Ascension│Bluelock x male reader

40. World Class (Part 3)

Y/N quelled the excitement in his stomach. He hadn't won yet. There was still one goal.

And on the other side of the field, it was clear his opponents were done playing around.

Luna's face was darkened with a hint of anger, even as he kept up a grin through gritted teeth. He scooped up the ball with barely concealed frustration, staring at the floor. His eyes seethed with poison. 

Blake exhaled slowly, flexing his shoulders as he straightened his back. The look he sent Y/N was full of spite. Next to him, Silva slammed a fist into his palm. He'd been quite quiet since the game had started, not bothering to talk to Y/N. 

Cavazos didn't look too bothered. He gave Y/N an interested, curious look, pursing his lips. And of course, Loki wasn't angry. He was holding back a smile, looking across at Y/N with admiration in his eyes. But Y/N noticed with a twinge of unease how relaxed he looked. He wasn't even out of breath, while Y/N's entire body was aching and he could barely talk. 

Blake started with the ball. He placed it down in the centre of the field. "Y/N L/N." He said, in a heavy British accent, meeting Y/N's eyes. "That's your name, right?"

"Yep." Y/N answered in English, walking towards him. He paused a few metres away, the two of them facing off against each other. He ignored how tired his entire body was, how achy his muscles were, and how his eyes seemed to droop without him realising. Just one more goal. 

"You're interesting." Blake calmly said. "I didn't expect there to be any actual talent here. The Japanese aren't known for their football."

Y/N frowned, still talking in English. "Is that a compliment or an insult?" 

"A message." 

Blake rested one foot on the ball. His eyes glowed with barely suppressed fury, and his muscles tensed. His entire demeanour shifted - where he was just frustrated before, he was now determined. "Don't get too cocky, kiddo. The match starts for real now." 

He dashed forwards with stunning speed. Before the whistle could even blow to signal the kickoff, Y/N went to meet him. Their strides tore up the distance between them. 

The pace was clearly different from before. Y/N thought he was fast before, but Blake had kicked it up a notch, moving insanely fast for such a big guy. The ball close to his feet at all times, he ran forwards. He stared Y/N down with steely determination, breathing heavily. The unease in Y/N's gut grew. 

When Y/N got close, Blake's arm shot out. Y/N prepared to duck it or dodge it like before, but it was much, much faster, nailing him right in the shoulder. He choked with surprise, not expecting the defence. Blake held him far away, pushing him to the side as he sped past without another look. What?!

Y/N spun away. He shoved Blake away from him. He caught up easily enough, spinning around to get in front of Blake. As soon as he went for a second attack, though, Blake passed it. His face could've been set in stone with how little emotion he showed. 

The ball flew far to the side of the field, where Silva faced off against Bachira. The Brazilian tank leapt up high into the air, huge muscles flexing as his head swung forwards. The header sent the ball slamming to the ground. It bounced and flew way past where Bachira had expected it to go.

Silva was on it in a split second, moving differently to before. Better. Faster. He barged past Bachira like he was a stick, his sheer size and mass completely nullifying Bachira's skill. He's turned it up too? 

When it was clear Silva was going to break through, Y/N sped across. His chest was beginning to hurt from the all out sprinting, but he kept up the pace. His teammates moved to fill the gap he'd left, but it didn't really matter what they did. They didn't matter.