Blue Lock: Phantom Striker

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chatter of players gathered in clusters, eating, laughing, and discussing strategies. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat and steaming rice, but for Isagi, food was the last thing on his mind.

He sat with Bachira, Kunigami, and Chigiri at one of the tables, their plates half-empty as they discussed their upcoming match against Team V. The stakes were different now. Both teams had already secured their spots in the next selection, but for Isagi, this wasn't just about qualification.

This was about proving something.

His grip tightened around his chopsticks.

He was going to crush Nagi Seishiro and Mikage Reo.

As if on cue, the very duo he had been thinking about strolled into the cafeteria. Reo was chatting animatedly while Nagi walked beside him, eyes half-lidded as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

Their presence alone was enough to turn heads. Team V was the only undefeated squad besides them left in their bracket, their dominance unquestioned. And at the heart of that dominance was Nagi, the lazy genius who made everything look effortless.

Isagi exhaled, focusing on his food, but fate had other plans.

Reo spotted them first. "Oh? Team Z is here too?" He smirked, his usual confidence shining through.

Nagi, on the other hand, let out a long yawn and stretched his arms. "Ugh, I wanna go back to my room already. This is such a pain…" His sleepy eyes settled on Isagi.

"Hey, Isagi," Nagi said, almost too casually. "You should just give up on the match."

Isagi paused mid-bite. "What?"

Nagi took a seat at the table beside them, resting his chin on his hand. "I mean, I watched your games. You guys barely made it through. Even against Team W, it was pretty much luck, right?" He let out another lazy sigh. "Honestly, there's no way you're beating us. Just forfeit and save yourself the trouble."

Bachira raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. "Oho, is that so?"

Kunigami scowled. "Tch. You sure talk big."

Chigiri remained silent, but his crimson eyes burned with irritation.

But it was Isagi who spoke next.

And he didn't hold back.

"You're pathetic."

Nagi blinked. "Huh?"

Isagi leaned forward, his voice sharp as a blade. "You think just because you're talented, you can look down on us? That's the mindset of a loser."

Nagi scratched his head, seemingly unfazed. "I just don't see the point of trying too hard. If something's easy for me, why should I bother pushing myself?"

Isagi's eyes darkened. "Because people like you are worthless in the end."

The entire table went silent. Even Reo's usual smirk faltered.

Isagi continued, his tone unwavering. "People who rely only on their talent and refuse to work hard don't deserve to stand on the field. You sit there, yawning, acting like everything's a chore. But what happens when you finally meet someone you can't beat effortlessly?"

Nagi frowned.

"You crumble." Isagi's voice was cold, unrelenting. "Because you've never struggled. Because you've never pushed past your limits. Because you've never fought tooth and nail to survive. You're just a lazy genius who's never known what it means to truly want something."

He stood up, stepping closer to Nagi.

"You think we should give up?" Isagi scoffed. "You're dead wrong." His eyes burned with determination. "I don't care if we've both already qualified. When we step onto that field, I'm going to crush you."

Nagi's fingers twitched. For the first time, there was a flicker of something behind those tired eyes.

Isagi took another step forward. "And when I'm done, you're going to regret ever qualifying for the next round. I'll make sure of it."

The weight of his words hung in the air.

Then, without another word, Isagi turned away and walked off, leaving Nagi and Reo frozen in place.

That night, sleep came easier than expected. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the confrontation. Either way, Isagi soon found himself drifting into a dream. A dream that felt more vivid than reality itself.

He was a child again.

The air was crisp and sweet with the scent of spring. A gentle breeze swayed the yellow and pink cherry blossoms that lined the narrow cobblestone streets. The petals danced through the air, landing softly on the ground like fallen stars.

His parents walked ahead of him, their hands intertwined.

"Mom… Dad?" Isagi's voice felt small, his body light.

His mother turned, smiling warmly. "Come on, Yoichi. Let's walk together."

He hurried forward, falling into step beside them. The warmth of their presence wrapped around him like a blanket. It had been so long since he'd seen them, not through a phone call, not through memories, but like this.

"Where are we?" he asked.

His father chuckled. "Just a little place we visited one spring." He gestured to the blossoms. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Isagi nodded. The world around them felt like a painting, soft and serene.

They walked for a while in peaceful silence before his mother spoke again.

"Yoichi," she said gently. "I know you want to be the best. I know how much you love football."

He turned to her, listening intently.

"But no matter how far you go, no matter how successful you become… don't forget your roots."

His father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your talent, your ambition, those are wonderful things. But the people who stand by you, the ones who support you, the ones who love you… they're just as important."

His mother nodded. "Remember to take care of them. To stay connected. Because no matter how high you climb, no matter how many goals you score, at the end of the day, you'll want people to share those victories with."

The petals swirled around them, filling the air with color.

Isagi's heart clenched.

He wanted to tell them everything. About Blue Lock. About his struggles. About the fire burning inside him.

But as he reached out to touch them, 

They faded.

Isagi's eyes snapped open.

For a moment, he lay still, staring at the ceiling. His heartbeat was steady, his mind clear. The warmth of the dream still lingered, wrapping around him like an old childhood memory.

Slowly, he sat up.

Something inside him felt different.

A strange mix of peace and determination.

His parents' words echoed in his mind.

"No matter how successful you become, don't forget your roots."

He clenched his fists.

Even in this cutthroat competition, he wasn't alone. Bachira, Kunigami, Chigiri… his team. They were more than just rivals.

And most important of all.... Miko...his imouto.

They were his people.