"Don't leave me behind…"
Bachira watched Ryan's back as he celebrated another goal. That radiant figure seemed untouchable, moving farther and farther ahead.
He'd found what he always dreamed of: someone who could play alongside his "monster." Yet even as that dream came true, he felt… lonely.
He didn't want to be alone again. Not after finding Ryan in Blue Lock. Not after finally meeting someone who made him feel alive.
While Bachira drowned in thought, Team X was in chaos.
"Barou, stop hogging the ball all the time! Sometimes you have to pass!"
"I'll win with my shots. If I have to play for someone else, I'd rather die."
"But passing opens possibilities! The final shot could still be yours!"
"I don't need 'possibility.' I win because I want to win. Everything else is irrelevant."
"With just your shots, we can't win! Look at the score it's 4–1! Half those goals came from you losing the ball!"
"So what? If victory means lowering myself, I'd rather lose."
"Barou, you're strong, but this attitude "
"Shut it, trash. The one frustrated about not winning despite this strength… is me, you idiot."
The argument ended with silence. The team split apart, frustration thick in the air.
Team X kicked off again. They moved the ball patiently upfield and Barou, ignored by everyone, called for the pass over and over.
No one listened.
For the first time, he realized he'd been isolated.
The "King"… abandoned by his subjects.
Wasn't it supposed to be him looking down on them, not the other way around?
He seethed.
Like a wild beast lurking in tall grass, Barou waited.
And when one teammate hesitated he pounced, stealing the ball for himself.
"Barou! What the hell are you doing?!"
"Tch. Trash should serve their king, not rebel. Let me show you how I crush traitors."
He charged forward. Two walls of muscle Kunigami and Raichi closed in again.
"Out of my way!"
Barou threw his weight forward, slamming into both men. They staggered just enough for a sliver of space. He forced himself through, bursting free.
Then came the others, one by one, like moths diving into a flame and he burned through them all.
Finally, only the goalkeeper remained.
He angled his body, swung hard the ball rocketed toward the top corner.
It was perfect. Unstoppable.
The keeper couldn't even move.
But
A shadow cut across his vision.
A leap.
A flash of silver hair.
Ryan.
He soared past, meeting the ball mid-air with his head, clearing it away. The shot of the "King" snuffed out like a candle.
The keeper grabbed the rebound and hurled it forward to start a counter.
Barou bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air, sweat streaming down his face.
As Ryan jogged past on his way back upfield, he looked down at him and smiled.
"Nice shot. If I hadn't been there, that would've gone in. Keep it up, 'King.' Maybe one day you'll catch a glimpse of my back."
The teasing tone sliced straight into Barou's chest.
What is this feeling…?
Like someone had gripped his heart in a fist tight, merciless.
Was this… defeat?
That shot was his very best and Ryan had erased it as if it were nothing.
He realized it then: the field didn't shine for him anymore. It shone for Ryan Hoshino.
He wasn't the protagonist of this story. Not here. Not now.
Five minutes left.
Team X cleared the ball toward midfield.
By fate's design, it landed at Barou's feet.
He froze. Ahead, Ryan was sprinting toward him.
His teammates shouted:
"Barou! Pass it! If you pass, he won't steal it!"
But Barou didn't move. His mind churned.
If I accept defeat… the field belongs to him, not me. I'd just be a supporting role. But strangely, I don't even feel angry anymore. Is this what all those I've crushed felt that choking despair?
He saw it clearly the safe path: passing the ball, escaping pressure, finding relief.
That was the route of every failed striker before him.
But salvation through surrender was no salvation at all.
In his mind's eye he saw the future Ryan on the world stage, crowds roaring his name… while Barou sat in a dim room, unshaven, beer in hand, staring at the screen as the man who'd beaten him basked in glory.
No. That's not me. I won't live like that.
Suddenly, black and red lightning coiled around him the aura of defiance.
He feinted the pass. Sharp cut. Razor dribble.
Ryan's eyes widened.
He awakened…?!
Barou slashed forward past Ryan. The fake had worked. For once, the King broke through.
Ryan recovered fast, sprinting after him.
Barou weaved through the rest, slicing angles, using teammates' bodies as shields, cutting again and again.
He could see it now the path wasn't to flee the light, but to forge his own in the shadows.
This path of destruction… this wicked path… it exists so that I can shoot.
Breaking free into the box, he glared at the goal.
If you're the hero… then I'll be the villain who devours you whole.
He reared his leg
but from his right, a foot appeared, lightning-fast.
"What ?! How are you here?!"
"Because you're too slow, 'King.'"
Ryan slid in clean, knocking the ball out of bounds.
The referee's whistle blew full time.
Final score: 4–1.
Ryan stood, brushed grass from his jersey, and smiled warmly.
"For an enemy, you're not half bad."
Barou turned away, walking off the field, voice low but burning with conviction.
"Next time… I'll devour you whole."