Blue lock: Reborn Egoist

A dim hospital room, sterile yet humming with quiet tension. The rhythmic beeping of machines filled the air, the scent of antiseptic thick. Outside, the world continued without pause, oblivious to the birth of something—someone—monumental.

A sharp cry cut through the silence. A baby, tiny yet vibrant, wailed as he took his first breath in this world. His small fists clenched instinctively, his body wriggling as if already fighting against some invisible force.

But to Eito Jinpachi Castillo, this was no ordinary birth.

Darkness had consumed him moments before, an endless abyss where time lost meaning. There had been nothing—no sound, no light, just an infinite void. But now, that emptiness was gone, replaced by sensations too overwhelming to ignore.

A suffocating warmth. A sudden rush of cold. The strange, unfamiliar weight of his own body.

Then, the realization hit him like a thunderclap.

He had been reborn.

How?

Memories clashed inside his newborn mind, flickering like a dying flame. He remembered football—or soccer, depending on where you were from. The rush of sprinting across the field, the pressure of defenders closing in, the electric thrill of striking the ball with precision. He remembered failure, too. The bitter taste of it. The desperation to prove himself.

Then… nothing.

Until now.

Eito tried to move, but his limbs were useless, barely more than twitching weights attached to his frail body. He tried to speak, but all that escaped was another cry—an involuntary reaction, nothing more. His vision, blurry and unfocused, struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

He saw shapes—two figures.

One was a woman, breathtaking even in exhaustion. Her golden-brown skin glistened under the dim lights, and her amber eyes burned with warmth and determination. She looked strong—not just physically, but in the way she held herself, in the way her gaze softened as she stared at him.

His mother?

The second figure stood beside her, a stark contrast. A man, tall and sharp, his entire presence exuding an air of calculation. His glasses reflected the hospital's glow, obscuring his eyes, but even without seeing them, Eito could feel the intensity of his gaze. Cold. Analytical.

Then, the man spoke.

"Emotion is unnecessary. What matters is potential."

The words sent a jolt through Eito's tiny body. That voice… that mindset… it was familiar.

His mind, still adapting, pieced it together in an instant.

Ego Jinpachi.

Eito's breath—small and weak—hitched. His heart pounded as his brain screamed in disbelief. No. No way.

This wasn't just reincarnation. This was something else entirely.

He had been reborn into Blue Lock's world.

His father was Ego Jinpachi.

Before he could process anything further, something clicked inside him. A sudden presence—like a machine booting up—awakened in his mind.

━━━ [SYSTEM BOOTING…] ━━━

A transparent screen blinked into existence before his barely adjusted vision. It hovered in his mind, undeniable, real.

━━━ [Egoist System Activated] ━━━

Welcome, Eito Jinpachi Castillo.

You have been reborn as the son of Ego Jinpachi.

Your potential is boundless. Devour the world.

Eito's tiny body shivered.

A system?

His brain, despite its newborn state, worked furiously. He had read about these things in fiction—game-like abilities that granted insane advantages. But this was no dream. The information on the screen felt real.

━━━ [Youth Version Activated] ━━━

Name: Eito Jinpachi Castillo

Age: 0

Position: N/A

Talent Evaluation: ?? (Hidden)

Skillset: None (Developing)

Stats:

Speed: 1 (G)Dribbling: 1 (G)Shooting: 1 (G)Passing: 1 (G)Defending: 1 (G)Physical: 1 (G)Stamina: 1 (G)Mentality: 5 (G)Ego: —Unassigned Points: 0

━━━ [Quests Unlocked] ━━━

[First Step to Ego] – Learn to walk (Reward: +5 Unassigned Points)

[Instincts of a Striker] – Kick a ball for the first time (Reward: +5 Unassigned Points)

Eito stared—or rather, processed, because his newborn body wouldn't allow him to react properly.

He had stats, missions, and a system designed to cultivate his ego into a world-class striker.

His eyes flickered to the one stat with no assigned number.

Ego.

It was blank. Undefined. As if waiting for him to shape it himself.

This wasn't just a second chance.

This was his destiny.

A soft touch brought him back. The woman—his mother—gently ran a finger along his cheek. The warmth of her presence contrasted with the cold aura of the man beside her.

"What do you see in him?" she asked.

Eito turned his unfocused gaze toward the man who was now his father.

"A blank slate. A pure vessel of ego," Ego said, voice unwavering. His eyes narrowed slightly. "But even in his first breath, I see it… Hunger. That's good. Strikers need to be hungry. If he is to surpass the world, it must start now."

His father's words didn't rattle him.

They ignited something inside him.

Surpass the world?

He clenched his tiny fingers, determination bubbling deep in his underdeveloped body.

He would.

Ximena rolled her eyes but smirked. "You're impossible."

She looked down at her son, who had now stopped crying, his small eyes blinking up at her.

Observing. Processing.

He wasn't just a baby. He was a competitor at the starting line.

A tiny hand curled around Ximena's finger, gripping tightly. Stronger than expected.

Ego watched the movement with fascination. "We'll name him Eito."

Ximena tilted her head, then smiled. "I like that name."

Eito's small chest rose and fell steadily.

He had a name.

He had a system.

And soon—he would have the world.