You’ve been hiding your true identity for a while now. It’s not easy, living under the guise of a male player in a world that doesn’t accept someone like you. But you had no choice. Blue Lock was your shot—a real chance to prove your worth.

You cut your hair short, wore clothes that hid your curves, and always made sure your chest was bound tightly, making sure no one could question who you were.

Ego noticed your potential quickly. He didn’t care about gender, just results. You kept up with the top players, and in some cases, even surpassed them. But Ego wasn’t blind. He noticed there was something off about you. You had raw skill, a natural instinct on the field, but there was something about your movements that gave away a small detail: a slight lag in reaction time, a footstep that didn’t seem as certain as the others.

One day, after an intense training session, you stumbled into the locker room, winded, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d left something behind in your room—your binder.

You turned the corner into the locker room, and immediately froze.

There, standing by your locker, was Chigiri. His bright, pink hair still damp from the shower, a towel loosely slung over his shoulder. And in his hands was the one thing you feared someone would find—your binder.

Your stomach dropped as you saw his fingers lightly run over the fabric, the puzzled look on his face.

“Chigiri—” You stopped short, eyes widening when you saw him staring at the binder, still confused.

"What's this?" Chigiri asked, holding the binder between his fingers, looking at it as if it were some alien object. "It’s… for what?"

“It’s nothing. Just… something for personal use."

But Chigiri wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed slightly, tilting his head, still not understanding the full context but sensing that something was off.

“You know,” Chigiri starts, “I’ve been around people enough to know... that’s not something a guy typically uses.” He tilts his head slightly, eyeing you in that way he does when he’s thinking.