The atmosphere in the locker room was still heavy with residual tension from the first half. The sting of sweat clung to their skin, and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline lingered on their tongues. Water bottles were drained and discarded, towels lazily dragged over damp faces.
But beneath the calm facade, their hearts were still racing.
The 4-0 lead was a commanding one, but no one in Team Z was foolish enough to think it was over. Complacency was a winner's greatest weakness. No one wanted to fall down that rabbit hole.
Isagi sat with his legs stretched out, still absently rolling his ankles in slow circles to prevent stiffness. His glassy eyes remained fixed on the floor, but his mind was nowhere near the locker room.
His fingers flexed and uncurled subtly against his knees as he mentally reconstructed the field in his mind. The angles, the movement patterns, the way the opposing players had begun staggering their positioning in the last ten minutes of the half. He could still feel the sensation of cutting through them, still taste the bitter frustration in their eyes when he stripped the ball away.
The euphoria from his hat trick was still there, a faint current of satisfaction simmering beneath his skin. But Isagi wasn't satisfied. He could feel the weight of the second half looming, the faint tug in the back of his mind telling him that the next forty-five minutes would be far more brutal.
Everyone else was quiet, stewing in their own musings.
"Alright, everyone listen up." Kuon's voice rang through the locker room with a firm clap of his hands, snapping everyone's attention back to reality. The once-scattered gazes of Team Z locked onto their self-appointed strategist, who was already moving toward the center of the room.
His eyes scanned the players with an air of calm authority.
"The first half went exceedingly well for us," Kuon began, his tone even and measured. "We've shut down their strongest player, but we can't get complacent just yet. We still have another half to go through."
Kunigami, who was sitting with his elbows on his knees, straightened slightly. His sharp orange eyes narrowed in contemplation before he gave a curt nod.
"Yeah, I agree," he answered. "We should tweak our strategy a bit. We don't want them to try and predict us in the second half."
His words were logical, everyone saw reason in them. Kunigami was a powerhouse, but he wasn't a fool. He knew that momentum could shift in an instant if they became too predictable.
Chigiri, however, shook his head in disagreement, his crimson hair falling slightly into his eyes as he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. "I disagree. I think we should continue the plan as it is. It's worked perfectly so far, so there's no need to fix it."
"We have the momentum right now, but this halftime could reset it." Kunigami argued, voice unwavering. "If they come back with a new game plan, we might lose control of the flow. All I'm saying is that we should adjust our formation slightly. Shift a few players around or tweak positioning to keep them from reading us."
"Our plan hasn't broken yet, Kunigami. I don't see a reason to fix or change it. You saw how they fell apart at the end of the half, they'll be too reluctant to rely on each other to come up with an actual strategy."
Tension was thick in the room, neither of them were willing to back down from their stance.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, Isagi's voice cut through the standoff like a knife.
"I agree with you both."
The room stilled.
Kunigami and Chigiri both turned to look at him, their eyes narrowing in slight surprise. His voice was precise, each word spoken with a calculated weight that left no room for argument.
Isagi's gaze was steady, sharp but composed, revealing nothing of the lingering euphoria from earlier. He spoke resolutely, his voice calm and deliberate.
"I think for now we should continue as we are," he said evenly. "But we keep a backup plan ready." His eyes slowly shifted from Kunigami to Chigiri, making sure they were both absorbing his words. "Just in case they do manage to break through and score, as low as that chance is."
For a moment, neither player spoke.
Then, slowly, both Kunigami and Chigiri relaxed slightly. Chigiri's shoulders eased back against the bench, and Kunigami exhaled sharply through his nose, lowering his eyes with a small nod of concession.
Kuon, who had watched the exchange, felt the faintest relief settle in his chest. He briefly caught Isagi's gaze and gave him a subtle nod of gratitude—thankful for defusing the argument before it could escalate.
With the room settling, Kuon turned back toward the group, exhaling slowly. He clapped his hands again, drawing everyone's focus back.
"Right now, we have the lead thanks to Isagi, so we should work to extend it. We're pretty balanced when it comes to our formation, so I think we should make the next one more attack oriented. For this plan, we'll be moving some players around."
Excited whispers came out of the other members, but Kuon cleared his throat to stifle them. "For this formation, I think a 3-5-2 attacking would be best, so I'll re-organize the positioning again."
"Isagi is still going to be center forward. He's scored the most goals out of all of us so far, so there's no reason for him to be brought back." He announced without hesitation. His eyes met Isagi's briefly, no room for question in his tone. That was fine, Isagi didn't want any other position anyway. "But we'll be replacing Bachira with Kunigami. Kunigami, you'll be moving to the right center forward. Your left foot's shooting power will maximize our shooting strength and threat level."
Kunigami's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a firm nod, already rolling his shoulders as he absorbed the change.
"Bachira," Kuon continued, shifting his gaze, "you'll be going right midfielder instead. Your dribbling ability is perfect for breaking through their defensive lines. Use it to draw in the defenders and create gaps we can exploit."
Bachira's golden eyes gleamed slightly, a faint, mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hehe… sounds fun,"
"Kira and Chigiri, no changes. You'll both be keeping the same positions as in the first half."
Chigiri gave a faint nod, the crimson strands of his hair clinging to his forehead. Kira gave a thumbs up. "Sounds good."
"Raichi, you're moving to left midfield. We'll need your stamina and aggression to control the center pitch. Don't hold back."
Raichi's lips slowly curled into a sharp, almost feral grin. "Tch, fine by me."
"Naruhaya," Kuon shifted his gaze, "you'll be going right wing. I want you constantly pressing their flank, no matter what."
"Got it".
"Iemon and Igaguri, you'll be the right and left backs, respectively," Kuon said, his voice steady. "And Gagamaru, you're staying in goal. We'll need your reflexes to block Barou's shots."
"Okay…"
"Finally, I'll be playing the center back position. If the ball comes by me, I'll be able to clear it up to you guys easily. Any questions?"
"I have a question!"
Bachira's voice rang out suddenly, cutting through the low murmurs. His golden eyes were wide with mock seriousness, his face wearing an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression.
"If I nutmeg Barou twice in a row, do I get a bonus point?"
For a brief second, the room was dead silent.
"Snk-" A soft snort escaped from Chigiri, who shook his head lightly, running his fingers through his damp crimson bangs
A grin tugged at Kunigami's lips, and Naruhaya let out a laugh. Even Raichi's scowl twitched at the corner of his mouth, betraying it to form a smirk.
Bachira beamed, clearly pleased with himself, but his eyes flicked toward Isagi. The playful grin on his face didn't reach his eyes, but rather foretold devastating catastrophe.
"What do you think, Isagi?" Bachira's voice dropped slightly, his grin sharpening into a teasing smirk. "Bonus points for humiliating the King?"
Isagi's eyes slowly shifted toward him, his face completely blank for a moment. His dark irises were cold and steady, but the faintest flicker of something cruel tugged at the corner of his lips.
He exhaled softly, standing up to walk to the door.
"You can have all the bonus points you want, Bachira." He let the words hang for a second, his eyes half-lidded but sharp. "As long as we bury them, nothing else matters."
For a brief moment, Bachira's grin widened, the glimmer in his eyes darkening with feral delight.
"Hehe… sounds like a deal to me."
With that said, he followed Isagi out the door, leaving the other nine to stare at them.
"I think those two might be insane. There's no way they are normal at all."
"We just saw Isagi tweaking out on the field. How did you not notice that until now?"
—
Team Z returned to the field, settling into their familiar 4-4-2 formation. The artificial turf stretched out beneath them, still cool under the facility's sterile lighting. The sharp scent of rubber and freshly cleaned turf clung faintly to the air. Though they carried the comfort of a lead, none of them dared to relax. The 3-5-2 attack formation remained tucked away as an ace up their sleeve, a hidden blade they'd only reveal if absolutely necessary. If Team X kept floundering, they could save it for the next match and leave their future opponents guessing. But if the tide shifted, they'd be ready to strike with something fresh.
Isagi stood near the centerline, his hands resting lightly on his hips as he stared across the field. His legs were still loose from the first half, but he bounced subtly on the balls of his feet, keeping himself primed. His sharp eyes scanned the empty half of the pitch, calm and calculating.
Kira strolled up beside him, stretching his arms overhead with a casual grunt. He peered toward the tunnel, where Team X was supposed to emerge. After a few seconds of stillness, he let out a low hum.
"Hmm… They're not out yet, huh?" He asked, his eyes narrowing slightly at the vacant doorway. "Think they're still preparing a strategy?"
Isagi didn't turn his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the tunnel. "No way they're not. The full length of halftime isn't over yet. We finished early, so it makes sense why they're not ready."
"Just making sure. So, what do you think of Blue Lock? I had some doubts about it before, but these two days we've been here have been pretty fun."
Before Isagi could respond, the sharp buzz of the halftime buzzer rang through the facility, reverberating against the steel and concrete. The sound echoed faintly, bouncing off the walls in the otherwise silent space.
As the corridor doors hissed open, Team X finally appeared. When Isagi got a good look at them, he grinned again. 'Looks like they're still feeling it.'
Their faces, once filled with competitive fire, were now a grim canvas of raw emotion. Some wore scowls of frustration, their jaws clenched so tightly that the faint tick of muscle was visible beneath their skin. Their eyes burned with resentment. Not just toward their opponents, but toward their own teammates as well. Their glares were hard and bitter, directed aimlessly at the ground or at nothing at all.
Others were seething with rage, their eyes dark and wild, barely masking the fury simmering beneath the surface. Their hands twitched faintly, fingers clenching and flexing in restless agitation, as though desperate to lash out at something, anything, to release the fury bubbling in their chests.
But among them, some stared ahead with vacant, hollow gazes, the dull glimmer of defeat draining the light from their eyes. Their steps were slow, their movements almost mechanical, as if their bodies were still going through the motions while their spirits had already given up. Their faces were stiff and unreadable, expressionless masks concealing the numbness they felt.
And then there were those whose eyes were wide, darting subtly to the sides, as though searching for an escape that didn't exist. The unmistakable glint of fear lingered in their pupils. Small, fleeting flashes of vulnerability they couldn't fully suppress. Their hands flexed faintly at their sides, uncertain and uneasy. Some swallowed thickly, the faint bob of their throats betraying their nerves.
Despair clung to them all, silent and heavy, weighing down their movements. They wore their brokenness openly, unable to mask the collective crack in their morale. Though none of them spoke, the truth was painted clearly on their faces.
Most had already given up
Their steps were heavy. The defeated slump in their shoulders was impossible to miss. The once confident strides they carried into the first half were now sluggish and uncertain, weighed down by their burdens
"Yikes…" Bachira's voice came from somewhere off to the side, a low chuckle slipping through his teeth. "They look miserable. You guys think Mr. Kingy yelled at them during the break?"
Kunigami, arms crossed over his chest, stared flatly at the approaching team. He quickly answered. "Nah. If anything, he probably just sat there and glared at them the whole time."
"That sounds scary~. I wouldn't want to be those guys either if that's the case."
Chigiri walked up to them, tying his long hair into a bun. He was also looking at team X, staring at their despondent faces with seriousness. "Scary or not, we can't afford to underestimate them. Don't let your guard down."
The faintest glimmer of amusement flickered in Bachira's eyes. He glanced over at Chigiri, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Aw, c'mon, princess~. Let me enjoy this a little."
"Save it for after we win."
At the front of Team X's formation, Barou Shoei walked with slow, deliberate steps. His cleats clapped lightly against the turf with each measured stride. Unlike the rest of his team, he didn't look defeated at all. His shoulders were squared, his posture firm and upright. The tension in his arms was evident, his fingers flexing faintly at his sides. His jaw was set, lips pressed into a firm line. The amber irises glowed with a quiet, simmering heat. His gaze was sharp, narrow, and unwavering. There was no cocky smirk on his face this time, no mocking gleam in his eyes. Just unbridled wrath.
As much as Isagi hated to admit it, he had to admit that Barou's ego was strong.
For a fleeting moment, neither of them moved. Their gazes clashed across the field, a silent exchange that neither of them flinched from.
"Looks like he's still pissed." Kira said, nudging Isagi with his elbow. "Think he's gunning for you?"
"There's no way he's not. That beat down I gave him must have done a number on his ego. There's no doubt in my mind that he'll be more dangerous this half."
The sharp buzz of the whistle cut through the air once more, followed by the flat chime, signalling a message, crackling through the overhead speakers. "All players, please move to your positions. Failure to comply will result in a penalty."
"Positions!" Kuon barked sharply, clapping his hands once to gather the team's focus. His voice cut cleanly through the faint murmurs on the field. "We're in the lead, so stay sharp. Don't give them an inch."
Chigiri crouched slightly in his stance, his eyes narrowed, his weight shifting slightly between his legs as he prepared. Bachira rolled his shoulders, his lips twitching slightly with anticipation. His fingers flexed and uncurled absently at his sides, his grin lingering. Kunigami let out a slow breath, his frame subtly tensing, clenching his fists briefly at his sides before relaxing.
Igaguri was shivering on the side, but no one really cared.
Barou stood at the ready, his feet planted firmly, his knees subtly bent. His hands remained loose at his sides, but his fingers twitched faintly with restless energy. His golden eyes stayed locked on Isagi.
Bachira stood at the center line, foot placed right on top of the ball. His posture was mockingly casual, as though this were a practice match and not a deathmatch, but none of team Z bothered to stop him. At the rate they were going, it might as well have been a scrimmage.
"You ready Isagi?"
"Whenever you are."
The sharp blast of the whistle pierced the stale, artificial air, signaling the start of the second half. Without hesitation, Bachira flicked the ball back to Raichi, who immediately charged forward with hungry, determined strides. His cleats bit into the turf with each step as he scanned the field, his eyes flicking from left to right, searching for an opening. But Team X's defense was tighter this time, closing the passing lanes with dogged desperation. Every option was blocked, their defenders clinging to their marks like leeches, suffocating the space.
"Tch… Damn it," Raichi growled under his breath, his teeth clenching as his narrowed eyes tracked the cluster of defenders cutting off his passing angles. With no clear outlet, he gritted his teeth and pressed on, forcing his way up the pitch.
"Raichi, pass it back real quick!" Kuon's voice cut through the field, sharp and commanding.
Raichi's eyes flicked back toward his teammate, scowling when he spotted Barou sprinting toward him like a charging beast. The sight of the looming striker, eyes burning with predatory intensity, sent a jolt of urgency through him. His gut twisted, knowing he couldn't afford to get caught in Barou's crosshairs.
"Fine! Make sure you don't lose it, Kuon!" he barked through clenched teeth, firing the ball back with a sharp, controlled pass. It wasn't a bullet, just clean and accurate, perfectly timed for Kuon to make his move.
Kuon's eyes narrowed with focus. During the buildup, he had spotted a sliver of open space just ahead, where Kunigami lingered. The defender marking him was slightly out of position. Not enough to notice, but just enough to exploit. With no hesitation, Kuon punted the ball with a firm, controlled strike, sending it rocketing into the vacant pocket.
Kunigami's brows flinched as he recognized the intent. Without breaking stride, he exploded into motion, his muscular legs propelling him forward with long, powerful strides. His cleats dug into the turf as he dashed into the opening, leaving the confused defender stumbling in his wake. He reached the ball easily, controlling it with a swift touch. The space around him was wide and unchallenged, giving him the freedom to plot his next move.
But he was still 45 meters away from the goal, far beyond his shooting range. He clicked his tongue softly, realizing he had no clear shot.
"For you, Kira!" Kunigami called out sharply.
Further up the field, Kira turned his head sharply at the sound of his name. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted the ball racing toward him. But his moment of relief was immediately cut short by the two defenders breathing down his neck, their footsteps pounding behind him with menacing intent.
His mind raced, eyes flickering between the ball and the defenders. 'Shit… I can't trap it.' His teeth grit. 'If I try, they'll close in and steal it. But there's no one open for me to pa–'
"OVER HERE, KIRA! ONE TOUCH IT!!"
The sharp cry came from his right, cutting through his thoughts like a knife. His eyes snapped toward the voice.
Isagi.
The striker was tearing across the pitch, his figure a blur of speed and precision. He had slipped behind Kira's back, using him as a temporary screen to shake his own mark. His tone held no hesitation in it, the certainty was unshakable.
Kira's eyes widened slightly, but instinct took over. His body moved before his mind could process the command. With a quick pivot, he redirected the ball with the inside of his foot, lobbing it cleanly over the heads of the closing defenders. It was a fluid, perfect touch, timed beautifully with pinpoint accuracy.
The ball arced gracefully through the air, descending like a gift on a silver platter right at Isagi's feet.
Isagi's lips curled into a smirk, feeling the familiar rush surge through him. He could already see the play unfolding in his mind, his plan coming to fruition. Still, it wasn't done. He needed to re-check the variables in order to be absolutely certain. His eyes cut toward the goal, quickly calculating the distance between him and it.
'25 meters,' He narrowed his eyes slightly. 'It's a risk, but it might be doable.'
He didn't waste time trapping the ball. That would invite the defenders to close in and swarm him. Instead, he spotted the perfect option.
Just inside the box, Bachira was cutting through, already flanked by two defenders, their eyes locked onto him. Without a moment's hesitation, Isagi swung his leg through the ball ruthlessly, landing at the optimal striking zone for a volley, driving it with snapping force.
The ball screamed across the field, racing across the field like a blistering bullet. Its velocity was nearly impossible to intercept, a shot most players wouldn't even think to trap. But Bachira was no ordinary player.
His golden eyes glimmered with exhilaration, a wild grin stretching across his face as he recognized the challenge. His feet left the ground in a swift, fluid leap, his body twisting slightly in midair. With a sharp puff of his chest, he was ready to meet the ball with a clean, flawless trap. The defenders lept as well, ready to interfere with the pass,
But in that split second, everyone was caught off guard, both players and spectators (Ego and Anri) alike. Bachira's eyes widened as he realized too late that the ball wasn't dipping.
"Wha—?" One of the defenders stuttered, their eyes snapping upward.
Bachira's grin faltered slightly, his breath catching. The ball wasn't meant for him, not at all.
It was meant for the goal.
The ball rocketed past him, whistling in the space above him and the defenders. The shot had been a clever deception, aimed not for the box, but for the net itself.
Hikigaya, Team X's goalkeeper, didn't have time to react. His eyes widened in stunned horror, his arms jerking upward too late. He couldn't react anymore as the ball slammed into the back of the net with a sharp, violent snap, sending the mesh rippling in defeat.
For a moment, silence clung to the field, the only sound the faint rustle of the net settling from the force of the strike.
The scoreboard ticked up by one.
Team X 0 - 5 Team Z
Team X's defenders stood frozen, their expressions blank with disbelief. Their eyes flicked between the goal and the now-motionless ball at the back of the net. Some stared in shock, their arms still slightly outstretched from their failed interception. Others slowly lowered their heads, their shoulders slumping with despair.
The goalkeeper didn't move. He simply stared at the net, his hands trembling faintly at his sides, his eyes wide and empty. His breathing came in shallow bursts, his lips parting slightly in numb disbelief.
And on the other side of the box, Isagi stood tall, his chest rising and falling steadily, staring wide eyed at his goal. No one moved for even a second. Not team X. Not Barou. Not Bachira. Not Isagi.
No one. Not a single soul.
Until, someone did.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!"
Isagi roared with all his might, tearing the heavens asunder with its vehemence. It tore through the air with the intensity of a thunderclap, echoing off the walls and shaking the ground beneath him. Isagi's arms shot into the air, fists clenched, as he threw his head back, curling backwards and releasing the fire burning in his soul.
The players of Team Z could only look on for a split second before they too were swept up in the wave of Isagi's joy. Bachira was the first to react, a wide grin spreading across his face as he launched himself at Isagi.
"YEAH, ISAGI!!!" Bachira shouted, his voice a high-pitched blend of excitement and disbelief as he grabbed Isagi in a bear hug, spinning him around. "That was insane, man! What the hell! You totally scored like a total egoist!"
"Hell yeah!" Kunigami's deep voice joined in as he raced toward Isagi, pulling him into a high-five so strong it almost knocked him off his feet. "What a shot! You fooled everyone of those defenders!"
From behind, Raichi smirked as he jogged over, slapping Isagi on the back with a hearty laugh. "SHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! You're on fire today, man! Leave some goals for the rest of us!"
While Team Z was swept up in a wave of euphoria, their voices raised in triumphant laughter, Team X stood in stark, harrowing contrast to them, a collection of shattered souls waiting for the reaper.
The roars of celebration from their opponents were like mocking echoes, twisting the knife deeper into the raw wounds of their crumbling pride. The once proud strikers, ranked among Japan's top 300, were now hollowed shells, drained of confidence and clinging to the last scraps of their resolve.
They stood frozen, their limbs heavy with defeat, eyes glassy and unfocused. They barely noticed the sweat dripping down their faces, clinging to their jerseys, because all they could feel was the suffocating weight of failure. Their legs trembled slightly, not from exertion, but from the creeping dread of what was to come.
Others weren't nearly as still. Anger and frustration roiled beneath their skin, boiling over into small, violent outbursts.
"FUCK!" Hinomori snarled, his voice raw as he collapsed and slammed his fist on the ground. His fingers curled into trembling fists, knuckles bone-white. "Why the hell are we losing like this?!"
Another player, Sakurai's, face contorted in a grimace of bitter disbelief, clutched at his hair, his fingers tangling in the damp strands as he stared at the grass. His voice was hardly even there, cracking with despair and terror. "We can't beat them… Our dreams are ruined…"
One of the defenders, his jaw tight with fury, stormed toward the touchline, unable to stay still. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders rising and falling sharply. "We're being made fools of, man!" he yelled, dripping venom with each syllable. His eyes burned with humiliation. "Like we're fucking amateurs!"
But while they despaired, Shoei Barou refused to crumble, he stood at the epicenter of their chaos, his presence looming like a storm cloud over the broken remnants of Team X.
He was stone-still, his massive frame rigid with tension, his eyes locked onto Isagi with a murderous glare. His clenched jaw twitched, the muscle in his temple flexing violently. His fists were trembling with barely-contained rage. His breathing was slow, steady, and measured, but his chest rose and fell with a dangerous calm, the kind that came before an explosion.
The celebration happening across the field fanned the flames of his fury, their joy like salt poured onto an open wound. His teeth ground together, jaw aching from the pressure.
"I'll show them," Barou's snarled, thick with venom. His voice barely above a whisper, but the strength behind it might as well have been a roar. His teammates flinched at the sound of it. "I'll show them what happens when you make a fool out of me, I swear it!"
Koba took a step toward Barou, his face still twisted with frustration, but his voice laced with desperation. "Barou… What the hell do we do?" His voice cracked slightly, the hopelessness seeping through. "They're walking all over us."
Barou's glare snapped toward him, a sudden, vicious movement. His eyes, once fierce with predatory focus, were now black pits of fury, piercing into the player with such malignant intensity that he took an instinctive step back.
"You want me to tell you what to do?" Barou's voice was low and cold, sharper than a honed blade. His lips curled into a snarl, his teeth bared like a beast's. "You pathetic coward. You're already looking for someone else to carry you? You make me sick."
The player's mouth opened slightly, but he couldn't find a response. His throat bobbed with a dry swallow, and he took another step back, his hands clenched into shaking fists.
Barou's eyes narrowed, his voice turning colder, harsher. "You all make me sick." He let his gaze sweep over his teammates, his expression filled with disdain. "Cowering, whining, and waiting for someone else to save you. That's why you're nothing but slaves."
The silence that followed was stifling, so heavy it felt like the air itself was pressing down on them, suffocating them with its weight.
Hinomori's face twisted with desperate frustration, glared back at Barou with a vengeance. His voice was hoarse, shaking with anger. "Shut the hell up, Barou! You think you're better than the rest of us?! You're losing too! You really think that we can beat them when we can't even handle number eleven?!" His voice cracked slightly at the end, exposing the raw emotion behind it. "Fuck man, we're about to lose our dream! We're getting crushed out here and you're not even giving a damn! Don't you understand?! If we're kicked out of Blue Lock, you're going with us too!"
Barou's eyes narrowed dangerously, his face twisting into a snarl. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his massive frame looming over the player, a dark, towering shadow of feral malice.
"No, you moron, I'm not" he hissed, seething with wrathful condescension. His eyes were merciless, unflinching. "I'm better than you peasants. You said earlier that the top goal scorer on each losing team will get to advance, so I'm not the one that's going to be kicked out of this place. I'm destined to score more goals than you lot, because I'm the king of the field."
The player gritted his teeth, his hands trembling at his sides, but he didn't dare move. No one did. They all knew that Barou was telling the truth. He established his dominance during the trial, so they knew better than anyone that he was better than them.
The rest of Team X stayed silent, their gazes lowered thanks to their fear and shame. The weight of Barou's fury was a tangible force, making the space around them feel thick with hostility.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the distant, mocking celebration of Team Z still roaring in the background.
Barou's lip curled back slightly, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl. His eyes, still locked onto his teammate, were filled with nothing but scorn.
"You can roll over and die if you want," he spat, his tone low and guttural. His hand clenched into a trembling fist, veins popping along his forearm. "But I'm not going to lower my head to the likes of them. Not now. Not ever."
With that, he turned away from them, his cold fury simmering beneath the surface. His eyes once again locked onto Isagi, the memory of the goal still searing in his mind. His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight.
"I swear, I'm going to crush you no matter what."
The game restarted swiftly, the sharp buzz of the automated message still faint in the background as Team X immediately seized possession of the ball. Their movements were jittery but determined, raw desperation driving them forward. The humiliation of Isagi's goal still clawed at their psyche, tormenting them with visions of shattered dreams. The only thing on their minds was striking back, no matter what.
The X players fell into a frenzied rhythm, exchanging quick and frantic passes with none of the fluid grace of a coordinated team. Their touches were rough thanks to their panic, but their objective was clear. Get the ball to Barou. The field itself seemed to tilt in their direction, each pass a small sacrifice to feed the beast.
"Go, go, go!" One player barked sharply, the strain clear in his voice as he sent a low, hard pass cutting across the grass.
Another X player, his face tight with nervous concentration, sprinted onto it, his cleats scraping violently against the turf as he redirected it with a hurried one-touch pass, barely escaping the surprising speed of Hyoma Chigiri. His eyes didn't even glance at the defender closing in. He was already focused on one thing—where Barou was.
Isagi took note of Chigiri's speed, made a mental note to talk to him about it later.
Barou surged forward from the left flank with terrifying speed, his powerful strides carving through the field with feral determination. Long, muscular legs propelled him forward, his arms pumping violently at his sides. Grass and dirt kicked up in his wake, clumps of turf torn free beneath his cleats as though the earth itself was struggling to hold him back.
But once again, Kunigami was on him like a vice.
The red-haired powerhouse was right there, locked onto Barou with hawk-like precision, his focus at its highest. He was shadowing him closely, their shoulders bumping with each step. Kunigami's broad frame moved in perfect rhythm with Barou's, giving him no room to breathe.
"You're not getting the ball again, scum," Kunigami growled. His golden eyes narrowed, unwavering as he matched Barou stride for stride. "I'm the hero who's going to stop you."
Barou's teeth ground together, his lips pulling back into a feral snarl. He could feel Kunigami's presence at his side, a constant obstruction, suffocating his space.
"Get the hell off me!"
"Not happening."
Kunigami's shoulder slammed against Barou, knocking him off balance to slow his momentum, just enough to make losing him by turning or accelerating impossible.
Barou's eyes flashed with fury, and his muscles coiled like springs. He thrashed his arm violently in a bid to break free, holding the orange haired player back. With a sharp jerk of his body, he suddenly shoulder checked Kunigami, slamming into him with a burst of raw strength.
Kunigami grunted but didn't budge.
"Tch… stubborn bastard," Barou spat through gritted teeth. Through wide eyes he searched for an opening, searching for a crack in the defense for him to exploit.
He spotted it.
With a sudden burst of acceleration, Barou cut sharply to the right, making Kunigami's weight shift slightly in that direction. It was a fake-out, a feint designed to exploit the slightest moment of imbalance.
"Shit!" Kunigami hissed, realizing too late.
Barou instantly pivoted back left, shoving off Kunigami's hip with his free arm and creating a meter of separation.
The ball came sailing in at the perfect moment, spinning low and hard across the grass.
"BAROU!".
Barou's gaze locked onto it, his pupils narrowing with predatory focus. His foot snapped out, stopping it dead with a perfect trap. The moment it settled against his cleat, he was already in motion, his movements relentless and fluid, like a predator seizing its kill.
Kunigami lunged to recover, but Barou was already cutting inside, using his powerful frame to shield the ball.
"Bastard, move!" Kunigami barked, gritting his teeth as he tried to shove his way back into position, but Barou mercilessly prevented it. Without missing a beat, he executed a flawless Cruyff turn, rolling the ball backward with his instep while spinning his body away from Kunigami in one smooth motion.
"Damn it!" Kunigami cursed as he stumbled slightly, losing his footing for a split second—just enough for Barou to explode forward.
Now with space to breathe, Barou pushed off the grass violently, surging into a full sprint. Two defenders rushed in from the sides, trying to trap him, but he was already moving too fast.
"Out of my way." His voice was low, almost a snarl, as he cut between them with brutal precision, shoulder-checking one and slipping past the other with a sharp sidestep.
The field seemed to stretch open before him, and in a matter of heartbeats, Barou was at the edge of the penalty box. His eyes narrowed, tensing his muscles in preparation for his shot.
With a powerful swing of his foot, he unleashed a cannon of a shot, rocketing the ball off his boot with a terrifying explosive force. The sound of the strike was sharp, a violent crack similar to a whip tearing through the pitch.
Gagamaru honed his focus watching the ball sail towards him with unwavering concentration. This would be his first play in the game, but he was ready for it.
In a flash of speed, he launched himself sideways, his long and wiry frame stretching to its full length as he contorted mid air. His palm met the ball, and in a fluid motion, he redirected it with a slap, sending it careening wide of the post.
The ball thudded into the side, immediately received by Naruhaya.
"WHAT?!" Barou yelled, his shock verbally being portrayed. He couldn't believe that his shot was blocked, especially by a striker playing goalkeeper.
Gagamaru didn't dwell. With a quick look, he hurled the soccer ball, which he got after Naruhaya messed up and lost the ball again, down the pitch, reaching Raichi within seconds. A smooth touch was all it took to control the ball, and Raichi was sprinting down the field in no time.
"SHAHAHAHAHA!! It's time to show off my sexy soccer!" Raichi's booming laughter echoed across the field as he exploded into a full sprint, his legs pumping with wild intensity. The blonde-haired midfielder for Team X, Sakurai, immediately reacted, shifting into a low defensive stance, ready to intercept.
"You're not getting through, freak!" Sakurai spat, his voice taut with frustration, sweat streaking down his brow.
But Raichi's grin only widened, his teeth bared in a feral smirk.
"Tch! You think you can stop me?!"
From the right flank, Kunigami came charging in, his orange hair whipping back in the wind as he powered alongside Raichi, pointing toward the open space ahead.
"Raichi! Pass it here!" Kunigami's voice was clear and commanding, his hand slashing downward in a sharp motion, signaling for the ball. His golden eyes were intense and expectant, already anticipating the next play.
But Raichi barely spared him a glance.
"Hah! Not now, Kunigami!" Raichi snapped, his voice dripping with arrogance as he kept driving forward, his eyes flashing with stubborn defiance. "I'm gonna score the goal this time! Watch my sexy soccer!"
Kunigami's brows furrowed, irritation crossing his face.
"Dumbass…" he muttered, but he didn't slow down, keeping pace, just in case Raichi came to his senses.
As Sakurai closed in, Raichi grinned tauntingly wider. With a sharp flick of his ankle, he cut right, deliberately drawing Sakurai with him. The midfielder mirrored the movement, his eyes narrowing as he lunged to block.
"Too slow, bastard!".
In a swift, fluid motion, Raichi rolled the ball back to his left foot, executing a clean bell movement, seamlessly transitioning to the opposite side. His body moved with natural confidence, like he was dancing over the grass, already anticipating the path he was about to carve through the defense.
'Oh yeah, that's what you call sexy soccer…'
But before he could celebrate any further, Sakurai's cleat slammed into the ball, snapping it away with a sharp deflection.
"Hah! Got you!" Sakurai barked triumphantly, his eyes flashing with vindictive satisfaction as he felt the ball slip from Raichi's grasp. For a heartbeat, Raichi froze, his eyes widening. His grin vanished instantly, replaced with a look of stunned disbelief. Unable to catch himself, he was forced to skid on the turf. He was caught off guard. By the time he got up, the ball was already beyond his reach.
"Wha—?!" His voice caught in his throat, his brain scrambling to process the sudden loss. A flash of pure frustration slammed through him after it was processed.
"Shit!!" he roared, his voice thick with rage, already turning sharply and lunging toward Sakurai, his arms pumping as he sprinted after the ball with reckless abandon. Unfortunately, Sakurai was already moving, smoothly redirecting it out of range, keeping it just out of Raichi's reach, and sped down the pitch.
Raichi's teeth ground together, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, feeling the blaze of anger
"No way in hell you're taking that from me, you bastard!" he bellowed, pushing forward to the ball with unyielding aggression. He was unwilling to allow his mistake to cost the team their five point lead, and he used that as motivation to continue chasing.
As Sakurai sprinted up the field, both team Z and team X chased after him, trying to steal the ball for themselves. For team X, it was so they could score the goal themselves, while team Z aimed to clear it away.
The midfielder felt all of this, all of the pressure being placed on his back. He was sprinting to the goal, but with Kuon and Iemon in front of him, on top of his building anxiety from the pressure on him, it only spelled disaster.
'I've got to shoot!' His thoughts came out shaky, all confidence devoid within him. 'I can't let my dream go to waste! I have to score I have to score I HAVE TO SCO–'
BAM
The thick, meaty thud of impact echoed sharply across the field as Sakurai's legs buckled beneath him. His body lurched sideways, thrown off balance by the sudden clash, and before he could even register what was happening, he was slammed into the turf. The air knocked itself from his lungs in a sharp gasp, skidding across the grass before coming to an abrupt stop.
For a brief moment, everything blurred. The roof above him was a hazy smear, and his ears rang faintly. His hands scrambled against the grass, trembling slightly as he tried to push himself up, his mind already scrambling for the ball.
"Wh-Where—?!" he rasped, his voice hoarse and disoriented. His eyes darted frantically in search of the ball. He clawed at the dirt, driven by desperation and disbelief, convinced he could still reach it, that he could still score if he just moved fast enough. It wasn't to be, however, because when he did find the ball…
"Namusan."
The buzzer prevented him from doing anything.
BZZZ "Foul. Number 52, Hinoshimo Sakurai. Free kick awarded to Team Z."
The words slammed into Sakurai like a hammer to the chest.
For a brief moment, he was motionless, his breath frozen in his throat. His eyes widened in disbelief, the sharp bite of humiliation choking him. His fingers, still dug into the grass, tightened into trembling fists, his knuckles turning white with tension.
"No…" He rasped, unbelieving of the call.
"No! No, no, no! That's bullshit!!"
He slammed his fist into the ground, shaking with anger. The impact of the slam snapped through the turf, giving him a jolt of aching pain, but it did nothing to quell his rage.
"Hahaha! Hail the three treasures, my team!" The brash voice of Igaguri called out to everyone. Laying on the ground, the not wanting to be monk smirked with malicious delight, slowly getting up from his collision. "This is what happens when you mess with my Malicia!"
"Nice job, Igaguri!"
Everyone swarmed around the shaven haired boy, complimenting him for drawing in the foul. Kuon was sure he would have been able to steal the ball, but this free kick brought forth the perfect counter opportunity.
Meanwhile, Sakurai was once again feeling panic. The weight of his teammates' stares bore holes into his back, tearing through him like knives with every second. They were all angry, the possibility of their dreams being crushed was soon becoming reality. All of them felt the intensity of the game, the consequences of what would happen should they fail.
Kuon stood by the ball, gazing over the field with his keen eyes. He took notice of all of the players' positions, who was open and who was not, and calculated the best play. All of team Z was congested low, drawing all of the players on team X closer to them. It left the back line open, which was being guarded by the defenders marking Isagi and Bachira.
The whistle from the buzzer signalled the continuation of the game, and by then Kuon had made up his mind. Between the two center forwards, it was a no-brainer which one he would pick.
With a solid impact, the ball went straight to Isagi, who was running towards it with three defenders behind him. It was a little too short, but the striker adapted to it easily. He made a step to the left, making it seem that he was going to sprint there. The defenders followed suit, helpless to their instincts. It proved to be their undoing, because their ankles gave out on them the moment Isagi switched directions, just in time for the ball to reach him.
One defender had remained upright, steady from the ankle breaking movements of Isagi Yoichi. The ball was obscured from his vision, but he was confident that he would claim the possession. When Isagi moved right, it gave him a glimpse of the ball heading towards him. He smirked arrogantly.
'Heh, you idiot. You think I wouldn't see the ball? You're underestimating me too much!'
He went in to take a touch on the ball, but moments before he reached it, Isagi was well behind him, the ball cruising through the air to crisply land a few feet to the side in front of him.
"WHAT THE FU-" The defender's jaw dropped, trying to figure out how the raven haired teen managed to disappear from his eyes yet again.
'Thanks for the idea, Sae.'
See, there was a reason for this. After practicing with Sae Itoshi, he noted that one of the midfielder's favorite moves was a mid air heel flick into a sprint. He studied it afterwards, replaying highlights of the Itoshi pulling the same move on other players over and over again. He kept that in his database, his mind subconsciously analyzing and breaking down the move to its minute detail. The timing of the flick, the angle of his heel, the strength that was used, all of it was broken down and ripped to pieces for Isagi to absorb.
It was what gave him the guts to pull this off, a gutsy volley heel flick self pass that gave no room for interception. It was hardly perfect, its execution made in the heat of the moment, but against these fodders it was more than enough.
When the ball came to him, while it was still in motion, Isagi used his left heel to redirect the ball's direction, sending it back up to ascend over the defender's head. After that, it was a matter of Isagi lowering his presence and incredibly explosive speed to get past him. It was simple but elegant. A move truly worthy of its predecessor, the version that the Field General of the "New Gen 11" holds.
With all the defenders left behind, it was an easy counter for team Z. There was no contesting the shot that came next, and Isagi once again slotted himself another goal.
Team X 0 - 6 Team Z
There was no celebrating this time. The goal was way too easy for him to get excited over. With a quiet sigh, Isagi jogged back to his side of the field, where his teammates waited with a smile. Bumping fists with Bachira, he looked downcast at team X.
"This game is getting kind of boring, don't you think?"
"Well, with you scoring all the goals, of course it's getting boring."
"No, not like that. Look at them." Gesturing to team X, Isagi looked at them apathetically. "They're out of fighting spirit. They won't be doing anything relevant for the rest of the match. The only one who's still putting up a fight is Barou."
Indeed, team X was out of spirit. The sixth goal scored on them cemented it. The players of Team X were crumpled in disarray, their spirits completely drained. Hands clutched their knees, heads bowed low, their backs curved with exhaustion and despair. Some stood motionless, shoulders sagging, while others dragged themselves slowly back into position sluggishly. Their eyes were vacant, devoid of any fire. Only fifteen minutes remained in the half, and with the way things were going, it would be impossible to muster up a comeback.
'Still though, it seems Barou isn't done yet.'.
While the rest of Team X sagged and slumped, Barou remained upright, his broad frame rigid and tense. His body practically vibrated with fury, fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had turned bone white. His jaw was taut, and the veins on his neck and forearms bulged with strain, as if he were barely containing his rage. A suffocating pressure radiated from him, his presence tangible to everyone, like a storm cloud ready to burst open with violence.
As much as Isagi hated it, his respect for the thuggish striker rose a few notches.
"Well, it's not like it's going to change much, you know~. We're still destroying them, so it's only a matter of how many goals we score by the end of it."
Isagi chuckled, finding amusement in Bachira's quip. "Fair enough. I'll still be grabbing those goals for myself though."
"Egoist."
In the end, the game ended with a pitiful whimper. With no drive left within them, team X couldn't maintain control of the ball for very long, and their defense was rendered even more useless than before.
FWEEEET
FULL TIME:
Team X 0 - 9 Team Z
Isagi
Isagi
Bachira
Isagi
Isagi
Isagi
Kunigami
Isagi
Bachira
With no opposition left to hinder them, the match devolved into a clinical showcase of Team Z's superiority. What had once been a fierce, desperate competition was now nothing more than a soulless exhibition of skill. Team X, reduced to little more than training dummies, moved sluggishly across the pitch. Their legs were heavy, their eyes blank, and their bodies barely responsive. They no longer fought. They merely existed for the evolution of their opponent.
Kunigami struck first. The moment he had received a crisp lateral pass near midfield, he surged forward with powerful, determined strides. His broad frame cut through the open space with commanding presence, his eyes locked on the path ahead. He drove his legs harder with each step, ignoring the heavy breath of a sluggish defender trailing behind him.
At the thirty-five-meter mark, he slowed only slightly, steadying himself. With practiced precision, he planted his foot and swung through the ball with a full-force strike. His entire frame torqued into the shot, the muscles in his thighs and calves tightening like coiled springs. The ball shot forward in a blazing line, slicing through the air with a violent hiss. It roared past the few defenders still moving, far beyond their reach, and screamed toward the upper corner. The goalkeeper didn't move. The ball slammed into the top corner with a sharp, resounding crack, ricocheting off the inside post before snapping into the net.
Then came Isagi. The moment Team X attempted to regain possession, he pounced. Reading the passing lane before the ball even left the opposing midfielder's foot, he had intercepted it with a perfectly timed cut, trapping it cleanly with a soft touch. Without breaking stride, he turned, eyes already locked onto his next move. He spotted Kunigami streaking down the left flank and sent a blistering through-ball his way. But Isagi didn't slow down. Instead, he followed his own pass, streaking toward the box like a predator closing in for the kill.
Kunigami, having sensed Isagi's intent, caught the pass and immediately whipped a low, driving cross into the box without hesitation. The ball streaked toward the center, spinning wickedly. With flawless timing, Isagi planted his foot and met the ball in stride, striking it with a clean, fluid volley. His body remained perfectly balanced, his form unwavering as he cut through the ball with surgical precision. The shot was sharp and unerring, rocketing toward the far post. The ball sailed past Hikigaya in a white blur, snapping into the net before he even registered it.
Finally, Bachira delivered the coup de grâce with his signature flair. When Team X's miserable attempt at a clearance fell right at his feet, he seized the moment with playful confidence. The defenders barely moved, their legs weighted with resignation, unable to press him. With a soft tap, Bachira danced around the nearest one, twirling with effortless grace. His movements were smooth and deliberate, as if he were playing for his own amusement rather than victory, which he was. Near the box, he slowed slightly, teasing his next move with subtle feints. But rather than driving it forward, he did something unexpected. Instead of doing a normal shot, he swung his dominant leg behind his plant foot, crossing it in a graceful, flowing rabona. The ball arced with a sharp curve, bending toward the far corner.
Team Z celebrated their victory, happy for their first win in Blue Lock. This set of domination they displayed against team X gave them the confidence and elation. Their dreams were brought closer to reality with this win, a step closer to the end of Blue Lock. But in the midst of the celebration, only one didn't reciprocate.
"Hey, what's with the face?" Bachira asked, raising an eyebrow at Isagi's apathetic expression. "You dominated the match, aren't you gonna gloat a little?"
Isagi shrugged, his eyes glancing past him toward the other side of the pitch.
"It's nothing,"
Bachira's brow furrowed slightly.
"Oi, they weren't that upsetting, were they?"
Isagi's gaze drifted toward Team X. He felt disappointed in his first game at Blue Lock. He had dominated the game, easily placing himself as the MVP of the match, but he wasn't satisfied. The looks of despondency and helplessness in his opponents was exactly what he craved when he came to Blue Lock, but to see his opponents give up in the middle of a match like team X had?
It was beyond disgusting.
"What do you think?" he asked dryly.
"I think you're being a spoilsport." Kunigami came in between the two, wrapping his arm around Isagi's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Come on dude, just enjoy yourself. You got six goals today, that's some cause for celebration right?"
Isagi stared for a moment, retreating to the back of his mind for reasons only known to himself, before nodding back with a blooming smirk. "You know what, yeah. You're right Kunigami."
"It's the job of a hero to cheer people up, after all."
"Say less, Mr. Hero. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some trash talking to do."
Removing Kunigami's arm from him, Isagi made his way towards the opposing players, who were down on the ground in various positions. He held no interest for the feeble ones, only one person was on his mind at that moment. Shoei Barou.
He spotted him slumped on the bench, seething in silence. Barou's broad frame was hunched over, one hand braced against his knee, the other dragging harshly down his face, fingers clawing at his skin as though he were trying to scrape the failure off. His teeth ground together with a faint creak, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles throbbed along his neck. His eyes, bloodshot and feral, glared at the floor with murderous intensity, unfocused yet brimming with rage. His breaths were uneven, sharp exhales forc through flared nostrils and gritted teeth. Every fiber of his being screamed with frustration, his entire body trembling faintly under the weight of his own fury.
And that was exactly the moment Isagi chose to approach him.
With slow, measured steps, he strolled over casually, hands resting loosely in his shorts pockets. His strides were unhurried, but his eyes were locked onto Barou with razor-sharp precision, like a predator slinking toward a wounded beast, savoring its inevitable demise.
When he finally came to a stop, just a few feet away, he lingered there in silence for a moment. Then, with a low, deliberate voice, he spoke smoothly, as if he were reciting a line from a well-rehearsed script.
"This is the perfect look for you."
Barou's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Isagi's piercing gaze. The fire that raged in his irises was instant, scalding with unfiltered fury. His lips curled into a near snarl, baring his teeth ever so slightly. His broad chest heaved once, a sharp inhale as his knuckles tightened against his knee. His entire frame radiated heat, a pure, barely contained aggression.
But Isagi was unfazed. His smirk widened ever so slightly, his expression dripping with venomous satisfaction. He tilted his head, feigning mild curiosity as he stared down at Barou like he was inspecting something broken and useless.
"You understand, don't you?" he mused with a sigh of mock pity, shaking his head slightly. "The feeling of looking down on your opponents after crushing them, I mean." His eyes glimmered with cruel amusement. "Look at you. You came into this game with that whole 'king' act, acting like you were untouchable. Like you were supposed to tower over everyone else. But in the end, you're sitting here a loser, with no goals to prove your boasts."
Barou's fists twitched. The veins on the back of his hand bulged slightly, but he remained still. Barely.
Isagi's gaze narrowed with predatory glee. He walked forward, just enough to stand in front of Barou, close enough for his words to drip right into his ears. His eyes were cold and unblinking, mercilessly glaring down at the defeated striker.
"You were supposed to destroy me, remember?" he taunted. "You kept repeating it over and over again, like throwing a tantrum about it was going to make it happen. But you didn't do anything like that. All you did was chase after me like a rabid dog on a leash." His lips curled into a sneer. "And now? You're just sitting there. Broken. Useless. Like roadkill."
Barou's eyes narrowed dangerously, burning with raw hatred. His fingers twitched against his knee, his knuckles whitening as his hands slowly curled into trembling fists. His teeth ground together audibly, his jaw flexing with the strain of keeping himself in check..
"You were nothing more than my stepping stone, a disposable obstacle I left in the dirt. And you didn't even make it fun." His eyes glimmered with a spark of cruel delight. "Then again, it makes sense. You're nothing more than a slave for me to use and throw away whenever I wish. Where you're sitting now is perfect. It's where you should always be meeting my eyes."
Barou's hands snapped into fists, knuckles cracking audibly from the pressure. His entire frame tensed, his massive shoulders rising slightly, the violent urge barely contained in his trembling arms. His breath came sharp and fast, nostrils flaring with every inhale. His pupils were dilated, wild and murderous in their intent. Isagi's taunt did its job.
The implications of it, of Barou being a peasant kneeling in front of a true king, snapped something fierce within him.
For a moment, Isagi almost wanted him to lunge. To lose control. To snap. It would've made this all the sweeter.
But he didn't. Barou's fists remained clenched, shaking violently against his knees. His breath came in furious bursts, but he stayed seated, glaring up at Isagi with eyes filled with nothing but loathing.
Isagi smiled wider. Victory was his.
Without another word, he turned his back on the so-called king, dismissing him as though he were nothing more than an afterthought.
But before he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder, delivering the final dagger. His voice was soft, mockingly polite. But the words were ice-cold, slicing through Barou's pride like a blade through flesh.
"Every good story needs a fool to make the protagonist shine..." His smirk deepened, eyes filled with cruel satisfaction. "Thanks for playing your part, you idiot clown"
---
Helloooo~! Hope you're all having a wonderful day today!
Now, you might be wondering. "Slurpy Noodles my glorious king, why have you blessed us with a chapter so early?". Well I'll tell ya. It's because I've been reading your reviews again, and I just got super duper happy! I was like, "These reviews are so great! They really make my days shine so much brighter!"
No cap, these were deadass my thoughts on my drive to school.
Anyways, I just wanted to put this out as a thank you gift for the wonderful support you've been showing me, and for giving me advice on some outliers that might have been too exaggerated. Anyways, chapter 6 will release this weekend as well, because this is a thank you gift and not a change in schedule, so I hope you're all veeeeeery excited~!
If you guys want to catch up to the latest chapter posted, go visit my patreon!
Chapter 6: Y isn't for Preparation, but we'll Prepare for Y Anyways
Chapter 7: Return of the Crimson Jaguar
Chapter 8: Team Y's Crushing
Chapter 9: An Awakening, A Chess Showdown Between Aces
Chapter 10: A Worthy Rival
My updating schedule on Patreon is every 2-3 days, so if you want the most frequent updates in fanfiction, like I said eariler, go check out my Patreon!
Anyways, I've taken up enough of your time. Everyone, please have a safe, blessed, and amazing rest of your days. Toodles~~~ >v0