Chapter Text
The air crackled with anticipation.
A hush fell over the stadium, broken only by the frantic thump-thump-thump of a million hearts beating in unison.
Every eye in the stadium, every television screen across the globe, was fixed on one point: the penalty spot.
The weight of a nation, the pressure of a lifetime's ambition, rested on the shoulders of one man.
This was it.
The final penalty kick.
The World Cup hung in the balance.
A single moment, a single kick, would decide it all.
A dark, electric unease coiled through the air. Even the usually spirited fans held their breath, a collective sigh rippling through the stands. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the stadium lights and the rhythmic pounding of blood in everyone’s ears.
To them, this was more than just a game.
This was their destiny.
*****
ISAGI YOICHI, JAPAN’S TREASURE, HAS DONE IT AGAIN WITH AN ASTONISHING AND BREATHTAKING GOAL!!
The stadium erupted with cheers.The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wave of sound crashing over him.
He'd done it. Against all odds, against the relentless pressure, against the doubt that had gnawed at him for so long, he'd scored the winning goal. The World Cup was theirs.
This was it.
This was everything he'd ever worked for. He was Isagi Yoichi, and he was standing on top of the world. Just as he made the goal— Everything turned white.
Tap… tap… tap…
Walking down the hallway towards the Central Joint Room. Isagi noticed a faint hum vibrated through the floor, a low thrumming that seemed to resonate in his bones. The air smelled oddly sterile, a faint metallic tang clinging to the polished surfaces. He blinked, once, twice, then again. The fabric of his shirt clung to him—too soft, too familiar. He couldn't grasp the situation he was in.
Just a moment ago the crowd was still celebrating his win at the World Cup 2026. It should have been the high point of his life.
Just as he began to ponder, the doors slowly opened, and they stepped into the room beyond—an empty, pentagon-shaped space. Each wall had five doors, and on the left side, near where they entered, there was a large screen that displayed the Blue Lock logo.
1st Clear Team
– Rin, Aryu, Tokimitsu, Bachira, Isagi – please enter,” said the mechanical voice.
A cold dread gripped him. This…this was…familiar. A hazy image flickered—a pentagon… a screen… the logo…The Third Selection…? Was it? Vivid flashes—intense matches, desperate struggles—blurry faces… He strained to grasp something concrete, but his past felt like a dream, half-remembered and distorted. Déjà vu… but also…uncertainty.
"No...this can't be... Is this a dream? Or a cruel joke?"
“There’s no way… this … this moment… it’s exactly like that day. Did I really go back?”
"No way... This can't be real!"
Regardless whether he understood it or not, he was back in the past!
The Hell?
“Isagi?” Bachira asked, snapping Isagi out of his thoughts.
Bachira's concern was palpable, a silent question hanging in the air.
Taken by surprise, Isagi flinched. “Y-Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You seem a little out of it,” Bachira said gently, grinning that easy, familiar smile of his. A hint of concern plain in his bright eyes.
"Nothing gets past bachira, he knows me too well"
Isagi hesitated for a moment, thinking of a reply. Then he said, “Yeah, I’m fine... just lost in thought for a second,” forcing a small grin.
Bachira noticed the subtle change but didn’t press further. Instead, he stretched out his arms and looped them tight around Isagi’s shoulders, causing them to stumble slightly under his weight.
With a mischievous grin, he said, “Alright then. If you say so!”
If Isagi remembered correctly, this was the Third Selection — the stage where only he, Bachira, Chigiri, Gagamaru, Raichi, and Igaguri had made it through from Team Z. Or at least, that’s what he could recall. After all, it had been many years, so forgetting a few things was only natural.
“It’s kinda... nerve-wracking,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I wonder who else made it this far,” clutching his shirt, Tokimitsu added anxiously while looking around.
“The only certainty is that the weaklings have been weeded out,” Aryu added, casually flipping a lock of his perfectly styled hair.
“He’s right,” Isagi thought, nodding slightly. “Only those who’ve fought their way through will be able to make it here.”
Only those who fought tooth and nail to survive could ever end up here.
A tense silence lingered in the room, broken only by the soft buzz of the overhead lights. Everyone's attention snapped toward the speakers as a mechanical voice rang out:
2nd Team Clear
— Nagi Seishiro, Chigiri Hyoma, Baro Shoei, Zantetsu Tsurugi, Kiyora Jin — please enter.
“Ugh… showing up is already a hassle,” Nagi muttered, dragging his feet through the doorway, hands buried deep in his pockets.
“Hmph,” Barou grumbled.
“Still the same, huh?” Chigiri remarked with a sly smile.
Then all three of them noticed Isagi standing there.
“Yo. What’s up?”
“Tch. About time you peasant noticed I’m here.”
“Heh… It really has been a while.”
“Hey!” Bachira waved at them enthusiastically. “Oh, Zantetsu’s with you too,” he added, eyes lighting up.
Meanwhile, Isagi calmly ran a hand through his hair, the motion smooth and effortlessly elegant, his expression unreadably cool.
The gesture—so casual yet oddly composed—caught Chigiri’s attention.
He blinked, taken off guard.
Isagi’s hair was pulled back in a loose half-up style, shifted softly as he moved in soft, careless waves, framing his features in a way Chigiri couldn’t remember noticing before. It wasn’t dramatic. If anything, it was strangely understated.
Wait... since when—?
Chigiri frowned to himself.
His eyes lingered longer than he meant them to.
The sharp focus Isagi was known for… it was still there. But now, it seemed tempered by an unusual calm, a quiet confidence that settled naturally into the room rather than demanding attention.
And it hit Chigiri like a wave.
Isagi Yoichi—his rival, his teammate—looked stunning, even from afar.
Not just handsome or cool in the way players admired each other on the field. No. This was something else. Something beautiful. He looked straight out of a dream.
And Chigiri didn’t know why, but his heart skipped hard against his ribs.
What the hell…? Why now? Why does this feel… different?
He swallowed thickly, trying to shake off the strange feeling, but the image clung to him.This wasn’t the single‑minded striker he remembered from the ruthless battlefield of Blue Lock. This was a version revealed in stillness, not action.
And it left Chigiri quietly, completely breathless.
His thoughts came to a halt, and without fully realizing it, he found himself moving—following Nagi and Barou as they made their way toward Isagi.
---
Bachira trotted off happily to greet Zantetsu and Kiyora, while the other three—Nagi, Chigiri, and Baro—headed straight toward Isagi. There was a distant look on his face that seemed to bother them a little. He stood a few paces away, one hand resting lightly under his chin, clearly lost in thought—so much so that he didn’t even notice them approaching.
“I wonder how many people made it this far…” he murmured, arching an eyebrow. His memory was fuzzy—returning to the past hadn’t come without its flaws. Details slipped through like sand between his fingers, leaving only fragments behind, as fleeting as the remnants of a dream.
“Hey, dumbass! Quit zoning out!” one of them barked.
Isagi blinked, focus snapping back into place as he realized they were already right in front of him.
“C’mon, give us something,” Nagi said, sliding his hands into his pockets. His eyes were fixed on Isagi with that signature lazy gaze, like he couldn’t be bothered—yet somehow still paying attention.
"It’s been days since we last saw each other," Nagi added, voice low, almost careful.
He glanced at them and let out a low, soft chuckle, his breath curling into a smile that made all three freeze, leaving them visibly confused.
“What’s so funny, idiot?”
“Does that mean you’ve already forgotten about us?”
Isagi smiled—a slow, knowing curve. His eyes were half-lidded, and a previously tucked strand of hair slipped loose, brushing against his cheek as he met their gaze, casting an ethereal glow.
“Nothing like that… I’m just happy we’re all together again.”
Caught off guard, the three exchanged surprised glances as color rose to their cheeks. Chigiri and Baro turned their heads, visibly flustered, while Nagi kept his gaze on Isagi a moment longer than the others before glancing away. Something warm stirred within him—quiet, unfamiliar, and hard to name.
This was dangerous.
It felt like stepping into a tiger’s den,
And they all knew it.
None of them dared to speak.
The atmosphere was thick, as if a single word might tip it over the edge.
---
Nagi wasn’t really the type to pay attention to what was happening around him. But his eyes seemed to find Isagi. At that moment, he found Isagi enchanting, leaving him unable to look away.
There was something about the way Isagi stood there—calm, quiet, but undeniably present.
Captivating.
Nagi wasn’t sure if it was the shift in posture, the eerie calm in his expression, or just the strange pull that seemed to settle around him like gravity—but whatever it was, it made looking away feel like effort.
Isagi wasn’t doing anything remarkable.
And yet… he held everyone’s attention.
Meanwhile, others in the room watched too, drawn to the raven boy who had somehow become the center of attention without even realizing it. And for once, even Nagi couldn’t pretend to be bored.
---
Chigiri turned away, jaw tightening as something strange crawled down his spine.
Was his brain playing tricks on him?
For a second there, it felt like Isagi wasn’t just being intense—but something else... Sensual Something about the way he moved, the way he stared. It sent heat prickling across the back of his neck.
No way.
He’s the worst for even thinking that.
This was Isagi Yoichi—Mr. Vision and Strategy, not… whatever that was.
But when he risked a glance back—
His thoughts froze.
Oh.
So… it wasn’t just him after all.
He caught sight of the flushed necks of the other two. And not just them—everyone else in the room looked affected somehow. Subtle shifts: flushed ears, parted lips, locked stares. The air itself had thickened—and Isagi stood at the center of it.
Chigiri blinked, trying to reset.
Whatever Isagi had become—it wasn’t just powerful.
It was magnetic.
And worse—he knew it.
Chigiri exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath,
“Tch… this is going to be a problem.”
---
Barou felt the heat hit his face before he even realized what it was.
Tch.
What the hell was that?
He quickly turned his head, scowling—not out of anger, but to hide the sudden flush creeping up his neck. He didn’t do flustered. Didn’t do confused. But for a split second, Isagi’s presence had hit him like a wave—thick, charged, and way too hard to ignore.
And judging by the reactions around him, he wasn’t the only one.
He hated that even more.
He hated that feeling.
He hated that he felt it.
With his jaw tight and eyes narrowed, Barou stared off to the side, pretending like nothing happened. But his mind was already racing, unwilling to admit the truth:
Isagi Yoichi had changed.
And that change? It was starting to get under his skin.
He may have not say a word, but his silence was anything but quiet. He wasn’t about to admit it, but even he had to acknowledge something was different.
---
From a distance, Rin Itoshi had been watching. His expression was unreadable. It was heavy, the feeling of a coiled spring waiting to snap. Arms crossed and jaw clenched, he stood stone-still, eyes locked onto Isagi with an intensity that could’ve cut steel.
It wasn’t just observation.
It was calculation.
He too have noticed—the shift in Isagi’s aura. Irritation flickered behind his stare, but so did something else.
Fascination.
Isagi looked different.
And it wasn’t just the half-up hair or the way he carried himself.
His presence was different. He was like a live wire in the room—an electric current that pulled everything into focus.
Even without saying a word, his gaze said it all:
Isagi had changed.
It wasn’t just presence—it was gravity. Pulling them in whether they wanted it or not.
And Rin?
He hated being dragged into anyone else’s orbit. Especially his.