Ego's glasses reflected the light, making him look like some kind of villainous mastermind.
"Tell me, what exactly was your goal with that assist?"
Isagi straightened up.
"To assert dominance over the entire U-20 team and make them question their existence?"
A long pause was there.
Ego sighed as he looked at the players inside of the Locker Room with his usual look.
And he did not look pleased.
The air grew heavy, like a storm was about to hit. Anri stood to the side, her lips pressed tight as if bracing for impact.
Ego finally spoke, voice slicing through the room.
"Pathetic."
The atmosphere dropped.
"You all think you're winning?"
Ego's glare cut through each of them.
"You've been led by the nose, playing a game orchestrated by one person."
He turned sharply, eyes locking onto Isagi.
"And that person is an idiot."
The entire room stiffened.
Isagi, who had just taken a swig from his water bottle, paused. Then, he chuckled, shaking his head.
"Man, you're really bad at giving compliments, huh?"
Rin, still irritated from the last play, clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Don't get so cocky! Bastard!"
Ego ignored Rin entirely, stepping closer to Isagi.
"You had the chance to kill this game yourself. You could have taken that shot. Instead, you fed Rin a goal like a waiter serving dinner."
Isagi grinned.
"Yeah, and it was delicious."
Ego's voice cut through like a blade.
"That assist. That disgusting display. It wasn't ego. It wasn't selfishness. It wasn't the essence of a striker."
His eyes narrowed.
"It was cowardice."
The word rang in everyone's ears.
Isagi didn't flinch. He simply smirked.
"Cowardice? That's a stretch, Ego."
He tilted his head.
"Or are you just mad you couldn't predict me either?"
Ego's lip curled.
"You think you're unpredictable? No, Isagi Yoichi—you're just lost. You let your obsession with control cloud the only thing that matters in Blue Lock."
He jabbed a finger at him.
"A striker's hunger."
Isagi chuckled.
"And yet, here I am, making the U-20 defense dance like puppets."
He leaned forward, voice teasing.
"You saw it too, right? I was the one controlling everything. I had Sae, Aiku, and every other defender wrapped around my finger."
Ego sneered.
"And yet, you still refused to take the shot yourself. Why?"
Isagi's smirk grew.
"Because that's how you really kill someone, Ego."
He turned slightly, eyes locking onto Rin, whose fingers were clenched into fists.
"By making them think they were the star of the show—when really, they were just a piece on my board."
Rin's jaw clenched.
"You little—"
Otoya whistled.
"Damn, that's cold."
Nagi yawned.
"Sounds exhausting."
Bachira grinned.
"Ooooh, I like this version of Isagi."
Ego watched it all unfold, his smirk darkening.
"Interesting."
The team remained silent, watching the intense standoff. Even Anri, tense and gripping her tablet, couldn't hide her intrigue.
Ego finally took a step back.
"Do what you want, Isagi. But in the end, if you're not the one scoring the final goal—"
He turned away.
"Then you're just a supporting character in someone else's story."
Isagi exhaled through his nose, his smirk twitching. A supporting character?
Tch. What a joke.
He was about to fire back—but then his gaze flickered to Anri.
And suddenly, he remembered.
The bet.
The reason he was pacing himself.
The reason he hadn't already put U-20 in the ground.
A hat-trick. A spectacular hat-trick. That was the deal. And if he pulled it off? He'd win a date with Anri.
He could've done it already. He knew that. There were moments where he could've pulled the trigger, left Fukaku frozen, humiliated Sae with a goal instead of just a nutmeg—
But that would've been too easy.
He wanted more.
His fingers curled slightly.
No—he wanted the U-20 team at their absolute best. He wanted to push Sae to his limits, to break Aiku's resolve, to force their entire defense into a higher gear. Only then—only when they were worthy—would he crush them.
That's the team he wanted to score against.
His grin returned, lazy and sharp.
Ego noticed the shift in his expression and raised an eyebrow.
"What? You finally realized you're full of shit?"
Isagi just chuckled.
"Nah, just remembered something important."
Ego scoffed.
"As long as you remember that if you're not the one scoring, you're not the main character."
Isagi's smirk widened.
"Don't worry, Ego."
He turned away, stretching his arms.
"When I start scoring, you'll know."
Silence.
Then, Ego smirked.
"Hmph. Show me."
With that, the confrontation ended.
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A furious yell echoed through the tunnel as Burasata, the President of the Japan Football Union (JFU), shoved the team's head coach against the wall. His face was contorted with rage, his expensive suit wrinkled from his aggressive movements. The veins on his forehead pulsed like they were about to burst.
"Explain this to me, dammit!"
Burasata roared, his voice shaking with frustration.
"How the hell are we losing to some no-name strikers? How is a ragtag group of nobodies embarrassing the future of Japan's football team!?"
The U-20 coach, though a respected figure in Japanese football, could do nothing but lower his head under Burasata's furious glare. The first half had ended in disaster—U-20 was trailing by two goals against Blue Lock, a team that was supposed to be crushed under the weight of U-20's superiority. Yet instead of dominance, all they found was humiliation.
Burasata's fists clenched, his mind racing. He had two conflicting desires, and Isagi Yoichi had ruined both.
He had wanted to profit off Isagi's skills—the kid was clearly a generational talent, a player who could revolutionize Japanese football. A superstar like that belonged on the official national team, not some experimental program like Blue Lock. But at the same time, Burasata had wanted to protect the reputations of Sae, Aiku, and Sendou—they were U-20's core, the ones meant to be the future face of Japan's football industry.
But Isagi wasn't playing by the script.
Instead of showing potential, instead of just being a promising talent, he was dominating the field like an apex predator. He was manipulating plays, toying with defenders, and making U-20's elite look like amateurs. If things continued like this, U-20 wouldn't just lose the match—they would suffer an utter humiliation. Which might result in heavy loss in the future.
Burasata gritted his teeth. This wasn't just about football anymore.
This was about business. About power. About reputation.
If U-20 lost too badly, the public would turn on them. The media would question the JFU's competence. Sponsors would hesitate to invest. The balance of power in Japanese football would shift. And worst of all, if Isagi continued to shine at this level, then Blue Lock's insane experiment—Ego Jinpachi's gamble—would be proven right.
Burasata slammed the coach against the wall.
"This is a goddamn disaster!"
He spat.
"And now I see why Ego refused to give us Isagi. That bastard knew! He knew that if Isagi played for U-20, Blue Lock wouldn't have stood a chance. We would've crushed them without breaking a sweat."
He exhaled sharply, his breaths ragged with fury. If only he had pushed harder. If only he had forced Isagi onto the U-20 squad. But regret was meaningless now.
There was only one thing left to do.
Burasata turned back to the U-20 coach, his expression cold and sharp as a knife.
"Put him in."
The coach hesitated.
"You mean—?"
"Shidou Ryusei.
Put Him In!"
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Leaning against the cold wall of the locker room, Isagi Yoichi closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths, but beneath his composed exterior, his mind was a battlefield of calculations, rewinding and fast-forwarding through plays, dissecting the flow of the game down to its smallest details.
He was calming his thoughts, silencing the noise—not just from the rowdy locker room, but from the relentless, high-speed processing in his own head. Every pass, every movement, every possibility flashed in his mind like a never-ending highlight reel. If he wanted to keep the game in the palm of his hand, he had to stay sharp. He had to remain in absolute control.
Yet, the toll it took on him was undeniable.
His temples throbbed, a dull but persistent headache pounding against his skull—a side effect of constantly tracking everyone's movements, predicting their next steps, and orchestrating plays at a world-class level.
This wasn't just football. This was war. A war where every decision had to be made in fractions of a second, where one miscalculation could mean the difference between dominance and disaster.
And Isagi was loving every second of it.
'Damm, it's much harder than I thought'
He mused with a quiet chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk.
His mind was thriving. This was the kind of game that forged greatness. Every moment he spent on that field, he was evolving. He could feel it in his very bones—the thrill of pushing himself to new heights, of growing in real-time, of standing at the center of a match where he controlled the flow, where he was the mastermind.
And now, the second half was coming.
He didn't need to open his eyes to see what was coming next. He already knew.
U-20 would go all out.
Sae Itoshi, who had been restrained in the first half, would unleash his true strength. If the opportunity arose, Sae would take control of the attack himself, cutting through Blue Lock's defense with the skills of a world-class player.
And then there was Shidou Ryusei.
Isagi knew that Shidou was coming in. There was no doubt.
That maniacal, goal-hungry beast was the ultimate weapon. If U-20 wanted to overwhelm them with offense, there was no better player to unleash. Shidou was a force of destruction—wild, unpredictable, but undeniably lethal.
But no matter how dangerous they were, Isagi was ready.
In fact… he couldn't wait.
Every second that ticked by during this 15-minute break felt agonizingly slow. His body ready, his mind racing, and his hunger for goals burned hotter than ever.
The moment the second half started, he would start his dominance again at the right time.
And no one—not Shidou, not Aiku, not even Sae—would stop him.
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The 15-minute break ends.
A deafening roar erupts from the stadium as both teams step onto the field once again. The energy in the air is palpable, electric—a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to explode. Every spectator, whether in the stands or glued to their screens, can feel it—the match is teetering on the edge of something spectacular.
The commentators' voices boom through the stadium, amplifying the hype:
"And we're back! The second half is underway, and what an incredible first half we witnessed!"
"Blue Lock leads 3-1, and the main reason for that is one name—Isagi Yoichi! His vision, his control, his ability to dominate the field—it's unlike anything we've seen from an unproven striker!"
"But hold on! U-20 isn't backing down! They've made a bold tactical shift—subbing out Wakatsuki, a defensive midfielder, for a striker! They're going all in on offense!"
With U-20 ready to kick off, players from both sides take their positions. The tension is suffocating, the battle lines drawn. But before the game can even restart—
Shidou Ryusei bolts toward Isagi.
The game hasn't even begun, yet here comes this freak of nature, eyes wide, lips curled into a manic grin.
Isagi doesn't even need to look—he feels Shidou's presence like a bad omen creeping up his spine.
"Ahh, Isagi~"
Shidou purrs, voice dripping with way too much excitement for a football match.
Isagi turns his head slightly—big mistake.
Shidou leans in, his golden eyes practically vibrating with ecstasy.
"Watching you play out there makes my mind BUZZ like crazy, man! I swear, I can feel a HARD-ON just from seeing you dominate the field!"
A vein pops in Isagi's forehead.
"The hell is wrong with you?!"
He snaps, instinctively taking a step back.
But Shidou isn't done.
"I was going crazy on the bench. I came like five times just thinking about our one-on-one!"
The words hit Isagi like a truck. His entire body locks up as an involuntary shiver crawls down his spine. The disgust is instant, absolute, and soul-crushing.
"STOP TALKING."
The look on Isagi's face is one of a man who just heard the worst sentence of his life. He wants to bleach his brain, delete this conversation from history, and possibly sprint off the field entirely.
The Blue Lock players standing nearby?
Nagi covers his ears.
Rin turns around like he heard nothing.
Chigiri looks at Shidou like he's a disease.
Bachira is wheezing, clearly enjoying Isagi's suffering.
Even the U-20 players flinch. Sae pinches the bridge of his nose. Sendou's expression twists into something truly disgusted.
Isagi inhales deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. He's already used to Shidou's psychotic, boundary-violating behavior from their time as roommates during Blue Lock tryouts, but it never gets easier.
This isn't just disturbing—it feels violating, like Shidou's words crawl under his skin and squeeze his soul.
"I swear to god, if you touch me—"
Isagi warns.
"Ohhh, so you do like it rough, huh?!"
Shidou grins wider.
Isagi considers committing murder before kickoff.
The referee's whistle finally pierces through the madness.
"Alright, that's enough!"
Shidou backs off with a sly chuckle, licking his lips like he just had the best meal of his life.
"Can't wait to have you all to myself on the pitch, Isagi~"
He winks.
Isagi rubs his temples, exhaling sharply.
"This is gonna be the longest second half of my life..."
With that, the players take their positions. U-20 is set to kick off, and Blue Lock spreads out across the field.
But while everyone else settles into their designated spots—Isagi subtly drifts back from the frontline.
At first glance, it looks tactical. A False 9, a calculated adjustment to bait U-20's defenders forward and create space behind them. A brilliant strategy.
But in reality?
It's pure, unfiltered survival instinct.
Though Isagi doesn't even realize it, his body moves on autopilot, instinctively putting as much distance as possible between him and the absolute menace that is Shidou Ryusei.
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The second half kicks off, and Sae is the one to initiate the play. With a swift touch of his boot, the ball rolls forward, and it's immediately sent right into Shidou's path.
The moment the ball touches his feet, Shidou takes off like a bullet, his every stride a force of pure chaos. There's no hesitation, no thought of teamwork—he's a one-man army on the attack, running as if the field is his personal battleground and everyone else is an obstacle to destroy.
Sae, already prepared, is right behind him, perfectly in sync with Shidou's insanity. As Shidou charges ahead, slicing through the field, he sends the pass straight to Sae.
Shidou's chaotic presence distorts the entire rhythm of the game. His teammates struggle to keep up, and Blue Lock's defense scrambles to react. There's no strategy, no predictability—just raw, destructive offense.
And Sae knew this would happen.
When Ego rejected his request for Isagi, Shidou was always the backup plan. Not because he was the safer option—but because he was the only other player who could break the game wide open.
Shidou is a wild card, a double-edged sword. He doesn't cooperate, doesn't sync with others, but his sheer talent makes him impossible to ignore. A striker who forces the entire game to bend around him.
And right now, he's tearing through the field like an unstoppable force.
But Sae wasn't caught off guard. He knew exactly what he was walking into. He moves forward with the ball, cool and calculated, eyes scanning the field. Every movement, every player is a piece of the puzzle he's already solved in his mind. But Isagi? Isagi, who has been controlling everything in ways no one expected, is like a thorn in his side. Sae watches him carefully, noting the way Isagi shadows Sendou.
The kid is marking him so tightly that it feels like a trap. He's cutting off Sendou's potential to receive, reducing his options to nothing.
With one quick glance to his left, he sees Rin closing in, cutting off Sae's usual avenue to make a pass.
But Sae's eyes flash with determination.
With a slight shift of his weight, he changes direction, twisting his body to cut through the field like a blade. The ball moves with him, an extension of his thoughts, a mirror of his intent. A flick of his boot, and he shoots the ball forward with perfect precision, sending it sailing like a missile.
Normally, Sae would've tried to get in front to dictate the flow of the game, always positioning himself for those subtle, lethal passes. But not today. Today, he was giving everything, upping the intensity of the match.
The ball rockets across the field, cutting through the air with lethal intent. It's perfectly placed, hard but controlled, and it's aimed directly at Shidou.
The ball was coming at Shidou with the speed of a freight train. Niko read its trajectory, his eyes locking onto the path of the ball, his mind already calculating the best possible interception. He pushed himself to the limit, launching himself into the air with perfect timing, his body a coil of muscle and precision.
But Shidou was no ordinary striker.
He had already anticipated Niko's move. Instead of going for the immediate shot, he nudged the ball with his left foot, subtly redirecting it to the right. It was a moment of pure instinct—a shift in direction so quick, so fluid, that Aryu, who was supposed to be his backup on the left, couldn't even react in time.
In mid-air, as if he were defying gravity itself, Shidou twisted his body with the precision of a trained artist, and in one fluid motion, he struck the ball with his right foot. A perfect Half-Volley shot. The ball screamed across the field like a bullet, moving faster than anyone could predict.
Gagamaru's eyes widened, his instincts screaming at him to react, but even with all his focus trained on the ball, he knew in his gut it was too late. His body lunged in an attempt to guess the direction, diving to the top-right corner of the goal. But the ball moved with terrifying speed, curling past his fingers before he could make contact. His desperate reach was futile.
Goal.
A perfect execution, the kind that only a player of Shidou's unpredictability and raw talent could pull off, especially after learning from his numerous clashes with Isagi. This was a man who had grown not only in strength but in his understanding of the game, his mind sharper than ever.
The U-20 bench erupted into wild cheers, and the crowd in the stands followed suit, their collective roar shaking the very foundations of the stadium.
Isagi's lips curled into a smirk, his sharp eyes glinting with excitement. The goal didn't shake him. If anything, it only fueled his fire. He had already seen this coming.
Despite not pushing forward to block the shot, despite choosing to hold his ground rather than throwing himself into the chaos, his decision had been deliberate. The stakes weren't at their absolute peak yet—there was no need to burn unnecessary stamina. Even though his endurance was monstrous, this match was a war of attrition, and he had to pick his battles wisely.
But that wasn't what made him smile.
It was the fact that he was getting better.
Reading Sae's intent had been one thing. With just a single glance, he had broken down the U-20 prodigy's movements, predicting the long pass before it even left his foot. That level of insight wasn't new to him, but the speed at which he processed it—that was different. He was evolving in real-time, sharpening his ability to foresee plays before they happened.
And then there was Shidou.
The nudge before the shot.
Isagi had anticipated it the moment Shidou leaped. He recognized the sequence, the mechanics, the subtle movements—it was exactly like a technique the OG Isagi would master later in the Neo Egoist League.
The Two-Gun Volley Shot.
Shidou had unknowingly pulled off an advanced move—one that Isagi himself would refine in the future. The realization sent a thrill up his spine. It wasn't just him getting better. Everyone on the field was evolving, adapting, growing.
His smirk deepened.
The game had just become even more fun.
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