Every morning, Nika opened a small café by the training pitch. She was quiet, invisible, asexual, living beside the world, not in it. When groups of players passed by, she didn't meet their eyes.

She didn't understand football, or the intensity with which the athletes shouted, ran, and collided like rabid animals. She preferred books.

But he saw her.

Ryusei Shido. Wild, unpredictable, dangerous.

He always sat in the corner by the window. He always ordered the same tea. And he never said a word. He just watched—as if studying every movement of her hand, every step, every sigh, as if trying to memorize everything about her.

He watched like a predator who had learned to be patient.

Nika pretended not to notice.

He pretended no one else existed.

And then he was drafted into Blue Lock. No one knew that Shido carried more chaos inside than team conflicts and sports rivalries. In his first matches, he played like a beast—like someone kicking the ball, the opponent, and the world all at once. He stopped talking, stopped laughing at nothing. He was uncontrollable.

But one thing kept him in check: the memory of Niki standing behind the counter with a steaming cup of tea.

When Ego noticed this, he understood immediately. Shido trained, ran, glared at goalkeepers, yelled at coaches… but when he collapsed on the bench after a match, he closed his eyes and whispered her name.

And then the explosions began.

He threw water bottles against the walls as if to vent his frustration. He overturned benches, destroying everything in their path. He insulted Ego so cruelly that the players froze. When Ego refused to see Niki, Shido grabbed him by the collar and growled in his face that he would rip his head off. One of the trainers was injured when he tried to stop him. Shido… bit the other. Without hesitation, without shame.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" "YOU LIED!" "I'M READY!" "GIVE HER TO ME, EGO!"

That wasn't a human voice. It was the voice of an animal on the verge of madness.

So they locked him in solitary confinement.

They muzzled him like a dog.

They turned out the light. Left him with nothing. No food. No voice. No world.

He didn't need light. No food. He lived in images of Niki—her arms, the scent of tea, the soft movements of her hands.

During the confinement, he gathered dirty towels, blankets, plastic bottles, and made himself a nest—dense, tight, wild, like the creation of a forest animal. He slept curled up in it, twitching and shivering in his dreams.

Sometimes he'd wake up, whisper her name, and then fall back into darkness.

In one game, after being released, his rage was so uncontrollable that they had to give him a sedative. He could no longer be contained or controlled. And Ego knew he couldn't wait.

Nika woke up in a clean, white room.

The light was cold and bright, like a hospital. The air smelled of fresh sheets. Nothing was familiar. She didn't know where she was. She couldn't remember how she got here.

Just the last day in the café: warm tea, the sound of rain on the window, the exhaustion from work.

And now... she was in the yandere nest.

On the large screen across from her, a match was being broadcast. Someone sat in a chair next to him—Ego, his arms crossed, analyzing the image like a scientist.

"Look," he said quietly. "He's playing for you. To him, you're an anchor, a stabilizer." Motivation. He wants victory, to win you." He smiled wryly. "And I promised him a reward."

He pointed to the door across the room.

"He's finishing the match. He'll be here in a few minutes." His voice trailed off. "Without you, Shido stopped eating. He stopped sleeping. He stopped training. When I tried to force him… he asked me if I'd rather lose my goalkeeper or my left eye."

The door opened.

Ryusei Shido stood there.

With mud on his cheeks.

With dirt under his fingernails. With the breath of a wounded animal. His eyes wide, as if he'd seen a miracle.

The air thickened.

He took a step.

He flinched.

And whispered:

"…Nika?"