Blue Lock: Isagi the egoist

The sunlight filtered through the curtains as Isagi woke up to a peaceful morning. Next to him, Koyuki stirred, still half-asleep. With a mischievous grin, Isagi leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Morning," he whispered.

Koyuki smiled groggily. "Good morning... You're up early."

"Big day," Isagi replied. "Got that Blue Lock thing."

Koyuki raised an eyebrow. "You're actually excited about it, huh?"

"Of course," Isagi said, pulling her closer. "But we've got time before I head out."

Koyuki giggled as Isagi's playful side emerged, and the two shared a tender moment. Afterward, they showered together, their laughter echoing through the house, before getting dressed and ready for the day.

The building of the Japan Football Association loomed ahead, its sleek, modern design reflecting the country's dedication to the sport. Isagi walked in, dressed sharply in casual yet athletic attire, exuding confidence.

Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. Hundreds of teenagers filled the hall, all chatting nervously or boasting about their skills. Isagi scanned the room, noting the wide range of players—some confident, others clearly unsure.

He leaned against a wall, waiting for whatever was next.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, silencing the room. A spotlight illuminated a figure stepping onto the stage.

"Test, test... This sh*t working?"

The voice was sharp and commanding, immediately drawing everyone's attention. The figure stepped into the light: a tall, lanky man with glasses that reflected the spotlight, hiding his eyes.

"Ah, yes... Good. Welcome, you unpolished lumps of talent."

The crowd murmured in confusion, unsure of how to respond.

The man continued, his voice oozing confidence and disdain in equal measure. "According to my personal judgment, you 300 are the best strikers under 18 in Japan. My name is Jinpachi Ego. I was hired to give Japan a World Cup victory."

Gasps filled the room, but Ego ignored them, pacing as he spoke.

"I'll say this plainly: only one thing is necessary for Japanese soccer to become the best in the world."

The room fell silent, everyone hanging on his next words. Even Isagi felt his pulse quicken.

"The birth of a revolutionary striker."

Ego's words hit like a thunderclap.

"With the 300 of you here, I will conduct an experiment to create the world's best striker. One who is not bound by conventional teamwork or the limitations of playing it safe. A striker who embodies egoism, who prioritizes scoring above all else. That is the only path to victory."

As the crowd absorbed Ego's words, Isagi smirked. He stepped out of the shadows, drawing everyone's eyes.

"So, you planned this out and still invited me?" he asked, his voice loud and clear.

Ego's glasses glinted as he turned to face Isagi.

"Ego, you know that, currently, I'm number one. Do you believe these kids have a chance? How low do you think my level is? I don't play with bottom-feeders who think passing is something a striker has to do. I am the best. That's all that matters."

The room erupted. Players muttered angrily, some glaring at Isagi, others looking intimidated.

Ego smiled, watching the chaos unfold. Isagi's words had done exactly what he wanted—they had ignited the competitive spirit in every player in the room.

Isagi stood tall, arms crossed, his presence commanding. "If you think you can take my spot, prove it."

Ego clapped his hands, silencing the room once more. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Isagi Yoichi, you may have just saved me the trouble of delivering another motivational speech."

He gestured toward a massive set of doors behind him. "The time for talk is over. Behind these doors is the beginning of your journey. Enter, and prepare to fight for your lives as strikers. Welcome to Blue Lock."

The doors creaked open, revealing a brightly lit hallway.

Without hesitation, Isagi strode forward, leading the pack. The other players, fired up and ready to prove themselves, followed close behind.

Ego watched them go, a smirk on his face. "This is going to be fun."

The bus hummed softly as it sped toward the Blue Lock facility. The atmosphere inside was tense and filled with whispered conversations as players sized each other up. Isagi sat quietly, his hands in his lap, glancing out the window at the passing scenery.

The number on his jersey: 299.

Seriously, Ego? A joke? Isagi thought, smirking to himself. Fine. If this is how you want to start, I'll climb the ranks again, no matter how many times I have to prove it. I'm the best, and I'll show you.

The bus screeched to a halt, and the doors hissed open.

"All right, kids, off the bus!" barked a voice.

The players shuffled out, Isagi leading the way, his eyes scanning the imposing facility ahead. The building was massive, its sleek, futuristic design underscored by its almost intimidating aura.

Isagi followed the signs, weaving through the labyrinth-like halls until he found a room marked with a large Z. Pushing the door open, he stepped in and saw eleven other players already inside.

His eyes immediately locked onto one familiar face: Ryosuke Kira.

Kira noticed him too and offered a nod. Isagi nodded back, unsure what to make of the guy after their last game.

The other players were an eclectic mix, each exuding different levels of confidence, nervousness, or outright arrogance. The room buzzed with tension, the weight of Blue Lock's premise already hanging over their heads.

"Yo, Isagi, right?" Kira said, walking up to him.

"Yeah. Kira, wasn't it?"

"That's right. So, what do you make of this place?" Kira asked, glancing around the room.

Isagi smirked. "I think it's going to be fun."

Before Kira could respond, the lights in the room dimmed. A large monitor flickered on, and Ego Jinpachi's face filled the screen.

"Welcome, Team Z," Ego's voice boomed. "I hope you've had enough time to exchange pleasantries because the real fun begins now. Your first trial is a simple game of tag."

The players exchanged confused looks.

"Tag? What's that got to do with soccer?" asked a bald, monk-like kid.

Ego ignored the question and continued. "The rules are simple: the player with the ball is 'it.' If you're tagged with the ball, you become 'it.' When the timer runs out, whoever is 'it' will be... locked off. That's right. Eliminated. Your Blue Lock journey—and your soccer career—will end here."

The room fell into stunned silence.

"Your timer is 136 seconds. Good luck."

A hatch opened in the ceiling, and a ball dropped into the room.

The screen lit up with the first name: Igarashi Gurimu.

The bald kid froze as everyone turned to look at him.

"Wha—?! Why me?!" Igarashi yelled, scrambling to grab the ball.

Igarashi darted around the room, clutching the ball like his life depended on it. The other players scattered, some trying to hide behind others, while the more aggressive ones started plotting their moves.

Isagi stood calmly, watching the chaos unfold. His mind was already working, analyzing the players' movements and predicting the ball's trajectory.

"Gah!" Igarashi screamed as another player tackled him and kicked the ball away.

The ball ricocheted around the room, landing at Kira's feet. Without hesitation, Kira took control, his gaze narrowing as he sized up his targets.

"Let's make this interesting," Kira muttered, charging forward.

Players scrambled to avoid him, and Isagi stayed just out of reach, his every movement calculated to keep him safe.

As the timer ticked down to its final seconds, Kira made his move, aiming the ball at a player on the far side of the room.

But Isagi saw the opening.

With a sudden burst of speed, he intercepted the ball, his footwork precise and controlled. The timer hit its last five seconds as Isagi smirked.

"Guess it's time to show my ego."

He turned and launched the ball directly at Kira, the force sending it crashing into his face. Kira collapsed to the ground as the buzzer blared.

The room went silent.

Ego's face reappeared on the monitor.

"Ryosuke Kira," he said, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Your ego was too weak. You hesitated when you should've acted, and now you've paid the price. Your career is over. Lock off."

Kira's face fell as two guards entered the room and escorted him out. The remaining players stood in stunned silence, the weight of what had just happened sinking in.

After the game, the players were led to a massive training facility for a series of physical exams. Each test pushed their limits—speed, strength, agility, and endurance.

Isagi excelled in every category. His speed was unmatched, his vertical leap was nearly record-breaking, and his stamina seemed endless. By the time the tests were over, most players were gasping for air, but Isagi stood tall, barely breaking a sweat.

As the day ended, Isagi sat alone in his room, his jersey still displaying the number 299. He smirked, his confidence unshaken.