Naruhaya Asahi.
Football had always been his escape. The one thing that let him forget the crushing weight of responsibility, even if only for a little while.
He had an older sister, two younger sisters, and two younger brothers. Then their parents passed away, leaving them to fend for themselves.
His older sister took on the impossible task of providing for all of them. A child playing the role of a parent. The pity from neighbors, teachers, and strangers was relentless—eyes filled with sympathy he never asked for. Words of concern that only made him feel smaller.
So, they moved. From Kagawa to Shizuoka. A place where the whispers of tragedy wouldn't follow them. Where they could try to build something for themselves.
Naruhaya threw himself into football. Shizuoka Middle School was renowned for its football program. Getting in was a triumph, a sign that he was moving forward. But it also meant competing against the best.
For a while, he thrived. His vision, his spatial awareness—things he'd honed from playing on uneven fields and cramped spaces—set him apart. He made a name for himself.
But then Isagi Yoichi came along.
They were placed on the same team. It should have been a chance to grow. To learn from someone who was regarded as a prodigy. But instead, it became a nightmare.
Isagi was better. Far better. His vision wasn't just sharp; it was overwhelming. He could break down plays with surgical precision, creating opportunities out of nothing.
And worst of all, the coaches noticed. They praised Isagi's talent. His ability to read the field, his playmaking, his instincts.
Naruhaya was slowly pushed to the sidelines. Benched. Ignored. Overlooked.
Every time he saw Isagi on the field, it was like staring at something unattainable. A force of nature that made everything else seem insignificant.
The final blow came when the coach told him plainly, "You're good, Naruhaya. But Isagi's better. We need him on the field. You'll be a substitute."
A substitute.
From that moment on, Asahi's playing time dwindled to almost nothing. No matter how hard he trained, how much he improved, it was never enough. Because Isagi was always ahead.
It didn't matter what Asahi did. Isagi had already cemented himself as the core of the team. The 'Blue Demon of Shizuoka,' they called him. A genius who could see through everything.
Meanwhile, Asahi was just another player. Disposable. Forgettable.
It crushed him. Because he wasn't just playing for himself. He was playing for his family. For his siblings who looked up to him. For his older sister, who sacrificed her own future to give them a chance.
He promised them he'd become the best. That he'd make a name for himself so great they'd never have to struggle again.
And Isagi Yoichi was the wall standing in his way.
Even here in Blue Lock, it was the same story. Isagi was the one scoring. The one leading. The one everybody looked at.
Naruhaya had tried to work with him. Tried to show his own worth. But Isagi's presence eclipsed everything. The others followed Isagi's commands, his vision shaping the entire flow of the game.
Once again, Asahi was left in the shadows.
And then came the offer.
The Wanima brothers approached him during a break, their faces twisted with smug amusement.
"Yo, Naruhaya," one of them called out. "You've been pretty quiet lately. Not like it matters, with how Team Z's been getting carried."
Naruhaya's fists clenched. Carried? As if his efforts were nothing. As if all his struggles were just a joke.
"What do you want?" he replied, his voice clipped.
"To make a deal." the same guy who initiated the conversation continued. "Team Z is a sinking ship. Everyone knows it. But you… you don't have to go down with them."
"What are you getting at?"
"Help us. Give us what we need to crush Team Z in the next match. In return, we'll make sure you get your goals."
"How many?"
The Wanima brothers exchanged glances. "Four. That's a good number, right? Enough to make you look useful."
"Four?" Asahi scoffed. "You think that's enough?"
"Hah? Then what do you want, little benchwarmer?"
"Nine," Asahi said, his gaze fierce. "I need nine goals to beat Isagi. To prove I'm better. Anything less and I'm not interested."
The brothers laughed. Cruel and mocking.
"Nine? You've gotta be kidding."
"I'm serious. Either help me score nine, or this conversation never happened."
They stared at him for a moment before one of them smirked. "Fine. If you can keep up, we'll get you your nine goals. But you better not hold us back."
It was a lie. Asahi knew that. The Wanima brothers weren't the type to keep promises. They would use him and discard him the moment he became inconvenient.
But he was desperate. Because Isagi Yoichi had always been the obstacle he couldn't overcome. The shadow that loomed over every effort he made.
This was his chance to break free. To surpass the one who had pushed him to the bench and nearly crushed his dream.
He would make it happen. Even if it meant betrayal.
For his family. For himself. For the promise he made.
No matter what it took.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hello there, diamonds in the rough."
Ego's voice sliced through the room, sharp and clinical. No warmth, no encouragement—just the icy chill of expectation. His gaze was as indifferent as ever, dissecting them from beyond the screen.
"Another match. Another batch of results. And another pile of trash thrown out of my Blue Lock." His lips curled, but the smile held nothing close to kindness. "Team Z, you survived. For now."
He paused, eyes sweeping over them, as if calculating the exact worth of each player in the room.
"Don't mistake survival for success. You scored nine goals, but I couldn't care less about the number. All that matters is how you achieved them. And for most of you…" His grin sharpened to a razor's edge. "It was pathetic."
"Too many of you are clinging to your habits, your excuses, your mediocrity. Yesterday's match only proved how narrow your sights are. But one of you…" Ego's gaze settled on Isagi, eyes cold and unreadable. "Showed a glimpse of what it means to be a striker."
Isagi stiffened. The air felt heavier, colder.
"You turned a single moment of insight into domination. Not because of some natural talent or fluke. But because you were willing to use whatever you had at your disposal to crush your opponents. You found your weapon. Your vision."
"But here's the problem, Isagi." Ego's tone shifted, like a blade pressing against bare skin. "If that's all you have, then you're nothing but a third-rate striker who'll plateau and rot like the rest. An insect that accidentally caught a glimpse of the sky."
His voice lowered, dripping with disdain. "You made a '1' into a '10'. Big deal. It's not enough."
Ego's gaze tore away from Isagi, dismissive, already bored. "The rest of you should learn from his moment of clarity. Because if you can't, then your only contribution to Blue Lock will be as stepping stones for the ones who can."
"Your next match is tomorrow. No excuses, no complaints. Improve or be discarded."
The screen went black, leaving the room in silence.
Isagi swallowed, fingers twitching with anticipation. There was no praise in Ego's words, no satisfaction at all. Just a clear, undeniable command to be more.
"Make a '1' into a '10'…" Isagi murmured to himself. But it wasn't enough. Not for Blue Lock. And especially not for Ego.
He clenched his fists. Whatever it took, he'd prove himself worthy. Again and again.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Naruhaya stared at the ceiling of the dorm, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles had gone white. His mind kept replaying Ego's speech, the indifferent cruelty of his voice, the way he dismissed them all like insects.
But it wasn't Ego's words that truly stung. It was Isagi. Again.
Even here, in this insane deathmatch of strikers, Isagi Yoichi managed to rise above him. The same guy who stole his place on their middle school team, benching him for nearly an entire season. He'd tried to forget that shame, bury it under hours of practice and determination. But here he was, getting overshadowed by the same person all over again.
His grip loosened as his thoughts drifted to his family. His older sister, breaking her back working multiple jobs just to keep them afloat. His younger siblings, looking up to him with those innocent, expectant eyes. He'd made them a promise. A promise he refused to break.
"I'll become a pro. I'll make enough money so that you don't have to work yourself to death. So they don't have to struggle like this. So they can actually live."
He couldn't fail. Not here. Not now.
He made his way into the cafeteria, leaving behind the dorm.
The cafeteria's dim lights flickered overhead, their hum the only constant sound as Naruhaya stared down at his cold soup. His fingers clenched around the spoon, knuckles pale.
The voice that broke the silence was low, gruff, and filled with that familiar mockery.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Keisuke Wanima sauntered over to his table, his gait casual and confident. Behind him, Junichi followed, arms crossed and eyes sharp—silent as always, his feral grin twisting the edges of his mouth.
Naruhaya didn't look up. The betrayal weighed on him, a gnawing, festering ache that clung to his thoughts. What he was about to do tomorrow… selling out his team for a chance at something better. For a chance at surviving Blue Lock. As the best player.
But what other choice did he have?
"What do you want?" he muttered, his voice thick with fatigue.
Keisuke slid into the seat across from him, all smug and superior. Junichi stood beside his brother, letting out a low grunt—something almost approving.
"Oh, just checking up on our little partner." Keisuke's grin widened. "Making sure you haven't chickened out."
Naruhaya's grip on the spoon tightened.
"What, you thought we'd forget?" Keisuke laughed, the sound harsh and condescending. "Tomorrow's the big day, Naruhaya. Team W's gonna tear through Team Z like they're nothing. All thanks to you."
Junichi gave a short, affirmative grunt. "Hm."
Naruhaya's stomach twisted. It wasn't like he had any real loyalty to Team Z. They were all competitors, fighting for their own dreams. But the thought of deliberately sabotaging them... of betraying Isagi... it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"You promised," Naruhaya said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Nine goals. That's the deal."
Keisuke scoffed. "And you'll get your shots. But only if you hold up your end."
He felt their eyes on him, drilling into his resolve like knives. It was infuriating, being cornered like this. But he couldn't back down. Not when everything was on the line. Not when he had already made that promise to himself and his family.
"I'll do it," Naruhaya said, his gaze still locked on the soup. "Just… just make sure you keep your word."
"Good." Keisuke leaned back, satisfied. "Because once you give us the intel, there's no going back. Either you rise up, or you crash and burn."
Junichi's grin stretched wider, a silent affirmation of his brother's words.
Naruhaya swallowed, the betrayal already a stain on his conscience. But hesitation meant failure. And failure was something he couldn't afford.
"Sleep tight, Naruhaya." Keisuke's tone was practically a sneer. "Tomorrow's your chance to prove you're not just another loser."
Junichi chuckled—a guttural, mocking sound.
They left him there, the echo of their words digging into his mind like thorns.
Naruhaya pushed the soup away, his appetite completely gone. Tomorrow, he'd have to do the unthinkable. But if it meant beating Isagi... if it meant proving himself... then he'd have to accept the darkness that came with it.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Naruhaya's POV}
The whistle blew.
Keisuke kicked off, launching the ball backward to Junichi. The larger twin trapped it cleanly, his movements deliberate and sharp. They wasted no time, immediately setting their plan into motion.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Isagi's head swivel, scanning the field like a machine desperate for every detail. His eyes burned with focus, already hunting for a way to shut down the Wanima Brothers' rhythm.
But I'd told them everything. How Team Z's defense wasn't cohesive. How Iemon's reflexes faltered on low, powerful shots. How everyone's attention drifted towards Isagi whenever things got rough, making them overly dependent on him.
And the Wanima Brothers exploited every piece of that information like vultures tearing into fresh prey.
Keisuke darted down the left flank, his movements wild yet precise. Raichi charged at him, growling something threatening, but Keisuke sidestepped him with ease.
A sharp pass shot towards Junichi, who received it without breaking stride. Junichi's dribbling wasn't fancy—it was brutal. Direct. He bulldozed his way past Kuon with sheer force, ignoring the man's desperate attempt to shove him off balance.
"Cover him! Don't let him shoot!" Raichi shouted, his voice frantic.
But Keisuke wasn't aiming to shoot. He sent the ball flying back to Junichi with a slick, diagonal pass, throwing off everyone's read of the play.
Iemon's eyes widened, his knees bent, ready to pounce. But he wasn't fast enough.
Junichi smashed the ball low, drilling it toward the near post with a power that tore through the air. Iemon's gloves scraped against the shot, but it was useless.
The net shook violently.
TEAM W - 1
TEAM Z - 0
Keisuke's laughter echoed across the field, rough and grating. Junichi's usual grunt of approval followed.
The ball was placed at the center line. Team Z's kickoff. Kuon and Raichi exchanged quick words, frustration etched across their faces. I could hear Gagamaru muttering something from the back, his eyes flicking between the Wanima brothers and me like he was trying to decode a puzzle.
The whistle shrieked, and we moved.
I hung back a little, keeping myself just outside the core of the passing formation. Waiting. Watching.
Isagi darted forward, his movements sharp and precise as he drifted between Keisuke and Junichi. It was like he was trying to carve out the rhythm of the game for himself. Dictate the flow.
But there were cracks in Team Z's coordination—cracks I'd made sure of. And the Wanima brothers were going to widen them.
The ball shifted around the midfield. I kept moving, eyes locked onto every exchange.
Raichi tried to bulldoze his way past Junichi, but the bigger twin just shoved him aside, nearly knocking him off his feet. The ball spilled loose, rolling back toward me.
My chance.
I surged forward, latching onto the loose ball. The field stretched out before me, the defenders scattered and slow to react. This was the gap the Wanima brothers had carved out—exactly like we planned.
For a split second, I hesitated. This wasn't supposed to be my moment. Not yet. They were meant to keep weakening the team, not gift me a chance so easily.
But no. This was it. My foot connected cleanly with the ball, a sharp, low drive slicing through the air and smashing into the corner of the net.
TEAM W - 1
TEAM Z - 1
I stood there, breath heaving, heart pounding. That felt... good. No. It felt incredible. Like a jolt of electricity tearing through my veins.
I glanced back, half-expecting the Wanima brothers to look pissed. But they just grinned, like I'd done exactly what they wanted.
"Nice shot, Naruhaya." Keisuke's voice reached me from a distance, his words oozing satisfaction.
I didn't respond. Couldn't.
Because I caught a glimpse of Isagi.
He wasn't angry. If anything, he looked... surprised. His eyebrows raised, his eyes narrowing slightly. That calculating look he always had, now aimed squarely at me.
"That's good for you, Naruhaya," he called out, his voice light but his gaze razor-sharp. "Didn't think you'd be the one to break through."
There was something off about the way he said it. Praise tinged with suspicion. A subtle edge that made my skin prickle.
But I brushed it aside. It didn't matter what he thought. It only mattered that I was finally scoring.
I had to keep going. No matter what it took.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Isagi's POV}
Naruhaya scored?
The net rippled from his shot, the ball lodged cleanly into the corner. I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift. I hadn't expected that. Not from him.
The first goal from the Wanima brothers made sense. They were relentless, rabid beasts that tore through our defense with brute force and coordination. But Naruhaya? That was... unexpected.
Maybe it was luck. Or just a bad play from Team W.
Pushing the thought aside I moved into position. The whistle blew, signaling our kickoff. I took charge, the ball glued to my feet as I navigated through the midfield.
Time to get into my rhythm. Read the field, spot the gaps, and turn them into chances.
But something felt off.
The way Team W defended... it wasn't natural. Usually, defenses are structured—zones, man-marking, or a blend of both. But their approach was chaos. More than half their team lunged toward me like moths to a flame. A reckless, desperate press that shouldn't be working.
Yet, somehow, it was.
I weaved through them, my mind racing to piece together what was happening. Their formation was distorted, disjointed, but there was a pattern hidden beneath the madness. Small gaps—holes they were deliberately leaving open.
And Naruhaya was slinking into those gaps.
An opening appeared on the right flank, and I did the most rational thing I could—passed the ball to him.
His eyes widened for a split second, surprised by the trust. But he took off with a burst of speed, slipping past their last defender like it was nothing.
The goalkeeper tried to cut down his angle, but it was too late. Naruhaya slotted the ball cleanly into the net.
TEAM W - 1
TEAM Z - 2
I heard the cheers from my teammates, but their voices were drowned out by something else. That uneasy feeling twisting in my gut.
Was Naruhaya really just taking advantage of their sloppy defense? Or was it something else?
I glanced over at Team W, and the answer hit me like a brick.
Keisuke Wanima was grinning. His voice carried across the field, oozing satisfaction.
"Nice job, Naruhaya. Didn't think you'd actually pull it off."
He was... praising him?
And Naruhaya didn't react. Not with surprise, anger, or even acknowledgment. Just a tight-lipped nod before retreating to his position.
My eyes narrowed. Something was definitely wrong. But the match continued before I could process it further.
The next play unfolded like the last—pressure from Team W's disjointed defense, forcing me to make a quick decision. This time, I tried to break through on my own, weaving past their chaotic press.
But the Wanima brothers were on me like wolves. They forced me to pass, and I kicked it towards Naruhaya again.
Again, he slipped through the gaps with ease, positioning himself perfectly to score. And he did.
TEAM W - 1
TEAM Z - 3
Three goals from Naruhaya. Not bad. But the pattern was too obvious. Team W's defense practically funneled the ball toward him.
I watched Naruhaya's celebration, his eyes alight with a hunger I'd never seen before. The kind of hunger you'd find in someone desperate to prove something.
But there was more to it.
Keisuke's grin hadn't faltered. He said something to Naruhaya, low and taunting. And Naruhaya's lips twitched, caught between annoyance and guilt.
Guilt?
The match resumed, but my focus shifted. Instead of attacking, I kept my eyes on Naruhaya. On the Wanima brothers.
Their grins. Their movements. The way Naruhaya almost clung to their words, like he was indebted to them.
And then, it happened.
Naruhaya intercepted a pass meant for Raichi, his legs moving almost on instinct. But his touch was sloppy, his pass sent directly to Team W's midfield.
Iemon shouted, lunging forward to cut down the angle, but it was too late.
The Wanima brothers tore through our defense, and Keisuke drilled the ball into the net with a savage precision.
TEAM W - 2
TEAM Z - 3
I froze.
They weren't just targeting me. They were using Naruhaya.
No... Naruhaya was working with them.
A bitter laugh left my throat. Of course. That's why his positioning had been so perfect. Why their defense seemed so chaotic, yet left gaps for him to exploit.
It wasn't luck. It was planned.
But why? What the hell is he thinking?
I couldn't afford to be careless. Not now.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Keisuke kept eyeing Naruhaya like he was a puppet dancing to their strings. Junichi just grunted or nodded, his responses reduced to guttural sounds and sharp glares.
I tried to push it all aside and focus on the match. But as I maneuvered through their erratic defense, their movements still kept leading me to one place: Naruhaya. Like he was the bait, waiting to be fed another goal.
The ball rolled out of bounds, the whistle blowing for a throw-in. And that's when I caught them.
The Wanima brothers had veered off toward Chigiri.
Keisuke's smirk widened, that sharp, taunting grin plastered on his face as he approached Chigiri, who was standing near the sidelines. His eyes had that same vicious gleam they always held before a cheap shot.
"Yo, Princess," Keisuke sneered. "Still hiding behind those pretty legs of yours?"
Chigiri's eyes narrowed. I could feel the tension radiating off him even from where I stood. He kept his mouth shut, ignoring them. But that only seemed to spur them on.
Junichi let out a guttural hum, his expression twisted into something close to amusement.
"What's wrong?" Keisuke continued, his voice laced with mockery. "Still crying over that injury? Or did you finally realize you're just a coward?"
I saw Chigiri's fists clench, his shoulders tensing. But his gaze stayed fixed forward, refusing to acknowledge them.
But Keisuke wasn't done.
"I remember you whining like a little brat back in middle school. All that talent, wasted on someone who's scared of a little pain." He laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Makes sense why you quit the team. You were too weak to keep up."
Middle school? What the hell happened between them?
Junichi made another guttural noise of approval, his lips twitching into a grin as Keisuke continued.
"You think you can just waltz back in here and act like you're special?" Keisuke jabbed a finger at Chigiri's chest. "You're nothing but damaged goods."
I saw something flicker in Chigiri's eyes. Anger. Frustration. But mostly... pain.
"Why don't you go cry in the corner and let the real strikers play?" Keisuke taunted, his voice lowering to a hiss. "Or are you still too afraid to break those delicate little legs?"
I felt something snap inside me.
"Oi, Keisuke." My voice cut through the air, sharper than I intended.
They turned to look at me, Keisuke's grin twisting into something nastier.
"Oh? What, Blue Demon? You got a problem with me putting a coward in his place?"
I ignored the insult. "You're wasting your time with cheap shots." My eyes locked onto Chigiri's for a brief moment before turning back to the brothers. "You think bullying someone makes you stronger? That's just desperation."
Keisuke's grin didn't falter. "Desperation, huh? Funny coming from you, Isagi. You're just as desperate to prove yourself."
"Yeah. But I do it on the field. Not by dragging someone else down."
Junichi just grunted, his eyes narrowing as if daring me to keep talking. Keisuke, though, laughed like I'd just told him the funniest joke in the world.
"Whatever, man. Keep playing the hero." Keisuke shrugged, his shoulders loose and arrogant. "But if your team's relying on a cripple like him, you're screwed."
They turned their backs on us, walking away with that same damn swagger. But I caught the look on Chigiri's face. A mix of anger and something else—something darker, buried under layers of pride and frustration.
The whistle blew again. Back to the game.
But those words... they'd hit Chigiri deeper than any tackle. And I had a feeling the Wanima brothers knew exactly what they were doing.
I need to keep my eye on them. On Naruhaya. And now, on Chigiri.
Because whatever happened between them before, it's about to resurface. And if they're trying to tear us apart from the inside... I won't let them.
I exhaled sharply, my gaze flickering between the Wanima brothers and Naruhaya. They were playing us. And I was done letting them pull the strings.
The whistle blew. Our kick-off.
The ball rolled back to me, and I started moving.
"Yo, Isagi!" Bachira's voice sang out, that familiar manic grin plastered on his face. "You finally awake? Thought I lost you there for a sec."
"Yeah." I smirked, the pieces finally clicking into place. "I'm wide awake now."
"Oh, good." His eyes gleamed with that playful hunger. "Then let's stir things up a little, yeah? My monster's itching to play."
"Perfect. I need you up front with me, Bachira. They're closing off gaps, but if we break their lines fast enough, they won't be able to adjust."
"Sounds fun!" Bachira giggled, his feet already dancing with the ball. "Let's crush them."
We tore through the field, Bachira weaving through the opposition like they were nothing but training cones. His dribbling was chaotic, unpredictable, and it left the defenders scrambling, trying to figure out where he'd go next.
They couldn't.
And I saw it—holes in their formation, widening every time they lunged at Bachira's feints.
I surged forward, slipping past the defenders that swarmed me before. This time, they couldn't close in fast enough.
Bachira's pass came sharp and precise, a perfect setup right where I needed it. I didn't hesitate.
My foot connected with the ball, sending it rocketing past the opponent team's goalkeeper's outstretched arms and slamming into the net.
Goal.
TEAM W - 2
TEAM Z - 4
"Hell yeah!" Bachira whooped beside me, his eyes sparkling with exhilaration. "Nice one, Isagi!"
I met his grin with one of my own. But my attention was elsewhere.
The Wanima brothers glared at me from the other side of the field. Naruhaya just stared, jaw tight, fists clenched.
But I wasn't done.
I turned, my gaze locking onto Chigiri, who stood rooted near the halfway line, eyes cast down like he was trying to pretend the last five minutes didn't happen.
"Oi, Chigiri." My voice cut through the noise, sharp and cold. His head snapped up, startled.
"You seriously let yourself get beaten by trash like them? Huh?" My words were relentless, stabbing right at whatever pride he still had left. "I actually thought you had something in you. And I approached you thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would do you some good."
I let the disgust drip from my voice, every word laced with challenge.
"But look at you. Sitting around like wasted trash, letting other trash push you around. It's pathetic."
His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and fury twisting his features. Good.
"Or is that it?" I continued, refusing to let up. "You were just all talk. No guts. No drive. Just someone who's fine rotting away in the background." (AN:- The best thing is always gaslighting people into thinking they did something they didn't. Here Isagi has gaslighted Chigiri into thinking he was all talk while my boy is actually a silent chill guy. 👍)
Bachira giggled beside me, a mischievous spark in his gaze. "Aw, come on, Isagi. You're poking the beast, aren't you?"
"That's the point," I replied, eyes still locked on Chigiri.
Because I knew exactly what I was doing. If he had anything left in him, he'd have to fight back. He'd have to prove he wasn't the weak, broken mess those bastards made him out to be.
I needed him to be something more. Something real.
But if he crumbled here… then I'd know he was nothing but dead weight.
"Now get your act together," I snapped, turning away. "Or just stay there, waiting for them to tear you apart again."
I left him standing there, my words hanging heavy in the air.
I didn't have time to babysit.
We needed to crush them. And if Chigiri couldn't keep up, then he'd just be another obstacle in our way.
"Let's go, Bachira."
"Already ahead of you~!"
As we moved back into position, I couldn't help but glance back at Chigiri. His fists were trembling, his eyes burning with something fierce.
Good. Maybe there was still hope for him after all.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Naruhaya Asahi's POV}
Team W kicked off.
The air was tighter now—tense. Every pass felt like it carried more weight. The Wanima brothers… they weren't smiling anymore. That smugness they always carried? Gone.
They were getting desperate.
Keisuke charged forward like a beast unleashed, while Junichi followed close behind, making sharp, vicious runs into our defense line. But they weren't targeting our stronger players. No—they were picking off the weak links.
Igaguri. Kuon. Even Chigiri.
Guys who either couldn't keep up or hadn't found their place yet.
I could see it—Keisuke slamming into Kuon's side, shoving past him like he wasn't even there. The ball was sent into the air from the chaos—and that's when Gagamaru rose up like a giant and headed it away with force.
The ball came crashing down.
Straight to me.
My heart dropped.
It was like fate throwing me another bone. Another chance. Maybe the last one.
I didn't hesitate. I turned and sprinted with it, the ball bouncing by my feet. I could already see the opening. No defenders in front of me. I could do this. I had to.
One more goal. Then maybe they'd let me score more. Then I'd beat Isagi.
I'd finally be—
"You're still trying?"
That voice.
I didn't even get to blink before Isagi appeared.
He ripped the ball away from me like I was a child playing a grown man's game.
"Damn, you really are desperate," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Still hoping they'll let you score if you beg hard enough?"
My breath caught in my chest.
He wasn't done.
Not even close.
Isagi turned to the rest of the team, his voice like a blade, sharp and slicing through the stunned silence.
"Let me spell it out for all of you." He pointed straight at me. "This guy—Naruhaya Asahi—he's the reason Team W scored their first goal."
The words hit like gunfire.
"He sold us out. Leaked our formation, our tactics—everything. Just so he could beg for a few goals like some pathetic charity case."
I felt every pair of eyes snap back to me. The world around me slowed. My pulse thundered in my ears.
But Isagi wasn't finished.
"You think those goals meant something? You think they made you equal to me?" he snarled, stepping closer. "All you've done is prove you'll never be me. You'd rather stab your team in the back than actually beat me fair. That's how small you are."
The silence after that was suffocating.
I could feel the pitch freeze—like the game itself had stopped breathing.
And I stood there, exposed.
Alone.
"What…?" Raichi stepped forward, fists clenched. "You what?!"
Iemon's face twisted in disbelief. "No way. You seriously sold us out!?"
Igaguri stumbled backward. "Bro… that's messed up…"
Kira's face had a stunned expression. He couldn't believe that there was a person who would sell out his own team. His expression probably meant that.
Kunigami's eyes had darkened. For someone who played fair and like a hero, he would never forgive me. He might even give me a beating once this match is over.
I couldn't move.
Their eyes were on me. Everyone's. Each glare hit like a punch to the chest. Iemon looked like he couldn't believe it. Raichi's expression twisted with rage. Even Chigiri, who barely ever looked directly at me, now stared like he didn't recognize the person in front of him.
And Isagi…
He was already back in position, his back to me like I didn't even exist anymore.
Something cracked.
No—everything cracked.
The weight of it all—the lies, the pressure, the envy—I could feel it rising inside my chest like lava boiling under the surface. My hands trembled at my sides, my throat burning.
They all hated me now anyway.
The secret was out.
So why bother hiding anymore?
I could feel it—the shift in the air. The glares, the disgust, the way no one even tried to talk to me anymore. Just silence and distance.
Raichi was the first to snap.
He stormed toward me, his voice sharp with rage, fists clenched. "You little—!"
He was going to punch me. I didn't move. Maybe I even wanted him to.
But then—
"Don't bother wasting your energy," Isagi's voice cut through, calm but firm. "Get back into position."
That was it. No yelling. No lecture. Just cold dismissal.
Raichi looked frustrated, fists still twitching, but he backed off—grudgingly. And then… they moved on.
Just like that.
Like I didn't exist. Like I was already erased.
The play resumed as if nothing had happened. No one looked back.
I stood there, hollow.
Was I worth only this much?
Was there really no one who even cared enough to react?
Was I always that low in everyone's eyes?
If that's the case… then screw it.
No more pretending. No more begging to be seen.
I took off—legs burning, heart pounding with something I didn't even understand. I darted forward, cutting off a pass from Kira to Raichi mid-play.
Team Z froze for half a second. Shock flickered in their eyes.
Then
Finally.
They noticed me.
But i didn't care. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I turned—and passed it.
Straight to Keisuke Wanima.
A gasp echoed. I could hear it. Feel it. Like air being sucked out of the entire field.
I wanted them to see.
I turned toward Isagi, my voice shaking—not from fear, but from everything I had held in for years.
"You took everything from me," I spat, my voice low and venomous. "Back in Shizuoka… You didn't even know, did you? You didn't even recognize me when we met here."
He froze, turning halfway.
"You sat on the throne while the rest of us clawed through the dirt. I was supposed to shine at that middle school. I had a future there. But you—you came in and made me nothing."
I could feel my throat tighten, but I pushed through.
"My siblings... I promised them. I told them I'd make it. That I'd be someone. I bet everything on that dream."
I took a step forward, voice rising.
"And then you appeared. You crushed everything. Without even knowing. You didn't even see me."
Keisuke gave me a grin from across the field. The play hadn't even restarted properly, but the damage had been done.
"If I'm falling," I said, looking right into Isagi's cold blue eyes, "then I'm dragging you down with me."
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Anri's POV}
"This is insane…" I whispered under my breath, eyes fixed on the main screen.
Naruhaya Asahi.
He'd just passed the ball straight to Team W.
The betrayal wasn't even subtle anymore—it was deliberate. Open. His face twisted with rage and desperation, like he didn't even care who saw it now.
I turned sharply towards Ego, who stood just a few feet away, arms crossed as he watched the chaos unfold from behind his tinted glasses.
"We need to stop this," I said, unable to stay silent. "He's sabotaging the match. That's not what Blue Lock is supposed to be. He's endangering the integrity of the selection process. We should—"
"Shut up."
Ego didn't even look at me. His voice was low and dismissive, but there was a gleam in his glasses—sharp, dangerous, interested.
I opened my mouth again, but then I saw it—his smirk. That crooked little curl of his lips that only appeared when something amused him on a deeper, crueler level.
"He's falling apart," Ego said quietly, almost to himself. "Cracking under pressure. Finally showing his true ego."
He tapped the screen where Naruhaya stood on the pitch, now fully consumed by his own bitterness.
"This is exactly what Blue Lock is for," he added. "Let the trash reveal itself. Let it burn. That's how diamonds are made."
I swallowed hard, unsure whether I was watching a football match or the unraveling of a soul.
And Ego…
He was loving every second of it.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Chigiri's POV}
I was just… watching.
Everything felt so far away.
Naruhaya's betrayal. The Wanima brothers bulldozing through us. Isagi holding the line on his own. The noise of the match echoed like distant thunder, and I was stuck in the eye of the storm, unmoving.
Why am I even still here?
My knee—it wasn't hurting. Not physically. But it might as well have been shackled. Mentally, I couldn't run. Not after what happened. Not after what I lost.
I told myself Blue Lock would be a way out. That if I just got eliminated, I could walk away from football with an excuse. A justified end. No more risks. No more waiting for everything to fall apart again.
It was easier to fade away quietly than crash and burn trying.
But then there they were—those two. The Wanima brothers. Keisuke's voice grated on me again as they jogged back toward our side after a failed shot.
"Tch, you still haven't run? Some speedster you turned out to be," he sneered, grinning like a beast. "Middle school legend, huh? What a joke."
Junichi just made a dismissive "hmph," and I could feel their disgust radiate without words.
I didn't even bother responding. What was the point?
They wanted to break me, and the worst part was—they didn't need to. I was already broken.
But as they laughed, as Naruhaya flailed and pushed and still failed to matter… I whispered under my breath.
"…It's useless. Against someone like Isagi, it's all pointless."
And then, like clockwork—
Steal.
He did it again.
Like a phantom appearing behind Naruhaya, Isagi ripped the ball from him with zero hesitation and turned the entire match in a single heartbeat. Ruthless. Surgical. He didn't even celebrate—just kept moving.
And for the first time this match, my heart skipped a beat.
That bastard... he's dragging the team forward on his own.
I looked down at my legs.
This is it, I thought. My last game. Once this is over, I'm done. No more running. No more fear.
And just like that—he was beside me.
Isagi's voice cut through the air like a bullet.
"Move."
I blinked.
He shoved past me, a fire in his eyes so intense it left no room for weakness.
"You gonna stand there and sulk forever?" he barked. "Fine by me. Just don't get in my way, deadweight."
He didn't wait for a response. He didn't need one.
He was already sprinting past—toward the goal, toward victory, dragging the rest of us along whether we liked it or not.
And for the first time in a long time…
I felt something burn in my chest.
Something like shame.
Something like anger.
But it didn't fade.
It flared.
Boiled.
Exploded.
Why… why the hell is it him again?
Why is it always Isagi Yoichi, pulling ahead of the rest of us like it's natural? Like this was always his story and we're just background players watching him shine?
I clenched my fists.
My breath trembled in my lungs.
And then it hit me—
I hate him.
Not because he's arrogant.
Not because he's loud.
But because he still chases football with everything he's got.
While I threw mine away.
I threw my fire away.
My knee tensed—my so-called 'fragile' leg. The one that kept me in chains for so long.
But in this moment, I didn't feel fear.
I felt rage.
I whispered it—softly, shakily at first.
"…I want to run again."
Louder now. From my chest. From the fire rising in my gut.
"I want to run."
I looked down at my legs, trembling.
"Let's go. RIGHT LEG"
And then I said it—loud and proud, like a roar through the storm.
"THE BEST STRIKER IN THE WORLD… IS ME!!"
{Isagi's POV}
Something shifted.
A jolt. A ripple. Like the pitch itself responded.
No way.
I turned.
He was moving.
No—he was flying.
"Finally," I whispered, eyes wide. "You've decided to break free…"
A sharp grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Welcome back, Chigiri."
Without hesitation, I sent a curving pass left wing—only one player was fast enough to reach it.
{Chigiri's POV}
The ball sliced through the air like it knew where I'd be.
I took off.
I took off.
Every step was lightning.
Every heartbeat thunder.
Wind howled past my ears as I devoured the left side like it belonged to me.
Defenders turned. Reacted. Reached—
Too slow.
I touched the ball once, then let it fly forward—
And chased it.
Passed it to myself.
Another kick—forward.
Another acceleration.
The whole pitch blurred behind me.
Junichi reached out—
Gone.
Keisuke lunged—
Too late.
It was just me.
Me and the goal.
I stepped forward. No hesitation. No fear.
Just fire.
Just football.
BOOM.
The net rippled.
TEAM W - 2
TEAM Z - 5
Silence.
Then chaos.
I stood there, heart pounding, hair wild from the sprint, chest heaving.
And for the first time since that injury, I felt alive.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Naruhaya's POV}
Huh? What?
Since when could that corner-sitting redhead run that fast?
Since when did he—Chigiri—become that?
Why now? Why the hell now?
Why not before? Why not when I still had time to catch up? When I still believed I had a chance?
My legs twitched—just slightly—as if they wanted to chase after him. But they stayed glued. Heavy. Like they belonged to someone else entirely.
I couldn't move.
I just watched as Chigiri sprinted down the wing, cutting through everyone like a gust of wind, like he was born for that one moment. That was his moment.
And I… I didn't even get to try.
Then I heard them.
Footsteps. Laughter. That familiar weight pressing in on my shoulders.
Keisuke Wanima slung an arm around me, casual, smug, like we were teammates celebrating a goal. Like I wasn't already burning from the inside out. Junichi stalked up next to him, arms crossed, a disgusted little "hm" vibrating through his throat.
"Tch," Keisuke sneered, leaning in so close I could smell the sweat on him. "That's the guy you were supposed to be better than?"
His words punched me harder than any tackle.
"We gave you your little spotlight. And now look at you—standing here like a ghost. You're pathetic."
My stomach curled. I could feel the bile rising, feel the shame crawling up my throat, the heat pooling behind my eyes. I jerked my shoulder, trying to shove him off, but Keisuke only laughed louder.
Then the others joined in.
"That was your genius plan?"
"Nice job, traitor."
"You couldn't even outshine a cripple."
"You're a joke."
They surrounded me—not physically, but with their words, their scorn, their scowls. Like I was some failed experiment they couldn't wait to throw away.
I wanted to scream. To punch something. To vanish.
I didn't want to hear it. Any of it.
But I took it. I endured it.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
Swallow it all down, pretend it didn't matter. Pretend I was still in control.
Even as everything I tried to build crumbled around me.
Even as that tiny flicker of hope inside me threatened to go out completely.
Kickoff came.
Team W reset, moving like they still had something to prove. The ball rolled back, passed between defenders with sharp, practiced taps.
And then—they passed it to me.
Like I was still one of them.
Like I was still part of this garbage plan.
The ball stopped at my feet, and for a second… everything else faded.
I looked down.
The ball sat there, waiting.
My heart thundered against my ribs, loud enough to drown out the crowd. My breath dragged in through clenched teeth—ragged, fire-laced, like it hurt just to exist.
And something inside me snapped.
My head snapped up, eyes wide, wild.
"Don't pass to me like we're teammates," I spat, my voice cracking as it tore its way out. "You guys are trash."
Keisuke blinked.
"You hear me?! Trash! Even with all the information I gave you, you couldn't do jackshit! You couldn't stop Isagi! You couldn't stop Chigiri!"
I clenched my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palms.
"…I regret ever thinking this team would take me anywhere."
The silence that followed felt like the stillness before a storm. Keisuke's smirk faltered, just a flicker—but I saw it. I needed to see it.
I turned before they could answer. Before they could taunt me again or spit more poison into my ear.
I turned—and I ran.
Not toward my own goal. Not to pass. Not to defend.
I ran at them.
I charged through their lines like a man possessed, the ball clinging to my feet with desperate precision.
One defender lunged—I cut inside, sharp and quick.
He stumbled.
I kept going.
My heart screamed in my chest, each beat saying: Go. Go. GO.
Yes.
Yes.
This was it.
This was what I had been waiting for.
If I just scored now—if I just showed them I didn't need anyone—
Then maybe everything I did wouldn't be meaningless.
Maybe I could still be something.
Maybe I could still—
I took one more touch—
And the ball vanished.
No—
I barely saw it happen.
Just a blur of motion, a shift of weight—and then Junichi was gone with the ball, his low, crouched body gliding past like a shadow slipping through a crack in my world.
He didn't even look at me.
Like I didn't matter.
Like I wasn't even there.
I stopped.
Mid-run.
Mid-breath.
My chest heaved, but not from the sprint. From the weight crashing down on me.
My hands curled into trembling fists at my sides.
My vision blurred—not from sweat.
My legs gave out a little.
Because in that single, brutal second…
I knew.
Right there, with all eyes watching—
I was nothing.
Not the smartest. Not the fastest. Not even the most desperate.
Just a name.
Just another loser in a field full of better strikers.
And no one… no one was coming to save me.
I collapsed into the field.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Isagi's POV}
Naruhaya was done.
Not just physically—broken. Mentally snapped and shattered beyond repair.
He wouldn't be getting back up anytime soon.
Sigh… What a waste.
All that potential, all that effort—and he let his personal grudges choke him out. Blinded by envy, tangled in desperation. He thought he could outsmart everyone by selling us out, but in the end, he was just another fool who bet everything and lost it all.
There was no need to say anything more. Not a word. The damage was done.
He was broken enough already.
Push even slightly more, and I'd be planting trauma in his head. And honestly? He wasn't worth the effort anymore.
So now…
My eyes locked onto the field, narrowing at the remaining players in Team W.
These guys?
Trash.
The only reason this match got dragged out this long was because of the drama. Because I wanted to test something—no, someone.
I wanted to see if I could push Chigiri. To play.
And now that he had?
Now that that little experiment was over?
Let's end this.
From there, the match became a bloodbath.
The moment the gears clicked into place, Team Z turned into a storm. Precise. Relentless. Unstoppable.
Final Score: 13 – 2.
I led the charge—four goals to my name. Every single one carved out with intention, born from vision. This was no longer about surviving.
This was about dominating.
Naruhaya managed to scavenge three goals, all from the early chaos when his betrayal hadn't yet surfaced. They felt hollow now—just fading echoes of a crumbling ego.
Chigiri?
The moment he unleashed those legs—those wings—he tore through Team W like they weren't even there. Two goals, back to back. Blurs of red streaking across the left wing, impossible to follow.
Even Bachira got in on the fun. His monster danced with him tonight—two goals that left defenders spinning like tops, wondering how they lost the ball before realizing it was already in the net.
Kira slotted in one. A clean finish after a string of quick passes that cut through Team W like a knife.
And Kunigami? He crashed through their backline like a hammer. One blazing strike—pure power, pure Kunigami.
By the time the final whistle blew, Team W wasn't just defeated—they were humiliated.
Their eyes told the story.
Dead. Empty. Hollow.
They weren't just beaten.
They were erased.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{Control Room – Post-Match Debrief}
The match had ended. Silence blanketed the stadium for a brief moment.
Then, the main screen flickered—click—and Ego's face appeared, lit in a pale glow, eyes piercing right through the camera as always.
His voice sliced through the silence.
"That was a circus."
His voice was sharp, measured, and merciless.
"A match drowned in emotion, betrayal, and melodrama. If I wanted to watch pathetic soap operas, I'd turn on daytime TV."
He paused.
"But…"
The screen showed slow replays—Naruhaya's betrayal, Chigiri's sprint, Isagi's goals—each frame dissected like a corpse on a table.
"There will be players like Naruhaya in the world of football. Trash who try to act above their pay grade. Who scramble for shortcuts. Who try to fake the instincts of a genius striker with desperate, underhanded plays."
His gaze zeroed in.
"Naruhaya wasn't wrong."
Everyone in Team Z tensed.
"In fact, the will to win at all costs… is the very foundation of a striker."
Ego leaned in, lips curling into the faintest smirk.
"If you can crush your enemies by not betraying your team, do it. But there is a line that separates a trash player and a striker. And the striker should never cross that line. It is in short called morals. Naruhaya just crossed that line."
Silence.
Then, his voice dropped to its coldest register.
"But you didn't betray your team to win, Naruhaya. You did it out of fear. You acted out of envy, out of self-pity—out of weakness."
He adjusted his glasses again.
"That's where your logic failed."
A screen flashed to the rankings. The numbers glitched briefly, then updated.
Naruhaya Asahi – Rank: 275
"Take this as your lesson."
A brief pause.
"This is Blue Lock. Not your second chance. Not your therapy room. If you're going to sell your soul, make sure it's worth something."
Click.
The screen cut to black.
Then it came back to life again.
"Ah, forgot to mention, your next match is in 4 days, Team Z. For now go off and scramble to your dorms."
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes
Yo.
This chapter was a headache to write.
Halfway through, I basically complicated things for myself. Trying to balance Chigiri's arc with Naruhaya's spiral… man, it was draining. That's honestly why this one took a bit longer to drop.
Also—this ended up being the longest chapter in the story so far. Around 9k words, which is wild.
But here's the real question I want to throw at you all:
Do you think we did justice to this chapter?
Did it hit the way it should've?
Did we manage to land the emotion and chaos—or did it feel off?
Let us know what you think. Feedback is always welcome, whether you love it or hate it.
This is the last chapter for the week and the week after. I have a test this coming Monday, but there is a chance that it will be postponed to next Monday. If it does get postponed, you will be getting a chapter this Sunday. If not, then it's mostly next Sunday.
Signing off,
– SG
Editor's Note:-
Hi, it didn't feel like we wrote 9k words but I guess we did.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and thank you for reading.
-NB