As the tension crackled between them, Rin and Shidou stood face-to-face, poised for the inevitable clash. Shidou's ever-present grin widened, amusement flickering in his golden eyes as he took in Rin's expression. There was no irritation, no hesitation—only a cold, razor-sharp focus.
"Heh… you finally woke up, huh, Rin-Rin?"
Shidou teased, his tone dripping with excitement.
Rin didn't respond. He didn't need to. His entire body language made his intentions clear—he was waiting, watching, ready to pounce the moment Shidou moved.
Shidou casually flicked his gaze to the right, spotting Sendou creeping closer, positioning himself for a potential pass. A tempting option—if he could bait Rin into overcommitting, he could slip the ball to Sendou and break through.
But before he could even consider making the pass, Rin shifted.
In a split second, he cut off the angle, stepping into the passing lane. There was no hesitation—Rin had already predicted Shidou's thought process, shutting down the possibility before it could even materialize.
Shidou let out a low chuckle, his blood surging with excitement.
"Tch. So damn annoying."
But Rin wasn't just here to defend. He wasn't just reacting.
He was here to crush everyone in his way.
For too long, his mind had been fixated on Sae and Isagi, obsessing over their movements, their control over the game. But that mindset had been a mistake. By doing so, he had let himself fall behind.
That ended now.
Rin wasn't just here to compete—he was here to dominate.
And in this moment, with Shidou in front of him, he had one simple goal—
To tear through the battlefield and make it his own.
Shidou's grin twisted into something even wilder.
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From the bench, Ego's sharp eyes narrowed as he observed Rin's movements. A rare flicker of surprise crossed his features—not out of concern, but intrigue.
Rin was in the Zone.
Ego had seen this state before. The last time Rin had reached it was when he clashed with Isagi, a battle that had pushed both of them beyond their limits. Their egos had collided, sharpened, and awakened something within them that changed the course of the match.
But this… this was unexpected.
Ego folded his arms, his mind already analyzing. For Rin to enter the Zone again… He hadn't anticipated it happening in this match. It was an incredibly difficult state to achieve, one that required a very specific condition—the existence of a target just within reach.
Back then, Isagi had been that target. A wall that Rin believed he could surpass, an opponent who was frustratingly close yet still out of grasp. That frustration, that unrelenting pursuit, had forced Rin into that heightened state of awareness and control.
But now…
Now, Isagi stood even taller than before. His dominance on the field had been undeniable. By all logic, Rin should have felt the gap was too wide, too impossible to close.
And yet—here he was, stepping into the Zone once more.
"He still believes"
Ego muttered to himself.
A sharp gasp from beside him broke his thoughts.
"E-Ego-san… is Rin in the Zone?"
Anri's voice was tinged with shock, her eyes locked onto the field. She had seen it before, but this was different. Why now?
Ego smirked, his voice even as he responded.
"Tch. It's fascinating, isn't it?"
He leaned forward slightly, watching as Rin moved with deadly precision.
"For him to reach this state again in this match… it means one thing."
Anri turned to him, still trying to process what she was witnessing.
"What does it mean?"
Ego's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
"It means that, even now, Rin refuses to accept that Isagi is out of reach."
Anri blinked, stunned.
"Most players would've given up"
Ego continued, his voice steady.
"They would have acknowledged Isagi's dominance and focused on playing a supporting role. But not Rin. That's what makes this so admirable."
Anri swallowed, still absorbing his words.
"So… Rin still thinks he can surpass him?"
Ego let out a short chuckle.
"No. It's not just a thought—he believes it."
His gaze sharpened.
"And that belief is what keeps him moving forward. It's what keeps him chasing after the impossible."
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The stadium was a sea of tension, every pair of eyes locked onto the two figures poised for battle. The air crackled with anticipation as Shidou made the first move, a sudden, violent burst to the left, his feet hammering against the turf like gunfire. He was a predator in motion, fluid and untamed, seeking any gap he could exploit.
But Rin Itoshi stood in his path—silent, unwavering, eyes gleaming with an eerie focus that made him seem almost inhuman. A machine built for destruction.
Rin's steps mirrored Shidou's, razor-sharp and deliberate, his entire body tuned to the slightest shift in his opponent's movements. He didn't just react—he anticipated. As Shidou pushed left, Rin matched him, effortlessly cutting off his lane.
Shidou, ever the opportunist, pivoted. A sudden drop of his shoulder, a twist of his hips—he feinted right, his acceleration spiking as he tried to blast past Rin in a blur of motion.
For a fraction of a second, it seemed like he had done it.
Rin hadn't moved.
Shidou's lips curled into a triumphant smirk, convinced he had broken through—
Then, in an instant, Rin's body whipped into action.
A single explosive movement, as if his limbs were spring-loaded, and his foot lashed out—like a striking viper.
BANG!
The impact was clean.
Shidou barely registered it.
The ball was gone.
His eyes widened in shock as he stumbled a step forward, his brain struggling to process what had just happened. He knew he had gotten past Rin—he had felt it, seen the open space—so how?
Then it clicked.
Rin had let him run. He had let Shidou fall into his own rhythm, lulling him into a false sense of victory. And just when Shidou had been convinced of his success, Rin had struck—his reaction time faster, sharper than ever before.
A tactic stolen straight from Isagi Yoichi.
Shidou's breath hitched, but then—he grinned.
"Tch… hah!"
A breathless chuckle left his lips.
"You bastard...!"
The ball, now free from their struggle, spun through the air, its trajectory drawing the attention of everyone on the field. It was heading straight toward the center—a no-man's land for a fraction of a second.
Two figures moved at once.
Sae Itoshi.
Isagi Yoichi.
Both players had read the drop point instantly, their minds running the calculations within a heartbeat. But there was one difference—positioning.
Sae was already in motion, a figure of effortless precision as he strode toward the ball, the picture of absolute composure.
Isagi had seen it just as quickly—but he was further away. He sprinted, his body hurling forward with everything he had. The gap between them shrank—five meters, three meters—he was almost there.
But almost wasn't enough.
Sae reached the ball first.
And the game shifted once more.
A roar erupted from the stands, a deafening wave of excitement crashing over the stadium. The air pulsed with electricity, every spectator on the edge of their seat as the realization dawned—
Sae Itoshi and Isagi Yoichi. One-on-one.
The commentators' voices spiked with exhilaration.
"It's happening! This is the duel that could decide the entire match!"
"We saw them cross paths before, but neither fully committed to the clash—until now!"
"Both are playmakers, both dictate the game in their own way—but only one will walk away victorious in this moment!"
On the field, the energy was suffocating.
Sae stood still, his posture relaxed yet unreadable, his foot resting lightly on top of the ball. He hadn't looked for a pass. He hadn't even considered it.
He wanted this.
Isagi was the same. His sharp blue eyes locked onto Sae, his body wound tight, instincts screaming at him to move—but not yet. He was waiting. Calculating. His mind raced at impossible speeds, running through every possible scenario.
For a brief moment, there was no noise. No distractions.
Just them.
The crowd had just been treated to an explosive battle between Rin and Shidou—two relentless monsters clashing for supremacy. But this? This was different.
This wasn't just about dominance.
This was about control.
Sae and Isagi weren't just trying to outplay each other—they were trying to dictate the entire flow of the game.
Whoever won this duel wouldn't just gain possession.
They would decide who wins this match.
The realization spread across the field like wildfire. Players instinctively tightened their formations, bodies tensed, eyes flickering between the two figures at the center of it all. Every step, every movement—everything—would hinge on the outcome of this clash.
Every camera in the stadium zoomed in, capturing the defining duel of the match. The energy was suffocating, a tense silence swallowing the roaring crowd as Sae Itoshi made the first move.
He had waited—hoped—that Isagi would react first. A moment of hesitation, a shift in stance, anything he could exploit. But Isagi stood firm, his posture eerily still, his center of gravity low and calculated. It wasn't the stance of an impatient striker—it was the stance of a professional defender.
Tch.
Sae clicked his tongue. Fine. If Isagi wouldn't move first—then he would.
With smooth, precise footwork, Sae advanced—not rushing, but controlling the space, dictating the tempo. He feinted right, his movement effortless, fluid, yet brimming with intent.
Isagi mirrored him perfectly. Step for step. Movement for movement. His sharp eyes never left the ball, his body shifting instinctively to match Sae's pace.
'He's not just reacting.'
Sae narrowed his eyes slightly.
'He's predicting.'
Testing the waters, Sae feinted left. A subtle shift—just enough to see how Isagi would respond.
And as expected, Isagi's body twitched in anticipation.
That was all Sae needed.
He executed a Rabona Nutmeg—an elegant, deceptive maneuver meant to slip the ball cleanly between Isagi's legs. A moment of brilliance meant to humiliate and dismantle an opponent's defense.
But—
Thud.
The ball never passed through.
Isagi's foot was already there, intercepting it effortlessly.
'What—?'
It was instant. Almost too fast. As if Isagi had read his intentions before he had even decided on the move.
The prodigy's playmaking magic—denied.
The crowd gasped. The commentators erupted.
"UNBELIEVABLE! ISAGI STOPS SAE'S RABONA NUTMEG LIKE IT WAS NOTHING!"
"He saw through it completely!"
The tension spiked, the battlefield shifting once more.
And now, it was Isagi's turn.
Rin Itoshi surged forward, cutting through the battlefield like a predator locked onto its prey. While the world remained fixated on the duel between Sae and Isagi, Rin saw only one thing—an opportunity to crush them both.
Unlike the others, blinded by the spectacle, Isagi felt it. The creeping presence lurking in Sae's shadow.
His mind, which had been processing endless possibilities at lightning speed, suddenly stopped.
And in that stillness—something else took over.
An intoxicating clarity. An unshakable certainty.
There were multiple openings, different ways to dismantle the situation. Sae was vulnerable. Rin was lunging. He could escape in a thousand ways.
But one option stood out.
A filthy, audacious, disgusting move.
And Isagi wanted it.
A grin crept onto his face. The kind that sent shivers down the spines of defenders.
Rin lunged between Sae and Isagi—his foot mere inches from the ball.
Too late.
With a sharp whip of his left foot, Isagi struck the ball cleanly—
Straight through Rin's legs.
A nutmeg.
But it didn't stop there.
The ball continued its trajectory—slipping through Sae's legs as well.
A double nutmeg.
The entire stadium exploded.
A second of stunned silence—then sheer, unfiltered chaos.
"NO WAY! HE JUST—!"
"HE NUTMEGGED BOTH ITOSHI BROTHERS IN ONE MOVE! ISAGI YOICHI, YOU MONSTER!"
Sae's breath hitched—his eyes wide in disbelief.
Rin's body stiffened—his outstretched foot now useless, his momentum carrying him forward while the ball was already past him.
And at the center of it all—Isagi Yoichi, grinning like the devil himself.
The moment the ball slipped between Sae's legs, its trajectory changed.
It didn't just roll—it lifted.
With a wicked backspin, it escalated into the air, curving sharply to the right like a precision-guided missile.
The intended recipient?
Hiori Yo.
Stationed on the right wing, Hiori barely had time to process what just happened. His eyes locked onto the spinning ball, but his mind was still reeling.
'Did Isagi just—Nutmeg both Itoshi brothers and launch a counterattack in one move?!'
A rush of adrenaline shot through Hiori's veins. That pass—No, that entire sequence was pure insanity.
He wasn't just witnessing ego. He was witnessing genius.
Isagi Yoichi hadn't just humiliated the Itoshi brothers—he had set the stage for the kill.
Hiori's grip on reality snapped back as the ball approached. This was his moment to respond.
With a sharp inhale, he positioned himself—eyes blazing, ready to carry out the next step in Isagi's masterstroke.
The battlefield had shifted.
And now, it was Blue Lock's turn to strike.
The instant the ball left his foot, Isagi was already in motion. His body surged forward, leaving both Itoshi brothers frozen in place, their stunned expressions carved into the battlefield like relics of the past.
He had seen Rin's Zone before, faced it, dissected it, and conquered it. The first time, it was a challenge. The second time? Not even a concern.
Rin and Sae stood rooted, their minds still scrambling to process the impossible. The untouchable prodigy. The ruthless genius. Both of them—bested in a single moment.
And Isagi? He wasn't stopping to relish it.
Though his veins burned with adrenaline, though his entire being screamed in exhilaration after executing such a filthy, audacious move—he didn't let it cloud his next action. His mind, razor-sharp, was already shifting to the next phase.
Hiori surged forward, the ball glued to his feet as he scanned the shifting battlefield. The moment he caught sight of Isagi, he didn't hesitate.
He knew.
He knew exactly what needed to be done.
Hayate, sensing the danger, accelerated—his eyes locked onto Isagi, determined to close the gap before the pass could reach him. But Hiori had already calculated it all. He baited Hayate in, timing the pass, threading it past him at the perfect moment.
The ball sliced through the air, curving toward Isagi, who was stationed far outside the box—50 yards from the goal.
Too far.
Or so the entire U-20 team thought.
Not a single defender rushed him. Not a single player considered the possibility.
From this distance, a shot was unthinkable. Impossible.
No one expected it.
No one—except Hiori.
Because Hiori knew.
He had seen Isagi's ability to defy logic.
And if there was one player on this field who could bury it from here—
It was Isagi Yoichi.
The moment the ball neared him, Isagi didn't hesitate.
His body moved on instinct, perfectly aligned with his calculations.
One touch—
And then—
BOOM!
With every ounce of strength in his body, he struck the ball cleanly with his right foot—a devastating volley that sent shockwaves through the stadium.
The impact echoed like a cannon blast. The sheer force behind the shot was unreal.
Gasps rippled through the stands. Eyes widened in disbelief.
"What the hell—?!"
"He actually shot from there?!"
The ball wasn't just fast. It was a missile. A laser-guided strike hurtling toward the top-left corner with absurd accuracy.
U-20's defenders could only watch. Stunned. Paralyzed.
Even the goalkeeper, an elite talent trained for the impossible, felt a shiver crawl down his spine.
Because this shot—
This shot was crazy.
However, even in the face of that impossible shot—
One refused to let it pass.
Even as the world stood frozen in shock, even as the sheer force of Isagi's volley sent shivers down spines—he moved.
Because he had been waiting for this.
Dying for this.
A normal defender would have been paralyzed. Stunned into inaction. But not him.
From the very start of this match, he had been trying—struggling—to decipher Isagi Yoichi. Yet, time and time again, Isagi shattered his expectations. Toying with defenders, warping the game itself, pulling off feats that felt beyond human.
Just like he did to the Itoshi brothers.
And that was why—unlike before—he did not falter.
Because he no longer thought of Isagi as just another player.
No.
He saw Isagi Yoichi for what he truly was—
Monster.
A being that could defy logic. Bend the game to his will. A force of nature capable of anything when it came to football.
That belief alone kept him from freezing.
That belief alone allowed him to react.
The moment he saw Isagi's posture shift—the precise moment that pass reached him—he knew.
Something ridiculous was coming.
And so, with every ounce of strength in his body—
Aiku Oliver jumped.
His timing was perfect. His instincts razor-sharp. His outstretched foot barely reached the ball—
The moment of impact was deafening.
A harsh, echoing thud rang through the stadium as Aiku's foot grazed the ball, disrupting its deadly trajectory. The sheer force behind Isagi's shot was unreal—it rattled Aiku's leg, sending shockwaves through his entire body.
Aiku's foot made contact.
But the ball kept going.
The deflection wasn't enough to fully stop it—it only altered its trajectory. The shot, still a bullet, still a missile, continued hurtling toward the goal.
And in that instant—
Fukaku jumped.
His body tensed, his arms stretched as far as possible. But deep down, he knew—he was too far.
The ball surged past him, still screaming toward the top corner.
Time slowed. The entire stadium held its breath.
Then—
CRACK!
The ball slammed into the goalpost.
A violent, ringing clang echoed through the air, reverberating through every chest in the stadium.
For a moment, there was only silence. A split-second where reality hadn't caught up yet.
Then—
Chaos.
The commentators exploded.
"UNREAL! UNBELIEVABLE! ISAGI YOICHI NEARLY SHATTERED THE POST WITH THAT SHOT!"
"What a sequence! Aiku barely gets a touch, but the ball still breaks through! If not for that deflection—THAT WAS A GUARANTEED GOAL!"
Praises, analysis, disbelief—words spilled from their mouths as they tried to put into words what they had just witnessed.
The crowd?
They screamed.
A deafening roar shook the stadium. Cheers, gasps, shouts of pure exhilaration—it didn't matter that the ball didn't go in.
Because they all knew.
If Aiku's foot hadn't grazed it, that ball was tearing into the back of the net.
There was no doubt.
The brilliance of Isagi Yoichi and the desperation of Aiku Oliver—two monsters clashing in the ultimate test of footballing IQ and ability.
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