Kira was in full comeback mode now. His body language screamed vengeance, but Isagi had other plans.
As soon as the kickoff happened, Isagi didn't just stand back and wait for the perfect interception like before. No, this time, he moved immediately. He marked Kira tightly, shadowing him, slipping seamlessly into Ichinan's defensive structure. This single adjustment made it hell for Kira to initiate a counterattack.
Even worse, with Isagi hounding him at every turn, the mere thought of losing possession became a nightmare. If Kira or anyone in Matsukaze made a mistake, Isagi would snatch the ball and ignite another counter within seconds.
The match turned into a back-and-forth struggle. Both teams fought for dominance, but neither Kira nor Isagi could move freely. Kira, who had always been the centerpiece of his team, found himself trapped. Every touch he took, every pass he received—Isagi was there. Watching. Waiting. Pressuring.
Minutes ticked by. Kira's annoyance simmered beneath his calm exterior. This bastard… He clenched his jaw, frustration seeping into his movements. His plays became sharper, but also more reckless. His usual grace? Gone. The control he prided himself on? Slipping.
The scoreboard still read 2-1 in Ichinan's favor as the clock approached the 40th minute. The game was edging closer to halftime, but Kira refused to let the half end with him losing.
And then—an opening.
A misstep.
But it wasn't from Isagi.
No, it was one of Kira's own teammates—a heavy touch while trying to play out from the back. And before the ball could be recovered—
SNATCH.
Isagi was already on it.
The stadium gasped.
With a burst of acceleration, Isagi pushed forward, slicing through the defensive line like a blade through paper. Kira turned, eyes widening in shock as he realized—
Shit—he's going for it!
A last-ditch defender lunged. Isagi barely shifted the ball past him with a soft touch before immediately resetting his balance. He was now one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
And then—without hesitation—he struck.
The ball soared, curving beautifully toward the far post, impossibly precise. The keeper dived—
Too late.
GOAL!
The net rippled.
3-1.
The stadium exploded.
Isagi didn't even hesitate—he turned and ran straight past Kira, locking eyes with him for a brief second. No words. Just a glance.
A statement.
Kira stood frozen, fists clenched, heart pounding in his chest.
For the first time in his life—
He felt it.
Fear.
Of losing.
—-
Then the whistle blew, signaling halftime.
Both teams made their way to the locker rooms, but the contrast between them was like night and day.
Matsukaze's locker room was dead silent. No one spoke. No one dared to. The air was thick with disbelief, frustration, and something even worse—doubt.
They were losing.
The so-called powerhouse of the tournament, the team everyone expected to dominate, was trailing behind Ichinan. And it wasn't just the score—it was the way they had conceded. Three goals, all from the Blue Demon himself, and neither of them had been flukes. He had cut through them like a knife through butter, exposing their cracks and exploiting them with terrifying precision.
Some players sat with their heads down, fists clenched. Others leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if waiting for some kind of divine intervention. The coach's clipboard hung loosely in his grip, his expression unreadable as he processed everything that had unfolded.
Kira sat at the center of it all, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, pounding like a war drum. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen.
He had come into this match believing Ichinan was beneath them—believing Isagi was beneath him. And yet, here he was, being locked down, unable to play freely, and being outshined by the one player he had written off as insignificant.
A bitter taste settled on his tongue.
No.
He wasn't going to accept this.
Not yet.
Kira exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on his own knee. When the second half started, he was going to end this.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the stadium, Ichinan's locker room was a different scene altogether.
It wasn't rowdy, but the energy was there—the kind of energy that comes when you know you've got something. Players were catching their breath, chugging down water, but there were small smirks here and there, nods of approval exchanged. They felt it.
They had control of the game.
And sitting at the corner of it all, Isagi leaned back against the bench, exhaling slowly as he processed everything.
Matsukaze was struggling. Kira was struggling.
The momentum was his now.
And he wasn't planning on letting go.
But… there was something else.
That look in Kira's eyes.
It was familiar—too familiar. A flicker of something raw, something untamed.
Isagi searched for the right word to describe it. He had felt it before, back in elementary school, and even in middle school, during the moments when he had been backed into a corner, forced to break past his limits. Each time, he had come out different. Stronger. Sharper.
Improved? No, that was too shallow. It wasn't just getting better. It was something deeper.
Evolution.
Yes. That was the word.
Kira was about to evolve.
And for some reason, Isagi wanted to see it.
Experiencing evolution firsthand was one thing, but witnessing someone else undergo that transformation? That was rare.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
He made his decision.
For now, he would observe. He would give Kira a last push—make him struggle, make him push for it, force him to change.
And if Kira's evolution turned out to be something truly great, then for a few moments, he would allow it to shine.
But if it turned out to be a disappointment?
Then Matsukaze would find themselves staring into the eyes of a very pissed off and disappointed demon.
—-------
The second half was about to begin.
The players were back on the field, stepping into position.
The tension in the air was different now. More charged. More electric.
Kira rolled his shoulders, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were alive—burning with something new, something different.
On the other side, Isagi stood still, hands on his hips, watching him.
Alright, Kira.
Show me what you've got.
The whistle blew.
The second half began.
Matsukaze restarted with the ball, and from the first touch, the shift in intensity was undeniable.
For the first few minutes, he allowed Kira to dictate the rhythm, watching how he moved, how he scanned the field, how he desperately searched for ways to claw Matsukaze back into the game. Kira was determined—but there was still something missing. The final spark hadn't ignited yet.
Isagi decided to fix that.
The moment Kira received the ball near the center circle, Isagi stepped in. He closed the distance fast, pressing aggressively, cutting off his space. Kira barely had time to register what was happening before Isagi was right in front of him, a smug, taunting grin plastered across his face.
Kira's jaw clenched. He knew exactly what this was.
Mockery.
Mockery from Isagi Yoichi.
Mockery of Saitama's Crown Jewel.
"Oh, I'll show you."
Kira exploded forward, shifting his weight to accelerate—but then Isagi did something unexpected.
He backed off.
For just a split second, Isagi withdrew, creating a void of space where there had been pressure. Kira, already mid-sprint, lost his balance for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Isagi to lunge in and try to snatch the ball away.
But Kira's instincts kicked in.
With a sharp touch, he flicked the ball from his right foot to his left, narrowly avoiding the tackle. His heart pounded in his chest.
He had to get past Isagi.
He had to get past Isagi.
He had to get past Isagi.
And then—
The entire field felt it.
A gravitational pull centering around Kira. The aura of a player who had just crossed a threshold.
His eyes widened, his teeth clenched in pure desperation.
And then—he was gone.
Kira accelerated to his top speed, his feet barely touching the ground as he cut through the midfield like a blade slicing through water. A rapid feint sent Isagi stumbling a step behind—he hadn't expected the evolution to happen now.
But it had.
Kira surged forward. A solo charge through Ichinan's defensive line. He weaved between defenders with razor-sharp cuts, the ball glued to his feet as he danced past challenges with newfound agility.
30 meters from the goal.
Two defenders closing in.
The goalkeeper shifting nervously on his line, expecting a layoff or another dribble—anything but a shot from this distance.
But Kira had already made his choice.
With every ounce of newfound power, he struck through the ball cleanly.
A rocket.
The shot screamed through the air, blistering past the keeper's outstretched fingertips—an unstoppable trajectory that soared right over his head.
The ball kissed the net with power.
Disrespect.
Pure and undeniable.
A scream.
A raw, unfiltered roar of exhilaration.
Kira.
Before he could even process what had happened, his teammates swarmed him, piling onto him in celebration. Matsukaze had been drowning in the pressure of this game, but in that moment, Kira had given them something to cling to. Hope.
But on the other side of the field, Isagi wasn't rattled.
He stood there, a grin tugging at his lips, watching the chaos unfold. Kira had evolved. He had broken past his previous limits. But…
It wasn't enough.
Not yet.
This evolution—it was flashy, sure. A spectacle. But it wasn't intimidating. Not to him.
The only reason Kira had pulled that off so cleanly was because Ichinan wasn't a defense-oriented team. They pressed high, they played with a focus on offense, and that left gaps for someone like Kira to exploit. Against a team with a rigid defensive structure? A team that didn't allow space to breathe?
Would he have scored?
Isagi didn't know.
Because he didn't fully understand the extent of Kira's evolution yet.
And that thought—
It thrilled him.
He wanted to see more.
To push him more.
If this was the Crown Jewel of Saitama, then Isagi wanted to see just how much brighter he could shine.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ichinan didn't let Kira's goal shake them for long. They moved with sharp, coordinated passes, looking to reclaim control of the game. But Matsukaze had woken up. Their energy surged, pressing harder, chasing down every ball with renewed aggression.
And Kira?
Kira was different now.
His acceleration was sharper, his movements more refined. He wasn't hesitating anymore—no second-guessing, no wavering in his decision-making. When the ball reached him, he didn't just play—he dictated. He turned, drove forward, and forced Ichinan to react.
Matsukaze was surging with momentum now, riding the high of Kira's goal. Their movements were sharper, their aggression rising. Kira had evolved. His presence on the field had changed, and even if Ichinan wouldn't admit it, they felt it.
But no one was watching more intently than Isagi.
Kira was different now—his footwork smoother, his reactions quicker. Every touch of the ball carried a newfound confidence. But confidence alone wasn't enough.
Isagi wanted to see how far Kira would go.
So he decided to test him.
The next time Kira received the ball, Isagi closed in instantly. The rest of Ichinan's defense held back, letting him handle it. A direct confrontation. No extra pressure, no outside interference.
Just them.
Kira locked eyes with Isagi, and a smirk flickered on his face. It wasn't the smug arrogance he had before. It was different.
He knows, Isagi realized. He knows I'm here to stop him.
Then, Kira made his move.
He started slow, rolling the ball between his feet, testing Isagi's reactions. Isagi didn't bite. His stance was low, body perfectly balanced, waiting for the moment to strike.
Then—
An explosive burst.
Kira pushed forward, cutting inside with a sharp step. Isagi mirrored him instantly, matching his pace, keeping his body between Kira and the goal. Their feet moved in sync, every step a counter to the other.
Kira shifted left. Isagi shadowed him.
Kira twisted right. Isagi was still there.
Their battle dragged on, their legs tangling, their movements precise. The stadium noise faded into the background. There was no team, no game. Just this fight.
Kira gritted his teeth. His speed had increased, but Isagi had adapted too quickly. He couldn't shake him off.
Isagi, meanwhile, was waiting. He wanted Kira to panic. To make a mistake. To overextend so he could steal the ball and launch a counterattack.
But Kira didn't panic.
Instead, he did something unexpected.
Right as Isagi prepared to pressure him again, Kira slowed down.
Just for a second.
Just enough to throw off Isagi's tempo.
Then—
A sudden, violent flick of Kira's foot. A backheel flick—mid-stride.
The ball jumped.
Not forward. Not sideways. Up.
Straight over Isagi's extended foot, bouncing high enough to disrupt his positioning.
What—?!
By the time Isagi recovered, Kira had already exploded past him, catching the ball in mid-air with his chest and ripping forward.
His acceleration was insane. A desperate sprint.
Isagi turned to chase, but the momentary gap was all Kira needed.
Thirty meters.
Twenty meters.
Three defenders closing in.
Kira didn't slow down.
And then—without warning—
A shot.
From outside the box.
A cannon-like strike, laced with raw desperation and newfound power. The ball screamed through the air, cutting past the defenders, past the goalkeeper, and slamming into the net.
A Goal.
Silence.
Then—
Chaos.
Matsukaze erupted. Players sprinted toward Kira, their voices cracking with unfiltered excitement. The stadium shook under the thunderous roar of the crowd, their cheers rolling in like a tidal wave.
Kira stood still for a moment, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face, his heart pounding against his ribs. His gaze snapped to the scoreboard.
3-3.
Then, it hit him—this was his first hat-trick of the tournament.
A hat-trick for Isagi.
A hat-trick for Kira.
His teammates swarmed him, grabbing his jersey, shoving him playfully, screaming his name. Someone leaped onto his back, nearly knocking him over. Kira barely reacted—his mind was still processing it all.
This is what it feels like.
To be the one who drags the team forward. To be the difference. To matter
The fans were losing their minds.
Matsukaze's supporters, who had been silent, faces grim just minutes ago, were now alive.
"KIRA! KIRA! KIRA!"
His name echoed in waves, chant after chant, as blue scarves swung wildly in the air. The once-lifeless side of the stands was now a raging sea of movement, filled with jumping fans, their voices merging into a deafening symphony of triumph.
The Matsukaze bench was in chaos. The substitutes were pounding on the advertising boards, screaming, fists in the air.
The Matsukaze coach, who had been a nervous wreck moments ago, now stood frozen. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. He blinked once. Then twice. Then, he suddenly exploded.
"YES! KIRA, THAT'S IT!"
He punched the air, his composure completely shattered. His fist slammed against the dugout, his face twisted into an expression of pure exhilaration. "THAT'S THE CROWN JEWEL OF SAITAMA! THAT'S MY ACE!"
The assistant coach, usually calm, was now grabbing his head in disbelief, his mouth moving rapidly as he muttered to himself, "He really did it… he really did it!"
Kira had brought Matsukaze back from the dead.
And Yet…
As his teammates celebrated around him, as the crowd continued to chant his name, Kira's eyes flickered across the field.
To Isagi.
Who was watching him.
Not frustrated.
Not nervous.
And then—
A grin.
Not just any grin. A taunt. A challenge.
Kira's breath hitched.
It wasn't over.
Not even close.
He clenched his fists, feeling the fire in his chest still burning bright. He had evolved—he had finally stepped up.
But the way Isagi was standing there…
It was like he had been waiting for this.
Then the whistle blew.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ichinan placed the ball at the center. Their players looked fired up, but the moment Isagi stepped forward to take the ball, something changed.
A shift.
An aura.
The air around him became heavy.
Matsukaze had momentum on their side, their players still high on adrenaline from Kira's equalizer. But none of that mattered.
Because from the very moment the ball was tapped—
Isagi was already moving.
Not waiting.
Not hesitating.
Moving.
A quick one-two pass, the ball flicking between him and his midfielders. It was clean. Crisp. Precise.
Then—a sudden burst.
Isagi accelerated.
Like a flash of lightning, he tore through the midfield, his body weaving through the gaps before Matsukaze even had time to react.
Kira's stomach dropped.
"No—"
Isagi was already past the first line.
A Matsukaze defender rushed to stop him, stepping in fast.
Isagi didn't even slow down.
A simple flick of his foot. A dummy touch. The defender lunged—
And Isagi was already gone.
Kira sprinted full speed after him, panic kicking in. "Not like this—NOT LIKE THIS!"
But Isagi wasn't playing at the same level anymore.
His dribbling was too sharp.
His vision was too clear.
His intent was too ruthless.
He had just decided.
To play at 100%.
The last defender lunged—
A flick of Isagi's foot. A nutmeg.
Kira saw it happening.
"FUCK—"
But Isagi had already taken off.
One defender left in front of goal.
No—
Not a defender.
The keeper.
Kira was sprinting full speed behind him, desperate to catch up.
The Matsukaze keeper rushed out, eyes locked onto Isagi, lowering his stance, arms wide—cutting the angle.
He was ready for a one-on-one.
Or at least, he thought he was.
Because Isagi wasn't thinking about a one-on-one.
He had already decided.
He wasn't going to just score.
He was going to end this keeper's career.
Isagi's touch took him wide—too wide.
He was running out of space, pushed toward the right edge of the penalty box.
Any normal player would cut back.
Any normal player would try to reset.
But Isagi?
He was already five steps ahead.
One glance.
The keeper had lowered his stance too much.
His legs just slightly apart.
A gap no sane player would even think to aim for.
Which is exactly why Isagi did it.
With zero hesitation, Isagi swung his foot—
A shot? From this angle?!
The keeper's eyes widened—he moved left, expecting a far-post curler—
But the ball didn't go left.
It curved.
Inside.
Through the fucking gap.
A nutmeg.
Not a pass.
Not a dribble.
A shot.
A curved shot that bent through the keeper's legs before he could even process what was happening.
By the time he turned—
The net was already surging.
4-3.
The stadium exploded.
Ichinan's bench lost their minds.
Fans were on their feet, screaming. Some weren't even cheering—just gasping in disbelief.
But the loudest reaction?
The silence from Matsukaze.
The keeper was still sitting on the ground.
Head down. Hands buried in his hair.
He had just been curved into humiliation.
Kira stood frozen, jaw clenched, veins visible in his forehead.
He had just scored a hattrick.
He had dragged his team back from the dead.
Isagi turned, his gaze locking onto Kira.
No celebration.
No wild roar.
Just pure, cold dominance.
He took a slow step forward, his smirk cutting through the silence like a blade. His voice, low yet razor-sharp, carried just enough weight to sink into Kira's skin.
"Not bad. You put on a great show out there before." He tilted his head up, looking down on him, his eyes glinting with something cruel. "But in the end… that's all you were. A spectacle. A stepping stone for me to shine."
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned away—like Kira wasn't even worth his time.
Kira froze.
The words hit him harder than any tackle, any defeat. A stepping stone?
His breath caught in his throat, his fists clenched at his sides. His entire body burned—not just from exhaustion, but from something deeper. Humiliation. Fury. Disbelief.
His jaw tightened as he glared at Isagi's back. That casual, effortless stride—like he had already won. Like Kira was nothing more than a hurdle he had already stepped over.
His teammates were calling his name, but their voices felt distant. The stadium, the crowd, the noise—it all blurred.
All Kira could see was Isagi.
And for the first time, the fire inside his chest burned brighter than ever.
No matter what—no matter how long it took—
He was going to defeat Isagi Yoichi.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The final minutes were slipping away.
Ichinan had the lead—4-3—but that meant nothing. A single goal from Matsukaze could send the game spiraling into extra time.
And Isagi wasn't going to let that happen.
Not now. Not when he had come this far.
But Matsukaze? They were desperate.
They played like a pack of starving wolves, lunging at every loose ball, pressing Ichinan high, throwing numbers forward. Every second that ticked down only added fuel to their fire.
And Ichinan?
They weren't playing to score. They were playing to waste time.
Simple passes.
Safe touches.
Slowing the tempo.
They weren't stalling—they were suffocating.
Every pass was a dagger to Matsukaze's momentum. Every second Ichinan controlled the ball was another nail in their coffin.
The Matsukaze coach was screaming from the sidelines, urging his players to push forward, to do something.
Kira was livid. He waved his teammates up, signaling for an all-out press. They didn't have a choice anymore. They had to go all in.
And Isagi?
He was waiting.
A patient beast, letting Matsukaze run themselves ragged, waiting for that one inevitable mistake.
A bad touch.
A rushed tackle.
A single misstep.
And then—he would end it.
Ichinan played the ball around the back, drawing Matsukaze higher and higher up the pitch. The space behind them stretched wider, cracks forming in their defense.
Isagi could see it.
It was coming.
The final moment. The final kill.
And then—it happened.
A misjudged interception.
Two minutes left.
The stadium was silent, but not from a lack of noise. It was the kind of silence that came from sheer tension—where the air was so thick, so electric, that even the deafening cheers faded into white noise.
Because right now, there were only two players that mattered.
Isagi Yoichi.
Kira Ryosuke.
One final clash.
Kira moved first.
His feet danced over the ball, his body fluid, reacting purely on instinct. He attacked without hesitation, weaving through defenders with smooth elegance, his every movement refined from years of experience.
And yet—Isagi was there.
No matter how sharp Kira cut, no matter how fast he twisted and turned—Isagi mirrored him perfectly. Like a shadow. Like a predator waiting for its prey to slip.
A perfect balance.
Instinct vs Calculation.
Emotion vs Cold Precision.
Kira surged forward again, shifting his weight to bait Isagi one last time—but Isagi didn't fall for it.
Instead, he forced Kira wider, guiding him toward a dead end. The sideline closed in, the angle tightening—Kira had no choice.
He had to pass.
And that's when Isagi struck.
A flash of blue. A sudden burst of movement.
Isagi lunged in, dispossessing Kira cleanly, perfectly, completely.
And in the very next heartbeat—he was already sprinting the other way.
Kira turned, despondent. His legs burned, his lungs screamed—but he chased anyway.
He had to stop Isagi.
But Isagi was faster.
He was free.
One defender. Gone.
Two defenders. Cut down.
Only the goalkeeper remained.
And Kira, barely catching up, watching helplessly.
Isagi slowed. Just slightly. Just enough for Kira to catch up.
Kira's eyes widened.
"A mistake?"
They were still 35 meters away from goal—if he could win a duel here, then maybe…
But—was it a trap?
He couldn't care less.
Kira rushed forward, hope flaring in his chest. He positioned himself directly in front of Isagi, cutting off his angle, ready to block whatever came next.
But then—Isagi grinned.
A wide, knowing grin.
"I was waiting for you to catch up, Crown Jewel."
His voice was almost mocking. "You're the last piece remaining."
And with those words—he struck.
A shot.
Not a pass. Not a feint.
A direct, calculated shot—straight through Kira's legs.
A nutmeg.
Kira barely processed it. His stance had opened for just a moment—just enough space.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The goalkeeper wasn't ready.
He had expected a dribble. A cut inside. Anything but this. He froze.
And that one-second hesitation cost him everything.
The ball was fired from 35 meters out. Even with his late reaction, the keeper had enough time to reposition himself.
He put himself in the way of the ball.
He had it.
Or—so he thought.
At the last moment—the ball dipped.
A sudden drop in altitude—too fast, too sharp.
It struck the ground right before his feet.
The keeper's legs were slightly open.
Too open.
The spin carried the ball through.
Nutmegged.
Again.
The net shook violently, the ball burying itself deep into the mesh.
5-3.
The crowd erupted. The stadium trembled.
Kira stood frozen, his entire body locked in place. His mind screamed at him to react, to process what had just happened.
But he couldn't.
He had been erased.
Not just defeated. Humiliated.
Isagi turned back, gaze cold, unshaken. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, he spoke—just loud enough for Kira to hear.
"Congratulations." Kira looked up to see that smirk taunting him.
"You just became my highlight reel."
The humiliation sank in like a dagger.
Kira's fists clenched. His nails dug into his palms, but even the sting couldn't snap him out of it. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of reality crushing him from all sides.
He had given everything. He had fought. He had pushed himself to the very limit, refusing to lose—
And still.
It wasn't enough.
His eyes burned, but he forced himself to watch.
Watch as Isagi turned away from him—as if he no longer mattered.
The stadium was in a frenzy.
The crowd lost their minds.
Some fans leapt to their feet, screaming. Others stood there, hands on their heads, completely in shock.
A 35-meter nutmeg shot.
Through the defender.
Through the keeper.
The sheer audacity of it—it wasn't just a goal. It was the epitome of disrespect.
The opposing team's bench was silent.
Their coach had his head in his hands, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. Some players sat frozen, while others buried their faces in their jerseys, unable to watch the humiliation unfold.
Meanwhile, Isagi's team went insane.
Teammates rushed to the sidelines, screaming. Some clutched their heads in disbelief, others pounded their fists into the air, pure adrenaline surging through them.
The coach could barely contain his smile, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Isagi was special—but this? This was something else.
The referee blew the final whistle.
Game over.
5-3.
Meanwhile, Isagi's team swarmed him.
Arms around his shoulders. Slaps on his back. Laughter, shouts, chaos—pure joy.
"Bro, what the hell was that shot?! Are you serious?!"
"A nutmeg from 35 meters?! You're actually insane!"
The celebrations raged on for a bit longer before the referee's whistle pierced through the noise, signaling for the traditional post-match gestures.
Despite the fierce battle on the field, Japanese football upheld respect above all.
Isagi and his teammates lined up, facing the crowd. The opposing team did the same.
As one, both teams bowed deeply, showing their appreciation for the fans, their coaches, and the game itself.
Then came the handshake line.
One by one, the players exchanged grips—some firm, others loose and reluctant. There were muttered words of respect, a few nods of acknowledgment, and the occasional forced smile.
Then—Isagi and Kira stood face to face.
For a moment, neither moved.
The world felt muted around them.
Kira's fingers twitched slightly before he extended his hand. A silent acceptance.
Isagi glanced at Kira, then at his outstretched hand.
The fire in Kira's eyes was still there—but it burned differently now. Less arrogance, more clarity.
With a faint smile, Isagi grasped his hand, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
"Good game, Kira. Let's have another match like that someday."
Kira's grip tightened for a brief second before he let go, his expression unreadable.
Another match?
Even after all that, after completely humiliating him, Isagi still spoke as if they were equals.
Kira hated it.
But at the same time… he didn't.
He had never felt more frustrated—yet never more driven.
His loss wasn't because of luck. It wasn't because of some unfair advantage. It was because Isagi was simply better.
And if he wanted to change that, there was only one thing to do.
He had to get stronger.
Kira exhaled sharply, forcing the bitterness down. He looked Isagi in the eyes and gave a small nod.
"Next time, I won't lose," he said.
Isagi just grinned. "Looking forward to it."
With that, the teams finished their bows, the final formalities wrapped up. The crowd was still buzzing, players slowly filtering out, the echoes of the match lingering in the air.
But even as the stadium emptied, one thing was clear—
This was just the beginning.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A dimly lit room, enclosed within four walls, illuminated only by the soft glow of multiple screens. Data scrolled endlessly, match footage flickered across monitors, and numbers crunched in real-time—analyzing, dissecting, predicting.
At the center of it all sat a man, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, glasses reflecting the blue light of the screens. His lips stretched into a maniacal grin, eyes gleaming with unhinged excitement.
"Isagi Yoichi," he murmured, his voice carrying an eerie sense of reverence. "You are everything. Everything this backward country needs."
Beside him, a woman shifted uneasily, casting a wary glance at his expression. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple.
"So…" she hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer.
The man didn't turn to face her. His grin only widened, his gaze locked onto the screen where Isagi's latest goal played on loop.
"Start the process," he ordered, voice brimming with barely contained exhilaration. "It's about time we get this underway."
His words were final. Absolute.
On the table before him lay a single crisp sheet of paper, its contents bold and unmistakable:
'YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN FOR THE JAPANESE FOOTBALL ASSOCIATION'S SPECIAL PROJECT—
BLUE LOCK.'
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes:
Phew.
This was one hard chapter to write. Mostly because I wanted to balance it out between Kira and Isagi. The main problem came from the lack of information on Kira's playstyle. I'm still not very satisfied with his evolution and abilities, but I still have time to develop him, so… yeah.
Please leave your thoughts about this chapter.
(You can read ahead at my p*tron. link is in the sypnosis.)
Signing off,
SG
Editor's Notes:-
BROOO!!! This was such an amazing chapter to edit. I hope all of you enjoyed reading the chapter, just like I did.
NB