ANRI TEIERI POV
I stood behind Ego in the surveillance room, arms crossed tight as I watched the monitors. The wall in front of me was a grid of glowing screens, each one showing a different room, a different group of boys already being pushed to their limits. In the center was the largest monitor, showing Room W. The match had just ended.
I pressed my lips together and tried not to let it show on my face.
"That match," I said, speaking mostly to myself, "was a fantastic display of craftiness and control. No wasted movement. Calculated choices under pressure."
Ego sat in his chair, hunched slightly forward, his chin in his palm as he watched the screen. He hadn't blinked in minutes.
"The chaos brought out a glimpse of who they really are," I added.
Ego spoke without turning.
"Pressure separates the fragile from the fanatics," he said. "The moment you tell someone their dream is about to die, they either wake up or rot."
"Is it too early to evaluate?" I asked.
"There's no such thing as early in Blue Lock," he replied. "From the moment they walk through the doors, they are players. No warm-up. No safety net. This is survival."
He finally looked back at me over his shoulder, his expression blank.
"From this point forward, it's not about who's talented," he said. "It's about who's obsessed."
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2 DAYS LATER
THIRD PERSON POV
The cafeteria was cleaner than any school dining hall had the right to be. Stainless steel fixtures, polished floors, and long white tables that stretched wall to wall.
Hibari sat across from Kurona, a tray between them. On Hibari's tray was a neatly arranged Japanese meal. Miso soup. Grilled fish. White rice. A soft-boiled egg. Even a small slice of melon.
Kurona's tray, while not bad, was noticeably less refined. A smaller portion. No side dish. No melon.
Kurona glanced at Hibari's meal, then down at his own.
"Your food looks expensive," he said, poking at his rice. "Mine looks like a middle school lunch."
Hibari blinked. Then looked down at his tray like he was just now noticing what was on it.
"Is it?" he asked.
Kurona nodded once. "Yeah. It's probably tied to the rankings. They didn't say it out loud, but it would make sense."
Hibari let out a breath through his nose and leaned back.
"This place…" he muttered. "So far all we've done is stretch, run, lift, rinse, repeat. It's like being at a training camp for people who never kicked a ball before."
Kurona scooped up a bite of plain rice.
"You're bored?"
"Completely," Hibari answered, eyes drifting across the room at the other tables. "I didn't come here to do push-ups. I came here to be the best in the world. How is doing this going to make me the best in the world?"
He picked up his chopsticks and tapped them against his tray, not eating.
"This better get interesting soon."
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THE NEXT DAY
6:00 AM
Hibari awoke to a mechanical chime and something being announced over the loudspeakers in their room. It took a second for him to comprehend it, "The results of the fitness test have been assessed, please return to your room and confirm your latest rankings."
As if on cue, the number on my sleeve began shifting downwards, all the way down 43 spots.
His rank was now 232.
Kurona's rank was 236.
"Still so high." Hibari gritted his teeth as he eyed his own ranking.
"Greetings, my diamonds in the rough. Are you adjusting well to life here at Blue Lock?"
Ego had appeared on a large monitor in the room.
"Hey emo, when the hell are we gonna do some real soccer shit here instead of this bullshit training program you have us on? You said we were Team W so what the hell does that mean?" Hibari shouted angrily.
"Conditioning is crucial. I'm not here to coach fragile little amateurs with inflated egos and weak calves."
He stepped aside slightly, revealing a diagram on the monitor behind him. Blocks of text and numbers listed team names, ranks, and groups.
"Three hundred players were brought into Blue Lock. That makes twenty-five teams in total, from Team B to Team Z. Each team was assigned to one of five separate buildings. Every building holds five teams, and every team started with twelve players. Now, after the tag test, each one has eleven."
Kurona looked over at Hibari. Hibari was still glaring at the screen, jaw tight.
"That means there are two hundred seventy-five players left at Blue Lock," Ego continued. "Your team was determined by your initial rank. Ranks 1 through 11 are Team B. Ranks 12 to 22 are Team C. So on and so forth."
The camera zoomed in slightly as Ego leaned forward.
"So you players in Team W? You're the bottom feeders. Losers scrounging for scraps. You're standing on the edge of relevance."
A low murmur rolled through the room.
"But don't worry," Ego smiled, cold and clinical. "I have good news if competition is what you seek."
"Because it's time for the first selection."
"Building 5 contains Teams V through Z. You will now compete in a five-team round robin tournament. Each team will play the others once."
He raised a single finger.
"If you win, you get two points. A draw earns you one. A loss earns you nothing. When it's over, only the top two teams will advance."
"The top individual scorer from each of the three losing teams will also advance to the next selection."
A digital countdown began flashing behind him. The first match was set for tomorrow against Team X.
"So, which one will you be, Team W?"
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THE NEXT DAY
BEFORE THE MATCH
The locker room was tense. Hibari stood at the front, arms folded. The rest of Team W was gathered around, still absorbing what Ego had told them.
Hibari took one step forward.
"Listen up you damn filler, You're all gonna play your roles and you're gonna play them around me."
Someone scoffed from the group. A bulky, loud kid with short black hair and a thick neck stepped forward.
"And who died and made you captain?"
Before he could finish his complaint, Hibari moved forward.
Hibari's foot then whipped into the side of the guy's abdomen, a clean Taekwondo side kick. The kid collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach, struggling to breathe.
Hibari leaned over him.
"What was that?"
No response. Just wheezing.
"You're in goal. You got a problem with that?"
More wheezing.
"Fantastic."
He turned back to the others.
"Saramadara, you're up top with me. Kurona, you're midfield. Everyone else, just fall into formation and stay out of the way unless I tell you otherwise."
No one spoke up.
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HIBARI YAKUSHIJI POV
The jersey was green with white numbers printed on the back, two thin black stripes framing the number top and bottom. The shorts matched. The cleats were black with green accents, factory-shined.
I enforced the silence I always did before matches, regardless of the team I played for. I tied my cleats 3 separate times and then heard an announcement.
"Team W, please report to the pitch"
Everyone simultaneously began walking out into the hallway leading to the field we would be playing Team X. I was in the front with everyone falling in behind me like good little puppies.
I stepped out onto the turf, it felt fake a little too perfect, too evenly groomed. The field stretched out in a giant, rectangular box of steel and silence. A towering wall of white-and-blue panels enclosed the pitch on all sides, with glaring lights beaming down from the rafters.
Dead ahead, high up on the wall, was a massive screen. Bold, black letters were displayed on it.
TEAM W vs TEAM X
0 - 0
The stadium was eerily quiet except for the soft sound of cleats clicking against the ground as we walked out. Every step echoed.
I scanned the field as we approached the center line. The other team was already gathered at the far end, stretching, kicking, talking, reckless movement without thought. I could count ten bodies immediately, most average size, a few taller. But one of them stood out.
Number 17 wasn't like the rest. He stood toward the back, arms at his sides, still.
Even from a distance, I could tell he was small. Maybe five-five, five-six at best. His black hair was a wild mess, layered and swept in every direction like he'd just rolled out of bed and never bothered fixing it. No gel. No order. Just pure chaos up top. His uniform fit him like he didn't care about it, slightly wrinkled at the edges, socks pulled too low.
I approached the center line and put my foot on the ball ready to start the game off. I was going to keep an eye on number 17 and watch his movements. I kicked the ball to the side to Saramadara
KICKOFF
TEAM W vs. TEAM X
Saramadara dribbled up the left side and got pressed, so he passed to me in the middle of the field. I assessed the field and noticed Kurona to my right, he was covered but made a quick cut inside without losing his top speed.
I made the pass to shark boy, he received it carefully, but still retaining speed. I ran further upfield, running past a defender who side by side with me. I cut back and received another pass from Kurona, the defender attempted to reposition in front of me, but as soon as he did I faked a one-two with Kurona and did a no-look nutmeg through the defender's legs.
"Huh? What!" He cried in a pathetic tone.
As it stood now, I was about within my shooting range, which was 37 meters give or take. I reeled my right leg back as I let it explode forward.
"No way...He's shooting..from there?" A defender called out; the ball curved sharply. Heads turning couldn't even keep up with the movement as the goalie didn't even have enough time to fully guage what happened as the ball rang out in the back of the net.
A horn sounded as the large monitor updated to show,
TEAM W vs TEAM X
1 - 0
A bunch of my teammates jumped on me to celebrate and tell me how amazing that shot was. It was nothing new to me since I was no stranger to amazing inhumane goals.
Team X still seemed to be trying to process the previous sequence of events that led to our goal.
A few of them began arguing.
"ARE YOU EVEN TRYING? YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO SAVE IT!" One of the defenders approached the goalie shouting.
"Are you kidding? Did you see that shot? What the hell was I supposed to do against that?" The goalie retaliated defending himself.
"MAYBE YOU COULD"VE STARTED BY-" The defender tried to say, but he was cut off by the loudspeaker.
"Team X, please resume play." The tone was demanding and forceful barking orders at Team X.
They lined up for kickoff and kicked it to Number 17, the one I was tracking.
KICKOFF RESTART
His first step was so light it was barely audible.
Then he burst forward.
Two of our defenders rushed to cut him off.
The first stepped up to press him, but Number 17 dipped low, body folding like liquid as he rotated with a sharp heel pivot, letting the ball glide past the defender with a silky spin. He kicked off his planted foot and spun again, this time with a full-body twist, hand brushing the turf like a dancer hitting a power move. His balance kept him anchored and smooth.
The second defender lunged much too eagerly. Number 17 chopped the ball behind him, then used a lightning-fast kip-up motion to snap himself upright, pushing past him with a low, clean dribble. Both defenders were left behind in two smooth motions.
Alright.
That's enough.
I stepped in, cutting off his angle to the goal.
He saw me, and slowed his stride just slightly.
"An Oompaloompa like you should be helping Willy Wonka with his chocolate factory not playing pretend striker..."
"Hmph, bring it on freakshow." He simply replied.
He went for a sharp inside cut.
I read it clean.
The moment he leaned forward, I mirrored his every movement. My foot darted out and pinched the ball between my heel and instep, locked it tight. He tried to yank it back with a sole drag, but I shifted my weight and twisted, letting him overcommit. His balance was good, exceptional even, but I was stronger. My core didn't budge.
I stole it clean and stepped through, shielding the ball with my body.
"Dammit, Kiyora!" someone from Team X shouted behind him.
I glanced over my shoulder once and saw him standing there, arms slack at his sides, lips pressed tight.
I didn't even say anything.
Just smiled to myself.
"Cute footwork, short stack."
"But this is my game."
I ran the ball upfield, I was going to show them just how pointless defending me even was.
First defender approached, fake right with a single stepover then chop the ball left, "Kugh!" The Team X defender grunted in frustration.
Second, he patiently waited for me to make a move.
'No problem buddy, I can do that for you.'
I kicked the ball out in front of me, stepped over with my left foot and drew him in. I brought my right foot behind me and tapped the ball from behind my left foot forward through the defender's spread legs.
The oompaloompa Kiyora stepped up now.
"Feeling a bit left out?"
I took a sharp touch forward and let the ball roll just slightly ahead of me. He thought I lost control.
That's cute.
I let my right heel drag the ball backward, like I was setting up for a standard heel-to-heel flick. But the moment he bit on the motion and shifted to block the usual follow-through, I pivoted my hips and I hooked the ball behind my planted foot, popped it with my opposite heel on a diagonal angle, then twisted my body into the rotation.
My original move, the Mirror Step.
I slid past him and the whole field was now laid out in front of me. Everyone on it was at my mercy.
I geared myself up for a shot from 20 meters out, 2 defenders moved to block my shot.
I didn't care, I knew my angle, my foot catapaulted forward towards the ball in a lighting-fast impact.
Just kidding.
In one smooth motion, I dragged my foot over the ball, opening up a separate shot angle after the 2 defenders over committed to blocking my shot.
"A fake?"
The words barely left their mouth before I struck again.
My foot met the ball with brutal precision. A low, slicing shot toward the right post, clean enough to kiss the ground as it went.
The goalie dove left.
Wrong choice.
The net rippled on the right side.
Another horn blared.
TEAM W vs TEAM X 2 – 0
Team X players were now hanging their heads and pointing fingers again.
Kurona was already jogging up beside me.
"You're making this look easy," he muttered, barely audible.
"It is easy," I replied.
I had already lost interest in this match, I had thought that maybe the other team would show some sort of spark, but I was wrong.
Lined up again.
KICKOFF RESTART
One of the other fodders on Team X got desperate.
He lunged forward, trying to charge straight through the middle like he was the main character of some underdog manga.
Kurona shut that down immediately.
"Devour, devour," he whispered like a curse under his breath.
He took the ball off him cleanly. Then he passed it to me.
We moved upfield with ease. One-two. One-two. Kurona kept pace perfectly, light on his feet, knowing exactly where I'd be before I got there.
Then I saw him.
Saramadara had drifted into an open patch of space, his body swaying slightly..
I launched a pin-point pass forward.
He didn't even flinch.
The ball snapped right to his feet, and he trapped it smoothly, letting the momentum ride through his legs, shifting his weight so casually.. His arms moved with his rhythm, giving him that weird, dancer-like balance.
A Team X player tried to close in, but Saramadara leaned with the movement and used the guy's momentum to spin around him. One sharp cut and
GOAL.
Horn blared again.
TEAM W vs TEAM X 3 – 0
"Wait. He can pass too?" one of the Team X players whined."Since when can he pass and dribble?!"
The match ended with a scoreline that read
TEAM W vs TEAM X 6 – 0
Saramadara had two.
Kurona even got one.
I finished with three.
My first match here at Blue Lock was a rousing success, was this team really apart of the most promising 18 and under strikers?
Hopefully the next match held promise.
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ADDITIONAL TIME
THIRD PERSON POV
The cafeteria was mostly empty, quiet except for the hum of overhead lights and the faint clatter of utensils.
Saramadara stood in the middle of the room barefoot, balancing on a cafeteria tray that he'd placed over two mop buckets. His arms were spread wide, knees bent slightly, body swaying with calm precision like he was riding a slow-motion wave.
Kurona passed by with a tray in hand and slowed to a stop.
"You surfing…on mop buckets?" Kurona sweatdropped.
Saramadara didn't even look at him. "Balance training. Gotta stay loose. Let the soul flow, y'know?"
Kurona stared at him, deadpan. "You're gonna break your neck."
From the back of the cafeteria, one of the janitors yelled something unintelligible. Saramadara didn't flinch. He lifted one foot and shifted his weight like he was catching a barrel.
"Big swell incoming," he whispered to no one.
One of the buckets rolled too far out. The tray tilted sharply.
"…Oh."
He crashed. Loudly. The tray clattered to the floor, tipping over a leftover bowl of soup. Saramadara hit the tile with a thud and a quiet groan.
Kurona didn't even blink. "Rough wipeout."
Saramadara, flat on his back and still grinning, exhaled. "Totally worth it."
Across the room, Hibari had been watching the whole thing from his seat. He slowly turned his head away, face blank.
"I need new teammates," he muttered.
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A/N: Long chapter for you guys so hope you enjoyed. Let me know if you have any questions and what you guys thought of the match.
I would've liked to include more, but the chapter was already so long that I didn't have much choice in the matter.
Have a blessed day everyone!
Ussylliss out