Blue lock: Reborn Egoist

Eito stood on the edge of the training field, watching the older boys stretch and prepare for the session ahead. The sun was high in the sky, casting a harsh light over the facility. He could feel the heat on his skin, the humidity in the air, and the weight of the challenge ahead pressing down on him.

This wasn't like the isolated training he had done before. This was real. This was the first time he had been truly immersed in a competitive environment, and the intensity of it all was overwhelming. The boys around him were tall, muscular, and brimming with experience. They had been playing together for years, and now, Eito—still only five years old—was expected to keep up with them.

He clenched his fists. The fire inside him burned brighter than ever. This was the test he had been preparing for. This was where he would show that he belonged.

The coach stood at the front of the field, giving instructions in rapid Spanish, his voice sharp and commanding. Eito tried to focus, to absorb the language, but it felt like his mind was being pulled in a thousand different directions. The intensity of the moment was too much to fully process, but he knew one thing: he couldn't back down.

As the coach called the players into position, Ego stood off to the side, watching silently. Eito could feel his father's eyes on him, waiting, observing. There was no room for failure here.

The coach blew his whistle, and the game began.

Eito sprinted forward, the ball at his feet. His Stamina burned through his body, his muscles aching as he pushed himself harder than he had ever pushed before. His Speed had improved in recent weeks, but these older boys were faster, more aggressive. One of them, a tall striker with dark eyes and a smug smile, closed in on him quickly. Eito tried to dodge, but the boy blocked him with ease, stealing the ball and charging down the field.

Eito's first instinct was to chase, to get the ball back. His Instinct told him to go after it, to fight for every inch. He bolted after the boy, his legs burning with the effort. He could feel his energy draining, his Endurance tested to the limit.

But the boy was too quick, too experienced. He shot the ball past the makeshift goal, scoring with ease.

The coach blew the whistle, signaling a break, and Eito jogged to the sidelines, panting heavily. He felt the sting of failure in his chest. This was his first real test, and he had already let a goal slip past him.

Ego's eyes followed him as he walked over, his gaze as piercing as ever.

"You're not ready," Ego said simply, his voice flat. "You hesitated. You didn't trust yourself."

Eito clenched his teeth. He couldn't argue. Ego was right. He hadn't been fast enough, sharp enough. He had felt the pressure of the game, the eyes of the older players on him, and it had made him hesitate.

The coach called for the next round. Eito stepped back onto the field, determination burning in his eyes. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. This time, he would act before he thought. He would trust himself.

As the game resumed, Eito focused on the ball, his eyes tracking it as it was passed to him. The older boys were closing in, but Eito was faster now. He feinted left, then darted right, leaving the defenders behind. He could feel the ball responding beneath his feet—his Technique had improved, and he could control it with precision. This time, he wasn't just reacting. He was deciding.

He could see the gap in the defense. His legs moved faster, and before he knew it, he was charging toward the goal, the goalkeeper coming into view.

In that moment, everything slowed down. The pressure, the noise of the game, the sound of his own heartbeat—all of it faded into the background. He wasn't thinking. He was deciding.

With a swift motion, Eito kicked the ball. It soared past the goalkeeper's outstretched hands, hitting the back of the net with a satisfying thud.

Eito stood frozen for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. It was a perfect shot. He had scored.

Ximena, watching from the sideline, let out a joyful cheer, but Eito didn't take his eyes off the field. This wasn't about the celebration. It was about proving that he could do this. He had taken control of the game, and it felt like a spark had been lit inside him.

But then he heard Ego's voice, low and commanding.

"Good. But don't get comfortable. There's more to do."

Eito's chest heaved as he turned to face his father. He nodded, knowing that the real challenge had only just begun. The score didn't matter. The game wasn't over. This was just one step. He still had to prove he could handle everything else that came with being a striker.

The coach blew the whistle again, signaling another round. Eito moved into position, his body sore but his mind clear. He was ready to keep going, to keep fighting.