Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting golden stripes across the tatami mats. Eshan Sato lay on his futon for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Nine years old. A child's body, yet a man's mind. Every memory of his past life surged, colliding with the childhood memories of this body: small victories with friends, the first kicks of a ball, casual schoolyard games.
And then — a thought that made his heart race: Noa is the best striker in this world.
It wasn't just a name. It was confirmation. The universe around him was real, yet familiar. Blue Lock, the world he had adored from afar, existed… and he had been reborn here.
Excitement surged, tempered by logic. He was nine. He could not rush forward recklessly. But he had one goal now: discover what this body could do.
The Ball Speaks
Eshan's eyes fell on the small, slightly scuffed football in the corner of the yard. He picked it up, rolling it along the inside of his foot. Almost immediately, something strange happened.
The ball felt alive. Subtle vibrations, the tiniest shifts, even the way it responded to gravity — he sensed it all. His mind reached out instinctively, adjusting touch, weight, and motion. The ball seemed to anticipate him.
What… is happening?
He dribbled slowly, tapping lightly, changing pace, rolling, feinting. With every movement, he felt a connection he had never experienced before — a strange, intuitive dialogue between himself and the ball. It wasn't learned skill, not something from his previous life. It was instinct, raw and immediate.
Ball Feel…?
The word came unbidden. Even just lightly juggling, rolling, and controlling the ball, he felt the difference. Every touch was precise, every movement effortless. It wasn't perfection — not yet — but the foundation of something far beyond ordinary.
Over the next few days, Eshan experimented. He set up small makeshift goals, marked lines in the dirt, dribbled through imaginary defenders. He tested every nuance: angle, force, spin, surface irregularities. Each action reinforced the subtle feedback he felt from the ball.
He did not yet understand the full scope of what this body could do. That was fine. He only knew one thing: he could feel the ball better than any other child he had ever known. Every instinct — from foot placement to touch, from timing to balance — whispered a new potential.
He paused to reflect.
I have no idea what else this body can do. I don't even know if there's more. But I feel… something.
That "something" lingered at the edge of his perception — an intuition that hinted at possibilities beyond what he had discovered. It was vague, untamed, and he could not yet name it.
Eshan settled under the shade of a tree, the ball resting lightly against his leg. He thought ahead, mapping a mental plan. His past-life memories as a football fan provided strategies, formations, and tactics — but he knew that theory was nothing without experience.
Step 1: Hone Ball Feel to perfection. Light touches, constant practice, and experiments with movement.
Step 2: Begin joining school matches eventually, to test instincts against real people. Only through facing opponents would he discover his true potential.
Step 3: Grow his body. Nine was too early for peak physical training, but flexibility, coordination, and endurance could be built gradually.
A small smile appeared on his face. This was no longer a dream. This was his reality. He had a body, a mind, and a gift that could be honed into something extraordinary — and he would not waste a single moment.
Sometimes, when he imagined opponents on the field, he felt fleeting sensations — a tug, a pull, a subtle anticipation — like a hint of something hidden within him. He did not understand it. He had no idea what it was.
I'll figure it out when the time comes, he thought. For now, there was only the ball, the yard, and the thrill of feeling it respond perfectly to him.
Even in these quiet exercises, he knew instinctively that the world of football in this body was far larger than just this yard. One day, he would face real players. Only then would the other abilities — whatever they were — reveal themselves. And when they did, he would be ready.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard, Eshan Sato placed the ball carefully beside him. His mother called from the doorway, and he rose to meet her, the calm of a normal life settling around him. Yet his mind was already racing: school clubs, local matches, training, the long path toward mastery.
I'm Eshan Sato. I have been reborn. And this is just the beginning.
The wind carried the faint laughter of children from the street, the echo of distant games. He smiled quietly to himself. One day, he would step onto the field with real opponents. One day, he would awaken abilities he couldn't yet comprehend. One day, he would test himself against the very best — and nothing would stop him.
For now, though, the first touch had been made. The first connection forged. The first spark of potential had awakened.
And it was enough.