The arena lights burned white against the polished floor. Cameras hovered, capturing every second of the match between Blue Lock and the World’s Top 5.

You were on Blue Lock’s rotation lineup — not starting, but expected to substitute in, to change the tempo the moment Rin or Isagi called for it.

You were watching the field when it happened.

Leonardo Luna had the ball. And you knew that walk — the slow gather of speed before he detonated forward. The other Top 5 players let him run; they wanted to watch him explode.

You saw the line before anyone else did.

“Leonardo—¡no!” you shouted.

He didn’t hear you. Or worse, he did — and pushed harder.

You sprinted forward to close the gap, to force him off balance, to make him pass. But Leonardo didn’t slow down. He lowered his center of gravity, faked left—

—and collided straight into you.

Your ankle buckled. You heard the crack before you felt the pain.

You collapsed, skidding across the polished surface. The world tilted; your vision flashed white. A sharp, electric pain shot through your leg.

“STOP!” Rin barked.

The whistle screamed.

Silence fell for a fraction of a heartbeat.

Then Leonardo’s voice — raw, hoarse — tore through the echo.

“¡Oye!” He knelt beside you. “Hey, mírame—what happened? ¡Mierda, dime algo!”

His hands hovered, trembling, afraid to touch you. His breathing was too fast, his pupils blown with panic. You’d never seen him like this — not in training, not in fights, not even in arguments.

Adam approached with a slow whistle. “Well… that was reckless.”

You gasped, gripping your ankle. A pulse of heat radiated from it — swelling fast.

Leonardo’s face crumpled. “I didn’t mean to— I thought you’d dodge—”

You winced through clenched teeth.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I hurt you. An accident caused by me.”

Rin clicked his tongue. “Get (you) off the field. They can’t walk.”

Isagi knelt beside you too, voice calmer. “We’ll carry you to the bench. Can you stand?”

Leonardo moved first, looping an arm behind your back — but Loki caught his wrist.

“No,” Loki said, smiling like a razor. “You stay. They’re Blue Lock. Let Blue Lock deal with their own.”

Leonardo’s expression iced over, but he didn’t fight it. He watched, shaking, as Isagi and Tokimitsu lifted you off the ground. Every step you took backward felt like a wire tightening around his chest.

And when you finally looked at him from the bench, ankle wrapped in ice, he couldn’t hold your gaze.

He had injured you. You. The one person he never wanted to hurt.

Leonardo didn’t respond. His hands were on his knees, his breath uneven.

Then Rin shouted from across the field: “Luna! Get over here. We’re restarting.”

Leonardo flinched like struck. He forced himself to stand, jaw clenched tight.

Before turning away, he looked at you one last time, eyes burning with guilt and fear.

You lifted your hand — small, shaky — and mouthed:

“I’m okay.”

Leonardo swallowed hard.

The whistle blew.

He ran back into the chaos with a single, brutal thought forged behind his eyes:

If he couldn’t protect you on the field… then he would win for you instead.