“Cheers—to taking down Rin Kazuki!”
Three glasses filled with different drinks clinked together crisply in the air, the sound resonating like a battle horn signaling the boys’ declaration of war.
Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, and Chigiri Hyoma shared a smile.
In this instant, the gloom brought about by having their spotlight stolen by Rin Kazuki was largely dissipated by this pure, youthful spirit.
However, just as they were about to enjoy this rare afternoon leisure, a strange conversation overheard from the neighboring table abruptly drifted into Isagi’s ears.
“…So, even though the semiconductor sector looks strong right now, I believe the next big trend lies in combining biotechnology with the metaverse concept.
Mikage Corporation’s last quarterly financial report shows that cash flow allocation needs to be a bit more aggressive.”
“Mm…
a sharp insight indeed.
But if you apply that logic to ‘market value,’ shouldn’t the risk assessment model be adjusted accordingly?
After all, not all blue-chip stocks can maintain endless growth.”
“Hmph, no matter how the market shifts, there is only one unshakeable truth—whether it is ‘Glam’ enough.
An unglamorous rally isn’t even worth holding.”
Isagi’s hand holding his iced Americano froze mid-air.
Why did these voices sound so incredibly familiar?
“Hey, hey, Isagi, look over there!”
Bachira had clearly noticed as well.
With a spoon dangling from his mouth and his eyes wide open, he pointed toward the large table mostly hidden behind a parasol, looking as if he had just discovered a new continent.
Isagi and Chigiri followed the direction Bachira was pointing.
Sitting around that long table was a group of teenagers who, despite not wearing football jerseys, still stood out like sore thumbs due to their extraordinary height and unique presence.
The one wearing round-framed glasses, a turtleneck sweater, and staring intently at a stock K-line chart on his tablet was Yukimiya Kenyu, known for his high rank among the strikers.
The one with the signature white-streaked hair, spinning a pen in his hand with a seemingly flippant yet sharp gaze, was the ninja-like striker Otoya Eita.
The one speaking in a Kansai dialect, gesturing smoothly into thin air as he held court, was Karasu Tabito, known as the “Assassin.”
And sitting front and center in the C-position, dressed in a designer casual suit and practically radiating the aura of a wealthy young master, was none other than Mikage Reo.
Beside them were two others with completely contrasting styles—one was frantically fixing his bangs in front of his phone screen while striking various JoJo poses, Aryu Jyubei; the other was huddled in the corner of his chair, shivering like a frightened little rabbit despite his bulging muscles, Tokimitsu Aoshi.
“Woah!
Everyone’s here!”
Before Isagi could even react, Bachira had already darted over like a Golden Retriever spotting its own kind, clutching his massive cream-filled drink.
“Yahoo—!
Hey guys!”
Everyone raised their heads one after another.
“Oh?
If it isn’t Bachira, Isagi, and Chigiri.” Mikage Reo was the first to react, putting on a polished social smile.
“What a coincidence, you guys came over here too?”
“Total coincidence!” Bachira grabbed a chair without a shred of hesitation, squeezing himself right between Karasu Tabito and Otoya Eita.
“What are so many of you gathered together for?
Holding a tactical strategy meeting?
Or discussing how to assassinate that poison-tongued goalkeeper?”
Isagi and Chigiri walked over with their drinks, greeting everyone politely before taking their seats.
Hearing Bachira’s question, Mikage Reo shrugged, pointing at the dense data charts on the tablet before him, his tone as light as if discussing today’s nice weather.
“Nothing special, just a regular ‘Asset Growth and Future Planning Seminar.'”
“Huh?” Isagi’s eyes widened.
“A stock…
seminar?”
“Yeah.” Reo rested his chin on one hand while his other hand practiced swiping across the screen.
“Since that guy Ego mentioned that the next phase is the ‘Neo Egoist League’ where world-class clubs will be bidding on us, as professional players, understanding capital operations and managing our personal commercial value in advance is a required course, right?
“Exactly.” Beside him, Karasu Tabito pushed up his nonexistent glasses, his expression resembling that of a calculating strategist.
“You have to see through the ‘essence’ of everything.
Playing football is to win, winning brings money, and having money means investing.
This is a crucial topic regarding the ‘future.’ If a group like us doesn’t plan early, things will get pretty grim after retirement.”
“No, no, no, Karasu, your vision is still too narrow.”
Aryu Jyubei suddenly interjected, flicking his silky long hair back violently as he struck a dazzling pose, pointing toward the sky.
“This is not merely a meeting about money; this is a cutting-edge summit regarding ‘aesthetics’ and ‘fashion trends.’ My stance is that if a club’s kit isn’t ‘Osha’ enough, even if they pay all the money in the world, it is a desecration to my person.”
*That’s just your personal meeting!* Isagi couldn’t help silently roasting him in his mind.
At that moment, Tokimitsu Aoshi, who had been huddling in the corner the whole time, raised his hand weakly, his voice trembling: “I…
I just felt that if I didn’t come, I’d be abandoned by everyone…
and then, because I couldn’t keep up with the pace of the times, I’d turn into a total loser…
and end up dying alone…
Ugh, it’s too terrifying, so I just came to observe…”
*The awareness of these guys…
isn’t it way too high?!*
Looking at this table of people, Isagi received a massive shock to his soul.
Just look at them!
Even though they had all just finished the same hellish special training and were enjoying a rare break…
The three of them on his side were still drinking sweet drinks like elementary schoolers, swearing to defeat the final boss.
Yet the group over here was already discussing asset allocation, career planning, personal brand building, and…
well, although some weird elements of fashion and anxiety had gotten mixed in, overall it sounded straight-up like a gathering of successful elites!
Is this the off-pitch professionalism of top-tier players?!
“Um…
though I don’t want to interrupt your high-end summit,” Chigiri Hyoma looked at the complex numbers on the tablet, feeling a bit dizzy, “isn’t today a break?
Don’t you think you’re being a bit too tight?”
“I think so too.” Yukimiya Kenyu pushed up his dark glasses, smiling gently.
“Though Reo’s analysis is indeed very interesting.
Besides, it feels nice for everyone to gather around, even if we aren’t talking about football.”
“Right!” Bachira swung his legs back and forth.
“Since we rarely get to hang out, we should play to our heart’s content!
Since we all ran into each other, why don’t we go do something together later?
Karaoke?
Bowling?
Or go get some monjayaki?”
“As long as it’s ‘Osha’ enough, I have no objections,” Aryu Jyubei stated.
“Me too…
as long as I’m not left alone…” Tokimitsu Aoshi added softly.
“Speaking of which, Isagi.”
Reo asked seemingly casually.
“Is Nagi…
not with you guys?”
Hearing that name, everyone present fell quiet for a brief moment.
As everyone knew, ever since Nagi Seishiro chose Isagi Yoichi and “abandoned” Reo during the Second Selection, the relationship between the two had become somewhat delicate.
Isagi froze for a second, then quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Ah, Nagi…
I’m actually having a headache over him too.”
Isagi helplessly swiped open his screen, displaying it for Reo to see.
“We originally agreed to meet up, but first that guy overslept, and just now he sent a message saying…”
Isagi read out the latest text:
“[Walked past an arcade, saw a limited edition retro arcade cabinet for P-47, and it looks like there’s an ultra-rare figure claw machine too.
Gotta go play for a bit.
Will be a little late (maybe a lot late).]”
Below the text was still that familiar small white bear emoji—this time, the small white bear was clutching a game controller, putting on a slacker face that read “don’t want to work, just want to play games.”
“…”
The entire table fell into a brief silence.
Immediately after, several black lines hung neatly across everyone’s foreheads.
“Ha…” Mikage Reo let out a long sigh, resting his face in one hand.
“I knew it…
without someone keeping an eye on him, the moment that guy runs into a game he’s interested in or a pillow, he instantly loses all motivation to move.”
“In that case…”
Bachira suddenly leaped up from his chair, a mischievous glint sparkling in his golden eyes.
“Since everyone is free, and that guy Nagi stood us up…”
The corners of Bachira’s mouth curled up high as he pointed toward the other end of Shibuya’s bustling street.
“We have only one objective now!”
“Full squad deploy!
Heading to the arcade to ‘capture’ that game-addicted white sloth!”
The moment this proposal was voiced, the somewhat heavy atmosphere of the “seminar” instantly grew lively.
“Ho?
Sounds pretty interesting.” Otoya Eita raised an eyebrow.
“Infiltration and capture?
Now that’s a ninja’s specialty.”
“Since it’s a competition, I can’t afford to lose.” Yukimiya Kenyu snapped his tablet closed, a trace of competitiveness added to his smile.
“I want to go!
I want to go!” Tokimitsu Aoshi seemed to find comfort in this group activity.
“As long as I can just follow everyone!”
“I really can’t do anything with you guys.”
Reo stood up, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket and regaining his young master swagger with a grand wave of his hand.
“Since it’s decided, let’s move.”
“Operation Codename—’Save the Shut-In.'”
“Roger!”
Looking at this group of elites who were just discussing stocks and the future moments ago, now getting excited like a bunch of genuine high schoolers over a childish game…
Isagi smiled.
Perhaps this was what they were really like right now.
Before becoming “Egoists” in that cruel world, before facing that mountain named Rin Kazuki…
This was perhaps their final, carefree carnival.
“Let’s go!”
Isagi tucked away his phone and followed the main group as they charged grandly toward the arcade deep in the heart of Shibuya.
And at this moment, Nagi Seishiro—pressed up against a claw machine, staring dead at the limited edition figure inside—had no idea that a capture team named the “Blue Lock All-Stars” was rapidly closing in on him.