The silence in the Blue Lock locker room was deafening. The air was thick with tension, the crushing weight of defeat pressing down on every player. Some sat with their heads in their hands, others stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet anyone's gaze. The sound of the door slamming open shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
"WASTE BAGS!" Ego's voice boomed across the room, his sharp, cutting tone instantly commanding attention. His eyes burned with fury as he paced back and forth like a predator ready to pounce.
"What the hell was that out there?!" Ego shouted, slamming a fist against the wall. His piercing gaze swept over the players, each of them flinching under the intensity of his stare. "You call yourselves strikers? That performance was nothing short of PATHETIC!"
Ego jabbed a finger at them, his voice rising. "Do you understand what you just did? You faced the world's best, and instead of fighting like your lives depended on it, you cowered! You hesitated! And now look at you—sulking like a bunch of CHILDREN!"
He turned his glare to Kaito, who sat frozen, his fists clenched. "Kaito, you think you're going to stand at the top of the world with that pitiful display? You're nothing but a lump of wasted potential!"
Kaito felt the words stab into his chest like daggers. His teeth clenched as Ego continued, "And the rest of you? Don't think you're any better! Sora, Takura, Koresei, Keiji—you're the bottom of the barrel, yet even you have the nerve to sit there and feel sorry for yourselves!"
Sora flinched, his face pale. Takura bit his lip, tears threatening to spill. Koresei looked down at his trembling hands, and even Keiji, who usually hid behind a facade of indifference, couldn't meet Ego's eyes.
"You're all waste bags," Ego spat, his voice venomous. "You're lumps of talent that haven't been carved into anything worthwhile. And unless you stop sitting around and START acting like players who deserve to stand on this stage, you'll never amount to anything!"
Ego's words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. But then Kaito stood up, his fists shaking. His voice was low, but there was a fire in his eyes.
"You're right," Kaito said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We weren't good enough. I wasn't good enough. But I swear—no, we swear—we'll get stronger."
His words struck a chord with the others. One by one, they rose to their feet. Sora, usually quiet and timid, clenched his fists. "I won't stay at the bottom anymore. I'll work harder than ever."
Takura wiped his tears and nodded. "I'm done being weak. I'm done being afraid."
Koresei stood, his jaw set. "No more excuses. No more running."
Even Keiji, who had always been the least motivated, smirked and cracked his knuckles. "Guess it's time I started taking this seriously, huh?"
The team poured every ounce of their frustration, anger, and determination into their training. The once-quiet training grounds now roared with the sound of drills, shouts, and the relentless pounding of soccer balls against the nets.
Kaito led by example, pushing himself harder than ever. His body screamed for rest, but he refused to stop. Every drop of sweat, every aching muscle was a step closer to his goal.
Sora focused on his agility, weaving through cones with lightning speed. Takura honed his shooting, firing ball after ball into the top corners of the net. Koresei worked tirelessly on his endurance, running laps until his legs gave out.
And Keiji, the one who had always been the least committed, was now among the hardest workers. He practiced his ball control, his passes, and his positioning, determined to prove that he belonged.
Even the strongest players, like Kuroka and Julias, pushed themselves to new limits. They weren't satisfied with scoring in the last match—they wanted to dominate the next one.
Ego watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. This was what he wanted. This was what Blue Lock was about—not just creating players, but forging warriors.
"They're finally starting to get it," he murmured to himself.
But he knew the road ahead was still long. The Five had exposed their weaknesses, and now it was up to them to turn those weaknesses into strengths.
By the end of the night, the players collapsed onto the grass, their bodies exhausted but their spirits burning brighter than ever. Kaito stared up at the night sky, his chest heaving.
"I'll never forget that feeling of being powerless," he thought. "But I'll make sure it never happens again."
Around him, his teammates shared the same resolve. They weren't just players anymore—they were warriors, ready to fight for their dreams, no matter how far away they seemed.
For the first time, Kaito felt something stir deep within him: a belief that, no matter how impossible the odds, they could rise to the top. Together.