Hope you guys enjoy this 12.4k treat I wrote out. It was tons of fun. Please share your thoughts on this chapter, I'd really like to hear your thoughts and opinions on this.
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It was silent. Everything was silent. No buzzer was sounded, no breath was made. The whistle was quiet, a whispering fade. Hardly anyone could believe their eyes. Not Ego or Anri, who were watching from the observation room, nor team Y and team Z, who were on the field.
The high level exchange that the two aces had was enthralling to their eyes, a dance of domination, searching to devour each other's brilliance. From Niko's incredible self control to Isagi's outrageous explosive might, it left an everlasting impression on their minds for years to come.
Then, reality caught up to time.
Kunigami couldn't move. His arms hung by his sides, slack and limp as though they had died. His feet were still planted in the turf, legs wide, heart hammering like war drums in his chest. His brows pulled together as he stared at the shattered panel in the wall, where Isagi's clearance had left its scar.
Bachira stood with his head tilted, amber eyes gleaming like a child who had just discovered magic for the first time. His hands floated up, fingers twitching in rhythm to the invisible song now screaming in his skull.
Chigiri had stopped mid-sprint. His hair swayed around him like a flame caught in the breeze. His breath caught in his throat. That play had frozen him solid, just like it had everyone else on the field. The muscles in his legs, always twitching, always ready, now felt heavy with stupor.
Raichi's mouth hung open, eyes darting across the field like a machine trying to make sense of chaos. He wanted to shout something cocky. He needed to say something to keep from cracking under the pressure. But nothing came. His voice died in his throat as he watched Isagi land and straightened up like nothing had happened.
Okawa had crumpled to a knee, palm pressing into the turf as though to steady himself from a blow that never touched him.
'What did I just watch… what the hell did I just see?!'
He had been right there, close enough to see the fire in Niko's eyes. He had believed. When he saw Niko bypass Isagi the way he had, Okawa was about to let out a cry of exhilaration. And then, just as he was about to see their hopes arise, he witnessed annihilation. When he found Isagi blocking the shot with such an acrobatic method, he felt as though it were almost superhuman.
'What the hell are we up against…?'
Ranmaru staggered back a step, his heartbeat spiking in confusion and adrenaline.
'I thought we had them.'
He looked over at Niko, who stood silent and unmoving, and felt something crawl down his spine. 'If even Niko couldn't finish the job…'
Yamato ran a hand through his hair, sweat clinging to his face, lips quirked. He'd watched from the midfield as the play unfolded. Every second and every way Isagi and Niko clashed. They were like two elemental forces fighting each other in a bid for victory. It didn't feel like soccer anymore. Now, after watching this, he realized that the pitch had been a battlefield all along.
Rikita slammed a fist into the turf, eyes wide in disbelief. His body was hunched over in anguish, parallel to the ground. 'I thought we created the perfect chance… and still…'
It was an echoing lesson. An unbearable truth: perfection meant nothing when your enemy was just as perfect.
Naruhaya bit his lip so hard it bled. His body trembled. Jealousy, awe, shame – they all twisted in his gut. He had pressured Niko. He had chased the play. But in that final moment, his presence had been meaningless. A ghost watching two kings fight over a throne.
Suragi's voice cracked as he whispered, "Is that even possible…?" Maybe no one had heard him, but no one dared to respond.
And Kirino just stood there, head tilted back, staring at the crack in the wall like it was the mark of a god. The ball had pierced the field itself.
Everyone, all of the players on the field, had the same collective thought running through their head.
'This guy… he isn't human!'
Only two players hadn't spared a second glance at the damage, the very ones responsible for the spectacle. Niko and Isagi. Neither spoke. Neither smirked. Neither celebrated or grumbled. They simply exhaled, quiet and steady, before adjusting their stances and returning to position.
The world around them could have crumbled, and they wouldn't have blinked.
Theirs was a different battlefield. A war not one waged for points or goals, but for pride, for dominance, for the right to stand above. Their cards had been dealt, the first bid placed, and still the game raged on. Not for the team, not for the scoreboard, but for themselves. A duel dressed in eleven-a-side, but compacted to both as a sacred one-on-one.
They played for ego. For the sheer thrill of standing atop the other.
Niko, no longer the quiet tactician of Team Y, now pulsed with something violent beneath his skin, an awakening fueled by adversity. The meek lens through which he once viewed the game had shattered; in its place, a hunter's gaze. Eyes that no longer just analyzed and directed, but computed and executed.
And across from him, Isagi, reborn through defiance. An already grand striker not just chasing goals, but reshaping fate with every moment near the ball. Every movement of his body burned with clarity, every step precise. His gaze, no longer held in the same stratus sphere as the others, went beyond the present. No, now, it was foresight.
Although unaware, they both gained his first steps to the divine sight only the greatests of players may attain.
Their rivalry had eclipsed the ordinary. It had become legend in motion, a myth being written in real time. Where others faltered under pressure, they ascended. The field became their altar. The ball, their blade.
The silence between them was not empty, it roared with challenge. Mutual respect, yes, but never admitted. Never shown. It would only be spoken through play.
And so, they readjusted, standing side by side in preparation to contest the ball. Waiting to resume their duel.
Finally, the whistle blew, snapping back the consciousness of the rest. They all followed suit with their leaders, ready to play their roles in the act.
The Phantom Oracle VS The Nexus Aether
COMMENCE
Kirino took the throw-in with a sharp inhale, coiling back before launching the ball like a missile down the touchline. It sailed through the air, a sharp arc cutting across the sky, and landed right between the two rising titans.
Niko sprang to intercept, using every ounce of spatial intuition to angle his body between Isagi and the ball. He was quicker in thought, his anticipation was perfect, but not stronger. Isagi's shoulder dipped low, and with a sharp surge of muscle, he nudged Niko off-balance. Not a foul, just a clean show of dominance.
The ball kissed the turf. Isagi met it with a crisp trap, cushioning the throw in without breaking stride. In the same motion, he spun and tore down the pitch, boots slamming into the ground with thunderous rhythm. Niko recovered instantly, burning with resolve, hot on his heels.
The two danced again , not with elegance alone, but accompanied by precision and savagery.
Isagi rolled the ball forward and stepped over it — once, twice — shifting his body weight like a pendulum. He feinted toward the sideline, luring Niko wide. Niko didn't bite, staying compact, refusing to give the inside lane.
But Isagi struck with no warning. He burst inward, a razor cut through the midfield line, dragging the ball with his instep as if it were tethered to his boot. Niko lunged to block the path, but Isagi's different tempo created the slight gap he needed.
With every move he made, he did more than just run, he attacked.
The rest of Team Y scrambled into position. Ranmaru rotated inward to cover. Yamato fell back to intercept the central lane. Okawa barked instructions from the side, pointing at Chigiri, who was streaking up the opposite wing.
Just as Yamato stepped up to confront him, Isagi chopped the ball laterally, straight into the path of Bachira, who'd slithered into the half-space unnoticed.
Bachira didn't hesitate. With a wild grin and a soft tap, he returned the ball instantly, knowing exactly where Isagi would be.
Isagi sliced between Ranmaru and Niko, threading the needle like a ghost. The one two pass was pure rhythm, a sync only born from shared instincts.
He emerged through the gap into open space, just for a moment, but in that moment, he became terrifying.
Kirino stepped up. Isagi sold another pass, dragging his leg back, and Kirino bit. He lunged, attempting to block, but it was a feint. Isagi rolled the ball behind him with the sole of his boot, spinning around Kirino in a roulette like a shadow slipping through cracks in the light.
Niko chased relentlessly, fury and admiration burning in his chest, closing the separation between them, he stepped in the path of the ball, stopping it in its tracks, but Isagi reacted and flicked it up, continuing his possession. The aether followed, keeping pace with his rival.
'I need to herd him towards the rest of the team. We'll overload him with numbers and turn over possession.'
'I won't let that happen.'
Their minds mirrored each other like warped reflections, equal and opposite, yet drawn together in inevitable collision. The air between them buzzed with tension, thick with calculations and possibilities, like the silence before a thunderclap. Neither had spoken aloud, yet they moved as if they'd read the same script.
Isagi saw the trap being laid the instant he glanced across the field. Team Y's shape was tilting in his direction, a funnel of bodies slowly shifting to cut off the pitch, pushing him toward the edge, narrowing the lanes.
And Niko saw the counter forming in Isagi's eyes. He saw the boy not only looking at the space ahead, but what the most optimal route was to cover it. Like a predator sensing the temperature of the wind, he knew exactly how to move before the prey could even twitch.
It was a silent contest, not of brawn, but of brains and bravery. One trying to lock the net shut. The other trying to slip through its threads before the trap closed.
Isagi slammed the brakes. His cleats scraped the turf, and his whole body jerked backward, stopping on a dime. The ball halted beneath him, and for an instant, Niko's momentum pulled him forward. A lesser player would've stumbled, biting on the fake and left for the dead to consume.
But not Niko.
He dug in, skidding to a stop just a breath away, never losing contact. He hadn't blinked. He stuck like a second skin, unwilling to lose his mark on the elusive player.
Shifting gears again, Isagi surged forward, vanishing from Niko's sight yet again. Niko didn't falter this time. He had already seen this move once, and it turned into his undoing. He didn't know how it was done, but he held enough data on it from his first encounter to have an idea where Isagi was. Turning around, he gave chase, catching up to the retreating adversary.
He caught up, sliding on the ground to tackle the ball, but Isagi moved away from it using an outside touch. Niko got up quickly, on his feet before Isagi could move past him again. But Isagi did it again, vanishing from his sight once more. Yet again, Niko found himself behind the phantom. Turning back, he saw Isagi engage three of his teammates.
Isagi flashed left, only to reappear with a pivot right, spinning around the ball like a dancer pirouetting on a single beat. The sound of his movement was like a blade drawn from its sheath. He chipped the ball over the defender's leg, sending it to Kira, who immediately returned it when he was pressured as well.
Isagi met it in stride. The ball kissed the turf once before coming into contact with his boot. Momentum coiled around his core like a spring, and he redirected the flow without pausing. He turned his hips, feinted a long pass, then rolled it diagonally toward the flank with the inside of his foot.
Bachira was already there, moving towards the ball.
Like a marionette with his strings pulled, Bachira's rhythm synced with the ball. He pushed the ball in front of him, trapping the ball mid run. His feet dibbled instinctively, spinning a web of touches so quick it left Ranmaru blinking. There was no logic to them, no sense of reasoning or prediction to it.
He was active on the ball, feinting in Isagi's direction before executing an elastico, slipping the ball between Ranmaru's legs like a sleazy animal, pulling the curtain right on his nose. Ranmaru turned back to get revenge, but fell hard on the ground when his ankles gave out on him. Bachira, in his typical dribbling fashion, brought the ball back for a V drag and escaped the defender, sprawling him down on the ground.
Then, he let it loose. A lightning pass down the side channel, curving inward as Kunigami powered toward it, barging through the half-space with his arms pumping like pistons.
Kunigami didn't try anything fancy. He didn't need to.
He let the ball run across his body, then struck it low and hard with his laces, a screaming ground pass that rocketed back across the pitch, skipping like a stone toward the middle. He was going to call out to the recipient of the pass, but there was no need.
Chigiri was already gone.
A blur of red, slicing through defenders like a razor's edge. He burst from the right with inhuman velocity, his eyes locked on the path ahead. A sharp inward touch with the inside of his boot, accelerating enough to avoid the crash of two defenders converging from either side.
He should have been through, but he wasn't. Okawa and Suragi were in his way, giving no angle for him to shoot the ball. It was frustrating, but it was something he had to accept.
With the balance of a tightrope walker and the precision of a sniper, Chigiri side swiped the ball to his right, a blind pass guided by trust alone. He didn't look in that direction, but reacted on instinct to get it out of the way and open for someone to shoot.
It landed in the one place Team Y never thought to defend.
Right at the top of the box.
Right where Isagi was.
He'd followed the trail, navigated the chaos, like he'd seen the entire pattern before it ever happened. He emerged into the pocket of space like a ghost, unmarked by anyone.
He wound up his left foot for the shot, ready to deliver his seventh goal for the match. He never got the chance.
Niko, in his ascended state of perception, drifted through the pitch like a phantom in orbit. He was always on the fringe, never drawing the spotlight. His eyes never left Isagi, tracking him like a shadow, tailing him at a distance just wide enough to seem like a bystander, yet close enough to strike like a coiled serpent.
Each of Isagi's movements were dissected in real time, fed into Niko's mental simulation like threads weaving into a net. So when the golden second came, the pass intended for Isagi, he pounced.
He slid in from Isagi's blind spot like a knife in the dark. With a soft step, he interrupted the play. A backheel interception, clean and surgical, redirected the ball at a sharp angle away from the attacking formation.
Straight to Okawa.
Gasps echoed from Team Z's sideline. The field snapped into chaos.
"No way!" Chigiri barked, spinning on his heel and bolting back down the line. "When was he able to get there?!"
But Okawa wasn't waiting. He had already reacted, already in motion. The ball stuck to his foot like glue as he powered forward into the sudden vacuum that Team Z's aggressive formation had left behind. His strides were long and driven, fueled by the opportunity his captain presented him. He wasn't the sharpest tactician, but give him a straight line and the ball and he would burn holes in the pitch.
Ranmaru joined in from the left, waving his arm. Yamato surged up the center lane, teeth gritted in anticipation. Team Y had flipped the board.
Three on two.
Gagamaru shouted from the goal, directing his defenders. "Raichi! Fall back and mark center! Clean up any loose balls, Iemon!"
Raichi and Kuon scrambled into a makeshift wall, trying to block off Okawa's charge, but the mohawked striker had no intention of slowing down. His boots thundered against the turf, body low and tilted forward like a sprinter mid-race. He stepped wide, dragging the ball along his outer foot with fluid precision, then slashed it infield just before Raichi could throw a leg in to block.
The pass was fast, sliding just past Kuon's reach and straight into the stride of Yamato, who barely let it settle before nudging a rapid one-touch ahead. It spun with just enough backspin to slow for Ranmaru, who was already cutting through the heart of the formation.
Chigiri closed the gap from the side, red hair trailing like wildfire, while Iemon roared from the backline, barking defensive shifts.
Ranmaru's touch was heavy, dangerously so, a half-second miscalculation in an otherwise flawless sequence. Igarashi, charging like a man possessed, saw his opening and dove in with reckless abandon, sliding low and wide to intercept.
Seeing the danger, Ranmaru panicked to react.
He shifted his body, stabbing his toe forward and redirecting it at the last possible moment, spinning off Igarashi's tackle like a coin flipped by fate. Grass tore under his cleats as he staggered out of the trap, momentum threatening to topple him. Surrounded, boxed in by Kira's shining presence and Naruhaya's rearward pressure, Ranmaru made the only choice that remained.
He pivoted and dropped the ball back to safety, where Niko was advancing.
Already two steps in motion before the ball reached him, Niko caught it like he was reeling in a thread. He glanced up only once, using that second to gauge his surroundings and come up with his next plan. The game was sprawled out before him in pieces, each moving part clicking into place.
Isagi surged forward, collapsing the space between them, but Niko feinted with his entire frame, shoulder, hips, and gaze aimed toward the left channel. Isagi took the bait, shifting to cut off the angle.
With a masterful turn, Niko reversed his stance, let the ball kiss his instep, and threaded a crisp, low pass across the centerline to Kirino, who received it without breaking stride. The rhythm didn't falter. Kirino took two touches, one to tame the ball and the other to play it diagonally ahead to Suragi, hugging the left sideline.
Suragi didn't dare dribble. Instead, he tapped it back toward the inside, where Yamato met it once more. The sequence was relentless, like gears grinding through steel, a clockwork offense built on speed and synergy. Kunigami intercepted the passing lane too late, and Raichi, recovering from his earlier charge, threw his arm out in frustration, scrambling to reorganize.
But Team Y didn't slow. Ranmaru looped around again, receiving a gentle layoff from Yamato and instantly dumping it right back to Niko, who'd circled back into the center.
Niko, breathing calm into chaos, looked up once again.
'Okuzaki is next to me with Okawa slightly ahead. Alright, I've got it.'
He let the ball roll untouched, slipping between his legs in perfect rhythm, the illusion crafted to funnel it directly to his newly introduced teammate, Okuzaki, hovering in the channel just wide.
However, Isagi burst into the lane like a predator breaking free from camouflage, arms back and knees coiled. His legs were outstretched, his timing impeccable. The steal was already being calculated in his brain, a new kill counter blooming in his mind.
It was the perfect read on Isagi's part, showing off his understanding of the banged teen's mentality, but Niko refused to let it happen.
The world shifted beneath his boots. He focused, concentrating with an intensity that bent the boundaries of normal play. The brilliance of his decision ignited in the same instant his body twisted.
His right leg curled behind his planted left, a whip coiling under tension. And in a motion born not of practice, but of sheer necessity, he reforged the rabona.
But this wasn't the soft, elegant flourish of a highlight reel.
This was beautifully violent.
His leg snapped around, catching the ball at the final millisecond, just before it could pass beyond him, and slammed it through the narrowest opening between Isagi's stride.
Like a blade slicing through armor, he carved a line into fate. In this moment, he eclipsed the fate that was meant to be, threading the needle between the loop it was meant to.
It skidded clean and true to Okawa. The rabona had turned the tide, the counter to the counter, all conceived and executed in a single breath of chaos.
Isagi's eyes widened in shock, having not expected such an action. He had read the play perfectly and positioned himself to counter it, only for it to be turned against him. His eyes caught Niko's, and saw the message that accompanied.
'We're even now.'
With a growl, he darted back once again. He wouldn't let this one slide.
Okawa barely had time to react. The ball was already there on the grass, sliding into his path like it had always belonged there.
"What the…?" he muttered, eyes wide, gaze darting back to Niko.
The rabona pass was too sudden for him to properly react. It had threaded between Isagi's legs like a ghost slipping through a closed door. It wasn't just clever. It was sorcery. A sleight of foot that left everyone watching doubting their own perception of time, causing an understandable pause in Okawa's steps.
A thunderous roar shattered the moment.
"HYAAAH!"
Igarashi.
He was a freight train of flailing limbs and fury, throwing his entire weight into a desperate tackle. Okawa's eyes snapped forward as the defender launched himself in a skid, turf flying up in clumps behind him.
Panic flared.
Okawa jabbed the ball upward with a snap of his ankle. It popped into the air and skipped over Igarashi's sliding legs by inches. The mohawked striker stutter stepped past him, one foot catching the edge of Igarashi's jersey as he tumbled out of reach.
"Ah, fuck." Okawa grunted with shallow breaths, trying to find his balance again.
The ball spun forward on its descent, and Okuzaki pounced.
He passed it sharply to his left, where Ranmaru was surging up the channel. He absorbed the pass with his instep, pivoted his body in a whirl of motion, and flicked it back across to Niko in the same second.
The play was alive.
The ball moved like it had a will of its own, snaking through feet and pressure, held together by the invisible gravity of a single player.
Niko met the ball with a deft trap, almost lazily soft, and his body swayed like a pendulum. The defenders were closing in. Chigiri's hair flared behind him like a comet trail, Kunigami's footsteps thundered like drums, and Naruhaya darted ahead to cut off the next lane.
But Niko didn't blink.
He turned his shoulders ever so slightly, eyes darting to the left and then passed right. A sharp, low delivery that zipped over the grass to Kirino, who redirected it on the first touch to Yamato in the right half of the field. The ball barely had time to breathe before it was returned, again, to Niko's feet.
It was a triangle formation, each pass a heartbeat in a living organism, maintaining its consistent tempo.
The grass shuddered beneath their boots, echoing with the rhythm of quick touches, shouts, and chasing shadows. Niko's chest heaved, his legs burning from the pace, but his determination gleamed like blades catching sunlight. He was running out of stamina thanks to his continuous back and forth across the field, but he was resolved to not falter.
He spun away from Naruhaya with a flick of his heel, ball glued to his feet, and passed it between Kunigami's spread stance, sending it back to Okawa, who was waiting at the edge of the final third.
He caught it in stride, the ball thudding against his laces like a secret handshake. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, sweat streaking down his temple. He pivoted, body angling toward the center as he prepared to distribute again, his eyes sweeping toward Niko, already curling around the right side like a predator stalking a fresh lane.
But just as he took his second touch, Raichi collided into his side with the force of a meteor strike.
"RAAAAGHHH!!"
He came barreling in like a man possessed, teeth bared in furious hunger. His boots carved the turf as he slammed his shoulder into Okawa's and jabbed his leg through the gap between his stride. One swift jab and the ball was gone.
Okawa flew from the hit, arms flailing as he flew onto the ground. Raichi charging forward, leaving him behind like wreckage. The stolen ball skipped in front of him like it wanted to escape, but Raichi didn't let it. He took another bounding step, then sliced it forward down the channel with a vicious through ball.
"GO!" he roared. "COUNTER!"
Like a switch had been flipped, Team Z erupted into motion. Bachira came sprinting diagonally from the middle, running into the lane set by Raichi to receive the pass. Chigiri bolted to the left wing while Naruhaya dropped back. Kunigami turned upfield like a warhorse let off its reins, and Kira broke his spot on the defensive line and charged to join the chaos.
From his position near the play, Isagi had seen everything unfold in slow motion.
As Niko connected with Okawa, Isagi already knew what was coming. Raichi's tackle, a forceful collision, a literal explosion of motion, would send the ball flying free. He could already feel the space expanding around him.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
It was as if he were a phantom. He didn't need to look behind him. He felt the shift in movement as Niko's ball was intercepted.
"Tch—!" Niko clicked his tongue, eyes flashing as Isagi disappeared from his sight, already anticipating the next play.
From somewhere in the backfield, Raichi's trademark yell cut through the tension. "Get it to the middle! Isagi's free!!"
Bachira looked up, his voice was next, but this time, it was full of excitement. "Get moving, Isagi! I see you!"
Without a second to spare, Bachira shot the ball out from his foot and sent it spiraling toward the center pitch. It was a well placed pass, swift and accurate, but not impossible to intercept. Yet, as the ball zipped through the air, the tension surrounding Isagi became palpable.
Isagi's foot met the ball with precision, possessing the ball before anyone else could react. He didn't need to fight for control with this pass, just like any other pass he received from Bachira. His body shifted seamlessly, the ball following like an extension of his will.
With a single touch, he turned his body and sent the ball soaring.
The ball sliced through the air in an arc. It floated above everyone, bending like the swing of a sickle, slicing through the air with purpose. It didn't take long for his teammates to spot the trajectory of the ball.
"I'm on it!" Chigiri's legs were moving as he saw the ball descending, shifting into that unfathomable speed he was known for, a blur of motion that would soon make him a blur in the defenders' vision.
The ball continued its descent, aimed perfectly towards the left flank. But there was a catch, a cruel twist of fate for team Z. Or more specifically, Naruhaya.
Naruhaya had read the same pattern as Chigiri. He was a step behind but still far enough to challenge the space between them. His breath quickened, his legs driving harder, faster, as he closed the distance, trying to anticipate the path and stay within reach of it.
He hated his position of left back, hated the fact that he wasn't a part of the attacks. Unlike Igarashi, he didn't want to remain in his position. He could tell that his fellow low ranker was comfortable with his position on the team, and he couldn't blame him.
Here the monk was making substantial places that gave them plenty of opportunities to steal and counter, succeeding a number of times, while he was stuck being isolated by the rest of the cast. The few times he had an opportunity to become the start of the play, or to join it, he botched it up and left his team for dead. It was infuriating, so Naruhaya was determined to scavenge what he could get. So when he recognized Isagi's intention, he set off like a dart.
Naruhaya had a head start, a momentary advantage, but it still wasn't enough. As the ball neared the ground, Chigiri was already there. He could feel it before the ball even touched his foot. His speed, the sheer force of his sprint, was the final piece of the puzzle.
But as he went for the ball, just inches away from his foot, the defenders around him scrambled, pressing in.
"No! Don't let him get it!" Okawa yelled from the sideline, his voice full of frustration as he marked Kunigami on the right.
Chigiri didn't flinch. He was a second faster, and that was all he needed.
With the precision of a marksman, Chigiri's foot met the ball. His touch was delicate yet powerful, steering the ball ahead, leaving the defenders in the dust. With no one else to challenge him, he went uncontested to the box, rocketing it into the net with a satisfying thud.
Team Y 0 - 8 Team Z
"YOSHAAA!!!!" Chigiri jumped into the air in celebration, pumping his fist outward violently.
"Nice one, Chigiri!" Isagi's cheer came from behind him. He turned around to greet him, raising his hand for the high five. "Knew you would be there to get it."
"Absolutely, dude. No one can get to the ball quicker than I can!"
"I'll say, bro you were crazy!" For the first time, Igarashi came up to join the celebration. Now that he was actually making plays and helping his team, he was feeling more confident in himself than he was before. "I mean like, you were like woosh and then like swoosh! It was so fast I couldn't even see!"
"Haha, thanks. You've been improving too, Igaguri. You might end up scoring a goal by the end of it."
"Namusan!"
Bachira came by next, jumping on the speedster's back with a giant grin on his face. "Heyyyyy, lookie you~. We're both tied at two goals! That makes us tied for first place!"
"I think first place is easily Isagi's, Bachira."
"Isagi is a totally different monster. None of us combined could reach his twelve goals, so he doesn't count."
"Oi!"
They laughed as they regrouped at the center pitch, elbowing each other playfully with each passing step. Their comradery as the top scorers on the team held them tight, with their bond with Igarashi cemented through his bright determination and witty personality.
Niko stood silently at the top, giving no words or indications of his reaction to his teammates. All of them felt the despair seep in, the unrelenting pain of loss piercing them to their very bones, but Niko did not care. The captain felt nothing of the sort, only the fire and arctic fury blazing in his soul.
"Get the ball, Okawa." He rumbled, staring at team Z's goal from the half field.
Okawa blinked, re-orienting himself from his momentary depression, before nodding and doing just that.
He returned to the halfway line, tossing the ball once in his hands to find the right grip before settling it on the turf. The others gathered slowly, trudging into position with slack shoulders and strained faces, as if they'd all aged from the weight of eight goals scored against them.
Yamato muttered, "Eight... Eight goals. What the hell are we even doing out here?"
Ranmaru gave no reply, only shifting his stance, eyes downcast.
Kirino ran a hand through his hair, the sweat sticking it back against his skull. "They're just... better. That's all there is to it."
"There's no hope, man. We're finished…"
"Shut up," Niko said calmly, his voice slicing through the murmuring like a blade.
The air was thick, dense with tension. It was a smothering silence. The only sound came from the dull thrum of cleats shifting against the turf, from shallow breaths and the distant hum of the facility lights. Team Y stood frozen in place, staring at Niko like he'd become someone else entirely.
No one spoke.
Niko's chest rose and fell with quiet fury, his eyes boring into the stretch of field before him as if the very ground challenged his will.
"Who the hell said that?" he repeated, voice low but cutting like a whip. "Who said we were finished?"
Still, no answer. Even the air refused to move.
"If any of you are thinking such weak and pathetic thoughts right now," he snarled, turning slowly to face them, "then get off the field and leave Blue Lock."
A wave of pressure radiated from him. A raw, unfiltered dominance that subjected the lesser. His teammates couldn't look him in the eye. The sting of shame buried into their spines like ice.
He took a step forward, eyes locking on Ranmaru.
"Was it you, Ranmaru?"
The midfielder stiffened. "N-no…" he muttered, barely audible.
"Okuzaki?"
"No, sir…" he responded quickly, trembling just enough for it to show.
Niko's glare swept across the rest of the team like a storm cloud rolling over a plain.
"Then everyone. Shut. Up."
He let the words sink in, his voice flat and final.
"This is Blue Lock. You should've expected this the moment you stepped onto this pitch. No one's here to be coddled. No one's going to come save us. The only way forward is through them. And every second you waste groveling in your self-pity is another nail in your coffin."
Someone tried to speak. It was Yamato, mouth halfway open with some feeble excuse.
"He—"
"I told you to shut up." Niko snapped, advancing a step with enough force to make Yamato physically flinch. "How dare you even speak while you're on your knees like that?"
His voice dropped low, venomous.
"You all knew. You knew exactly what the fuck we were up against the moment the match up was called. We watched their film. We saw what they did to Team X. Why the fucking hell are you sorry idiots acting like this is some surprise?"
His fists trembled with disgust.
"Yes, we're losing. Yes, we're getting our asses kicked. But this—" he gestured wildly to their defeated forms, "—this is the real failure. Not the scoreline. Not the goals. This. The way you've folded in on yourselves is pathetic. You look like a bunch of sorry corpses still pretending to play football, unaware of the fact that you're already dead."
He turned away, staring once more toward the opposing side of the pitch where the hungry eyes of Team Z bore on them.
"They're strong," he said, his voice softening slightly, yet becoming colder. "Stronger than any of us. But they're not gods. They can bleed. And I swear, on everything I am, I will be the one to triumph over them, even if it's the last thing I do.
If you can't even resolve yourselves to tackle this hurtle, you might as well consider yourself locked off."
A hush fell again. Now, the silence wasn't of fear, but of awe. It permeated the atmosphere with glorious intent, a promise to victory for team Y.
His teammates slowly began to raise their heads.
Ranmaru stood taller.
Okuzaki tightened his fists.
Even Yamato looked up with something faint flickering behind his eyes.
Seeing his teammates regain their confidence, Niko turned his back towards them, walking back to his position next to the ball.
"We're going to lose. That much is unavoidable now. But that doesn't mean we walk away without leaving our mark. This game isn't about the scoreboard anymore. Right now, all that it's about is how far we're willing to go before we break ourselves apart. Kill your very souls if you need to, but don't you dare drop before the final whistle blows."
"YES!!!"
The whistle blew, signalling the ninth restart to the game. Immediately, Niko pivoted, sending the ball back to his defenders with a curt pass. He remained near the center circle, his eyes sweeping the field like a hawk surveying its territory.
'I need to cement myself as the axis of this attack,' He thought, his mind clicking through possibilities like a machine. 'The ball has to flow through me. That's the only way we survive this chaos.'
He darted in to receive a return pass, his movement subtle but deliberate. With a smooth touch, he redirected the ball to his right, where Okawa waited flat-footed. Niko's jaw clenched.
'These fools can't even hold possession for ten seconds without falling apart. It's impossible for me to even think about shadow play.' His eyes narrowed. 'If I fade into the background now, everything collapses. Fine. If I can't disappear, then I'll shine. I'll make my presence so blinding that their flaws are drowned out by my clarity. I'll be their crutch, their damn anchor if I have to.'
The ball came back to him, awkwardly bobbling from Okawa's miscontrol. Niko trapped it cleanly, pivoting to shield it from a pressing opponent. He snapped a glance downfield, where Raichi lurked up front, isolated but hungry for the ball.
'No good. If I try to pressure now, I'll just lose the ball.'
Bachira closed in, hungry to wreak havoc on the strategist's design. Niko feinted left, pulled right, then slid the ball through to a Kirino overlapping on the wing. The run wasn't the most ideal, but it was enough to buy them a few more seconds. Niko jogged alongside him, staying in perfect position.
'This isn't how I want to play, but it's the best I can do with the cards I've been dealt. If I can control the tempo and make them rely on me even more, I can probably shape this chaos into something understandable for me to use. Something that cuts deep into their heart and gets me the goal.'
From the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of Kira closing in on him fast, looking to flank him with the dreaded phantom of team Z. There was no time for hesitation now, because that would mean another defeat to his rival.
'Alright then. If the spotlight's mine, I'll make it blinding, and turn this damn field into a maze under my control. Isagi won't beat me this time.' Niko slotted the ball back to Kirino, chasing after it in the bid of making a run. Isagi followed, steadily catching up to Niko.
Kirino, tuning into his captain's wavelength, understood what Niko was trying to orchestrate. With a sharp glance and a subtle drop of his shoulder, he delivered the ball into space, an indirect lead pass that curved gently ahead of Niko's run..
Niko's boots skimmed the turf as he sprinted forward, claiming the ball with a single touch to continue its momentum, angling it away from Isagi, who lurked like a phantom on his blind side. He could feel the pressure behind him, waiting and calculating the perfect moment to strike.
He kicked the ball with his heel behind him and burst forward again, shedding his marker with a blaze of motion.
The second recipient, Shigeno, wasn't the most skilled, but he knew his role in this sequence. He was the only one behind Niko, since Kirino went on ahead and dashed to the center. As Niko charged ahead once more, Shigeno lofted the return pass first time into the air, high enough to let it hang in the air and long enough for only Niko to catch up to and no one else.
'Perfect.' Niko sprinted into the flight path, body leaning forward like a sprinter at the finish line. He let the ball drop over his shoulder, cushioning it with his laces before letting it fall to the ground.
But now, he had a problem.
He scanned forward, hoping to see a passing lane, but there were none to be found. Everyone was marked. Every run was mistimed. The forwards near the front weren't reading the rhythm he'd established. And worst of all, Isagi had closed in.
That eerie awareness of his presence crept into Niko's bones again, the sense of being hunted by someone who could already see the next three steps. Isagi didn't dive in, he didn't have to. He hovered just close enough to disrupt the next move, just far enough to bait an error.
'Damn it. I can't let him near the ball.'
Niko made his decision instantly.
With a small hop and pivot, he turned his back to the field. His sole pressed against the top of the ball, dragging it backward into the crook of his foot. His body followed, twisting into a shield to keep the ball at his feet. With the ball protected for the time being, Niko checked the field again.
With a sharp pivot and a smooth brush of his left foot, Niko released the pass into Yamato's stride—short, crisp, and perfectly weighted. He went back to break out his sprint, veering to the right immediately after the ball left his boot, peeling away from Isagi once again like a ghost slipping through a crack in the wall.
His heart pounded from the fatigue, but it also pounded from exhilaration.
Isagi had been chasing shadows, stuck playing catch up with a player who refused to stop moving. Every time Niko touched the ball, he was already thinking of where he would be in the next second.
And so far, it was working.
Yamato sent the ball back to him, a quick return on the bounce, just enough to keep the flow going. Niko slowed slightly to receive, his eyes immediately scanning the pitch.
'Come on, come on, someone show for it.'
His gaze swept the field, hoping to finally find someone open.
Nothing.
Not a single open man.
The attack that had once been bursting with synchronized movement and renewed energy had stalled. His teammates, Kirino, Shigeno, even Okawa, were moving like their legs had turned to lead. Shoulders slouched, heads down, and huffing breaths. Heavy feet dragging over the pitch like invisible weights were chained to their ankles.
A bitter taste rose in Niko's mouth.
'What the hell happened...? Where did all that fire go?'
He adjusted his foot on the ball, rolling it slowly beneath him. Still no options. No overlapping runs. No misdirections. No vertical threats. Everyone on his team was too tired to continue.
'They're all seriously incompetent.'
Niko's brow furrowed, teeth grinding as a sharp jolt of pain shot up from his calves to his hips, forcing a hiss through clenched teeth. His legs were screaming and his lungs burned. His jersey clung to him, soaked and heavy from the immense amount of sweat pouring off of him. Every nerve in his body throbbed, begging to be given a break from the strenuous labor it was enduring.
'I've been working myself down to the fucking bone in this half, doing everything for you idiots and cleaning up your trash, and you can't even muster the slightest bit of energy to continue helping me?!'
Ranmaru had just trotted into space, then stood there like a statue, hands on his knees, offering nothing to help him
The air of defeat stenched heavily on him.
Niko's fists tightened around the seams of his gloves.
'I'm tired as shit too, but you don't see me being lazy about it! I'm dying out here, killing myself and putting this rotten team on my back! I am so much weaker than you guys physically, you all have so much more stamina than I do, so how the hell am I the only guy actually working?!'
And it was true.
For the entire thirty minutes that made up this brutal, unrelenting half, Niko had been everywhere. Overlapping runs, defensive rotations, counter initiations, feeding passes through narrow gaps, chasing down rebounds that no one else even noticed, he was doing it all.
Every second he stayed on the pitch felt like he was borrowing time he didn't have, running on sheer fumes and resolution, his own body dragging behind his will like a rusted chain.
His fury boiled over.
"Tch." He spat the sound like a curse through gritted teeth, then pivoted his body and drove the ball backward in a sharp arc, a long ball back to the defense to reset the play.
The ball bounced once, skipping across the turf before one of the defenders scrambled to collect it. The pause that followed felt heavy. Like something had broken.
He stood there, panting, sweat dripping off his jaw. Not even looking at his teammates anymore. His gaze was fixed on the ground, fists at his sides, eyes narrowed like a storm cloud.
'It's like I'm trying to drag a corpse through the fucking mud. How the hell am I supposed to beat Isagi like this?!'
"Oi! Can you guys keep it in the back for a bit? We need to get a break!"
Ranmaru's voice cut through the air like a slap, bouncing off the walls of the enclosed facility and slamming into the ears of every player on the pitch. His hands were on his knees, chest heaving, sweat pouring from his brow in rivulets. But it wasn't the fatigue that caught everyone's attention.
It was the words.
For a full second, the game stuttered to a halt. Not officially. Not with a whistle. But something in the rhythm just stopped.
Like the entire pitch had blinked in sync.
All of them, from Isagi and Niko all the way to Naruhaya and Gagamaru, froze mid-motion, heads swiveling toward Ranmaru as if they'd just heard a joke that didn't quite land.
"Oi," Isagi muttered, bristling with disbelief. "Did I actually just hear that? Tell me he isn't being serious right now…"
Niko's jaw clenched, his entire face turning red from second hand shame. His lips twitched, unsure whether to frown or laugh, but he forced himself to answer anyway.
"I… You heard him correctly…"
There was a short silence, thick with judgment and secondhand embarrassment.
"…Dude, what the fuck?" Isagi's voice was louder this time, more incredulous than angry. "Who the hell does this guy think he is? Asking for a break in the middle of the game like this is a fucking picnic?"
Niko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Please don't twist the knife deeper. I'm already about to die of embarrassment."
"I'm feeling embarrassed for you," Isagi said, turning his glare back toward Ranmaru like he could will him out of existence. "If I had a teammate like that, I wouldn't even show up to the game."
"Ugh…" Niko muttered, shaking his head as he walked in a slow circle, trying to cool the heat in his face.
The defenders in the back were just as stunned. Even Gagamaru, who normally wouldn't notice a tank rolling through midfield, was staring with his mouth slightly open.
"Yo…" Kunigami whispered to no one in particular. "Did he forget we're in Blue Lock and not a weekend league game…"
Ranmaru stood there, oblivious to the storm he'd created, swaying slightly like he might collapse at any moment. "I'm just saying," he wheezed, hands raised defensively, "If we all chill for like, ten seconds, that gives everyone time to catch their breath, right?"
"Oh my god, he's doubling down," Isagi muttered.
"I want the ground to swallow me whole," Niko whispered back, eyes closed in quiet horror.
"OI! QUIT WITH THE FUCKING JOKES, YOU FUCKING WIMP!" Raichi roared angrily at the swaying player. Veins protruded from his temple and neck, emphasizing the fury that coursed through him. "WHAT KIND OF STRIKER ASKS FOR A DAMN BREAK IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING GAME?! YOU'RE IN BLUE LOCK, FOR GOD'S SAKE, NOT SOME RECREATIONAL LEAGUE FOR MINORS!"
"Dude, will you chill out? I literally just asked the defense to hold on to it so I could catch my breath. I've been dying out here trying to keep up."
Okawa sneered at the pathetic midfielder, his distaste poisoning his tongue. "You're a damn soccer player, you don't say shit like this. I'm tired as hell just like you, but you can't just ask the fucking defense to risk a counter attack just so you can regain some energy. Not only that, it's plain fucking stupid. No self respecting soccer player would ever stoop so low that they'd ask for a damn break"
"You too, dude?!"
"It's everyone, Ranmaru." Okuzaki came up behind him from the back, where he was playing center back with Matsuda. "Nobody here would ever make a request like that just to get some time to rest. Go to the defense before you sound like an even bigger idiot, I'll fill in for you here at midfield."
Ranmaru sighed tiredly before putting a grateful hand on his teammate's shoulder. "Thanks man, I'm grateful. I'll switch with ya when I get my energy back."
"No, you'll be playing center back permanently, Ranmaru." Niko took the opportunity to interject, stepping in the conversation and taking control. "We're losing precious time as it is, Ranmaru, and you're dragging everyone down with your bullshit. From now on, you'll be playing defense for us."
"Wha- What the fu-"
"All players continue the match. Failure to comply will result in both teams being locked off."
The voice of the announcer cut through the air like a hot knife in butter, delivering a bone chilling message for everyone present. With a final glare at Ranmaru, who cowardly retreated to the back lines, Niko turned around and walked back to his spot.
"How do you want to do this?" Isagi asked Niko, lifting an eyebrow when the teen got back to the ball. "You just want to check it and resume from here?"
"Yeah, that would be best."
Niko checked the ball to Isagi, who checked it back, and everything resumed.
The moment the ball returned to Niko's feet, the field exploded back into motion. Like a thunderclap had jolted everyone out of their stupor, the players scattered into their roles, movements sharp and immediate. Even the dead legs from earlier found life again. That short, ridiculous moment of foolishness from Ranmaru had hit the reset button on everyone's mindset, giving them the necessary energy to continue playing.
Niko felt the tempo shift instantly. The field was alive again.
Yamato was pushing wide. Kirino was darting forward, calling for a diagonal. Okuzaki stayed near him, ready for any combo that came to him, and Okawa was back to being the second most competent player on the team.
Niko took two sharp touches to get the ball under control, then snapped his head up.
Isagi was shadowing him yet again. He wasn't lunging in, just hovering close enough to pounce if Niko tried anything lazy. It was a dangerous dance, one misstep and the ball would vanish under Isagi's surgically timed pressure.
Niko shifted left with his body, baiting Isagi to follow, then abruptly pinged a driven pass to Yamato on the right touchline, splitting two defenders in the process. The ball flew like a bullet, perfectly timed to cut through the defense..
Yamato caught it in stride, his first touch clean.
"Go!" Niko shouted.
Yamato obeyed, pushing down the flank. Chigiri was already reacting, accelerating to close him down, but Yamato wasn't trying to beat him. He stopped short and flicked it back into the center for Okuzaki to pick up.
Receiving it on the half-turn, he slid into the central channel, carving through the defense like a blade through cloth. Kirino made a near-post run to drag a defender out of position, creating a gap just wide enough for Niko to exploit.
"Oi! Pass it here!"
Okuzaki, with on hesitation, released the pass to Niko, a perfect low ball for him to collect. He smirked, happy that he finally had outlets to use for his game, but wasn't able to continue it any further as he crashed into something.
BZZZZZ
"Foul, number 7, Ikki Niko. Free kick awarded to team Z"
"Yosh! It's about time I bring our team back to the game again!" Igarashi, once again on the ground, cheered in success. His sights were locked the entire game, witnessing everything quietly from the shadows. He looked for gaps, pockets of space unnoticeable to others yet most advantageous for him to use. When he found that space, Niko was also moving there, giving him the perfect opportunity to release his Malicia.
"You're not going to score on us, bushy head! With the Buddha on my side, no one shall escape the clutches of my Conversion! Namusan!" Igarashi grinned like a loon, clapping his hands together in prayer when he got to his feet.
Niko simply nodded and turned around, making his way to find an advantageous position to counter the free kick. 'How did I not see him? Was Ranmaru's idiocy so bad I subconsciously couldn't even tell what was going on around me? No, that's just an excuse. In the end, the fault lies with me, there's no other way around it. It seems to me Gurimu Igarashi is more formidable than I had predicted.'
Iemon clapped the shaven headed teen on the back, giving him a big smile. "Nice going, Igaguri. You're Malicia is definitely a work of art, huh?"
"Oh yeah, I've been working on this ever since we came to Blue Lock. When I saw my number, I knew that there was no way in hell I'd last with the way I am, so I racked my brain together and came up with this!"
With a big smile on his face as well, Igarashi excitedly explained his technique.
"I needed to find a technique that followed the basic principles I lived by since I knew it would resonate with me the most, but I didn't know what to do for it. Nothing about Buddhism is about being active and offensive, at least when you convert it to the terms of soccer, so I was at a loss for what to do. But then, when we were given our positions for the team X game, I had a clue. Buddhism is about peace and conversion, stopping violence and bringing prosperity. So, as a left back, I developed my techniques around it!"
Clapping his chest proudly, he beamed at the rest of his team, who decided to join in and listen to the monk's explanation. "I called it the Malicia, but that's really only one facet of it. Its true name is the Way of Enlightenment! A counter and conversion playstyle I'm still developing!"
He was animated now, speaking like a monk on the edge of revelation, his tone somewhere between a sermon and a strategy brief. Iemon laughed as he ruffled Igarashi's jersey with a big hand.
"You're something else, man. I don't know if it's genius or total lunacy."
"It's totally both~," Bachira chimed in with a grin, bouncing on his heels nearby. "But it worked, so it's a huge hit!"
Igarashi smirked, pointing dramatically to the sky. "When you follow the path of peace and clever chaos, miracles happen!"
"Aye, sir!"
Nothing more to be said, everyone went into position, leaving Gagamaru to take the free kick. He gazed at the field absentmindedly, before nodding and shooting it off like a bullet. The free kick sliced through the air like a railgun shot, arcing high above the players on the field. It flew toward Kunigami with blistering speed, cutting through space like it was a bullet against a target.
Seeing the ball coming towards him, Kunigami adjusted his footing, bracing himself just past the center circle. The ball smacked into his instep with a satisfying thunk, and he absorbed its momentum cleanly, letting it roll out gently in front of him.
Okawa was on him in an instant.
The moment the ball touched down, the mohawked striker surged forward, slamming shoulder-first into Kunigami's side. Muscles collided, brute force against brute force.
Kunigami didn't budge. He lowered his center of gravity, his cleats grinding against the turf, and rolled the ball slightly forward with his sole, eyes burning. "You're not pushing me off with that. A real hero never falters in the face of adversity."
"Then I'll do it again!" Okawa snarled, pressing harder, trying to strip the ball from him with raw aggression. His arms tangled with Kunigami's, legs scraping and scissoring to get under the ball.
Kunigami's heel popped the ball to his left side and he pivoted with it, keeping his frame between Okawa and possession.
He growled low under his breath. "You're too weak."
Then he turned on the jets.
Kunigami dropped his shoulder and thundered forward, dragging Okawa along for the ride for a few steps before shaking him with a burst of acceleration. He cleared space.
"Cover him! Don't let him get the long pass off!" Niko ordered from behind, staying close to Isagi in order to neutralize his threat.
Okuzaki and Kirino shifted toward Kunigami to compress the space, but he didn't panic. He drew them in with poise, waiting for that sliver of opportunity. It came when Bachira came streaking down the right, hands up, eyes wide, begging for it.
Kunigami slammed into the ball with the inside of his boot, driving the pass through the center that curved perfectly into Bachira's path.
"Yosh!" Bachira sang, snagging it in stride, dribbling past Yamato with a playful hop. "Let's dance!"
Team Y scrambled to contain him, but it was like trying to hold water with open fingers. Bachira juggled the ball with quick, delicate touches, playing it like an instrument, weaving toward the centerline. He didn't need a lane to be open, he was fully capable of making his own.
But just as two defenders pinched inward to close him down, Bachira tapped the ball backward without looking, perfectly placing it into Isagi's path.
Isagi had trailed the play from the moment Gagamaru launched it, reading it like a script. He caught the pass in full stride, his eyes never even on the ball, only ahead. Niko came up, shoulder checking him to knock him off balance, but he didn't budge.
Isagi's physique was too strong for someone of Niko's caliber to contend with, and was met with instant karma when he was bounced off like a squeaky toy.
The phantom's cleats bit into the turf. The ball clung to his boots like a magnetized companion as he rolled it forward with a controlled tap. His eyes scanned, his mind racing. Five meters ahead, a wave of defenders stood in wait, quickly being rejoined by the midfielders who had fallen behind. On the left sideline, Chigiri hadn't yet burned up the lane. Kunigami was still resetting his position. And Bachira flanked in the distance, dancing just behind enemy lines like a beast waiting for an opening.
But Isagi wanted this moment for himself.
He leaned into the ball, let it glide beneath his stride, then cut it left with the inside of his foot, bringing Niko with him. The two locked horns, facing off like wolves circling for the kill.
Niko snarled under his breath. "You're not getting past me."
"I already have"
A fake touch with his right.
Niko bit, twitching toward the outside.
And Isagi spun the other way, dragging the ball with his left, pirouetting on a dime like a matador dodging a charge.
The ball zipped in front of him again, his control seamless, his tempo building like a drumbeat. One, two, three steps, and then a sudden feint. He slowed for a second, giving Niko the illusion of space, the promise of a tackle window. But that space was poison.
The moment Niko lunged in, Isagi executed a Vanishing Drive, slipping the ball between the opposition's legs and chasing after it. He overstepped the ball, falsifying the dribble and causing Niko's vision to wander, and used his left foot to kick it behind his planted leg. It was the same version he used against Bachira in their one v one, gliding past the challenge with ease as he brushed Niko's outstretched leg with a whisper of contact.
"Shit!" Niko hissed, twisting mid-slide to recover, but he was already chasing shadows.
Isagi didn't stop there.
He flicked the ball ahead with the toe of his boot, sprinting into the lane between Yamato and Okuzaki. The two defenders stepped up, attempting to form a wall. Isagi didn't blink.
With his left foot, he popped the ball up slightly, not enough to lose control, just enough to lift it over Yamato's foot.
Then a double tap, using the tip of his cleats to nudge the ball just enough so that it was out of reach for a last second surprise. Through Yamato, the ball danced under him like it was alive.
A tap past another one of Okuzaki's approach and a slip to the side, and he was through again.
The center circle was behind him now, far behind. The pitch tilted forward like a descending slope, and Isagi was sprinting down it with thunder in his feet.
He let the ball drift toward his right as if preparing for a shot, drawing the actual defenders in, and just before contact came, he heel-flicked the ball backward into the midfield space.
Raichi was there, charging up like a warhorse. "Nice read, Isagi!!"
"Make sure to repay it." Isagi chuckled under his breath, already peeling away again.
Raichi barrelled in like a runaway train, his every step a declaration of war. The ball was glued to his boots until he spotted Kira flashing across his periphery.
"Oi, Kira!".
Kira nodded, tapping the ball sideways and sprinting around the pressing defender. Raichi didn't stop. He collided with the marker in Kira's place, shielding him just long enough for the ball to return with a quick pass. A textbook one-two, executed at full tilt.
Kira slipped away, and Raichi delivered, passing the ball back toward the center where their ace was already waiting.
Isagi let it roll past his foot, letting the spin carry it just enough to bait the right back lunging in. The defender threw himself at where the ball should've been, but Isagi's flow followed a different rhythm entirely.
He ghosted past, smooth as silk, his foot catching up with the ball again in full stride. Team Y's right back cursed under his breath, falling behind, his momentum turned into dust.
Now, only Ranmaru remained, the most hated man on the field. He was tense in his stance, ready to act as the wall that'd finally stop Isagi. After his previously shameful display of weakness, if there was ever a moment to redeem himself, it was now. The air around him thickened as he dropped into a stance built from desperation and raw instinct.
Isagi didn't blink.
He slowed for just a breath, calculating every inch of space, every twitch in Ranmaru's frame. Then, without warning, he jolted to the right, his foot dragging the ball with him in one smooth, convincing motion. His entire posture screamed commitment, his body positioned in full tilting confidence to sell the move.
Ranmaru took the bait.
"I got you!"
But Isagi's next touch turned the world upside down.
With a flick of his ankle, he snapped the ball back the opposite direction in one brutal elastico, like a whip cracking in the air. His entire body followed, snapping to the left with liquid motion.
The change was so sudden, so inhumanly sharp, that the turf itself seemed to flinch beneath him.
Ranmaru's planted foot twisted violently in response. He tried to adjust in an attempt to recover, but the weight transfer came too fast, causing every soccer player's biggest humiliation to happen. His ankle rolled on itself and his body folded with it, crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut.
He hit the ground hard, arms scraping at air, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"No, you don't. You're nowhere near my level, so stay in your cage like the mutt you are."
With the final defender broken at his feet and the path to glory laid bare, the average player would've surged ahead, hungry for an easy finish.
But Isagi Yoichi was anything but average. He didn't commit to the run because he saw it. He saw the shadows shifting behind him.
A blur cutting in from the flank.
It was Niko.
Like a ghost summoned by vengeance, the captain of Team Y exploded into view, sliding in with reckless abandon, a last-ditch tackle soaked in fury and purpose. Grass tore beneath him, clumps spraying like shrapnel as his cleats carved a death line straight toward the ball.
The crowd, if there had been one, would've gasped. At such a distance, it was impossible for any player to react.
But Isagi did react to it, because he anticipated it. In a move so casual it felt preordained, he dragged his left foot under the ball and flicked it skyward, a high, looping chip arcing over Niko's extended legs with ballet like grace, going airborne to ascend after it.
Time slowed.
The ball spun in the air, a silver coin tumbling in the spotlight. And Niko, rising from his dive, eyes wide with realization, tried to recover. He stepped, twisted, trying to position himself beneath it for the interception–.
He wouldn't make it.
Thirty meters out from the goal, Isagi turned his body with surgical fluidity, arms flaring out like a gunfighter drawing his weapon. His right leg coiled back, every muscle winding like a spring under tension.
This wasn't the typical shot, however. It was more than that, because it was a message. A message to the only person worthy of hearing it.
'The lead is mine'
The Hitman's Sniper Volley was unleashed, unloading the bullet from the maw of its barrel. His foot met the ball with perfect timing, slicing through it with such force and control that the leather screamed through the air, a shrieking song of judgement and death.
The ball was straight like a blade, slaughtering the air in its beam of death, shooting past the outstretched keeper, and—
THWACK.
—buried itself into the back of the net.
Isagi stood tall, chest rising, his silhouette framed by the falling ball and stunned silence.
"That puts me in the lead, Niko."
Team Y 0 - 9 Team Z
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Full Time:
Team Y 0 - 9 Team Z
Isagi
Isagi
Chigiri
Isagi
Isagi
Isagi
Isagi
Chigiri
Isagi
"And that means my victory."
His words struck harder than the goal. They were cold. Factual. Final.
Niko couldn't speak. He just sat there, shoulders square and eyes wide, unbelieving of the fact that he had lost.
'That's it, then,' Niko thought. 'It's over.'
What had he missed?
Where had he gone wrong?
His mind, the one thing he prided himself on more than anything, began cycling through every second, every touch of the ball, every decision like a film reel flickering out of control. He had read the field like a chessboard. He had moved like a strategist. He'd kept calm, calculated the risks, and manipulated positioning to carve out control in the chaos.
He even evolved, rising to heights that he could have never dreamed of achieving before. He played like a beast possessed, like Kevin De Bruyne's soul took his body and gave him the tools he needed to become even greater than the rest.
And yet, even after all that, he still failed to defeat his biggest competition.
A striker who didn't just move on instinct, but with an insight so sharp it made Niko's awareness feel sluggish in comparison. The moment the ball was first kicked off, Isagi had controlled the pitch like a puppet master. Niko had seen the visions too, but he had acted too poorly on them. His body hadn't moved with the same hunger. His soul hadn't burned with the same desire. Not until the second half did he play with the same look that his rival sported.
And in the final play… when he'd slid into the passing lane, when he knew what Isagi was about to do… he'd still failed to stop it. That chipped trap, that impossible volley, it was all plain madness. And yet, it was perfect. Flawless execution born in its territory, but raised to the dawn of brilliance.
'Why didn't I see it coming sooner? Was I too rigid? Too convinced of my method? Did I become so obsessed with controlling the game that I forgot how to play it?'
A wave of frustration broke against the shore of his thoughts. Had he lost because he wasn't good enough, or because he wasn't bold enough?
The whistle had blown, the game had ended, and still, his hands trembled with fury. Not at Isagi, not at team Z, not even at his own team. His fury was directed at himself.
He'd never felt this kind of loss before. Not in practice. Not in simulations. This was real. Raw. An agony that gripped him not with shame, but with awakening.
As his teammates trudged past him, slumped and silent, Niko didn't move.
Isagi stood next to him, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of calm victory. The glow of the stadium lights framed him in soft gold, casting a long shadow behind him as if the field itself bowed to his presence. The ball he had volleyed into the net still rolled listlessly inside, as though reality itself hadn't yet caught up with what had happened.
Isagi turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the boy beside him.
"You were the toughest opponent I've ever faced."
The words weren't meant to soothe, nor provoke. They were honest, laid bare like a blade between warriors. They weren't spoken like a victor to a loser. They were spoken like a rival, to another who stood as their equal.
Niko blinked, startled. He turned his head slightly, not fully facing him. "You don't have to say that."
"I'm not saying it to make you feel better," Isagi said. "I'm saying it because it's true."
There was no sarcasm. No mockery. Just quiet, sincere honesty. And maybe that's what made it hurt more.
Niko exhaled softly. "Then that makes it worse, doesn't it? To give it everything I had, playing the best game I've ever played in my entire life… and still lose."
Isagi looked ahead at the empty pitch. "I get that. There were times I felt that too. Like no matter how much I read the field, no matter how well I moved, someone else was always one step ahead."
"And now you're the one ahead," Niko said bitterly. "While I'm here wondering what I did wrong."
Isagi finally turned to him. "You didn't do anything wrong, Niko. You just played the game your way. I won because my training gave me better tools than you, and because I evolved mid-match. You pushed me to, so stand proud."
Niko's eyes flicked to Isagi, studying his expression. There was no arrogance there, only respect.
"I underestimated you," Niko admitted. "I thought I could break you down like a formula. That if I understood your vision, I could shut you down."
"You almost did. You had me on the ropes more than once."
"I thought I saw everything. But you played like someone who sees beyond the game. You made decisions I never would have. Took risks I thought were idiotic… until they worked."
Isagi chuckled under his breath. "I guess we just see the field differently."
"Yeah." Niko looked down at his hands. "But that difference is what beat me today."
They stood in silence for a few seconds. Then Isagi said, "You made me better."
Niko glanced at him.
"Seriously," Isagi continued. "You forced me to look deeper. To think faster. You weren't just defending a goal, you were dissecting me while I played. I've never had someone get so far into my head during a match."
Niko's lips twitched.
"…That makes two of us. You're like a much better version of me, a mirror of the future I couldn't predict. Everything I thought I knew, you turned upside down."
Silence reigned between them, comforting the defeated from their confrontation. Niko's gaze burned with renewed resolve. "Next time, I'll definitely defeat you. Then we'll be even again."
Isagi snorted. "Yeah, sure you will."
They both stared at each other for a moment, looking at each other for what they are. Rivals, equals, two minds shaped by battle.
"Until then," Isagi said, extending a fist.
Niko hesitated… then bumped it with his own.
"Yeah," he replied. "Until then."
With those final words said, Isagi turned around and walked back towards his team. He took his first steps, before pausing and turning around.
"Also, during your next game, I'd advise putting that Ranmaru punk in the goalkeeper position or something. He's not Blue Lock material at all."
"I was already planning on it, dude. There's no way I'm letting that rat back on the field again."
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Surprise!
I've been feeling a little down today, idk why maybe I'm just going through my depressive and emo era, but I've been feeling bad. So, as I mulled over my emo thoughts, I was like: "What if someone else is having a bad day today?"
I'm posting this early in hopes to bright up the days of everyone who reads this, because I don't want you guys to feel the same way as I am right now. Being stressed and fatigued, whether that be emotionally, mentally, spiritually, or physically, is a terrible feeling and one I don't wish upon anyone, so here is to hoping that chapter 10 can make your day brighter and your night cozier, because as my fans and readers you all deserve the greatest treasures life has to offer.
So, as I post this, I want everyone to know that no matter what it is you are going through, no matter what kind of struggles you're dealing with, there is always a brighter future and greater blessings lying up ahead. Life is rough, it throws everything it has to try and knock you down, but that's why I take it upon myself to make that journey easier for you all, even if it's just by a little bit.
I have everyone who reads this in my prayers, wishing upon the stars and God that you all find prosperity throughout the rest of your journey. With all my love and gratitude, and the blessings I wish for you in my heart, thank you so much for giving me the grace of granting you all the momentary joy I have been able to bestow. It means the absolute world to me.
I wish and hope for all of you to have an amazing, wonderful, and extraordinary rest of your week, month, year, and many more to come! Thank you all so much for sticking around for as long as you have, and congratulations for making it to chapter 10!
Always in your corner, and forever by your sides,
Slurpy Noodles.
(No, I am not quitting this story. I'm going to keep updating this until I see it through to the end ^v^)
Make sure to check out my Patreon if you all want to get early access to the next chapters of this story!
Chapter 11: A Fun Interlude
Chapter 12: Execution of the Unworthy
Chapter 13: Awaken, O' Reaper of Death. Face the Phantom that's Come for your Head
Chapter 14: Titanomachy
Chapter 15: Hell's Paradise
Chapter 16: Finale (Set to be released by the 26th or 27th of April, maybe sooner)
And don't forget to comment on any new theories on who the sins and virtues will be!
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Wrath: ???
Pride: ???
Gluttony: ???
Lust: ???
Envy: ???
Sloth: ???
Greed: ???
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Patience: ???
Humility: ???
Charity: ???
Chastity: ???
Kindness: ???
Temperance: ???
Diligence: ???
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