Blue Lock: Phantom Striker

The moment had finally arrived.

The members of Team Z sat in a loose circle inside their shared room, a mixture of nervous energy and silent tension filling the air. Their first match in Blue Lock was only a few hours away, and the weight of the moment pressed down on all of them.

Eleven players. One goal. But no unity.

Isagi Yoichi leaned back against the cold metal wall, his sharp blue eyes scanning the faces of his so-called "teammates."

Meguru Bachira. The playful dribbler who saw football as a game of instinct.

Rensuke Kunigami. The righteous powerhouse, built like a warrior but bound by his morals.

Hyoma Chigiri. A silent storm. His sharp gaze hinted at something deeper, something restrained.

Gagamaru Gin, Imamura Yudai, Naruhaya Asahi, Iemon Okuhito, Raichi Jingo, Igarashi Gurimu, and Kuroda Takeshi.

And then, standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed with a permanent scowl.

Raichi Jingo.

The self-proclaimed leader of the team.

"Listen up, you bunch of losers!" Raichi barked, his rough voice slicing through the tense air. "I don't give a damn what you all think, but I'm calling it right now. I'm going to be the striker for this game."

Kunigami exhaled through his nose. "And what if we disagree?"

Raichi's lip curled. "We settle it like men. Rock, Paper, Scissors."

Silence.

It was stupid. Childish.

But at the same time, it was the only way to prevent an all-out fight.

One by one, they played.

And in the end, Raichi won.

A smug grin stretched across his face. "Hah! Looks like fate chose the right guy!"

Isagi, still leaning against the wall, narrowed his eyes.

"This guy… he's going to be a problem."

The Blue Lock stadium was massive, a steel coliseum towering over the lush green field.

At the far end stood their opponents, Team X.

Isagi barely glanced at most of them.

Because his focus was locked onto one person.

A player stood at the center of Team X's lineup, unmoving, like a king before battle.

Shoei Barou.

His dark hair was slicked back, his muscular frame barely concealed by his jersey. His red eyes burned with something absolute.

Isagi felt something foreign crawl down his spine.

Barou wasn't just standing there.

He was declaring his presence.

"This guy… doesn't believe he's the best."

"He knows he is."

The whistle blew.

Raichi exploded forward like a bull, his cleats digging into the turf.

"Move it, you damn extras! I'm gonna score the first goal!"

Kunigami ran alongside him, jaw clenched. "Raichi, pass the ball!"

"Shut up! I got this!"

Isagi narrowed his eyes.

"You idiot."

Within seconds, Team X's defenders collapsed on him.

Raichi, blinded by his own arrogance, charged forward straight into a trap.

One defender lunged with a precise slide tackle, knocking the ball loose. Another swooped in instantly, launching the perfect counterattack.

And waiting just behind them...

Barou.

Isagi's breath hitched.

"He's waiting for it."

The moment the ball touched Barou's foot, Isagi knew.

This wasn't just an attack.

This was a slaughter.

BOOM.

A cannonball shot tore through the air.

The ball screamed into the top corner of the net.

1-0.

Dead silence.

Then, Barou turned and stared directly at them.

His voice was low, a growl of absolute disdain.

"Pathetic."

Raichi's fists clenched, his face twisting in rage. "That was just luck, bastard!"

Kunigami inhaled sharply. "No, it wasn't."

Isagi exhaled, his fingers curling.

"That wasn't luck."

"That was dominance."

The match restarted.

And Raichi, furious, humiliated, did the same thing again.

Rushing forward. Refusing to pass. Losing the ball.

The moment he failed, the entire team collapsed into chaos.

Kunigami tried to maintain order.

But no one listened.

No one cooperated.

Every player became desperate.

Fighting, scrambling. Selfish.

And on the other side, Barou thrived.

He didn't need teammates.

He was the team.

And once again

BOOM!

The net rippled.

2-0.

As the whistle for halftime blew, Team Z walked back in silence.

And Barou, passing by, uttered two words.

"This field belongs to me."

Isagi sat on the bench, his chin resting on his hands.

But unlike the others, he wasn't frustrated.

He wasn't angry.

He was thinking.

Watching.

Studying.

"This is just like stealing."

For years, he had survived in the shadows.

Observing. Learning. Adapting.

Watching the way people moved, the way their hands twitched when nervous, the way they gripped their belongings just a little tighter when afraid of losing them.

And right now, his teammates were losing control.

Wasting energy.

Fighting without thinking.

Barou, on the other hand, he was waiting.

Not forcing the game.

Not chasing the ball.

He was hunting.

And the moment the chance appeared, he took it.

A slow smirk formed on Isagi's lips.

"This isn't about controlling the game."

"This is about knowing when to take it."

The second half was approaching.

And for the first time since the match started—Isagi was ready to hunt.