Chapter 9: Ease, and Individual Ability
The transition between the old era of the U.S. Football Federation and the new century—
Even after three months, it was still a hot headline in American media.
Terms like Murderous Football, Dual-Edge Football, Football, Prodigy, Narrow Defeat, and other hot buzzwords filled the entire football world.
Opening any social-media app, one would immediately see endless videos of Noel Noa (France), Julian Loki (France), and Arthas (USA).
Compared to the long-famous football veteran Noel Noah, the media now favored two super rookies of the football world—
the 17-year-old "Godspeed Prodigy" Julian Loki,
and the 14-year-old "Murder Football" Arthas.
The media had already obtained permission from the U.S. Football Federation to release part of Arthas's training and match footage in the U.S.
And because the Japan Football Union wanted to completely reform Japanese football, they lifted previous restrictions on videos involving Arthas.
Thus, when Naruhaya Asahi searched for Arthas, he was finally able to see footage of Arthas being lifted up by his coach, surrounded by cheering teammates, raising an imaginary future 22nd World Cup Trophy high into the air.
On his phone, his long-admired idol Arthas stood at the center of a press conference, basking in the flashes of cameras from reporters around the world.
Outside the phone, Naruhaya Asahi's eyes had already turned red, tears welling up as he murmured:
"Sis… sis, hurry, come look!"
But when he regained his senses, he suddenly realized—
there was no "sister" next to him at all.
Beside him, Gagamaru noticed this and gently shook his head, asking with concern:
"Sister? Are you… missing your family?"
Hearing this, Naruhaya Asahi froze.
Since losing his memory, he had never once thought about family.
His mind was like a bucket of cold well-water drawn straight up—clear, icy, and empty of any trace of familial warmth.
But now, at this moment, the word "family"—unfamiliar yet familiar—began bubbling up from the depths like rising air pockets.
Fragments of images surfaced before his eyes—
[A younger version of himself wearing a beautiful team uniform, holding a large pile of delicious food, devouring it ravenously. Beside him were four tiny figures snatching food from each other in competition. Then, a young woman with shoulder-length hair, the ends curling slightly, appeared in the scene—she smiled gently as she watched the younger siblings eat with joy…]
"Family…?"
Naruhaya Asahi slowly lifted his head, eyes hollow and lost, staring up toward the blue ceiling reinforced with steel plates, his lips trembling as he muttered unconsciously.
In that very instant—
A colossal wave of neurological shock crashed over him, overwhelming and unstoppable.
Naruhaya felt his head was about to split open from the pain.
He instinctively clutched his skull, his entire body curling up like a wounded little animal trying to shield itself from the sudden assault.
"Fire… beach… ocean…"
He muttered fragmented words, terror and confusion flickering in his gaze.
The sudden burst of memories showed that he had experienced a terrible accident—
one that stripped him of his memory and buried something deeply important within the depths of his mind, unreachable no matter how he tried.
His head swelled more and more, an indescribable pressure spreading from his skull to his entire body, making him nauseous.
His stomach churned violently—
the food he had just eaten became a swarm of mischievous sprites rampaging inside him, bouncing, kicking, threatening to burst up his throat at any moment.
Even as his consciousness blurred, Naruhaya Asahi instinctively pressed his shaking right hand to his abdomen, trying to soothe the restless stomach.
At the same time, his left hand reached up to lightly massage his own face.
Once… twice… three times…
Time passed slowly.
After a long and agonizing wait, the feeling that had nearly devoured him gradually subsided.
He finally exhaled deeply, as if unloading a thousand-kilogram weight.
He steadied himself, quickly regained control, and resumed eating calmly, stuffing food into his mouth as though none of the earlier chaos had ever happened.
Because Naruhaya had kept his movements small—and because he was so physically small among a group of much larger athletes—none of them noticed anything.
At the same table, Kuon Wataru was still carefully wiping Gagamaru's hands with a towel from earlier.
The following days passed quickly.
After tasting the delicious steak, everyone remained immersed in the comfort and ease granted by riding on the "strongest thigh."
At the same time, they learned something from Jinpachi Ego:
Team V had defeated Team Y with an astonishing score of 8–0!
However, since their own team held a massive total of 14 points—far above Team V—this news didn't attract much interest.
Seeing their lack of reaction, Ego knew any further explanation was pointless.
He simply finished conveying the details of the next match, then decisively shut off the screen connection.
Back in the monitoring room, Ego slurped instant noodles while thinking to himself—
wondering when Team Z would finally break free from this disgusting sense of comfort and remember that they were supposed to be forwards who devoured goals from each other…
not midfielders, defenders, or goalkeepers.
Meanwhile—in Team Z's resting room—
Aside from Naruhaya Asahi still diligently holding his phone and recording football notes,
everyone else was completely drunk on the thrill of crushing Team X, unable to pull themselves out of that high.
Some were even overflowing with confidence, casually making bets on how many points they would score in the next match.
PA-PA-PA!
Suddenly, sharp claps echoed loudly, shattering the festive atmosphere like a crack of lightning.
Kuon Wataru, who had always taken care of the team quietly, now wore an expression so dark it might drip ink.
He clapped forcefully, interrupting everyone's excitement.
All eyes shifted to him.
He straightened his posture, his once half-closed eyes fully opening—
deep wine-red pupils glimmering under the lights with hungry desire.
He swept his gaze across everyone and spoke sternly:
"Everyone, calm down. Yes, defeating Team X was exciting—but the celebration ends NOW."
"Don't forget—our easy victory came largely because Team X was chaotic. Their players only cared about being their own team's top scorer. That gave Naruhaya tons of opportunities to take the ball."
He paused, drew a breath, then continued:
"But the next match will be much harder. Team Y has already lost once—now they're on the edge of collapse, forced into a desperate fight. They WILL go all-out, and they WILL assign multiple players to mark Naruhaya and shut down his speed."
"So next match, we can't rely solely on Naruhaya.
We need a team strategy—
everyone must have the chance to score to disrupt the opponent's defensive predictions.
Only then can we increase our chances of winning."
Naruhaya Asahi glanced at Kuon's speech… then indifferently looked away and continued writing his notes.
Suppress the strongest player so the weak get chances?
No—
he simply wanted to borrow everyone's desires to create space for himself to score.
Kuon…
I hope your performance makes the next match more entertaining.
Since the strongest player offered no rebuttal, everyone began to feel the rise of their own scoring desires.
Score 1 point for a steak or massage?
No!
Score a hat trick, exchange it for a phone or a luxurious bed!
The simple-minded monk laughed and said proudly:
"What's there to worry about? We're Team Z! Every other team in Blue Lock is trash like Team X anyway!"
"I agree with Kuon," said Chigiri, sipping an energy drink as he sat down.
"That 14-point match was definitely a fluke."
After another sip, he continued:
"If we rely on everyone's strength, then according to Ego's line 'This is the battle to create football from zero,' I think that's a clue."
Chigiri's words stirred something in Isagi, who had remained silent earlier.
He spoke:
"Everyone… I think I understand what 'football zero' means."
Isagi looked toward Naruhaya's back, then continued:
"Team X was a scattered mess—each fighting for themselves. That is zero.
Team Z gathered together for team points—that is one."
"In the last match, Team X couldn't form a team because that guy Barou couldn't stop Naruhaya's speed alone."
"But in the next match, Team Y, having already lost once, definitely won't be like that. They'll analyze video and realize Naruhaya's strength is speed, so they'll target—"
But before he could finish, Naruhaya suddenly interrupted him.
With a cold expression, he said:
"My strength is not speed. If I must be precise—besides speed, whether it's dribbling, passing, or defense, I'm certain I can perform each of them to the highest degree of perfection."
In his blurry memories, Naruhaya recalled a dark-skinned boy sprinting past like lightning—
so fast it made him despair.
Because such a powerful opponent existed, Naruhaya never truly believed speed was his advantage.
His words reminded everyone of his training scores—indeed, in every skill area, Naruhaya performed with inhuman excellence.
But the one most shocked was the lowest-ranked player—Igarashi Gurimu.
His eyes widened, his face twisted in disbelief.
He grabbed his own cheeks as if trying to escape reality, muttering:
"Eh?! No way! That can't be! How can speed NOT be your advantage?!"
Naruhaya ignored their stares and simply turned away, continuing to write notes calmly.
Imamura suppressed his jealousy, scratched his head, and summarized:
"So a striker like Naruhaya is the monster that turns zero into one.
And midfielders and defenders turn one into ten… or even a hundred?
Makes sense."
Isagi nodded:
"Exactly. Teams and football are built on a super striker.
That must be Ego's message."
He didn't say the rest:
Everyone here is a striker.
But they all understood.
Quietly, many players eyed the back of the "king of the field", each secretly wanting to take his place.
A massive human-shaped shadow hung over all of them.
DING—
The room's screen turned on.
Jinpachi Ego reappeared before them.
"Hmm~ not bad. Congratulations, you useless trash—finally breaking free from your prison of comfort and showing your desire."
"From 1 to 0—your logic is correct.
But the most important point: turning zero into one.
Among all of you, only one person has achieved it.
The other ten haven't, right?"
Hearing this, everyone swallowed nervously.
Ego was right—they had wasted too much time hugging Naruhaya's thigh and enjoying a victory that wasn't theirs.
They still hadn't escaped the football ideology their school coaches taught them.
Ego continued:
"Looks like I need to tell you a story about Japan.
Japanese people love assigning tasks. They excel at completing work 'for society, for the people, for someone.'
And they treat this behavior as a virtue."
"Japan's only top-tier world-class sport is baseball."
"Pitchers, catchers, infielders, outfielders, #1 hitters, #4 hitters…
Attack and defense are completely separated, and there's no physical confrontation."
A small baseball appeared on Ego's raised finger.
"Everyone has a clear role.
Just do your job.
This sport perfectly suits Japanese traits—so they're strong."
"But football is different."
Ego crushed the baseball in his hand.
"Football is a battlefield of extreme freedom.
Attack and defense change instantly, with physical confrontation.
If all you know is fulfilling your assigned task—
you will NEVER win."
"The only indispensable thing is individual ability—your personal power alone."
He stared at them through his black-framed glasses and asked:
"Do you know what Japan is most proud of in the football world right now?"
"Midfielders and fullbacks."
"Those positions 'serve the team'—working selflessly to turn a striker's '1' into '100.'
Naturally, many excellent players are born."
This statement stung the Japanese forwards in the room.
"And without this sense of sacrifice and dedication, Japanese football wouldn't be where it is today.
But that also means…"
"No revolution will ever happen."
Naruhaya watched Ego's speech and knew he was about to deliver another passionate monologue on football philosophy.
So he preemptively rolled pieces of paper into tiny balls and stuffed them into his ears—manually lowering the volume.
Sure enough, Ego went on to deliver his usual motivational speech about finding one's weapon.
The young players began contemplating their own weapons.
Isagi stared at the now-dark screen.
[A weapon]—that is the breakthrough they need to survive the first selection!!!