The atmosphere in Blue Lock was unusually lighthearted after their victory over Japan’s U-20 team. Ego, Anri, and the players gathered in the cafeteria, indulging in luxuries they rarely experienced—thick-cut steak, sashimi, desserts lined up like jewels. Even Ego permitted the excess, though his expression never shifted from its usual calculated detachment.
But the celebration didn’t last long. The next morning, the players were shoved back into grueling, merciless training. For the top six—Itoshi Rin, Shidou Ryusei, Karasu Tabito, Otoya Eita, Yukimiya Kenyu, and Nagi Seishiro—the regimen was harsher, tailored to break their limits. Sweat and silence replaced laughter, the echo of Ego’s orders filling the steel walls.
In the strategy room, Ego and Anri stood over a spread of reports and projections. Ego’s eyes, sharp behind his glasses, scanned over the data while he explained his next phase of plans. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Anri stumbled in, panic evident in her voice.
“E-Ego-kun! Blue Lock… Blue Lock is being debated again!” she blurted, her hands trembling around a stack of papers. “The JFU is forcing a rally, and it’s scheduled for tomorrow!”
The room fell silent. Even the players—who were so accustomed to Ego’s madness—felt a wave of shock ripple through them.
Shidou leaned back, smirking like it was nothing more than a new game. “A rally, huh? Sounds like a circus. Guess they’re desperate to put us down.”
Rin frowned, his voice calm but edged. “They still can’t accept we crushed the U-20. Pathetic.”
Nagi yawned, tilting his head lazily. “Ugh, sounds like a pain. Do we even have to show up?”
Yukimiya adjusted his glasses, sharp eyes narrowing. “It’s not about whether we want to or not. Public opinion is fragile—if Blue Lock loses its image, so does our future.”
Otoya crossed his arms, his usual playful grin dimmed. “Man, they just can’t give up, huh? What’s their problem?”
Karasu scoffed, leaning back with irritation written all over his face. “Tch. Ain’t this some bull. We already proved ourselves, didn’t we? What, JFU still cryin’ ‘cause their golden boys got wrecked?” His Kansai drawl cut through the tension, frustration clear in every word. “They don’t wanna admit Blue Lock’s the real deal.”
Anri’s voice wavered as she nodded. “The rally starts tomorrow. It’ll be broadcasted nationwide. If we mishandle this, everything we’ve built could collapse.”
Ego finally looked up from his documents, his expression unreadable. “There’s no need for panic.” His voice was cool, commanding. “I already know who to send.”
Later that evening, the top six gathered again in the cafeteria. Plates of food sat mostly untouched as they leaned on the table, their conversation focused only on tomorrow.
Shidou snorted, stabbing a piece of meat with his fork. “Honestly? I hope they send me. I’d love to see their faces when I tell ‘em they’re all trash.”
“You’ll just make things worse,” Rin said flatly, sipping water without looking at him.
“Eh? What’s wrong with ruffling feathers?” Shidou grinned, wolfish.
Yukimiya sighed. “This isn’t about ego-tripping. It’s about showing the public that Blue Lock isn’t some reckless project. We need composure.”
Otoya leaned in, smirking. “But let’s be real—people are tuning in ‘cause of us. The drama, the rivalry, the unpredictability. That’s what sells.”
Nagi poked at his food. “Drama’s tiring. Can’t we just… not?”
Karasu slammed his chopsticks down with a growl. “Hell no, we ain’t sittin’ quiet while the JFU tries to drag us down again. Makes my blood boil, man. They just don’t wanna admit their system’s outdated.” He glared at the table, his voice sharp. “We already risked everything beatin’ U-20, and they still treatin’ us like brats playin’ soccer.”
The table fell into a heavy silence for a moment.