Blue Lock: Reborn As Isagi

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Today was my last match for my Japanese youth team. I wasn't sad or excited because it wasn't like I made any important memories here. I mean half the time (way more than that) I wasn't even trying so for anyone to say that I would disregard the blood sweat and tears I put into this team would be extremely incorrect. 

To be honest, I preferred moving this way because I could become the best. Sometimes I just hope I won't be too overpowered for blue lock. But you know, why should I wait for others to get to my level? At the end of the day, I was going to be triumphant. 

In the past few weeks, my ambidextrous training was going nicely and I was nearly on the level I wanted to be on. The only thing I needed to work on was getting out all the habits of favouring one leg in a situation. All I needed to do was just ingrain my hard work into fruit. 

My psychological training in football was still in its elementary stage. I was just working on getting a base before working on other stuff like how they would move in certain situations etc. This was my hardest project so far so I wasn't hasty. As they say, slow and steady wins the race. 

I was currently sitting in the car. My dad was in the driving seat and my mom was next to him in the front seat. I was sitting at the back, but contrary to what others might say I enjoyed being at the back. 

For one, it was the safest place in the entire car, not to mention I didn't have to buckle up my seatbelt for the car to move. Plus there was far more space here than in the front. There wasn't a single reason not to sit here (unless you were the driver). 

"We are here Yoichi," my father said with a grin on his face as he entered the parking area. 

"This will be my last match dad, I'm going to score a lot of goals!" I said. Usually,y I average about two or one goals a match. But today I would be going all out to show them the difference between someone who could make it to the big leagues. 

I wanted to act like a chill and not a caring guy but I still had that childish mentality to prove myself. I don't know why but sometimes I have this urge to kind of bend my plans. So when I said I would limit my meta-vision I ended up using it more than I wanted it to. 

Did the scouts realize that? Maybe a requirement for being a youth recruiter was the ability to use meta-vision or something. I think due to watching so many matches closely they can use the broken ability without realizing it.

"A lot of goals you say? If you score 10 I'll give you ten thousand yen!" My father says. 

"Hey don't spoil him too much! When was the last time you gave me that amount of money!" My mother whines. 

"He's going to pay me back a thousandfold when he becomes a star, aren't you Yoichi!" My father replies. 

I looked at him with a dry expression. Did he take me as some kind of bank with insane levels of interest?!

Either way, it is an unwritten law that footballers have to give an insane amount of money to their families. I would follow that rule as well. 

"Well, you are right but I'm going to France so ten thousand yen isn't a big bonus for me," I said with a cheeky tint to it. 

"Enough chatter, Yuu-chan you've got a game to play and some goals to score!!!" 

I sighed at my ever-positive mother. I just wanted to leave a lasting impression, get out of this shitty track-suit I have and put on the PXG one and fly to France. 

After a few drills and being instructed on our position, we were finally ready to play. Kick-off started and the ball was passed to me. 

The opposing team was coming in with the heat. As they started to surround us, I think they thought I would be scared of three players coming straight at me. 

However, I could just make a simple one-two with my teammate and get out of the situation, but when you watch so many Messi clips you eventually become him. 

As they started approaching me I could hear the panic voices of my teammates urging me to pass it back but I aired out the irrelevant cries. I went straight to them as the first player was approaching. I did a few step-overs and got out of his range. 

The next two players were coming in pairs so I did a la croqueta to get out of the danger. They seemed to pause in their tracks as I got past them. Another came to stop my run but..

I passed the ball to one of my teammates who was being marked, which would seem like a stupid thing to do but this was all due to my meta-vision working. 

After passing to him the player who had come to stop me lessened up meaning that I had time to get into an open area where the player's field of view would be. I knew that he wouldn't want to risk losing the ball in such a dangerous area so seeing how I was open he passed it immediately. 

I couldn't help but smirk. It was like controlling chess pieces on a chessboard. Sometimes I couldn't just think that this was too easy. 

As soon as the ball reached my leg I realized the final third. Meaning that I was at a shooting range. So I decided to shoot but a player was coming towards me so I switched it to a fake shot before using my other leg (right) to shoot it. 

I aimed it right into the right corner, it was an interesting curling finesse shot. However, the keeper got his fingertips to it meaning that the perfect placement of the ball was redirected. It went out for a corner. 

"FUCKKKK!!" I yelled out in frustration. My team came up to say it was a good shot and stuff like "unlucky" or "next time". If that was the World Cup final then there would be no next time and being unlucky wouldn't cut it. I don't care if it was a good shot, I just want to score. 

The winger said he wanted to take the corner but I intercepted him saying I would take it. He didn't seem to mind and went towards the inside of the penalty area. 

I placed the ball and looked carefully at the positioning of the goalkeeper. He was more focused on the players than me right now. I needed to seize the opportunity so with that I took a swirling kick. 

It seemed to be going in a straight line but all of a sudden it started to curl this disoriented the goalkeeper meaning that he wasn't able to move. 

**GOALLL*** 

I wasn't even celebrating. I had only 1 goal against a random Japanese team that wasn't even world-class. It was just one of the tally goals to add to my collections. It may seem a bit smug but still.

Only people like Sae Itoshi could excite me in a match. When you are pushed to your limit. Even so, Sae Itoshi taught me to be careful of my chances and that those opportunities shouldn't be taken lightly. 

"Is there really only one person in this country that could make me happy," I muttered. My team seemed to swarm around me. I felt like Lebron with all the glaze I was getting from these random teammates. 

Later in the future, they would probably be flexing to their friends and children about how they used to play with me. Probably like "We used to be on the same level". 

The game restarted and the other team started with the ball. One of the players seemed to be controlling the game. 

The speed of the game was in his control. Every pass was calculated, and every movement was rational. I thought it was meta-vision but it was just some lesser version. If he could be cultivated then he had the potential to get meta-vision. 

He played like Niko, it was a surprise that I'd never heard of him before. He was starting to be a nuisance because he allowed his team to keep possession for longer than I wanted. It made me a bit annoyed but also a little bit excited. I've been waiting for a thrill ever since facing Sae. 

When my team got the ball from an opposing player I went to open space to try and make them pass the ball but I was quickly shut down by the Niko 2.0. At Least that's what he thinks. 

The problem with his ability is that he can only control his movements to get the ball. Even though he helps his team get possession for much longer he can only focus on one player. That is the weakness of his vision. The inability to multitask will be the reason for his downfall. 

Due to him leaving his mark for me, the player he left was in a dangerous area which the person with the ball could see.

"I'm not one of the pawns you can use on the field," the guy whispered into my ear. I couldn't help but smile. 

"No point playing with you all when I have already hit a checkmate," I replied calmly but with an undertone of smugness. 

He seemed to be confused but it clicked inside of his head when he saw a pass coming towards the player he was marking. Not to mention he was inside a dangerous area with little to no defenders. 

A power shot sent the ball to the back of the net. The keeper couldn't react in time and the player who shot it went towards the other player who passed it giving him a huge high five. 

"How ignorant" 

"Indeed," I replied. 

Sometimes I wondered if I could really play with such idiots. They could have at least realized that I was responsible for everything. The pass and my movements were the reasons why I scored. I wasn't asking for recognition or gratitude, I just felt that it was a bit dumb that they didn't think that the goal was too easy. 

This was the entire reason why ego was important to me, next time I would shoot instead of letting them score again. 

With that, I went up to score 5 more goals in the first half. Pure insanity even for me. I went beyond my limits to achieve that, especially since that fake mastermind was sometimes a nuisance. He was evolving during the match. 

Sometimes I wondered if the original Isagi had reincarnated inside of this man or something. 

The second half was when I truly locked in. I scored a super goal.

I used three step-overs to get past two players then a sombrero flick to get past another. Nutmegged the last player and chipped the goalkeeper. 

That was a goal truly worth celebrating because I hadn't used meta-vision in that one and just my ambidexterity and insane athletic ability. 

I also scored a goal like the one Sae Itoshi scored from the blue lock. I was on fire. 

At this point, I felt like Sae Itoshi was beginning to be the foundation of my life. Soon enough, it would be the other way round when I devoured him in the Champions League. 

I ended up scoring 4 goals. Meaning that I had completed my dad's bet. I grinned at him in the stand watching him cry as he looked at his wallet. 

A mischievous grin appeared on my face, my mom on the other hand looked like a proud mother going around saying that the star player was her son. 

The game ended 13-2 to our team. The only reason the three goals were scored was because of my decision in the first half to create a goal. And the other in the second half because I was bored of scoring. 

This solidified my confidence that I was ready to face whatever challenge Erupue and the rest of the world would put against me. I walked out of the football and into the changing area. 

After doing stuff like going to the changing room and being given man of the match, I was met by my parents in the car park. 

My mom was really happy while my dad had a fake sad face. I knew deep down that he wanted to give me the money. 

"Just give me my money!" I said in a sing-song voice. 

"Great game out there Yuu-chan! Are you really only motivated by money?" My mother asked. I couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Not exactly I want to be the best in the world, showing that conviction in my last game in Japan was just me saying I am better than you… and I wanted to see the face of Dad after scoring ten goals!" I happily chirped. 

"You'll get the money after you get home, either what a great game. Hopefully, you can do this every time you play in France!" My dad said. 

Needless to say, the car drive home was pleasant with a lot of chatter and glazing from my parents. 

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Charles Chevalier had been at PXG for three weeks, and he was already certain of one thing: this place was insane. Not regular, run-of-the-mill insane, like someone putting pineapple on pizza, but full-blown, why-is-there-a-guy-doing-cartwheels-instead-of-dribbling insane.

And yet, Charles had convinced himself that he belonged here. Why? Because Charles Chevalier was destined for greatness—or at least that's what his reflection told him every morning as he whispered, "Magnifique," while winking at the mirror.

The team itself was a menagerie of lunatics. On day one, Charles met Hugo, a defender whose idea of intimidation was growling like a bear at opposing forwards. It worked—Hugo once made a guy cry during a friendly. Then there was Pierre, who refused to pass the ball until he delivered a motivational speech to it. Charles had heard more pep talks directed at footballs in three weeks than he had in his entire life.

"Why do you do that?" Charles asked Pierre after one particularly long soliloquy.

"The ball needs to feel loved," Pierre replied solemnly.

"Yes, and I need to feel sane," Charles muttered.

Still, Charles knew he had to make his mark. On his first day, he scored a goal during a scrimmage, ran to the corner flag, and struck a pose that he had practised in the mirror the night before. When no one applauded, he shouted, "You're welcome!" and pointed at the crowd of zero people watching.

By week two, Charles had established himself as the team's resident diva. He refused to play on wet grass ("It's a crime against my boots!"), insisted that his locker be positioned at a perfect 45-degree angle to the mirror, and brought a mini speaker to the pitch so he could warm up to the sound of classical music.

"Is that… Beethoven?" Hugo asked one day.

"Yes," Charles replied, juggling a ball. "Because like me, he was a genius who understood the beauty of chaos."

"Didn't he go deaf?"

"And yet, still better than you at football," Charles shot back with a smirk.

Life at PXG wasn't just bizarre; it was exhausting. Every day, Charles witnessed something that made him question reality. One morning, he saw a goalkeeper practising by catching medicine balls instead of footballs. When Charles asked why, the keeper replied, "Because regular balls are for cowards."

"Ah, of course," Charles said, backing away slowly.

But the real chaos began in week three when the whispers started.

"A new player is joining the team," Pierre said one day during lunch, leaning in like he was sharing state secrets.

Charles, who had been inspecting his reflection in the back of his spoon, didn't even look up. "Unless this new player is a stylist here to fix your haircut, I'm not interested."

"No, really," Pierre insisted. "They say he's a prodigy from Japan."

"A prodigy?" Charles snorted. "What is he, 12 years old? Does he still need a permission slip to travel?"

Pierre ignored him. "They say he's a forward with insane skills. Tactical genius. Like, next-level stuff."

Charles groaned. "Ugh, why does everyone think being smart is impressive? You know what's impressive? Scoring a goal and still looking flawless for the post-game interview." He ran a hand through his golden locks for emphasis.

But the rumours kept spreading. Every day, there was a new, ridiculous claim about this mystery player.

"They say he can see the entire pitch at once," Hugo said one morning.

"Like he has eyes in the back of his head?" Charles asked. "What is he, a football-playing owl?"

"They also say he once scored a hat trick in three minutes," Pierre added.

"Pfft. Please," Charles scoffed. "I could score a hat trick in two minutes. I just don't want to make the rest of you feel bad."

By midweek, Charles was fed up. Everywhere he turned, it was, "The prodigy this," and, "The prodigy that." The final straw came during a team meeting when the coach casually mentioned that the Japanese player would be arriving "soon."

"Is he bringing sushi for everyone, or…?" Charles asked, raising his hand like an annoyed student.

The coach sighed. "No, Chevalier."

"Shame," Charles said, leaning back in his chair. "I could go for some tempura."

That night, Charles tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. It wasn't jealousy. No, Charles Chevalier didn't get jealous. It was… something else. Something worse.

"What if he's actually good?" Charles muttered to himself in his room, pacing back and forth. "What if he takes my spotlight? What if he's better looking than me? No, impossible. What if he's just slightly worse-looking? That's even worse!"

To distract himself, Charles decided to throw himself into training. He arrived the next morning with a mission: remind everyone who the real star was. His warm-up routine involved juggling three balls at once, dribbling around cones while reciting poetry and finishing with a dramatic slide that ripped his training pants.

"Was that necessary?" Pierre asked, watching Charles limp off the grass.

"Yes," Charles replied, "because greatness requires sacrifices. And new pants."

During the scrimmage, Charles was everywhere. He scored twice, celebrated with a knee slide (wearing his backup pants this time), and shouted, "Are you not entertained?" when one of his shots hit the crossbar. He even tried a rainbow flick during a tackle, which ended with him face-planting into the turf.

"Don't worry!" he shouted from the ground. "It was intentional!"

By the end of the session, Charles was drenched in sweat but grinning like a maniac. He had made his point: no Japanese prodigy—or anyone else—was going to steal his crown.

Or so he thought.

As he walked off the pitch, he overheard two teammates talking.

"Did you hear?" one of them said. "The prodigy's not just a genius. He's also super humble."

Charles froze. "Humble?" he muttered to himself. "What kind of prodigy is humble? That's so… tacky."

And so, Charles spent the rest of the week preparing for the arrival of this mysterious new player. Not by studying game film or working on his tactics, but by practising new goal celebrations, rehearsing clever one-liners, and, of course, perfecting his hair.

Because if there was one thing Charles Chevalier knew, it was this: when the prodigy finally arrived, he wouldn't just be meeting a teammate.