Blue Lock: Phantom Striker

The cold early morning air nipped at Isagi's skin as he walked toward the meeting place. His makeshift soccer ball, the one he had crafted from scraps, was stuffed inside his hoodie pocket. A reminder of where he had come from.

The city streets were nearly empty at this hour, but the closer he got to his destination, the more he felt an unfamiliar energy in the air.

When he finally arrived, his breath caught in his throat.

A massive, open lot stretched before him, illuminated by rows of tall floodlights. And standing there, scattered in groups, were hundreds of people.

299 others.

Every single one of them had come here for the same reason.

To become the best striker in Japan.

Isagi's fingers twitched at his sides. He had never been around so many players before. Some were stretching, others talking in hushed voices, and some, like him, stood silently, eyes sharp and analyzing their surroundings.

He wasn't naive. This wasn't some friendly competition. This was war.

And then, a voice cut through the tense air like a blade.

"Good evening, unpolished gems."

A massive screen flickered to life in front of them, revealing the sharp, calculating gaze of Jinpachi Ego.

The murmurs died instantly.

Ego adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. "You are here because you think you have what it takes to be the greatest striker Japan has ever seen. But let me make one thing clear."

His eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

"Football is a game of ego."

A hushed silence fell over the players.

Ego continued. "The world's best strikers...the ones who etch their names into history.....do not care about teamwork. They do not care about anything but scoring goals. If you want to be that kind of player, then Blue Lock is for you. If not, there's the door."

Nobody moved.

"Good," Ego said, smirking. "Now get in the buses. We're going to Blue Lock."

The bus ride was silent.

Isagi sat near the window, staring out at the early rays of sun which was just peeking through the clouds, as the city blurred past.

The tension in the air was thick. Some players looked nervous, others confident, and a few looked downright smug.

He ignored them.

His mind kept replaying Ego's words.

"Football is a game of ego."

It went against everything he had been taught. Pass to your teammates. Work together. Play for the team.

But was that really the truth?

Had teamwork ever saved him when he was starving on the streets?

No.

It was those who took what they wanted who survived.

And he was ready to take everything.

The bus came to a stop.

They had arrived.

The Blue Lock facility was a towering fortress of steel and glass, stretching into the night sky like something out of a dystopian novel.

Isagi stepped off the bus, his heartbeat quickening.

This place was unlike anything he had ever seen.

It wasn't just a training ground. It was a battlefield.

Inside, a young woman with short brown hair and determined eyes stood waiting.

Anri Teieri.

She was standing behind a long counter, neatly stacked with blue jerseys.

"Line up," she instructed, her voice firm but not unkind. "I'll be giving you your jerseys and room assignments."

One by one, players stepped forward, collecting their assigned numbers.

When it was Isagi's turn, she handed him a jersey.

"Number 300."

The lowest number.

The last-ranked player.

He clenched his fist around the fabric.

Anri studied him for a moment. "You're Isagi Yoichi, right?"

He nodded.

She hesitated before asking, "Why did you accept Ego's offer?"

Isagi's grip on his jersey tightened.

He could have given her a simple answer. He could have told her it was for a better life, for a chance to escape the streets, for survival.

But that wasn't the real reason.

His lips curled into a small smirk as he met her gaze.

"Because I want to steal my future back."

Anri's eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn't expected that answer. But then, slowly, she smiled.

"Good answer."

She gestured toward the hallway. "Your room is down that corridor. Team Z's dormitory."

Isagi nodded and walked forward, his steps steady, his mind sharp.

There was no turning back now.

The moment he stepped into Team Z's room, he froze.

It was not what he had expected.

Bunk beds lined the walls, and a handful of players were already inside, claiming their spaces.

A shared room.

Isagi's lips thinned. He had been prepared for training, competition, even brutal elimination matches.

But sharing a room with his rivals?

That was a whole new level of psychological warfare.

He scanned the faces around him. Some players were talking, others were sizing each other up. A few looked completely uninterested in anything but sleep.

And then, a voice broke through the tension.

"Yo! You must be the last guy!"

A blonde-haired boy with a confident grin walked up to him, extending a hand.

"Name's Bachira Meguru! What's yours?"

Isagi hesitated before shaking his hand. "Isagi Yoichi."

Bachira's grin widened. "Cool! Looks like we're teammates."

Teammates.

Isagi glanced down at the 300 printed on his jersey.

That word didn't mean anything.

Not yet.

Because in Blue Lock, there were no teammates.

Only rivals.

And if he wanted to survive, he would have to prove that even the last-ranked player could become the best.

He took a deep breath and stepped further into the room.

The game had begun.

And he was ready.

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Hi Guys and Girls. The reason I am uploading 2 chapters everyday is because I have exams next week. So I may( emphasis on "may") not be able to upload next week. But don't worry guys, I am not going to abandon my brain child. I have been planning this since long ago, so I AM going to see this to the end. Kudos :)