Blue lock: Reborn Egoist

It had been another few years since Eito's first steps. His body was now sturdy enough to hold his own, his legs stronger and more coordinated. At five years old, he was far ahead of where most children his age should be. But Eito was never just "most children." He had a destiny to fulfill, a goal that burned in his chest like an insatiable flame.

The [Egoist System] had continued tracking his progress, adjusting his stats, unlocking new quests. Yet, despite all the data and growth, there was one thing Eito lacked: the skill to truly apply the power he was cultivating. The art of football—the thing that would set him apart from everyone else—was still a mystery to him.

But today was different.

Today, his father had decided it was time to teach him the true meaning of being a striker.

Ego Jinpachi was a man who believed in potential above all else. The world was a battlefield, and only those with the will to fight for themselves would ever reach the top. He had spent years perfecting his theories, creating the Blue Lock system, and now, he was turning his attention to the son who would be his greatest project.

Ximena had already prepared for the lesson, leading Eito outside to a small training area behind their house. A simple soccer ball sat waiting for him on the grass. The field was small, but Eito didn't care about the size—he was ready. His body was prepared for this moment, and his mind had been itching to understand how to turn his strength into power on the field.

Ego stood by the sideline, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze cold and calculating. He was the definition of control. But there was something more in his eyes today—something that Eito hadn't seen before. His father was watching him, studying him, waiting for him to show what he was capable of.

"Today, you begin to understand what it means to be a striker," Ego said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority.

Eito nodded, his small fists clenched at his sides. He had been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember. But there was something more than just the desire to impress. This was the beginning of his journey—a journey to surpass the world, to dominate it, and to prove that he was worthy of his father's legacy.

"You will learn to use your body," Ego continued, his voice carrying across the field, "but more importantly, you will learn to use your mind. A striker is not just about kicking a ball—it's about deciding how and when to kick it. It's about having the instinct to strike when the opportunity arises, without hesitation."

Eito stared at the ball in front of him, his pulse quickening. His system had already registered the new quest.

━━━ [New Quest Unlocked] ━━━

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

He had seen others play before. He had watched videos, studied footwork, read about the greatest strikers, but none of that could prepare him for this. The system's data could tell him what to do, but it couldn't teach him the most important lesson of all: instinct.

Ego's voice snapped him back to reality. "First, feel the ball. Don't think about it. Feel it with your feet."

Eito crouched down and placed one foot gently against the ball. His toes brushed the surface, and for the first time, he truly felt the ball beneath his foot. There was a connection. A direct line from his mind to the ball, his body to the earth. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced before, and it made everything click.

"Now, kick it," Ego commanded, his voice sharp.

Eito didn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he kicked the ball with all the power his small body could muster. The ball shot forward, rolling a few feet away from him before coming to a stop. It wasn't powerful. It wasn't even close to the precision he imagined. But it was a start.

He stood up straight, watching his father carefully. Ego didn't show any immediate reaction, but the tension in the air was palpable. Eito could feel the weight of his father's gaze, and he knew what came next. He would need to show more than just effort. He would need to show instinct.

Ego stepped forward, his footsteps calculated. "You're thinking too much," he said, his voice softer but no less intense. "A striker doesn't think. They decide. When you see an opening, you take it. When you feel the ball, you strike it. That's the first lesson. Control and instinct."

Eito watched as his father positioned the ball again, this time standing further back. Ego then kicked it toward him with precise force, the ball flying through the air. It was coming straight for him, and Eito had only moments to react. His heart pounded in his chest. This was it. This was the moment he'd been preparing for.

Eito didn't think. He didn't wait for the perfect moment. He saw the ball coming and, without hesitation, struck it with all his might.

The ball shot forward, faster and with more precision than before. It hit the far corner of the makeshift goal they had set up. It wasn't perfect, but it was a powerful strike. He had made it count.

Ego stood silent for a moment, studying the result.

"Better," he said, his tone almost imperceptible. "But remember this: A striker never stops. Every strike is a chance to improve, to become better than the last."

Eito stood still, his chest heaving with excitement. His father's approval—or something close to it—was enough to fuel his drive. This was just the beginning.