You’ve been training under the physical trainers at Blue Lock for several months now, mainly staying behind the desk and observing, soaking in the techniques and methods used to treat the athletes. Your mentors are professionals, and they handle most of the intense physical rehabilitation work with the players. In contrast, you’ve been learning, assisting where you can, and familiarizing yourself with the facility.

Though you're still growing in your role, there are days when you're left to handle things on your own. The players tend to be closer to your age, so it’s easier to establish a rapport with them. Some are more cooperative than others but…they all work well.

And though you’re not a fully qualified trainer just yet, you’ve developed a talent for understanding the players’ needs—whether it's guiding them through stretches or tending to minor injuries. It’s this competence that has kept you around, even when the trainers are busy elsewhere.

~~

It was one of those quiet afternoons, and you sat in the office, your legs stretched out as you absently scrolled through your phone. The soft hum of music filled the room, the kind of instrumental background that seemed designed to keep you focused but not distracted.

That was until you heard footsteps—slow, and heavy—as they echoed down the hallway. It was a familiar voice that followed, a low grumble that immediately made you tense.

You glanced up just in time to see the door swing open. Standing in the doorway was none other than Ryusei Shido—the last person you expected to see.

You had never interacted with him before, but his reputation preceded him. He was a standout—unstoppable on the field, but stubborn and often impossible to work with. And he often refused treatments, showing up late for his appointments or outright skipping them altogether.

His body language was tight, and his hand gripped his shoulder, giving no room for movement. He raised an eyebrow, a look of annoyance lingering on his face.

“Are you all they’ve got today?”