Chapter Text
The Blue Lock dorms had settled into a rare evening lull.
Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as the air conditioning hummed through the vents. Most players had either hit the showers, knocked out in their rooms, or gathered in cliques to relax after the gruelling day’s training.
In one of the lounge areas near the north wing, Isagi sat with both legs curled under him on the carpet, cheerfully spooning rice into his mouth from a steaming bowl of egg and soy sauce donburi. His hair was damp from a recent shower.
“…And then I swear to god, Kurona tripped over the cone and somehow still kept dribbling without falling—like, I don’t even know how you stayed upright, man,” Isagi said between bites, eyes wide with admiration. “Your balance must be insane. Like seriously, I would've eaten turf.”
Kurona blinked at him from where he sat on the couch, one knee pulled up, casually sipping a lemon soda. “I didn’t trip. I was adjusting my stride, stride.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” Isagi grinned. “Okay, I’ll write that down in my captain’s report: ‘Kurona heroically adjusted his stride by face planting into the cone.’”
Kurona rolled his eyes, but a faint smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
At the kitchenette bar, Hiori had just finished reheating tea in the microwave and was politely adding a splash of honey to it. He turned with a soft smile and spoke, “Isagi, you really don’t have to inhale your food like that. No one’s going to steal it from you.”
“I know, I know,” Isagi replied around a mouthful. “But it’s just—man, this sauce? Perfect. Life-saving. I think this is the best thing I’ve eaten all week. And I might have eaten Yukimiya’s yogurt earlier by accident, so this is like, karmic balance.”
From the other end of the couch, Yukimiya, dressed in a velvet-black lounge set, looked up from a fashion magazine. “So you were the one who ate it,” he said coolly.
Isagi froze. “...Hypothetically speaking.”
“You absolute menace.”
“I thought it was mine! I thought—listen, it was dark, and I didn’t have my contacts in and—okay, yeah, no, that’s fair.”
“Next time, touch it and I’ll lace it with wasabi,” Yukimiya said with the polite venom of a man who could destroy someone with both words and skincare.
Isagi just laughed, leaning back on his hands. “You’d still make it look good, Yuki.”
Raichi stomped in from the hallway holding a half-empty protein bar like it had personally offended him. “Why are y’all always lounging around like Ego decided to be merciful and bless us with a break?”
Kurona glanced at him. “Because it basically is, if you don’t suck at practice, practice.”
Raichi squinted like he couldn’t decide if that was a burn. “Whatever. Hey, Isagi, you want to do footwork drills later?”
Isagi’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Wait—like, now? I’m still digesting. Gimme ten minutes. Or maybe twenty. Thirty if I find dessert.”
“Unreal fattie,” Raichi muttered.
“You just don’t want to admit you love spending time with me,” Isagi grinned, pointing a chopstick at him.
Raichi immediately turned to Hiori. “How do you put up with him?”
Hiori looked mildly amused as he sipped his tea. “He’s… enthusiastic. It’s not so bad.”
“Aw, you’re sweet Hiori,” Isagi said, beaming. “See? That’s why we’re friends.”
Just then—
BZZZZZT.
The sharp electric buzz from the ceiling speaker cut through the cozy atmosphere like a blade.
Everyone’s heads snapped up.
“This is Ego.”
The voice of Ego Jinpachi himself rang out over the dorms, harsh and cutting.
“Every single Blue Lock player is to report IMMEDIATELY to the main common room. Emergency meeting. Drop whatever you’re doing. That includes you, Nagi Seishiro—you are not allowed to sleep through this.”
A stunned pause.
“…What?” Isagi said, blinking.
“Emergency meeting?” Hiori echoed, lowering his mug.
“I’m not joking. You have two minutes. If I see anyone slacking, I’ll personally see to it that you never appear in any football league in the future.. Now move it you lumps of talent.”
The speaker clicked off.
A thick silence fell over the room.
“…Okay,” Kurona said finally, standing up. “That’s not ominous at all, all.”
“Did someone die?” Raichi asked bluntly.
Yukimiya gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s always something in this facility. Did Shidou-san finally snap and make an attempt to kill Rin-kun?”
“I just started eating,” Isagi said, holding up his half-finished bowl with a pout. “This is actual tragedy. Emotional devastation.”
“Grab it and go,” Hiori suggested gently.
“Good call. Smart, calm, logical—what would I do without you?” Isagi hopped up and immediately ran into the edge of the coffee table. “Ow. I’m fine.”
They filed into the hallway, joining the crowd of confused and muttering players, some still in slippers and pajamas, others shirtless or brushing their teeth. In the distance, Chigiri and Kunigami walked side by side, tense. Bachira popped out of someone else’s dorm for no apparent reason. Niko looked like he was trying to phase through the wall.
As they all streamed into the main common room, one thing became clear:
Nobody knew what was going on.
And whatever it was—
Ego sounded serious.
The Blue Lock common room was already loud by the time the last players stumbled in—some annoyed, some sleepy, and some, in Charles' case, suspiciously gleeful.
Isagi was one of the first inside, hair still damp from a quick rinse, half a rice ball in his hand as he immediately looked around and chirped, “Guys, what do you think this is about? It’s gotta be serious if Ego’s dragging us all in like this, right? Unless it’s a test. Oh man, what if it’s a trap test?! That’d be kinda fun—”
“Isagi!” Bachira launched himself from a couch like a flying squirrel, landing half-on, half-beside Isagi with a wide grin. “Did you miss me? You look like you missed me. I missed you. We should hold hands.”
“I have rice in my hand, Meguru,” Isagi laughed, trying not to spill sesame everywhere.
“Tragic,” Bachira said dramatically, leaning against him anyway.
Across the room, Rin sat perched on the edge of a bench, glaring at everyone like they personally offended him. His voice cut through the noise, sharp and low:
“Can everyone shut the fuck up for five seconds?”
Everyone ignored him.
Except Chigiri, who tossed his red hair over his shoulder and said, “Maybe if you said ‘please’ once in your life, people might actually listen.”
“Maybe if people had two brain cells to rub together, I wouldn’t have to ask,” Rin snapped.
“I’m not involved,” Kunigami muttered from a corner, arms folded, clearly not in the mood. He’d planted himself as far from everyone as possible, glowering like the very concept of conversation offended him.
“Why is everyone yelling?” Ness whispered to Kaiser, wide-eyed. “Did someone die?”
Kaiser didn’t answer. He was too busy admiring his reflection in the dark screen of the monitor.
“I think this is the moment Ego finally gives me full control,” he said aloud, adjusting his collar. “You’ve all had your fun. Now watch how a real star operates.”
“Delusional,” Barou muttered with a snort, rolling his eyes. “Half of you can’t even spell ‘discipline.’ This room smells like weakness.”
“Barou, literally nobody asked,” Reo called from the back, arms crossed, standing beside Nagi—who, in contrast, looked like he might fall asleep vertically at any second.
Reo elbowed him. “Hey. Stand up straight. This could be important.”
“Mmh. Wake me when he says something that isn’t threatening,” Nagi yawned.
Nearby, Nanase was clutching his pillow like it was a flotation device. “What if something broke? What if someone broke in? Oh god, what if it’s the guy from last time—?”
“It’s never the guy from last time, time,” Kurona said calmly, seated cross-legged beside Hiori on the floor, both of them quietly sipping tea from matching mugs they definitely weren’t supposed to have.
“We're probably fine,” Hiori added, gaze still fixed on the screen. “Probably.”
“Hey Mr. Reo!” Charles shouted suddenly. “Did you tell Ego about the snack bar incident or are we pretending that never happened?”
“What snack bar incident?” Reo snapped, turning.
Shidou cackled beside Charles like a kid who just poured sugar into someone’s gas tank. “He didn’t tell him. I might have. Whoops.”
“You guys are unbelievable,” Yukimiya muttered, voice dangerously quiet as he sat with perfectly polished posture. “And by ‘you guys,’ I specifically mean Charles, Shidou, Otoya, and Karasu. Because you four are the reason my skin broke out last week. Somehow.”
“Allegedly,” Otoya said sweetly, seated on Karasu’s lap with a smug little smile.
“I didn’t do anything,” Karasu said, clearly lying. “Except love my boyfriend. Sorry we’re adorable.”
“You’re feral,” Yukimiya snapped.
“And thriving,” Otoya winked.
Lorenzo, draped across a beanbag with gold rings stacked high on both hands, was quietly counting coins while whispering to himself in Spanish. “If Ego dies in the next three minutes, I get top rank, jackpot, and maybe a free showerhead…”
“Why do you talk like that?” Raichi said, irritated, from a nearby armrest. “Do you even hear yourself? No, don’t answer. You’re all freaks. Every single one of you. I want out.”
“I second that,” muttered Niko from beside him, eyes scanning every exit.
Isagi, still holding Bachira, had sidled over toward Rin—who hadn’t moved or blinked since sitting down. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”
Rin sighed. “If you say one more thing about this being a fun mystery, I’m breaking your rice ball in half.”
Isagi grinned. “Wow. Relationship violence.”
“Consider it mercy.”
Then—
The monitor flickered.
A ripple of static.
Every sound in the room died.
Shidou stopped laughing. Bachira sat upright. Even Otoya stopped chewing his gum.
The screen remained black, but the blue glow against the walls sent a signal through the crowd:
Ego was coming.
Rin’s eyes narrowed.
Reo grabbed Nagi’s sleeve.
Nanase held his breath.
Barou muttered, “About damn time.”
And in the frozen silence, Isagi leaned toward Hiori and whispered, “Okay. This might actually be a little scary.”
Hiori didn’t look away from the screen.
“…Yeah,” he murmured. “I feel that too.”
The monitor’s static crackled one last time before Ego appeared on screen, arms crossed, eyes colder than usual behind his glasses.
“Good. You’re all here. Shut up and listen.”
A ripple of silence swept across the chaotic room. Even Charles stopped cackling. Otoya paused mid-gum pop. Bachira tilted his head in curiosity, half-upside-down on a couch with his legs hooked over the backrest.
Ego continued without ceremony:
“At approximately 4:12 a.m., Blue Lock’s security system detected an unauthorized presence in Simulation Room 3C.”
Reo frowned, exchanging a look with Nagi. “That floor’s been locked for months.”
“Unless you count ghosts,” Nanase whispered, eyes wide.
“We assumed it was a malfunction. Or a prank. But when the team arrived, they found no intruder, no damage—only a child.”
That word hit like a slap. Everyone straightened.
“A what now?” Chigiri said.
Barou scoffed. “What the hell kind of joke is this?”
“This wasn’t just any child,” Ego said calmly. “It was one of you.”
The room fell dead silent.
“An exact replica—biologically and mentally—of one of Blue Lock’s players, at the age of seven.”
The noise that followed was explosive.
“ARE YOU SAYING ONE OF US GOT TURNED INTO A CHILD?!”
“Wait, wait, are we cloning people now?!”
“Please tell me it’s not me. Please, god.”
“What kind of Black Mirror B.S. is this—”
“Is it me? I always knew I was cursed,” Charles whispered, eyes sparkling with chaos.
“Shut up and pay attention,” Ego snapped. “This child arrived with no memory of how they got here and only a single note.”
The screen flickered. The grainy image of a handwritten note appeared:
“They have forgotten their ego. Their pain still shapes them. Help them remember—or lose them forever.”
“You have one week.”
“If the original player cannot reconnect with their younger self, confront the trauma that broke their ego, and accept it—the child will disappear.”
“Disappear?” Rin asked sharply. “Define disappear.”
Ego’s gaze was unflinching.
“They will cease to exist. Not just the child. The player.”
“Are you serious?!” Reo gasped, pale. “This is actual erasure! What kind of system is that?!”
Kaiser stared at the screen like it had insulted him personally. “Why the hell are we being punished for having childhood trauma?! We’re athletes, not therapy cases!”
“You guys have trauma?” Otoya said with mock innocence. “Must be hard.”
Karasu snorted. “Speak for yourself, we’re thriving.”
“You’re thriving on being menaces,” Yukimiya growled.
In the corner, Hiori didn’t speak. His grip on his tea mug tightened.
Kurona glanced sideways at him but said nothing.
“This is not a punishment,” Ego continued. “This is a test. A test of the ego at its most primal state. If you cannot face your younger self—the root of your ambition, your fear, your pain—then you have no place on the path to becoming the best striker in the world.”
“Are you saying this is gonna happen again?” Raichi asked in disbelief.
“Yes. A new child will appear every week. You will not be told who until they arrive. If that player fails their task, they will vanish. Permanently. Every one of you is a candidate.”
Even Barou looked rattled now.
“So who’s the first one?” Niko asked, quietly.
The screen flickered again.
Then: a hallway. Dim lights. A barefoot child sitting against a wall, knees tucked to his chest, oversized yellow hoodie drooping over his tiny frame. Messy brunette strands stuck out in all directions. Big, golden eyes looked up at the camera with a mix of wonder and confusion—and a strange, eerie loneliness.
Everyone in the room leaned forward.
“...No way,” Isagi whispered.
“Is that—” Kurona started.
Then, from offscreen, came a faint rustling. The camera shifted.
And into the common room, in real time, stepped Anri—her heels clicking gently on the tile, holding the hand of a tiny, seven-year-old Bachira Meguru.
He looked up at the room of stunned teenagers with wide, blinking eyes and said softly:
“Um… hi?”
The silence was absolute.
Then the real, seventeen-year-old Bachira gasped, launched to his feet, pointed at his younger self and yelled:
“OH MY GOD, I’M ADORABLE!”