Blue Lock: Phantom Striker

Team Z, after a slow and chaotic start, had found its rhythm. Their offense, once fragmented, now moved with lethal precision. And at the heart of it all was Isagi, Bachira, and Kunigami. The newly formed Dynamic Trio.

Kunigami, possessing the strength of a warrior, was their blade. He powered through tackles and sent thunderous strikes toward the goal. Bachira, their magician, danced with the ball at his feet, weaving through defenders with effortless elegance. And Isagi? Isagi was the eyes, the strategist, the silent thief analyzing every movement.

Then the moment arrived.

Bachira twisted past a defender and found Isagi at the edge of the box. Without hesitation, Isagi flicked the ball to Kunigami, who, with all the force in his left leg, launched a missile into the net.

**GOAL!**

The scoreboard flickered: 3-3

A collective gasp swept through Team X. Their lead was gone. The once-composed defense stiffened, their movements growing erratic as they scrambled to counter the Trio's chemistry. They locked down passing lanes, suffocating every offensive option, forcing Team Z into a deadlock.

Isagi could feel it. The shift in momentum, the weight of anticipation. Every pass, every movement was scrutinized, denied before it could develop. Team X wasn't going to give them another chance so easily. He needed to find a way to break through.

And then it happened.

A deflected clearance dropped into his path, and he took off, sprinting toward the penalty area. His pulse hammered in his ears. Just a little further.....

BAM!

A brutal challenge from behind sent him crashing onto the turf. Pain flared through his leg, but he gritted his teeth as the referee's whistle screeched through the air.

Free kick.

Isagi pushed himself up, shaking off the ache. He set the ball down, his mind flashing to legendary free-kick takers. David Beckham, Andrea Pirlo. He envisioned the perfect shot. The angle. The power. The curve.

He took a deep breath. Then struck.

The ball soared over the wall, spinning toward the top corner.

CLANG!

The crossbar trembled, the ball ricocheting back into play. Isagi clenched his fists. He had executed it perfectly, so why had he failed?

Mere imitation wasn't enough.

As he stood there, an eerie stillness settled over him. His past clawed at the edges of his mind. The nights spent scavenging for food, the tiny stray puppy he had tried to care for, the gut-wrenching pain of watching it fade away because he had nothing to give.

Survival wasn't about copying. It was about taking what you had and forging something new.

A roar snapped him back to reality. Barou was charging forward, unleashing a monstrous shot.

Iemon dove. Fingers grazed the ball. A miraculous save!

The game wasn't over.

And then, opportunity struck.

A sloppy pass. A miscalculated move. Naruhaya, seizing the moment, intercepted and bolted forward. Isagi's muscles coiled, instincts kicking in as Naruhaya flicked the ball toward him.

Everything slowed.

The ghosts of his past whispered to him. The hunger. The desperation. The need to take.

With his entire being, he struck.

His body twisted mid-air, his foot connecting with the ball in a violent, downward motion. The shot exploded off his foot, a missile screaming toward the net.

A Pile Driver.

The goalkeeper barely had time to react. The ball slammed into the bottom corner with a ferocity that shook the net.

GOAL!

Silence.

Then,

The whistle blew. 4-3.

For a moment, Isagi stood frozen, his breath ragged. Then it hit him.

He hadn't just stolen this moment.

He had created it.

His teammates rushed toward him. Bachira practically tackled him, laughter bubbling from his throat. "That shot, Isagi! That was insane!"

Kunigami clapped him on the back, his eyes filled with newfound respect. "That wasn't luck. You planned that, didn't you?"

Isagi wiped the sweat from his brow, looking down at his trembling hands. But it wasn't exhaustion that made them shake.

It was exhilaration.

From the observation room, Ego smirked at the screen. "Interesting." His sharp eyes narrowed, watching as Isagi stood at the center of the celebration. "He's finally starting to understand."

Anri folded her arms. "He played well. But was that enough?"

Ego's grin widened. "Not yet. But he's learning."

As the dust settled and the echoes of victory faded, one thing became clear:

This was only the beginning.

After the match, the victorious Team Z was rewarded with a feast unlike anything they had seen in days. The scent of steaming rice, rich broth, and grilled meat filled the dining hall, making stomachs growl in anticipation. The players dug in without hesitation, celebrating their hard-fought win. Laughter echoed through the room, exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Isagi, though eating, found himself lost in thought. His mind drifted to a time before Blue Lock. Before all of this. A memory of a small girl selling keychains on the street surfaced in his mind. She was young, frail, but her hands moved with determination as she crafted delicate trinkets. She had always greeted him with a wide smile, calling him "Aniki" with admiration.

She barely made anything from selling them, but she poured her heart and soul into her work, much like how he had once played football. Not for glory, but for survival.

Back then, he used to share whatever little food he had with her. It wasn't much, but her gratitude had been immeasurable.

The memory gnawed at him. He still had one point left from his performance in the match. He could use it to secure more food.

Rising from his seat, he walked toward one of the staff members monitoring the facility. "I want to use my remaining point to get extra food," he said, his voice steady.

The official raised an eyebrow. "For yourself?"

Isagi shook his head. "No. I want it sent to someone outside. A little girl selling keychains near the station."

There was a moment of silence before the staff member nodded. "Understood."

Hours later, outside the walls of Blue Lock, a small girl sat hunched near the train station, her fingers working tirelessly on another keychain. The streets were cold, her earnings for the day barely enough for a meal.

Then, a man approached her, placing a steaming meal in front of her. "This is from someone who calls himself 'Aniki.'"

Her hands trembled as she took the food. Tears welled up in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks as she clutched the warm meal. "Aniki..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you. Arigatou..."

Back in Blue Lock, Isagi sat in his room, staring at the ceiling. He had won a game today, scored goals , secured his place more firmly in the program. But this, this moment of knowing she wouldn't go hungry tonight...felt like the greatest victory of all.