"L/N'S STILL not here?"
the class leader shakes her head. "we, including the teacher, still haven't heard from him."
"i see, thank you."
with a sigh, reo slumps as he walks towards where seishirou is waiting for him at the gate. the latter runs up to him expectantly and asks, "any news?"
reo shakes his head the same way y/n's class leader did, sighing and looking out longingly into the sky. he's been doing those a lot these days since y/n suddenly took a leave after they agreed to meet up (only to realize y/n doesn't even know where seishirou lives).
seishirou pouts and slumps back into his seat on the ground. he's just a blob now, no y/n to physically transform him back.
he turns on his phone to check his notifications for the hundredth time today. reo does the same, except it's for the hundredth time this hour.
"my messages are still on sent...." seishirou grumbles, dropping his phone onto the concrete. he doesn't care anymore, what is the point of a phone if y/n, his friend of not even a year, doesn't reply to him?
"same here...." reo lets out another defeated sigh. "let's just go to the building the invitation addressed."
"what if y/n comes back when we're gone...." seishirou droops.
"i'll pay them to have him with us if that happens. let's go." reo drags seishirou to his bike. despite the former being the initiative one, he's also as begrudging to move as the latter is.
instead of the dramatic separation the trio enjoy, which is reo pushing his bike while seishirou and y/n trudge beside him until their epic parting point, reo has started carrying seishirou home using his bicycle.
it's a bit odd considering how seishirou can walk on his own just fine when y/n is around, but who is he to judge when reo can also simply call his driver?
sigh. y/n, where are you?
☆✮☆
"i forgot my phone."
jinpachi twitches his eye. "why are you only mentioning it now? we're literally about to go on stage."
"don't worry, y/n! ego will get you a new one after this!" a woman with matching brown hair and eyes laughs.
"you mean you, the jfa, will, anri-chan."
"can't i just go back and get it?"
"let's settle that later. for now, we'll get this introduction over with." jinpachi's glasses gleam from the lights as he pushes them.
jinpachi walks to the centre of the stage, leaving y/n and anri behind in the left wing. he waits until the last bit of strikers join in before he speaks into his head-worn microphone.
"test, test. one, two." jinpachi tests. "congratulations, you unpolished gems."
students in various uniforms look up at him in bewilderment, be it from his words or his sudden appearance.
"all you under-18 strikers have been chosen solely based on my criteria and biases to be here today. all 300 of you." the lanky man puts one hand on his chest, the other strangely pointing at him. "i am ego jinpachi. my job is to make japan a team capable of winning the world cup."
the flag of japan emerges behind him. "i'll put it in simple terms. japan only requires one thing to become the strongest powerhouse in soccer.
"and that is the creation of a revolutionary striker. from you 300 players gathered here today, i will forge the best striker in the world through a certain project." he's already on a platform, but jinpachi seems to loom over them even more with his statements.
"look here," the screen immediately flashes into view. jinpachi points at it, his eyes still on the audience before him. "for this purpose, we have built this facility called 'blue lock'".
the screen shows a pentagon with another pentagon on each of the sides, save for the centre, which is the pentagons were designed to seem like a soccer ball, each of the segments indicates a room in the facility. except for the middle of the pentagon, which was the ultimate soccer field, probably.
"starting today, all of you will live in this building. and follow, down to the letter, my personally designed training regime." jinpachi declares, "you will not be able to go back home, and as of now, consider your soccer careers as you know them, over.
"but i will say this, if you manage to survive on blue lock, and defeat the other 299 players around you..." jinpachi leans to the audience. "you, the last player standing will have become the best striker in the world."
figuratively, he ends his speech with a mic drop. "that is all for the details. nice to meet you all."
and like a mic drop, it leaves the spectators astonished. jinpachi's speech was short and straight to the point, it left no room for arguments.
well, except for one.
"excuse me! sorry, but i can't agree with what you said just now." a young boy, probably the same age as y/n, speaks up. "there's no way i can accept those kinds of terms. i... i will not throw away my team!"
he was like a beam of light, with his shining appearance of ivory hair and mahogany eyes, (though y/n has seen a more striking ivory.) his light illuminates how his courage spreads over his surroundings, and more people start to protest against jinpachi and his system.
"that's right! i'm also playing at nationals!"
"why do we all have to live together anyway?"
"yeah! yeah!"
"who the hell even are you?"
"let us see someone we know!"
jinpachi taps at his head as if he's gearing on his brain. "i... see. all of you are really fucked in the head, huh." bringing up his hands in a shooing motion, he speaks in a matter-of-fact tone,
"lock off, then." jinpachi makes a shooing motion with his hands.
the air suddenly feels cold.
"your teams are what now? you'd really choose your teams over becoming the best striker in the world? you'd rather be a school champ in this shithole of a country? huh?"
the players are completely perplexed at his harsh words, but jinpachi merely cranks his head.
"when i look at all of you, i cringe at the thought of japan's future in soccer.
"you get it? japan is the best country in the world when it comes to organizational skills in soccer, which most people attribute to our innate national character."
the screen changes into the japan's national soccer team. "but before you get any ideas, in everything else..." jinpachi tilts his head, his eyes shifting into an incomprehensible shape. "we're second rate."
he stares down, unrelenting at the players before him as he speaks.
"i want to know something... what is soccer to you all?" with his hands now in his pockets, jinpachi leans on them, as if he's ridiculing them. "a sport where you try to score goals in teams of eleven members...? 'our bonds are important'? 'i will play for my teammates'?"
he huffs, "well, that's wrong. that way of thinking is exactly why japan lacks soccer skills. i will show you what it's all about...
"soccer is, at its core, a sport about scoring goals even at the expense of your teammates. the best player is the one that scores the most goals. if you want to play pretend soccer instead, then lock off."
the atmosphere turns all the more tense. some of the viewers were sweating. fear was evident in their gazes. but despite that, the same boy, the reminiscent of light, vocalizes his disapproval once more.
"how insulting...! take those words back," like how hope won over anger for y/n before, agitation defeats the ivory boy's dread. "players like honda, or kagawa, and many others... all of those who shape the japan national team's lineup, the value of team play instilled in the national teams the same that's a part of us! they are our stars! you're wrong!"
jinpachi scratches his head as a click of his tongue echoes throughout the room, making some of the audience, especially the ivory, flinch.
the dark-haired man raises his head more to stare down further at them. "fine. any questions you have will be handled by my assistant from now on."
jinpachi gestures his hand at the left wing, signalling for y/n to step out. anri tosses the teen a mic and a thumbs up.
gasps and murmurs could be heard. the weird, lanky man's assistant? they must be as strange as jinpachi is. god, another him but a mini version talking down (literally) on them sounds like a nightmare.
but instead of a clone as intimidating as jinpachi, a boy most definitely around the strikers' age appears instead.
if jinpachi seems like a spine-chilling and cruel conceit, y/n serves an aura of aloofness, a nice chill you'd find yourself attracted to on a hot summer day. or any day, really.
the lesser of an ivory male may be light, but y/n is a star. his stride towards the centre gleams with brilliance, with his white button-up and charcoal pants highlighting his already ethereal beauty.
the players are astonished, some surprised that jinpachi's assistant isn't what they expected to be, a handful widen their eyes at who it is.
meanwhile, y/n is entirely in his own world. eyes unfocused as his body moves on autopilot. the only presence he acknowledges are jinpachi, anri, and the ivory. y/n is actually confused as hell right now.
this wasn't what we discussed... but then again we did nothing for the past few days besides putting my room together.
he recalls, the memory of anri accidentally hitting the back of jinpachi's head with a board flashes into his mind.
y/n's grip on the microphone tightens as he lifts it in front of his lips, his gaze solely on the instrument. "i'm l/n y/n, ego-san's assistant, pleased to meet you."
after y/n slightly bows to the still-surprised crowd, he demolishes his surroundings to raise his head and focus his eyes entirely on the white-haired boy with brown eyes far ahead of him.
he swears he saw him flinch.
"to answer your question: i must admit that the players you've mentioned are good, but they never won, did they?"
as y/n becomes more nervous, he strums against the length of the microphone with his finger. some outsiders have started to misunderstand his movement.
'kira, he's counting your days....'
'as expected, the directors here are freaky.'
'should i get a pic with kira before he's gone?'
'i hope i'm right....' y/n thinks mildly. "as ego-san had mentioned, japan never changes its altruistic and selfless methods. while those ideals are indeed admirable, they simply don't work when it comes to the world cup."
y/n steals a glance at anri, she throws a thumbs up in response. relief washes over his body, his finger halts its motion.
"for example... noel noa. an astounding player like him speaks as if he's the best in the world. he said and i quote, 'i feel better losing 3-4 after scoring a hat-trick than winning only by 1-0 with an assist.'
"the great éric cantona also have said, 'when the seagulls follow the trawler, it's because they think sardines will be thrown at the sea.'
"not just them, but pelé, arguably the best player in history, winner of three world cups, once said, 'the best striker? midfielder? defender? goalkeeper? to all those questions, i always answer that it's me.'"
y/n takes a deep breath.
"those words would've sounded conceited and awful if it weren't for the fact that they're all revolutionary strikers, right?"
y/n's face looms with something inexplicable, even to him. "you'll understand what they mean when you have the ego to match."
"so imagine this, you're a nobody yet you're at the very finals of the world cup. nearly a hundred thousand eyes are on you in the stadium. you're on the field. the score is 0-0. the stoppage time of the second half, the very last play. a teammate managed to pass the ball to you, and now it's one one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
"there's a teammate six meters to your right. if you pass to him, your team will probably score that goal. the hopes of all of japan lie on your shoulders. the turning point at the world cup finals is you.
"so with the ego you will build here if you desire, you'll shoot without a second's hesitation."
the stage, which turned out to be faux, opens in half as a gate. the air flows through y/n, constructing a grand and dramatic entrance.
y/n probably looks unhinged right now. his hair a mess from the wind and the unfathomable stare still looms over his face.
"soccer is a sport to develop you all as strikers, everyone else on the field is there to support you. as long as you're on the field, you are the star. if your greatest joy is scoring points, then that shall be your reasoning. for that very moment, you are the perfect striker."
y/n instinctively runs to anri's side, also realising he zoned out throughout his speech, the moment he sees a boy sprinting towards the gate.
thrill blooms within him when he sees him coursing through the hall. his eyes and hair are a deep blue. they remind y/n of the seaside he once cherished. he nearly forgot how it felt, both the thrill and the sight.
how alluring, how curious, how lovely.
anri pats y/n's head despite their height difference, his microphone practically slipping off his hand, as she revels in the view of every other player hastily following after the first striker.
on the other hand, all that speaking y/n did make him feel dizzy, even though he was barely conscious the whole time. the faintness turns him oblivious to the stray glances thrown in his way.
"i didn't expect you to say that last part, l/n-kun." jinpachi says, covering his mic. amidst crackling footsteps and shouts, their voices found the other two.
y/n averts his gaze to the side. "...i just did what i thought i was supposed to do."
"still," jinpachi's lips tug into the faintest of smiles, his eyes downcast. "you're quite similar to me, in a way."
"my head hurts too much to make sense of that...." y/n's voice trails off as he leans his weight more towards anri.
she slings his arm over her shoulder with a hand supporting his waist. she takes off with a grin, "i'll escort l/n-kun to his room. he did so well today!"
jinpachi merely waves them off. his gaze, ahead, ignoring the desperate strikers running past him.
until there were only three of them left in that hall.
—ADDITIONAL TIME!
"let's build l/n-kun the best dresser ever!"
as anri turns to the left, the long board she's holding crashes into a solid form behind her. simultaneously, jinpachi loudly groans.
"hm? what happened, ego?" she turns to the right, and another groan escapes jinpachi.
"you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?!" jinpachi hisses, holding his head with one hand and the other accusing anri.
"what the hell are you talking about?!"
y/n watches the scene unfolding before him in silence.
'i would preserve this if i could... i wonder how....'
—✮
just read 1 chapter of blue lock: episode nagi and realized i fucked up❤️ i'll make something up to make the error seem unintentional but i hope you all forgive me❤️ also this took a while bc i literally dont know a thing abt soccer but had to write smth to make y/n appear w ego for the sake of the next chapter💔