FOUND ୨୧ BLUE LOCK

73 THE PERFECT PRINCE

Manshine's master striker throws his windbreaker jacket off—it falls behind him as he grins widely and makes his way onto the field, "Chris Prince!! Coming soon ♪!" He winks with starry eyes.

You can hear Noa scoff, clear as day—"Moron."

The moron in reference slips his shirt off and poses in front of the camera with a blinding white grin—announcing his role as the hero and how he is going to score. Even when the digital referee buzzes and scolds him with a yellow card for such indecency, his smile does not falter and he remains as sparkly as always.

It's almost impressive. It would've been, actually, if you would've even seen it. Mariele slapped her palms over your vision as soon as the shirt left the body—"H... hey! Mariele..."

You weakly tug at her milky wrists—surprise, surprise, she does not budge. You can practically envision her face hardening with an unimpressed glare as she speaks, "No way. No matter how freaking built he is. A total self-obsessed idiot, that's what he is."

Beside you is audible laughter and murmuring within your benched teammates—Igaguri cackles and calls him a moron as well, while Raichi seems to admire him for his confidence.

Only when the shirt finally gets slipped back on do you regain your vision—you can see Hiori's uncomfortable, almost disbelieving expression. His voice sounds strangely judgemental, "That's... Manshine's master?"

"Ideals, ideals." Noa flings his jacket behind him and it flutters directly into your lap. You look up at him in surprise and get an eyeful of the back of his white head of hair. "You say all that, but in the end, you're only just thinking about showing off, Chris. You fail as a master."

"Ooh, our's too!" The peanut gallery speaks up again—Igaguri looks hyped up, while Raichi looks more pouty.

"Makes sense... shit, I wanna play, too!"

Chris' brows lower and he glares—the grin on his face feels more strained than before, "My, my if it isn't Mr World's Number One. I haven't forgotten about last year's UEFA Men's Player of the Year award... The votes decided the results... and I ended up right behind you, in second place. if you weren't there, I'd be in first... It was close."

You think if Noa was a normal person, he would've snorted, or chortled, or done something of the sort. He is not normal—but he comes damn near close to it, with a strangled sort of noise that doesn't seem to suit his deadpan expression. "Hm? It was close? You mean where I got 882 votes compared to your measly 201?"

"Don't point that out!"

"Even though the gap between first and second place was the largest in history?"

"Don't point that out either!"

Their petty argument fades into background noise as Mariele audibly scoffs—when you look at her, she rolls her eyes and folds her arms under her chest. "Noa likes to act like he's above these types of stupid catfights, but he's clearly not."

You place your hand over your mouth. "It's kind of funny."

"So immature." Hiori hisses through his teeth.

"That's such a cringy fight." Raichi cackles.

With Noa subbing in as the defensive mid-fielder to quote, "shut down that show-boating narcissist", the field's entire aura has changed exponentially. It's so tense it sends a sleek chill down the bone of your spine.

The whistle churns, and you suddenly do not have any time to think about such a fleeting thought. As always, Kaiser and Ness pass between themselves to start—their motions are only paused when Kaiser is stopped in his tracks by none other than Manshine's perfect prince.