The stadium still trembled with the aftershocks of Isagi's hat-trick, but amidst the deafening cheers and flashing cameras, three figures stood apart from the celebrations.
Sae Itoshi
Sae stood motionless at the edge of the penalty box, arms crossed as he watched Isagi walk toward the media with a composed, almost indifferent stride. But behind his calm exterior, his mind was anything but.
He had known about Isagi long before this match. He had wanted him for the U-20 team. Out of all the Blue Lock players, Isagi was the only one he considered worth his time—someone who was the embodiment of a perfect Striker, someone who properly understood football beyond just talent and instincts. Someone who played with his brain, who saw the entire field the way Sae did.
But Ego refused.
That damn bastard had shut the door in his face, and now? Now, Isagi wasn't just the best player in Blue Lock—he was the one who had destroyed the U-20 team's pride.
Sae's lips curled downward slightly, irritation flickering in his narrowed gaze.
From the moment Isagi stepped onto the pitch, he had dictated the game like a king on the chessboard. Every moment had revolved around him. Even when Rin scored, even when others had their shining plays—it was all because of Isagi.
That hat-trick wasn't luck. It wasn't coincidence.
It was inevitable.
Sae exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly.
"Yoichi Isagi…"
He muttered under his breath, testing the name on his tongue like it was something foreign, something annoying. Something he had to accept.
He had once thought Japan had no future without him. That there was no one who could take control the way he could.
But as Isagi stood in front of the cameras, the entire stadium chanting his name, Sae finally admitted it to himself.
Maybe Japan already had a new king.
Shidou Ryusei
A low chuckle vibrated in Shidou's throat as he watched Isagi bask in the moment, his body practically thrumming with the energy of the crowd.
He let out a sharp, amused whistle.
"Damn. This bastard really pulled it off, huh?"
Shidou didn't get pissed about losing. He got pissed about not having fun. But this match? This was the best fucking game of his life.
He had scored. He had fought for every moment. And he had seen something that made his blood burn with excitement—
Isagi Yoichi at his peak.
That third goal wasn't just a shot. It was a declaration. A "fuck you" to the entire U-20 team, to every defender who thought they could stop him.
Shidou grinned, his teeth glinting under the stadium lights.
His golden eyes flickered toward Sae, who still looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.
"Yo, Sae—how's it feel? You coulda had this guy on your team, and now he just buried your ass."
Sae didn't answer, but the sharp exhale from his nose told Shidou everything.
He was pissed.
Shidou threw his head back and laughed.
"Man, I love this shit. I gotta play him again—nah, I gotta destroy him next time."
His grin widened.
"Hope you're ready, Isagi. 'Cause I'm not gonna let you have all the fun next time."
Aiku Oliver
Aiku wasn't standing.
He was sitting in the grass, arms resting on his knees, staring at Isagi like he was watching a star be born.
Because, honestly? That's exactly what was happening.
Aiku had played against a lot of great forwards. But Isagi? He was a problem.
He had come to thinking he could outread Isagi, thinking he could figure him out. But it was like trying to catch smoke—every time he thought he had a grasp on him, Isagi evolved, changed, adapted.
That last goal… it wasn't luck. It wasn't even just skill.
It was fate.
Aiku smirked, running a hand through his sweaty hair.
"Top-ranked player in Blue Lock, huh?"
He exhaled.
"Yeah… I get it now."
Ego wasn't just talking shit. Isagi was the future of Japan's football.
And Aiku had been one of the first to witness it firsthand.
As he watched Isagi soak in the attention, Aiku chuckled softly to himself.
Under the bright stadium lights, Isagi stood before the cameras, still catching his breath. His jersey clung to him, evidence of the war he had just fought, but his expression remained composed—calm, collected, like this was just another step forward.
The interviewer wasted no time.
"Isagi, incredible performance today. How do you feel after scoring a hat-trick on this stage?"
Isagi exhaled, a small smirk playing at his lips.
"Feels good. Winning feels better."
His tone was even, no unnecessary excitement, just simple truth.
The interviewer shifted, sensing the weight behind Isagi's presence.
"You've conquered this match, but what's your next goal?"
Isagi exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly, shaking off the exhaustion. Then, with a small, lopsided grin, he answered,
"Simple. Win the World Cup. Become the best player in the world."
The sheer certainty in his tone made the air around them shift. No hesitation. No grand speech. Just an undeniable truth spoken as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The interviewer blinked, taken aback for a split second before pressing on.
"That's a bold statement."
Isagi shrugged.
"If you're not aiming for the top, what's the point?"
There was no arrogance, no boastful energy—just raw conviction. A statement of fact from someone who had already set his sights beyond what anyone else could see.
The stadium buzzed with lingering energy, and in the distance, Sae, Shidou, Aiku, and the Blue Lock playeres watched in silence. None of them scoffed. None of them laughed.
Because, for the first time, they knew—Isagi Yoichi wasn't just talking.
He was declaring war on the world.
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Blue Lock Locker Room
Isagi barely had time to react before Bachira latched onto his back, nearly knocking the breath out of him.
"WOOHOO!"
Bachira's voice rang through the locker room, pure excitement vibrating off him.
"Hat-trick hero! Man of the Match! Look at you, Isagi~!"
Isagi groaned, trying to shake him off.
"Oi, get off me, idiot—"
But Bachira clung on tighter, grinning like a kid.
"Nope! You're my ride now."
The rest of the team was sprawled across the benches, exhausted but grinning, the adrenaline from the match still coursing through them. Water bottles were being passed around, bodies slumped back, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. But the energy in the room? Unmatched.
"Hoarding all the attention out there, Huh? Leave some for us dammit"
Karasu said in a teasing tone.
"He's right"
Nanase said as he heard Karasu's words.
Isagi didn't even blink.
"You didn't even make it to the pitch."
Silence.
Nanase froze mid-smirk, his entire soul leaving his body in real-time. It was as if lightning had struck him right where he stood. Without a word, he turned and crouched into a corner, a dark, gloomy aura engulfing him.
Everyone burst into laughter.
Bachira threw an arm around Isagi, grinning like a madman.
"Damn, Isagi, that was COLD!"
Karasu, cackling, smacked Isagi's shoulder.
"Bro, have some mercy! Man's already suffering!"
Nanase, still curled up in his misery, mumbled to himself.
"I warmed up so hard, though…"
Bachira leaned over with a teasing grin.
"Don't worry, Nanase~! Maybe next match, you'll get a participation certificate!"
That earned him a weak groan from Nanase. Meanwhile, Isagi just shrugged.
"Not my fault."
More laughter filled the room as the team basked in their victory, the playful energy only making the moment even better.
Rin sat motionless in the corner, a towel draped over his head, his posture rigid. The only sign of life was the steady rise and fall of his shoulders.
He had played an exceptional match. Scored twice. Shut down Shidou. Denied Aiku his moment.
And yet, none of it mattered.
This wasn't why he played football. It wasn't for personal glory or to prove himself to the world. It was to beat Sae. And Sae alone.
Blue Lock had defeated the U-20. Sae had lost. But Rin hadn't won.
He had disrupted Sae's plays, but only through Isagi's calculations. Not his own.
He hadn't outdone his brother yet. That was the problem. That was the sting that cut deeper than anything else.
And worse—his attention was shifting. Straying from Sae, locking onto someone else entirely.
Isagi.
That realization burned.
As the banter and laughter echoed through the locker room, the door creaked open. Anri stepped inside, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene of jubilant Blue Lock players.
She had witnessed it all—the moment when Blue Lock, clearly in the lead, had fought against time to secure victory. The relentless attacks, the desperate defenses, the moments of absolute brilliance. And at the center of it all was the reason Japan's World Cup dream felt closer than ever.
Isagi Yoichi.
He wasn't just improving—he was still evolving. Every game, every moment, he sharpened his instincts, refined his play, and found new ways to dominate. He had an ego, but not in the conventional sense. No, Isagi's ego was something different, something more terrifying.
Instead of playing like a polished professional, he had intentionally weaponized his unpredictability, choosing to humiliate the U-20 players with calculated, scumbag moves all over the field. He made the opposition dance to his will, exposing their weaknesses and exploiting them mercilessly.
And the most frightening part?
He was still holding back.
If Isagi were to fully embrace that ruthless, cutthroat style of play—if he were to stop considering anything but absolute victory—he would become an unstoppable monster.
As the post-match euphoria settled, Anri took a deep breath, stepping further into the room. With a warm smile, she addressed the team.
"You all did an incredible job today. Every single one of you played your hearts out, and I couldn't be prouder"
She said, her voice filled with genuine pride.
The players, still catching their breath, grinned at her words. Some gave small nods of appreciation, while others basked in the rare praise.
But as she spoke, her eyes started to fidget—darting back and forth, avoiding contact with one particular player.
Isagi noticed immediately.
He leaned back against the bench, arms crossed, a knowing smirk creeping onto his face. Oh, he hadn't forgotten. The little deal they had made. Three spectacular goals, and she owed him a date.
Anri, desperately avoiding his gaze, continued to praise the team. But Isagi wasn't about to let this slide. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing wider.
"Hey, Anri-san"
He finally spoke, cutting through the chatter.
She flinched.
He didn't even say anything specific, but the way he dragged out her name with that teasing lilt? She knew exactly what he was getting at.
Before he could say anything else, the door swung open with a sharp creak.
Ego Jinpachi Had Arrived.
The energy in the locker room, once electric with victory, was swiftly drained as the heavy click of dress shoes echoed against the tiled floor.
"Good work, diamonds in the rough."
His voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of a verdict.
"You won. You dismantled Japan's U-20. You made history."
Some exhaled, shoulders loosening for just a second. Praise from Ego Jinpachi was as rare as seeing a shooting star.
But then—
"And that means absolutely nothing."
His words sliced through the room, the fleeting sense of accomplishment suffocating under his ruthless precision.
"Let me make one thing crystal clear—this was never the goal."
The atmosphere, already tense, constricted further.
"You put on a show today, but don't be deceived by the illusion of victory. At best, you've proven that you are the strongest within this country. But outside of this stadium?"
His glasses caught the light as he tilted his head slightly.
"The world is already plotting your downfall."
A few younger players swallowed hard. Even the most composed among them sat rigid, muscles wound tight.
"Do you think the best players on this planet would be satisfied with what you've done today?"
Ego scoffed.
"Do you think the monsters ruling football—those who feast at the pinnacle of this sport—would even acknowledge you as a threat?"
His voice turned razor-sharp.
"If your answer is 'yes'—if you genuinely believe you've made it—then congratulations."
His lips curled in amusement, but his eyes held nothing but ice.
"You've already reached your limit. Pack your bags and get the hell out."
Silence. Cold, crushing silence.
"But—"
He let the word hang, like a slow-burning fuse.
"If this victory disgusts you… if it infuriates you… if it makes you feel small because you know it's nowhere near enough—"
His gaze flicked toward Isagi for the briefest moment.
"Then maybe—just maybe—you're worthy of what comes next."
The silence no longer felt empty. It was charged. A storm of emotions raged beneath every player's skin—frustration, hunger, something even darker.
"Enjoy tonight"
Ego finally said, his tone lowering just slightly.
"Let the taste of winning sear itself into your memory."
His glasses gleamed, reflecting the fire he had ignited in every single one of them.
"Because very soon, we begin working toward something far greater than just being Japan's best."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode out, leaving behind a room no longer filled with champions celebrating a fleeting victory—
But warriors, sharpening their fangs for the battles to come.
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The scent of freshly grilled meat and sizzling dishes filled the air as Anri led the Blue Lock players toward the cafeteria. The promise of an all-you-can-eat feast had ignited a new kind of energy in the worn-out warriors, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of unlimited food.
Laughter and chatter echoed through the halls, but as Isagi trailed behind the group, his gaze flickered to the side—
Rin.
Still seated on the same cold bench, unmoving. His posture was rigid, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers locked together as if restraining something dangerous. His eyes, dark and unreadable, stared blankly at the ground.
Isagi understood immediately. He knew what was going on inside Rin's head.
And he didn't want to deal with that right now.
Without a word, he turned away and stepped into the cafeteria, letting the noise and warmth of celebration swallow him whole.
The moment they entered, chaos erupted.
"OI! NO HOARDING THE MEAT!"
"Give me back my dumplings, you bastard!"
"Who took the last plate of steak?!"
Plates clattered, bowls were stacked high with rice, and chopsticks clashed in midair like swords in battle. It wasn't just a meal—it was a feeding frenzy, a war zone where only the quickest survived.
Bachira and Naruhaya wrestled over the last piece of premium wagyu, while Nagi, with his usual laziness, let Reo pile food onto his tray, muttering about how chewing was so exhausting.
Isagi, caught in the whirlwind, could only laugh. He hadn't felt this light in weeks. No strategies, no calculations, no goals to chase—just food, laughter, and the warmth of his teammates.
Even the normally composed Hiori found himself dragged into the chaos, forced into a wasabi-eating challenge against an overly confident Otoya.
Time blurred. Plates were emptied and refilled, drinks clinked, voices rose and fell. What started as a meal turned into a celebration, an unfiltered release of joy after months of fighting, and proving themselves.
But eventually, the inevitable happened.
One by one, exhaustion won out.
Nagi was the first to tap out, head face-down on the table, chopsticks still in hand. Yukimiya and Chigiri followed soon after, muttering half-hearted complaints before slumping over. Even the ever-energetic Bachira was out cold, an empty bowl still in his grasp.
The once-lively cafeteria, filled with laughter and noise, grew quieter as more players drifted into unconsciousness, heads resting against plates, arms sprawled across the table.
Isagi, still wide awake, stood at the edge of it all, watching his teammates knocked out one by one. Unlike them, he felt fine. No, more than fine—refreshed.
A quiet satisfaction settled in his chest as he took in the sight. They had fought, they had won, and for tonight, they had celebrated like victors.
But deep down, he knew.
This was only the beginning.
Without a word, he turned away from the sleeping players, stepping past the remnants of the feast and making his way to his room.
Because after defeating the U-20, everything was about to change.
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The Next Day
Morning arrived, bringing with it a shift in atmosphere.
The intensity of battle was gone, replaced by a strange sense of finality as the Blue Lock players gathered in the facility's main hall. For the first time since stepping into this hellish crucible, they were being released.
Their confiscated belongings—phones, wallets, and whatever else they had left behind—were finally returned to them. Alongside that, Ego had granted them a two-week holiday as a reward for their victory.
For most, this was a moment of relief. A chance to breathe, to reconnect with the world outside. But for Isagi, it barely registered. His mind was already racing ahead to what came next.
As he approached Anri to retrieve his bag, he noticed something unusual.
She was flustered—something he had come to expect whenever she was around him lately. But right now, as she stood there, organizing the distribution of their things, she had forced herself into full professionalism, her expression composed, her movements crisp.
'She's trying to act normal.'
A smirk tugged at the corner of Isagi's lips.
He stepped past her, leaning in just enough so that only she could hear.
"Don't forget, Anri"
He murmured, his tone laced with amusement.
"Make sure to dress up properly for our date."
That finally cracked her composure.
Her cheeks flared red, eyes widening for a split second before she quickly turned away, pretending to focus on her clipboard. But the slight tremble in her grip betrayed her.
Isagi chuckled to himself.
She knew it. He knew it.
This was happening.
And the thought of it made the victory taste even sweeter.
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.
.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Isagi returned to a normal life.
He spent the next few days at home, catching up with his parents, slipping back into the comforts of an easygoing routine—no intense training, no high-stakes matches, just quiet, everyday moments.
Of course, the outside world wasn't as quiet.
His phone buzzed constantly with calls and messages—from his old school club, from former teammates eager to reconnect, from classmates who suddenly remembered they were friends with him.
But Isagi ignored most of them.
His school had already started boasting about him, parading his success as their own. He let them. It didn't matter to him.
For now, he just wanted to breathe.
After a few days of quiet, Isagi finally picked up his phone—this time, for someone he wanted to talk to.
Anri.
He knew she'd be swamped. Phase 2 of Blue Lock was already in motion, and her schedule was undoubtedly packed. So, he didn't push. He didn't rush.
Instead, they just talked. Casual, easy conversations in the moments they both had free. And without even needing to bring it up, a date was set.
When the day arrived, Isagi was not disappointed.
Anri showed up in a stunning outfit—one that made even him pause for a second. Elegant yet effortless, stylish yet unmistakably her.
His reaction was instant.
"Damn, you look amazing"
He admitted without hesitation, his voice laced with genuine appreciation.
Anri, predictably, turned bright red.
"I-It's just normal"
She mumbled, clearly flustered but unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
Isagi, of course, had made an effort, too. His outfit was sharp, well put-together—stylish in a way that suited him perfectly.
"Not bad yourself"
Anri admitted, her gaze flickering over him.
That got a smirk out of him.
"Told you to dress up properly, didn't I? Had to match the energy."
And just like that, the date began.
They moved through the city, stopping by different spots, trying out new things, sharing easy laughter.
At first, Anri was noticeably flustered, her usual composed demeanor cracking under the reality of it all. But as they talked, as they walked from place to place, something shifted.
She relaxed.
The awkwardness faded, replaced by something warmer, something more natural.
By the time the day started winding down, neither of them wanted it to end.
Because for all the chaos surrounding them—for all the pressure of Blue Lock, for all the expectations looming ahead—this was simple.
This was fun.
And maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something even more.
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.
.
A few days after his date with Anri, Isagi's phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Chigiri and Bachira.
"Yo, Isagi! Let's hang out"
Bachira's voice was as energetic as ever.
Chigiri, more composed but still eager, added,
"No training, no pressure—just a chill day. You in?"
Isagi didn't even hesitate.
"Yeah, I'm in."
When he arrived at their meeting spot, Chigiri and Bachira were already there—both glued to their phones, reading something with a mix of amusement and disbelief.
"Oi, what's so interesting?"
Isagi asked as he approached.
Bachira turned his phone around with a huge grin.
"Dude, you're everywhere."
Isagi squinted at the screen.
'Yoichi Isagi: The New Star and Face of Japanese Football?'
'The Best Skills in Japan? Isagi Outclasses Aiku and Sae in Every Department!'
'Isagi's Playstyle: The Most Entertaining Football You'll Ever See!'
'Fan Favorite Not Just in Japan, But Around the Globe!'
There were countless articles, all hyping him up to insane levels. They detailed how he humiliated Aiku and Itoshi Sae in a single match, how his intelligence, creativity, and insane goals made him the ultimate spectacle to watch.
Chigiri smirked.
"Looks like someone's the main character now."
Bachira laughed.
"I mean, I always knew you were cracked, but this? This is some GOAT-tier hype."
Isagi stared at the articles for a moment before shaking his head with a chuckle.
"Guess I've gone global, huh?"
Bachira threw an arm around his shoulder.
"And that's why we must celebrate."
Chigiri crossed his arms, pretending to think.
"Yeah… I guess we could party a bit. Just this once."
Isagi grinned.
For now, there were no rivalries, no pressure—just friends enjoying the moment.
As they sat at their seats, still laughing over the ridiculous headlines, a familiar voice cut through the chatter.
"Yo, Isagi."
They turned to see Kurona, standing there with Naruhaya beside him.
Bachira blinked.
"Kurona? Naruhaya?"
Chigiri raised an eyebrow.
"How'd you guys even find us?"
Isagi leaned back in his seat with a small smirk.
"Because I invited them."
Bachira gasped dramatically.
"Betrayal! And you didn't tell us?"
Naruhaya chuckled, taking a seat.
"Figured we'd crash the party."
Kurona grinned.
"Not every day we get a chance to chill without someone trying to steal our careers."
The group settled in, conversations flowing effortlessly—memories of matches, ridiculous training stories, and friendly banter filling the air.
But before they could get too comfortable, more voices called out from behind them.
"Tch. Damn, y'all didn't think to invite us too?"
They turned around to see a group approaching—Yukimiya, Karasu, Reo, Otoya, Aryu, and Tokimitsu.
Bachira whistled.
"Well, well, well… looks like this just turned into a full-blown Blue Lock reunion."
Chigiri smirked.
"Now this is gonna be fun."
Isagi couldn't help but laugh.
Because in just a few days, the Neo Egoist League would begin—and the real battle for survival would start.
Everything they had fought for up until now was just the prologue.
What awaited them next wasn't just competition—it was a war against the world's best.
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