In the heart of the stadium, under the blazing floodlights, two girls faced off on the football pitch, their eyes locked in a fierce rivalry. The air was charged with tension as the crowd roared in anticipation.
The first girl, a pretty brunette with doe amber eyes, exuded confidence from every pore of her skin, her cocky smirk never leaving her lips as she dribbled the ball with finesse.
"Are you excited to lose, [name]?" she taunted, her voice dripping with arrogance. She believed she had the upper hand; her stature made her feel invincible against her shorter opponent. That's why everyone thought so badly of [name], she looked way too weak to be thought worthy of winning Europe's women tournament. Well, the u20 women tournament, but that didn't make it winning it a lesser achievement. Not when [name] was representing Spain out of all countries.
The shorter woman, undeterred by Céline's audacity, squared her shoulders, determination blazing in her eyes. "Keep dreaming," she shot back, her tone sharp with bitterness and defiant with anger. "I'll show you what real skill looks like."
As the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the last minute, the two girls launched into action, their movements swift and precise. Céline weaved through defenders effortlessly, each touch of the ball fueling her ego only further.
But [name] was relentless, her defensive prowess unmatched as she intercepted Céline's passes with precision. "Is that all you've got?", she mocked, her voice cutting through the air like a knife through the 'boo!'s and cheers that shouted from every corner of the stadoum.
With each exchange, the tension on the field mounted, the crowd hanging on to every play. The brunette's cocky facade began to crack as [name]'s skillful maneuvers pushed her to the limit.
In a final showdown, with seconds ticking away on the clock, [name] stole the ball from her rival's grasp, sprinting toward the goal with lightning speed.
"NO ME LO PUEDO CREER, QUE ALGUIEN ME DIGA SI ESTOY SOÑANDO. ¡¿[NAME] ACABA DE DEJAR ATRÁS A CÉLINE?! ESTÁ CERCA DEL GOL, ESTÁ DEMASIADO CERCA DEL GOL—"
With a powerful kick, she sent the ball soaring past the goalkeeper, sealing her team's victory.
As the final whistle blew, [name] stood triumphant, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "Looks like the only thing shattered here is your ego, Céline," she quipped, her words a stinging rebuke to her cocky opponent. The mocking sound of her cheerful voice felt like stabbing knifes on the brunette's ears, her eyes flooding with disgusting flabbergastment and a toxic pool of red anger swirling on her eyes.
She just lost.
"¡¡GOOOOOOOOL!! ¡¡GOLAZOOOOO DE [NAME]!! [NAME] SE DECLARA LA GANADORA DEL PARTIDO!!"
As the audience roared in delight, there stood the proud [name], raising a fist. No one thought she would make it, but now she showed everyone her worth. She smirked, knowing the amount of lost bets today.
'That's what you guys get for not believing in me.'
"[NAME]! [NAME]! [NAME]!" The crowd chanted, "[NAME]! [NAME]!, [NAME]!"
One of the many drone cameras that recorded the entire match zoomed right into the winner's face, showing her enormous grin. The girl realized it, and decided to wink at the camera, blowing a kiss that made the younger part of the audience roar even louder. Hell, she may have destroyed a few relationships while she was at it, too. ("Did you just blush?!", "Babe, it's because the AC is off, I swear!!")
Yup, [name] [l/n] was on a roll. Everyone knew it, the start of a prodigy just started.
"¡¡PREPÁRENSE TODOS, QUE [NAME] VIENE A DEVORAROS VIVOS!! ACABAMOS DE PRESENCIAR EL NACIMIENTO DE UNA BESTIA."
“...Yeah, right.”
In a dimly lit living room, the glow of the TV illuminated the somber face of [name] as she watched the epic football match unfold before her eyes. Her gaze was distant, lost in the memories of her own glory days on the field.
As the camera panned to the victorious [name], a pang of longing washed over her, a painful reminder of the thrill and adrenaline of her prime. The cheers of the crowd echoed in her mind, a bittersweet symphony of what once was.
The commentator's voice faded into the background as [name]'s thoughts drifted back to the pinnacle of her career, the days when she dominated the pitch with skill and amusement. But now, sitting alone in the darkness, she couldn't shake the weight of her past failures and missed opportunities.
The sight of her younger self, brimming with confidence and determination, only served to deepen the void within her. She yearned for the chance to relive those moments, to reclaim the glory that had slipped through her fingers—
But as the final whistle blew and the image on the screen faded to black, reality came crashing back with brutal clarity. [name] was left alone with her regrets, haunted by the echoes of what could have been, as tears silently trailed down her cheeks.
CRASH!
The remote control abruptly fell, hitting the floor with a harsh sound. She almost flinched, but muttered a low 'fuck' under her breath once she realized it just slipped out of her hand.
She tried to pick it up, without even bothering leaving the comfortable warmth of her sheets, but failed miserably— the poor (h/c)-haired girl got tangled between them, and she fell from her bed, strangled by tons of blankets.
"Ow—" A groan escaped her annoyed lips, and still on the floor, her fingers massaged her head in a lame attempt to ease the overgrowing pain. Shit, that did hurt.
Buzz!
As if the young girl wasn't mad enough already, the abrupt buzzing of her phone made her lose any amount of patience she could have left. It was almost as if the world was laughing at her disgrace.
"UGH! Can't a girl be sad anymore?! Let me rot in my bed at peace, fucking bastards!!"
Not even bothering to get up from the floor, she blindly searched for her phone between the sheets of her bed with the help of her right hand. Once she found it, she tch'ed, but picked it up without wasting a single second.
"Oh, it’s a messag— A message?!" Her eyes opened, immediately lighting up. "When was the last time I got one?"
Though, the sweet surprise didn't take too much time before morphing into a more obscure feeling. The contents of the text were simple, direct, and without any type of sentiment on them, and our [name] found herself at a loss of words;
____
Hello, [name] [l/n].
We are pleased to offer you a new opportunity in the football world, with an invitation exclusively for you to take part in Japan's new project, Blue Lock.
In exchange for helping us improve our players, you'll receive a generous compensation, always that you obey the following rules that will soon be introduced to you.
Please, we beg for you to consider your participation. Please, contact us for further information about the subject.
-Japan's Football Association.
___
“..."
[Name]'s first thought was;
What the fuck.
How did they even find her contact info—? More importantly, why was her email still working?? She could swear she deleted it ages ago. Well, ages... a year ago. But still, it seems like official[name]@gmail.com was still active. Lame.
She cringed at her own name, finding it extremely ridiculous. As if she wasn't the one to pick it in the first place. Seriously? official[name]?! For an email address?!
Her second thought was…
What kinda scam is this? Yeah, right, Japan contacted girlie here to take part in a super cool, awesome, football project. What's next, is it filled with hot guys, too? Maybe the scam would have worked better if they said that instead.
And her third thought was that...
Uh...
...Well, giving a call won't hurt.... right?
[Name] was consumed by a whirl of many emotions. On one hand, she knew that it sounded way too random to be true. On the other hand, though, she had the slightest hope of it being... somewhat true.
Don't blame the delusional girl, though. It's been almost two years since she had something slightly interesting happen in her, currently, monotone life. Things have been just way too boring for a señorita that loves exciting things as much as [name].
No.
No, no.
Wait, this was not it!!
She groaned in desperation, forcing herself not to bang her head against the wall. Did she forget, or what? Football was a big no-no, that's what she agreed that day. That fucking day. And she didn't spend the two last years regretting her career for nothing!!
Buzz!
Another message brought her back to reality.
_____
[name], I didn't want to say this at first, but knowing your stubbornness, you probably aren't going to think this over if I don't tell you this.
I'm Ego Jinpachi.
Do as you want with that information.
____
"H-HUHHH?!!!" She gasped, eyes almost bursting out from their sockets. She blinked one, two, three times, but the text didn't magically disappear. She even tried to pinch her cheek, but realized how dumb that was and stopped midway. She wasn't a masochist... I think. "No way... MOTHERFUCKING EGO?!!"
Well, that seemed to change things for our depressed girl. The sudden reveal got her lowkey panicking. So, this was true— Not a scam, it was an offer. An honest, real, offer.
But... the promise... she promised that...
Again, she was pulled back to reality by the strange savour that washed over her tongue.
'It tastes metallic... oh, my lips.'
She touched her lower lips, her cold skin becoming tinted with a slightly red liquid. Blood. She winced, immediately stopping herself from biting down further, and groaned for what probably was the fourth time in a row.
Maybe it's because she was on her period or something, but her mind was wandering way too much lately. That must be it, because even if the one sending the message was Ego, she did not have to be actually considering the proposal. Fuck this overthinking shit!
...Yet, against her own opinions, she found herself unable to resist the temptation. With a shaky breath, she made the call, pressing the buttons as fast as she could before regretting doing so.
Her breath hitched when the person she was calling answered, but that didn't stop her from doing what she wanted to do.
"Long time no talk, Ego."
.
.
.
"Oh, you're smiling. Did something good happen, Ego-san?"
"Shut up, Anri."
"Hmph..." She wanted to say something back, but Anri knew deep down that arguing with someone like Ego was like arguing with a wall. Impossible.
At least the wall doesn't trigger your intrusive thoughts, she mused silently, but Anri was too sweet to comment on that fact.
Ego then coughed, catching back Anri's attention. "Prepare a room."
"A room?" Anri echoed, puzzled.
"We will have someone over. Make sure to make it somewhat comfortable."