In November, Tokyo’s air held a biting chill, yet it couldn’t mask the sultry, bustling energy emanating from this forest of steel.
Shibuya—the busiest intersection in all of Japan.
Crowds moved like woven fabric.
The moment the traffic light turned from red to green, thousands of people surged forward like cans of different colored paint poured together, sharing a strange sense of order amidst the chaos.
Isagi Yoichi wore a simple beige hooded sweatshirt under a black down vest.
Hands tucked into his pockets, he strolled along the edge of this human torrent.
He took a deep breath of the air—a mixture of exhaust fumes, perfume, fast-food fried chicken, and dust.
“So this is…
the outside world.”
Having stayed in that enclosed space of Blue Lock filled with concrete, disinfectant, and the reek of sweat for so long, Isagi had almost forgotten this bustling noise belonging to “normal society.” Looking at the uniform-clad high school couples chatting and laughing around him, and the office workers hurrying past with briefcases, a intense sense of unreality surged in his heart.
It had clearly only been a few months since he left, yet it felt as though a century had passed.
He raised his head, his gaze drawn to the massive QFRONT screen in front of Shibuya Station.
On the display, a promotional video was playing for the Shibuya Incident arc of the hottest anime of the moment, Jujutsu Kaisen.
In the footage, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer named Gojo Satoru took off his blindfold, revealing those “Six Eyes” that seemed capable of seeing through everything, his domineering line echoing across the street:
“It’s fine.
After all, I’m the strongest.”
Isagi stared blankly at the scene.
For some reason, looking at that character who possessed overwhelming power—so strong he was targeted for sealing—another figure involuntarily surfaced in his mind.
That man who stood in front of the goal, using the same wild and arrogant tone to say, “You bunch of trash.”
And the look in that man’s eyes in the locker room, as if he had seen through everyone’s destiny.
“Rin Kazuki…” Isagi let out a bitter smile and shook his head, attempting to shake that devilish shadow out of his mind.
“It’s a rare day off, so don’t go thinking about that pressure monster.”
“Heeey—!
Isagi—!
Over here, over here!”
An energetic voice pierced through the noisy crowd.
Isagi looked in the direction of the sound.
Not far away, in the corner of an open-air cafe, a hand was raised high, waving wildly like a beckoning cat.
That iconic black hair with yellow streaks, along with that perpetually carefree smile on his face—who else could it be but Bachira Meguru?
And beside Bachira sat a handsome youth with long red hair, looking as elegant as if he were posing for a fashion magazine cover—Chigiri Hyoma.
“Ah, found them.” The corners of Isagi’s mouth tilted up involuntarily as he quickly walked through the crowd toward them.
In front of Bachira stood a massive drink piled high with whipped cream and colorful sprinkles.
He held a long spoon, gesturing excitedly with it.
“Isagi!
You’re finally here!” Bachira pushed the glass forward, stars sparkling in his eyes.
“Quick, try this!
It’s this shop’s limited edition new item—’Ultra Delicious So Good You’ll Fly Honey Sweet Cream Cocoa Latte’!”
“The kind where even ants would drop dead on the spot from the sweetness!” Bachira added proudly with a thumbs-up.
“Hah…” Sitting nearby elegantly holding a cup of black coffee, Chigiri Hyoma rolled his eyes, letting out a helpless sigh.
“That’s typical kid taste.
I really don’t know what your tastebuds are made of to be able to chug down that lethal dose of sugar water.”
“Eh?
That’s because you don’t know how to appreciate it, Princess!” Bachira countered with a grin as he stirred that lump of cream that looked like solidified fat with his spoon.
“Only by replenishing enough sugar can the ‘monster’ inside my body stay happy.”
“No thanks, Bachira, I’ll just take an iced Americano.” Isagi quickly waved his hand in refusal, pulling out a chair to sit down.
“Tsk, Isagi doesn’t know what’s good either,” Bachira muttered, before taking a big sip from the straw and making a face so blissfully happy it looked like he was melting.
Resurrected!”
Looking at his two good friends, Isagi’s tense nerves completely relaxed.
He looked around and asked with some confusion: “Is it just the three of us?
I remember quite a few people were tagged in the group chat, right?”
“Well…” Chigiri set down his coffee cup, crossing his slender legs with an elegant posture, and said nonchalantly, “We originally invited that loudmouth Raichi and Niko, but they didn’t come.”
“What about Hiori Yo?” Isagi asked.
Chigiri shrugged.
“He said his hometown was too far away, so he’s just playing games at home.”
“And, and!” Bachira interrupted, a ring of white cream stuck to his lips like Santa Claus.
“That bald chestnut…
he said his family temple has a religious service to perform this season, so his old man dragged him off as forced labor to beat the wooden fish.
He even sent a selfie of his bald head—it killed me laughing.”
“I can totally picture that scene…” Isagi couldn’t help laughing out loud.
“As for that wild man Gagamaru…” Chigiri put on an indescribable expression.
“The phone couldn’t connect, out of service area.
Supposedly he locked himself away deep in the mountains to cultivate, probably fighting a bear right now.”
“What a bunch of unique guys,” Isagi remarked.
“Then what about the last person?
I remember you called him too, right?”
“You mean Nagi?”
Isagi pulled out his phone.
The screen displayed a Line message he had just received.
Sent time was one minute ago.
Nagi Seishiro: [Just woke up.]
Attached below was a lazy emoji of a small white bear lying on the ground refusing to move, with the caption: “So tired, want to die.”
“This guy…” Isagi held his forehead helplessly.
“It’s already twelve noon, and he just woke up.”
The three looked at one another and burst out laughing in unison.
Their laughter echoed down the noisy street, carrying the clear brilliance belonging to seventeen- and eighteen-year-old boys.
Without that suffocatingly enclosed building, without the nerves that had to be kept taut at all times, without that Rin Kazuki who ruled over the goal like a tyrant, they had finally reclaimed a sliver of joy belonging to ordinary high school students.
Isagi leaned back against the chair’s backrest, taking a massive stretch, his joints popping with crisp snaps.
“Ah—!
Long-awaited freedom, this is truly amazing!”
He narrowed his eyes, gazing at the blue sky overhead cut into geometric shapes by the high-rises, marveling from the bottom of his heart.
“Yeah.” Chigiri took a gentle sip of his bitter black coffee, his gaze softening.
“It feels like coming back to the human world from hell.
My leg needs some proper maintenance too.”
“Any place without that ‘dark-circled four-eyes’ and ‘poison-tongued goalkeeper’ is paradise!” Bachira lay on the table, playing with a coaster.
At the mention of “poison-tongued goalkeeper,” the originally relaxed atmosphere suddenly experienced a subtle pause.
Isagi pulled back his gaze, taking his phone out of his pocket and swiping open a social media app.
“Speaking of which…
did you guys see the news?
About our match against the U-20.”
The moment those words came out, the expressions on both Chigiri and Bachira’s faces became somewhat complex.
“Of course we did.” Chigiri set down his cup, a trace of unwillingness in his tone.
“Among the top ten trending topics on Twitter right now, three are about Blue Lock.
But…”
Clips of that match were everywhere on the screen.
However, what made his mood complex was that the focus of most media outlets and netizens wasn’t completely on them, the strikers who had run themselves ragged.
Short video clips were being retweeted like crazy.
In the videos, Kazuki grabbed high balls with a single hand, his eyes filled with disdain; Kazuki pointed at Shuto Sendo, mocking him; Kazuki blocked countless guaranteed goals on the goal line like a Thousand-Hand Buddha.
The style of the comment section was even more absurdly hilarious:
[@CaptainTsubasaTaro: My god!
Who is that goalkeeper?
Way too handsome!
That aura of playing the U-20 and the strikers like monkeys is straight-up unreal!]
[@ShibuyaGal: Don’t know much about football, but the way that goalkeeper guy curses is so hot!
Is “trash” directed at me?
*pant pant*~]
[@ProAnalystTanaka: Even though Blue Lock won, doesn’t this prove the iron law that “defense wins championships”?
Ego Jinpachi’s so-called “Egoist Striker” theory ultimately required a god-tier keeper to cover their asses to avoid flipping the boat.
What a massive irony.]
[@PasserbyEgg: Need that keeper’s Twitter handle!
I want to watch him stream himself roasting people!]
“You see that, right?” Isagi showed the phone screen to the two with a bitter smile.
“Even though I scored that final winning goal, and even though everyone fought like crazy…
in the eyes of the outside world, the main character of that match was undoubtedly Rin Kazuki.”
Isagi looked at the snapshot of Kazuki on his phone screen—in the photo, Kazuki was looking down at the camera, his eyes brimming with contempt for all living beings, as if saying “you are all garbage.”
“To be honest, it’s pretty frustrating.”
Isagi gripped his phone tighter, his knuckles turning slightly white.
“That feeling…
it’s like we put everything we had into performing a grand show, only for all the audience’s applause to be given to the guy standing in the back ‘just playing around’ when the curtains fell.”
“And…” Isagi recalled Kazuki’s precise predictions and technique.
“The most terrifying part is that even if we did it all over again, if he’s still in goal, I still wouldn’t be one hundred percent confident I could break through his hands.”
The air grew a bit heavier.
Yet that heavy atmosphere didn’t last long; replacing it were three pairs of eyes gradually igniting with fire.
“But because of that, doesn’t it make things way more interesting?”
Bachira suddenly burst out laughing, pointing a spoon covered in cream toward the sky.
“The stronger that guy is, the better it feels when we beat him!
If he could be crossed over so easily, he wouldn’t be qualified to be a friend to the ‘monster’ in my heart.”
Isagi took a deep breath, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Shibuya’s din remained, and Gojo Satoru on the giant screen was still displaying his invincible posture.
Yet Isagi’s mindset had changed.
The frustration of having his spotlight stolen transformed into a purer form of hunger.
“Ah, exactly.”
Isagi raised his iced Americano, holding it up as if making a toast.
“Even though the whole world is talking about that ‘goalkeeper’ right now, as long as we prove our value in the upcoming ‘Neo Egoist League’ and prove that we are the main characters on the pitch…”
“When that time comes, we definitely have to make that guy put on a ‘frustrated’ expression.”
“Cheers!”
Three glasses tapped lightly in the air.
“Cheers—to taking down Rin Kazuki!” Bachira cheered.
“To surpassing him,” Chigiri smiled gently.