Blue Lock. Building 5. Match 3.
Team Z vs. Team W.
Current Score: 2 - 2
The electronic scoreboard buzzed, displaying the tie game. But the atmosphere on the field was far from equal. It was a suffocating, toxic fog that wrapped around the players of Team Z.
Isagi Yoichi stood near the center circle, wiping a bead of sweat from his chin. His chest heaved rhythmically, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer mental processing power he was exerting.
Status Report, Isagi's internal monologue ran like a computer script.
Variable A (Kuon): Completely compromised. He is actively moving to obstruct our passing lanes. He is a twelfth player for Team W.
Variable B (Raichi/Igarashi/Gagamaru): Mental state deteriorating. The confusion of having a traitor is slowing their reaction times by approximately 0.5 seconds.
Variable C (The Wanima Brothers): High morale. They have realized that even with my interference, the numbers game favors them.
"Hey, Isagi!" Raichi Jingo screamed, his face purple with rage. He grabbed Kuon by the collar. "This bastard is smiling! He's blocking me on purpose! I'm gonna kill him!"
"I-I'm not!" Kuon stammered, holding his hands up in a feigned surrender. "I was just trying to make a run! You ran into me, Raichi!"
"Liar!" Raichi shoved him.
"Stop it," Isagi said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise instantly.
He walked over to them.
"Raichi, let him go. Strangling him won't fix the numbers."
"But Isagi! It's 10 against 12! We can't win like this!" Igarashi cried out, looking on the verge of tears.
Isagi looked at the Wanima brothers, who were snickering near the touchline.
"Keh keh keh," Junichi laughed. "Look at them fight. The team is broken."
"It's over," Keisuke agreed. "Let's finish them."
Restart.
The game resumed. Team W had possession.
The dynamic shifted immediately. The Wanima brothers stopped trying to be fancy. They reverted to simple, brutal mathematics.
They bypassed the midfield entirely.
Why? Because Kuon was standing in the midfield, effectively acting as a traffic cone that only Team Z had to navigate around.
Keisuke Wanima lobbed a ball over Raichi's head.
"I got it!" Junichi sprinted.
Kunigami moved to intercept. "I won't let you!"
But as Kunigami moved, Kuon "accidentally" crossed his path. A subtle pick.
Kunigami collided with Kuon. "Get out of the way!"
"Sorry!" Kuon yelled.
That split second of delay was all Junichi needed. He collected the ball.
He was free on the left wing.
He looked up.
Isagi was there.
Isagi had predicted the pick. He had moved to cover Kunigami's position.
"You're annoying, Number 11," Junichi grunted.
"And you're repetitive," Isagi replied, stance low, eyes tracking the ball.
Junichi didn't try to dribble Isagi. He smashed a cross to the far post.
Keisuke was running there.
But so was Chigiri Hyoma.
Isagi's eyes flashed. Chigiri is closer. He can clear this.
"Chigiri! Clear it!" Isagi commanded.
The ball arced through the air.
Chigiri looked at the ball.
Then he looked at Keisuke Wanima charging at him like a bull.
Collision, Chigiri's mind whispered. Impact. Right knee. Snap.
The trauma overrode the logic.
Instead of jumping to head the ball, Chigiri flinched. He took a step back to protect his leg.
"Coward!" Keisuke roared.
He jumped unchallenged.
Header.
The ball smashed past Iemon into the net.
GOAL.
Team Z: 2 - Team W: 3
The whistle blew. The Wanima brothers high-fived, jeering at Chigiri.
"Thanks for the space, Princess!"
"Scared of a little bump?"
Isagi stood rooted to the spot. He didn't look at the goal. He looked at Chigiri.
Calculation error, Isagi thought. I factored in Kuon's betrayal. I factored in the team's panic. But I underestimated the magnitude of Chigiri's fear.
It's not 10 vs 12.
It's 9 vs 12.
"What the hell was that?!" Raichi stormed over to Chigiri, veins popping in his neck. "You ducked! You literally ducked!"
"I... I lost my footing," Chigiri murmured, eyes fixed on his cleats.
"Bullshit! You're scared!" Raichi spat. "If you're too scared to play, get off the field! We're fighting for our lives here!"
The team was imploding. The morale bar had hit zero.
Kuon walked past them, wiping fake sweat from his brow. "Ah, that's too bad... maybe if we had more attackers..."
"Shut up, traitor!" Kunigami yelled.
Isagi walked away from the group. He needed space to think. To re-render the grid.
The score was 2-3.
Time remaining: 30 minutes.
Situation: Hostile teammate (Kuon), Broken teammate (Chigiri), Panic (Everyone else).
Logic dictates we lose, Isagi analyzed. We cannot cover the defensive holes while simultaneously attacking. If I drop back to defend, we have no offense. If I attack, we concede.
I need a piece that breaks the logic.
I need a piece that ignores the numbers.
He looked at Chigiri again.
The red-haired boy was isolating himself, wrapping a towel around his neck even though the game was still on, hiding his face.
Speed, Isagi thought.
Speed is the only weapon that doesn't require numbers. If you are fast enough, 1 vs 2 becomes 1 vs 0.
But the engine is broken.
Isagi walked over to Chigiri. He didn't yell like Raichi. He didn't offer comfort like Kunigami.
He stood in front of Chigiri, casting a shadow over the boy.
"Hey," Isagi said. His voice was devoid of warmth. It was the cold, metallic voice of a machine assessing a broken part.
Chigiri looked up, startled. "Isagi..."
"We're going to lose," Isagi stated simply.
"I know," Chigiri whispered. "It's 10 against 12. It's impossible."
"No," Isagi corrected him. "It's impossible because you are useless."
Chigiri flinched as if he'd been slapped. "What?"
"Kuon is a traitor. We know that. We can account for that," Isagi continued, his blue eyes piercing through Chigiri's defenses. "But you? You're a variable that pretends to be a constant. You pretend to be a player, but you're just a spectator with a jersey."
"You don't know anything about me!" Chigiri snapped, gripping his knee. "My leg... if I tear it again, my life is over!"
"So?" Isagi tilted his head. "Then quit."
Chigiri froze. "Huh?"
"If your soccer life is so fragile that you're just waiting for it to end, then end it now," Isagi said ruthlessly. "Walk off the field. Go home. Nobody will blame you. You can live the rest of your life telling people you 'could have been great'."
Isagi leaned in close.
"But don't stand there and rot on my field. You're blocking my view."
Isagi turned his back.
"I'm going to win this, with or without you. But if you have even a fragment of ego left in that broken body... then run. Not for the team. Not for friendship. Run for yourself."
Isagi walked back to the center circle.
He could feel Chigiri's gaze burning into his back.
I planted the seed, Isagi thought. Now, let's see if it grows or dies.
Kickoff.
Team Z restarted the game.
The clock ticked down. 25 minutes left.
Isagi took the ball.
"Give it up!" Keisuke Wanima charged.
Isagi didn't pass. He held the ball.
I need to create the situation.
I need to force Chigiri to make a choice.
Isagi dribbled toward the right flank. Chigiri's side.
He drew the defenders in.
"Come on!" Isagi yelled.
Two defenders committed to Isagi.
The space behind them opened up. A long, empty corridor of green grass.
Now.
Isagi wound up his leg.
He didn't pass to Chigiri's feet. He passed into the empty void ahead.
A "suicide pass."
If Chigiri didn't run at full speed, the ball would go out of bounds.
"Prove it!" Isagi screamed, staring at the Red Panther. "Are you a genius? Or are you trash?"
The ball spun through the air, landing far ahead.
Chigiri stared at it.
The distance was immense.
The fear was heavy.
But the insult... the insult burned hotter than the fear.
Trash?
Me?
Chigiri Hyoma's eyes narrowed.
The chains rattle.