kind of player who's more comparable to a parasite, always trying to leech a ride on someone else's back. I've never seen anything more pathetic in my life."
Bachira gave a small snort, hands behind his head as he strolled. "He looked like he was about to cry. Creepy little rat. I bet he thought he was being clever."
"Clever?" Chigiri cut in sharply. "He's everything that a soccer player is not. Cowardly, spineless… I wouldn't even want to be on the field with someone like that. Makes my skin crawl."
"That's what made it funny, though. He really thought we'd make a deal. As if we're the same." Bachira chuckled humorlessly
"That's just what the weak does, Bachira. They use lies and deceit to worm their way to success, it's all they do." Isagi put his sight back in front of him, a dark. otherworldly aura emanating from his form. "But that's ok. When we face off against them, I'll make sure to show them the true face of despair."
.....