"Hey, diamonds in the rough. Seems you've settled in..."
The voice was sharp and commanding, cutting through the murmurs of the room. A large screen lit up, displaying the face of Ego Jinpachi—a man whose unnerving intensity and gaunt features made him look more like a villain in a suspense thriller than a football coach. He waved lazily at the twelve kids standing around, his casual demeanor at odds with the weight of his words.
"So, the lumps of coal standing around you are your teammates... and your rivals. With my judgment, I've analyzed your abilities and assigned you ranks. Your current rank is displayed on your uniforms."
As he spoke, Isagi glanced down at the bold "294/Z" emblazoned on his chest. Despite the low number, he didn't feel disheartened. Rankings were only the beginning, and he knew his performance on the field would prove his worth.
Ego's sharp eyes seemed to linger on Isagi's image, almost as if he were silently evaluating him again. Unknown to the players, Ego had received reports about Isagi's performance in his last match—the one where he had fainted and missed the first half, only to come alive in the second with a spectacular goal. That desperation, that drive, was what Ego sought, and it had been enough to earn Isagi a decent starting rank.
"Your rank, however"
Ego continued.
"will not remain static. It will change daily, depending on your performance in training and matches. A top player could become a bottom-feeder overnight. And remember this—only the top five players will earn the chance to represent Japan in the U20 World Cup six months from now."
The room buzzed with a mix of excitement and tension as Ego paused, letting his words sink in.
"Now"
He said, his voice dropping an octave.
"let's start with a little entrance test to measure your worth. The rules are simple: we'll play a game of tag. But instead of tagging with your hands..."
A section of the ceiling opened, and a ball dropped into the center of the room. The screen switched to display a timer counting down, along with the face of the lowest-ranked player—Igaguri, number 300.
"You'll tag with the ball"
Ego continued, smirking slightly.
"Whoever is 'it' when the timer hits zero... is out of Blue Lock. Forever.
Remember that those who fail in Blue Lock will lose their right to play for Japan"
The tension in the room spiked as Ego's face disappeared from the screen, replaced entirely by the countdown. Igaguri stood frozen for a moment, his eyes darting to the ball before narrowing with determination.
"Haha...! So I'm 'it' because of my rank"
Igaguri said, laughing nervously.
"Well, no hard feelings for those who get sent off!"
With that, he lunged for the ball and sprinted toward the nearest cluster of players. Isagi was his first target.
But Isagi sidestepped effortlessly, letting the ball ricochet harmlessly off the wall. Without looking back, he jogged toward a less crowded corner of the room. Igaguri, frustrated, realized the higher-ranked players were far too agile and skilled to hit easily. Changing his strategy, he began targeting the lower ranks instead—Imamura, Naruhaya, and Iemon.
After a frantic chase, Igaguri managed to strike Imamura, but the deflection sent the ball careening into Naruhaya, who became "it" next.
"Crap! Are you kidding me?!"
Naruhaya cursed, reaching the ball and scanning the room for an easy target. His gaze landed on Bachira, who appeared to be dozing against the wall.
With a determined shout, Naruhaya charged at Bachira and swung his leg. But just before the ball could connect, Bachira's eyes snapped open, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He effortlessly redirected the ball with a spinning kick, sending it toward the center of the room.
The ball came to rest near Isagi and Kira, who stood slightly apart from the others. Kira, his face tense, was muttering to himself about the absurdity of the situation.
Isagi, watching the scene unfold, couldn't help but notice the panic in Kira's demeanor. It wasn't surprising. Kira had been groomed for greatness from a young age, surrounded by praise and comfort. He had talent but lacked the desperation—the raw hunger—to fight for survival.
"Kira"
Isagi said suddenly, his voice low but firm,
"show your desperation to play for Japan."
Kira blinked, startled by the words. Around them, a few other players overheard and glanced their way. Isagi stepped toward the ball, his expression unreadable.
He didn't stop the ball or hesitate. Instead, he positioned himself, his posture suggesting he was about to unleash a powerful shot. The other players stiffened, uncertain who he was going to target.
Kira stood behind him, still grappling with Isagi's words. They echoed in his mind, poking holes in the confidence he had always assumed he had.
Before he could fully process the thought, the decision was made for him. The ball slammed into his stomach, sending him stumbling back with a grunt of pain.
Kira gasped, clutching his abdomen, and locked eyes with Isagi, who stood calmly, his expression unreadable.
"Desperation"
Isagi said quietly,
"is what separates those who survive from those who don't."
The game of tag had only just begun.
"Oomfh!"
Kira doubled over, clutching his stomach where the ball had hit him.
'Huh...?'
Still caught up in his spiraling thoughts, the sudden impact shocked him back to reality. He straightened slowly, his mind racing to piece together what just happened. As he met Isagi's gaze, the meaning of his earlier words began to sink in.
Desperation.
Isagi's intent was clear now. To survive here, Kira had to prove he had the determination to stake everything—his career, his pride, his future. This wasn't a test of talent or skill alone; it was a battle of will.
Kira had admired Isagi's performance in their last match, but this was different. Isagi was no longer just a player to look up to. He was now a rival, pushing him to prove himself.
Everyone in the room who had witnessed Isagi's precise and powerful shot was stunned. His flexibility and calculated approach stood out, leaving an impression on even the more confident players.
Isagi, however, wasn't basking in the attention. His gaze remained locked on Kira, his thoughts cold and resolute.
'Sorry, but I don't need a drama queen in Blue Lock'
Isagi thought.
He wasn't here to coddle anyone, not even someone like Kira. If Kira couldn't rise to the occasion and fight for his survival, then it was better for him to leave now. Isagi wasn't going to play savior. Kira had to make his own choice—and his own stand.
Kira took a deep breath, the sting of pain fading as determination took its place. He couldn't let his career end here. Not like this. He put all his fears aside, grabbed the ball, and started dribbling.
His mind sharpened, Kira scanned the room for a target. He set his sights on Kunigami, whose towering build gave off the illusion of being slow. But Kunigami wasn't as sluggish as he seemed, dodging Kira's attempts with surprising agility.
Meanwhile, Bachira darted across the room, mischievously attempting to provoke Igaguri and Kunigami into mistakes, but none of his efforts paid off. The game grew more intense as the clock ticked down.
Kira, now desperate, decided to shift tactics. Instead of chasing individuals, he made a wide horizontal run, maneuvering the ball to push several players toward a corner. Some fell for the ploy and found themselves trapped with nowhere to run.
With less than ten seconds left on the clock, Kira positioned himself for a decisive shot. Everyone in the room froze, their eyes locked on him, bracing for the inevitable.
He swung his left leg dramatically, feigning a powerful kick. The crowd instinctively flinched, jumping or ducking to avoid the imagined trajectory. But the ball stayed glued to his feet.
In a heartbeat, Kira shifted his weight and fired with his right foot instead. The ball hurtled toward the cluster of players and struck Kuon square in the face.
"Argh!"
Kuon stumbled back, clutching his nose. The ball dropped at his feet, marking him as the new "IT" just as the timer hit zero.
The room went silent except for Kuon's heavy breathing. His wide-eyed disbelief was palpable as the reality of his situation sank in. Ego's rules were merciless, and Kuon had lost his chance to ever represent Japan.
Isagi, leaning against the lockers, watched Kuon's reaction with detached indifference. This was the reality of Blue Lock—a battlefield where only the strongest and most determined could survive.
Kira, on the other hand, was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt gnawed at him for ending someone else's career so abruptly, but something else surged within him—excitement.
This was the first time he had felt the raw thrill of fighting to survive on the pitch. For once, the stakes were real, and the rush was undeniable.
Across the room, Meguru Bachira had been quietly observing the game. His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and joy. From the moment Isagi had launched that bold shot at Kira, Bachira had been captivated.
'I've found him'
Bachira thought, his heart racing.
'I've found my monster.'
As Ego's voice crackled back to life on the screen, the players barely had time to process the outcome. The game was over, but the journey had only just begun.
.
.
.
.
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[A/N]: It just hit me that this Chapter feels like Kira is the MC :)