Chapter Text
I lost.
Tired and sweaty after coming back from the finals of the Prefectural, I took out a delicate white envelope from my pocket. Rubbing my tear-dried eyes, it was addressed to me… From the Japan Football Union.
With wide eyes, I froze. ‘JFU sent me a letter?’
I kept staring at the white cover. After flipping back and forth for what felt like hours, I peeled it open.
[ Dear Miss. Watanabe Misaki,
- Selection for a Player Improvement Project -
We are pleased to announce that after a rigorous selection process, you have been selected by the Japan Football Union (JFU) to be involved in a training program to improve yourself as a football player.
Therefore, we would like to invite you to the new training project meeting to be held on the XXth of XXX. We would be thrilled if you could come and attend.
If you wish to attend, please sign the enclosed consent form included in the envelope and come to the JFU Headquarters building at XXXX on the designated date and time.
Thank you and congratulations.
JFU New Project Representative,
Anri Teieri ]
My eyes wavered. ‘Eh?’
“…after a rigorous selection process, you have been selected…” I decided to reread it out loud in disbelief. ‘I… I was hand-picked by them…unbelievable…’
I felt the emotions swirl within me again, I teared up. “No way.”
I clenched the sides of the paper as I dropped into a squat, covering my crying face with the letter. I was invited to train and improve my skills as a football player. I was invited… The questions of why and how began flooding my head.
‘How did I get selected by JFU to be a part of this project?’ I asked myself. ‘Did they see my game? We lost. My team and I completely lost that game... Urgh… So, why?’
“What did they see in me…?” ‘Did the others get invited?’
After so much today, I felt extremely exhausted. I could barely get up but it felt so surreal. I glanced again at the white paper in my hand.
Redemption.
This could be my second chance to make it to the Nationals and even get scouted...
‘I need to get better.’
Looking back at the letter for the last time. I could get better through this project.
Couldn’t be bothered to go take a shower, so I opted for the couch and plopped myself onto it. I closed my eyes.
.
.
.
But it felt too disgusting to even sleep. Mentally resigning, I went to take a shower and then slept.
A week went by and before I knew it, I was standing outside of the JFU building. It was quite intimidating from the imposing structure, I wondered if this was a scam I fell into. But I…
Already checked the authenticity of the letter. Multiple times.
However, my eyes gazed at the details of the imposing building before dropping down to the map—that was included along with the letter—with the location where we were meant to meet at.
“Shit…” I whispered. I adjusted the striped scarf I had on my neck. I felt my anxiety making its entrance within me. ‘What if I get lost and am late…everyone is going to stare at me… Stop.’
I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath.
Hah… I exhaled, opening my eyes with pure determination. I could not let this stop me. No. I needed to take the first decisive step.
Looking up at the towering building with the dark-tinted windows. It was a cold day. No sun peeking from its grey curtains. All of which made the building more suffocating to take in than it should.
It only took a step.
Upon entering and after a few twists and turns, I finally arrived at the door to my destination. I noticed how my pale thin fingers trembled, despite not touching the doorknob. It was now or never. I grasped the knob and gently opened it.
I stilled a breath.
In a decently large room that seemed to be used for conventions, it was effortlessly filled with dozens and dozens of people. Guys. All to be similar age as I, I watched as their curious gazes landed at the sight of me who seemed to be the only female until—
“Hey! Over here!”
I turned my head to see a group of females on my right. I flinched. I knew I wouldn’t be the only female, but seeing 20 or so girls was… ‘Oh. I don’t see…Ema and the others?’
I clenched my right fist to calm my nerves. Letting out a small sigh, I smiled shyly as I walked over.
“‘Sup! The name’s Sakurai Akira, but calling me Akira‘s fine!” A tall green head exclaimed with a toothy grin. She then wrapped an arm around a purple-haired girl’s shoulders. “This’ Ito Junko from Tsubasa High and I’m from Shirotori High. We play forwards!”
‘Rivals?’
I smiled awkwardly at her enthusiasm, nodding as I listened. I nervously played with my scarf.
“Oh,” Akira spoke again. “That uniform…you must be from that rich school… Hakuno High!”
She said with such confidence. I laughed a little. She was weirdly funny.
“It’s Hakuho, dumbass,” Junko slapped Akira’s shoulder. I glanced away feeling out of place but nodded anyway.
“You’re real quiet, huh?” Akira commented. I kept a soft smile as I tilted my head in question. “People said Sasaki Ema was so talkative, she could burst your ears out…?”
My ears perked up at the sound of my teammate’s name. Wait. Did she think—
“I’m not Sasaki-san?”
“Huh?” Brows furrowed leaving Akira’s face to scream confused. “You’re…not Sasaki Ema?”
I shook my head. “I’m Watanabe Misaki?”
“Huh? You’re that midfielder…?” The green-haired stayed quiet in confusion, Junko was kind enough to explain the situation to me. “Apparently, all of us…”
She started twirling a tanned finger around us. “Are all strikers.”
That was when I started to look at her and the others. ‘Forwards…? Then, why was I here and not Ema?’
Then I noted one girl with long black hair…
‘Wait? Isn’t that—‘
The door opened again and a pair of boys came in. I leaned my head back to peek and instantaneously recognised the blonde one of the pair. Kira Ryousuke.
‘“The Jewel of Japan”…’ I recalled his nickname. I pursed my lips in thought. ‘It makes sense why he would be here, after all, he’s allegedly said to be in the U-18 Japan National Team.’
“Isn’t tha—“
“ Tch.”
The room immediately darkened and the spotlights quickly aimed at the stage in front. “Congratulations, you unpolished gems.”
A very thin yet tall man appeared in a black shirt with what seemed to be a bolo tie around his neck and black jeans.
After a moment of silence, the man continued to speak.
“All you under-18 strikers have been chosen solely based on my criteria and biases to be here today.”
This unfamiliar man looked at us with a blank stare.
“All 300 of you.” ‘“Striker”? Was there a mistake to me for Ema?’
“I am Ego Jinpachi.” He gestured to himself. “My job is to make Japan a team capable of winning the World Cup.”
That seemed to snap everyone out of their dazes and began muttering loudly amongst themselves. Most were questioning the identity of the proclaimed man, or questioning the entire situation if it was all a joke.
‘World Cup… He planned on making a team to win the Cup? Is that even possible…?’ I glanced at Akira and Junko and they were surprised at his words as I was.
Ego nonchalantly continued his speech, not caring whether people were truly listening or not. “To put it in simpler terms…”
“Japan requires only one thing to become the strongest powerhouse in football.”
He held one finger up to emphasise his statement.
“And that is the creation of a revolutionary striker.”
He pressed a button from the remote in his hand as he spoke. “From all 300 players gathered here today, I will forge the best striker in the world through a certain project.”
“Look there,” the bowl-cut man gestured with his head at a holographic presentation beside him. “For this purpose, we have built this facility called—”
“ Blue Lock .”
It was a pentagonal-looking structure, labelling each section as “Stratums” and each stratum had countless different rooms, including; various living quarters, a dining hall, weight rooms, specialty training rooms, multiple practice football fields, etc. In the middle of them all, was a huge football arena.
It was overwhelmingly impressive… As expected from the Union.
“Starting today, you all will be living in this building together, while undergoing the training regime I’ve devised.”
‘All…’ I skimmed at everyone around me. ‘…of us? In that building?’
“You will not be able to go back home, so as of now, consider your football careers as you know, over.”
Ego announced firmly. He then turned off the hologram.
“But I will say this if you manage to survive on Blue Lock, and defeat the other 299 players around you.”
“You,” he pointedly started. “The last player standing…”
“..will become the best striker in the world.”
I felt my heart thump loudly at his proclamation.
‘“Striker”…again. Did he see something like a forward in my play style?’
“That concludes this meeting,” the man adjusted his glasses and stood up straight to look down at all of us.“Nice to meet you all.”
Silence enveloped the air.
There was something about his tone that just felt utterly mocking.
“Hey! Sorry.”
I turned my head to the voice. It was the “Jewel”.
“I don’t think I can agree with what you said just now.”
“For most of us, our teams are our main priority…” the blonde boy started explaining. “Particularly those of us who’ll participate at Nationals.”
The man unnervingly stayed quiet, watching with a blank stare.
“There’s no way I can accept those kinds of terms,” Kira declared chivalrously as he placed a hand on his chest. “I will not throw away my own team.”
Then everyone began following his lead, agreeing with what Kira had said and adding their own comments as well.
‘Team, right. My team,’ I remembered absentmindedly. ‘They…try but I don’t think they’ll ever strive further in this career. They’re more into the idea of having higher status at school than anything…’
I didn’t necessarily need them. They weren’t as serious as I was in pursuing this football dream of holding the World Cup. They wanted to have some good sporting background to flaunt and I needed 10 members to play. Only Sasaki Ema was the one who shared my desire to win.
The man stayed quiet, allowing them to speak and speak. He then bent his head down slightly, about to scratch his head, he muttered under his breath.
It was audibly loud and clear that could be heard by us all as he still had his mic on. “I see…”
“All of you are really fucked up in the head, huh.”
He pointed his finger to his head, snapping his dark eerie eyes towards us. Body language so relaxed and uncaring, he opened his mouth again. “Get lost, then.”
‘Wha…’ My eyes widened at his blatant words. I expected this was a response, but just hearing it so bluntly was…odd.
“If you’re thinking of leaving, go right ahead,” he continued with a face of disgust. Disgusted like he was looking at insects rather than humans. It was unsettling.
“Your teams are what now?” He questioned mockingly.
“You’d really choose your teams over becoming the best striker in the world…?”
He rhetorically asked it as if that was the most absurd idea he had ever heard. His eyes rolled in utter repulsion.
“You’d rather be a high school champ in this shithole of a country?”
“ Huuh ?” He distastefully voiced.
His eyes were so dark like the corners in the room, and having them directed to us, was unnerving to the core. He was so direct and harsh with his words. But was he wrong? He must be…?
“When I look at you all, I cringe at the thought of Japan’s football future.”
“You get it?” He spoke with fluency. “Japan is notably the best country in the world when it comes to organisational skills in football.”
He continued telling us the truth about our football, then with a merciless glare. “But.”
“Before you get any ideas, in everything else…” Everything he was saying was—
“We’re second rate.”
—all true.
“I want to know something,” he changed the topic. “What is football to all of you?”
‘Football to me?’
“A sport where you try to score goals in teams of 11 members?” The bowl-cut man began listing some definitions. Some reasonings to play.
‘Yes…?’ I mentally answered. ‘Isn’t that how it works? Though, as a playmaker, I’m needed to send the ball to whoever is capable of scoring.’
He shook his head. “Well, that’s wrong.”
“That way of thinking,” Ego stabbed a finger to his head. “Is exactly why Japan lacks football skills.”
“I will show you what it’s all about.”
Putting his finger down and straightening up his back. He spoke firmly.
“Football is, at its core, a sport about scoring goals even at the expense of your teammates.”
“The best player is the one that scores the most goals,” he so logically—passionately explained, his stare hardened. “If you want to play pretend football instead, then get lost already.”
‘At the expense of my teammates… The best player…scores the most goals. But I’m a midfielder, not a forward, I’m meant to assist. I need to pass to win?’ I was getting confused. ‘I want to win, so I pass for them to score?’
“How insulting…” I glanced at the sound of Kira's seething. “Take those words back!”
I mindlessly stared at the blondie. ‘But winning…what’s the point of teamwork if we don’t win?’
“Players like Honda, Kagawa, and many others,” the guy began naming players of Japan Men’s National Lineup team. “All of those who shape the Japan National’s lineup. The value of teamplay instilled in the National team is the same that’s part of us!”
“They are our stars—“
‘But they didn’t win any Cups…’ I countered in my head. I furrowed my brows, taken back by my thought. But it was true. That was the result. They hadn’t won anything.
Ego began repeating the names Kira listed. In such a mocking tone. Before grinning crudely at him. “You mean…”
“The team that has yet to win a single World Cup?”
“I don’t care about that trash,” he brushed them so carelessly, it made me bounce from one foot to the other restlessly. “Aren’t I talking about becoming the best team in the world? Come—”
“On.”
He dropped his eerie grin.
“Let’s talk about Noel Noa, for example,” Ego looked over back to us all to see our recognition of Germany’s top player. “He managed to win the Ballon d’Or over astounding players like Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.”
“He’s talked as if he’s the best striker in the world…” He told us, spreading his arms out dramatically. “And in his words, “I feel better losing 3-4 after scoring a hat trick than winning only by 1-0 with an assist”.”
Ego began directly quoting most of the best players’ egoistical speeches. I felt my heart crawl up into my throat, I didn’t think the same. “SO!”
He yelled in delirium as a wide smile crept on his face. “WHADDYA THINK?! AWFUL, AREN’T THEY?! BUT THEY CAN SAY IT BECAUSE—“
“They are the best.”
I shakily let out a breath that I didn’t remember holding.
“They are all revolutionary strikers!”
“Their extraordinary egoism,” he emphasised the keyword with seriousness. “Is that one thing Japan’s football lacks.”
‘Egoism,’ my eyes sparkled subconsciously. That was something that was said to ruin teams. ‘It’s—is he saying it’s ok to have an ego in football?’
“You will not become the greatest striker in the world,” he began calmly talking. He cooled off and went to being eerily serious. “Unless you have the ego to match.”
‘No—He is…’
“Again, I will say this once more,” Ego spoke. “My purpose here is to create such a player in Japan.”
‘Telling us…’
“From the corpses of 299 players,” he recounted his words for more of an egoistic feel. “One hero will rise in all his…”
‘Having ego—‘
He seemed to shift towards us females at the back. “Or her glory.”
‘Is valued.’
My desire to win no matter what—fair and square of course—flared. I wanted to win. I wanted to be able to achieve such a win. All by myself. However, I could only achieve such a goal if I had the ego to pursue it.
I was a midfielder.
“Now then, you unpolished gems…” He called for our attention again. “Let me ask you this one last question.”
I was a playmaker. A player who controlled the flow of the team’s play, I make passes that lead to goals.
Pointing his finger towards his head, he continued his question. “Imagine you are at the finals of the World Cup…”
He let us picture the scenario for his question.
“Playing under the eyes of 80,000 spectators in the stadium. You,” he steadily pointed at us. “Are on that very field. The score is 0 to 0. It’s the overtime of the second half.”
I could see myself exhausted. Highly alert to everything, from the hot gazes on my person to the sweat flowing down my temple. The time kept ticking and ticking.
“The very last play, a teammate has managed to pass the ball to you,” he added. “It’s a 1-on-1 with the GK. There’s a teammate 6 metres to your right. If you pass it to them, you most likely score that goal…”
“The hopes and expectations of all of Japan lie on your shoulders, you are at a turning point at the World Cup’s finals…”
Only such crazy egoists would shoot without hesitation.
He was unneeded to continue further. He stepped to the side and the wall behind him began to open.
In the dark dark room, the blinding light from that hidden door contrasted like a sealed door to a brighter future in football history. An opportunity.
“If you know the answer…step through the gate, you unpolished gems.”
As the wall continued to open wider and wider, the light simultaneously became even brighter. Blinding even. I felt breathless. It was suffocating.
He spoke again. “I’ll say this for the last time. Loud and clear.”
“Football is a sport to develop you all as strikers. Think of it being simply, everyone else on the field is supporting you.”
The thought and idea of teammates to opponents were supports to my win was— stimulating .
I took a peek at the female players beside me. They to me were still obstacles rather than chess pieces to use to my wins. Was there fault in my current mindset?
“Now, throw away your common sense. ‘Cuz on the field, you are the leading act.”
‘Win or not to win. Use or not to use. Ego or no ego.’
“Take pleasure in your own goals above everything else, and nothing else,” Ego proclaimed. “You live for the excitement and only for that very moment.”
Something didn’t seem right.
“Now, isn’t that…” he stared at us with a haunting smile. “What it means to be a striker, don’t you think?”
I was a midfielder.
‘I couldn’t envision if I shoot or pass to the teammate. But I want to win regardless of the process.’
What was my ego then?
I stepped closer to the light.
Can this Blue Lock help break the chains harnessed by stereotypes and expectations placed on me?