The salty breeze from the beach near Saitama Province carried with it the strong scent of the sea and the constant sound of waves crashing against the sand.
It was late summer; the sun was already tilting in the sky, gilding the horizon, but the heat still punished the bodies of those who dared to move on that improvised field—a sand court marked by lines drawn with feet and two goals made of branches and ropes.
There, ten youths ran as if the world depended on it, and one of them was Isagi.
Sweat streamed down his forehead, slid along his chin, and dripped onto the hot sand.
His messy hair was damp, sticking to his skin, but his eyes shone with an emotion difficult to describe.
They were winning 6–1.
He had never imagined that soccer could be this fun!
The sensation of playing, of dominating the field and crushing the opposing team… that selfish, almost primitive pleasure was intoxicating.
It was so intense that he felt like an addict, always wanting more…..
It had only been a week since he arrived in that world, five days since he started going to the gym, and two days since that “attempted homicide” by Alya, when she had almost landed a kick on him.
Even so, he couldn’t have been more satisfied with this opportunity.
There was, of course, something strange about the reborn Isagi—too much talent and a life that felt more like that of a romantic comedy protagonist.
Still, he didn’t care….
In just five days, his body had already evolved drastically, reaching a physical level two or even three times higher than before.
His height had increased slightly, and each day he discovered new pieces of the puzzle that was himself—skills and abilities he hadn’t known before, or had only vaguely suspected.
This constant search fascinated him.
Little by little, he was falling in love with his own curiosity, with the process of exploring his limits and discovering how far he could go…..
“One more, Isagi!” shouted one of his teammates, panting, snapping him out of his thoughts as he passed the ball.
But even before the warning, Isagi was already in motion.
The nearest opponent tried to anticipate his move, staring at the ball as if he could hypnotize it.
A useless illusion.
In the next instant, Isagi slightly turned his body to the left, feigning an advance on that side.
The opponent completely fell for the feint—he took a hurried step, stretched his leg, and at that exact moment, Isagi was already sliding to the right, the ball glued to his feet as if it were part of him.
The fooled boy sprawled onto the sand, kicking up a small whirlwind of golden grains.
Around them, as had been happening in recent days, there was an audience—onlookers who always stopped to watch when Isagi played.
And, as expected, the reaction was immediate.
“Did you see that?!
He broke that guy’s ankles!” “You can’t mark this kid!” Isagi didn’t react.
To him, those voices were just background noise, distant like the sound of the sea.
His focus was entirely on the target: the improvised goal on the other side of the court.
Two defenders advanced together to intercept him, forming a double barrier.
The intention was clear—to pressure from both sides, close the space, and force him to retreat.
It was an effective strategy against ordinary players.
He slowed down for a brief moment, allowing them to believe they had a chance.
Then, with a subtle touch, he lifted the ball off the sand.
Both lunged forward, trying to block the shot—but instead of finishing, Isagi simply raised his left foot and, with an almost casual motion, chipped the ball over them.
The ball rose into the air, tracing a clean and precise arc.
The defenders turned their heads, stunned.
By the time they realized it, Isagi had already shot past them, accelerating like a bullet.
He reached the ball before it fell and, without any setup, twisted his body midair.
His right foot met the ball with surgical precision.
Boooom!
The sound echoed across the beach, momentarily drowning out even the crashing waves.
The ball cut through the air like a comet and slammed into the improvised net, giving the goalkeeper no chance.
“GOOOOOAL!” The shout erupted from all sides.
The goalkeeper dropped to his knees, incredulous.
“Impossible… he doesn’t miss a shot.
No matter where from, no matter how… he always finds the net.” Isagi raised his fist, breathing deeply.
Sweat ran down his face, but his eyes remained sharp, hungry.
The opponents, however, were not willing to give up so easily.
The rival team’s captain, a muscular young man with dyed blond hair, gathered his teammates at the center of the court.
“Either we mark this guy, or it’s going to be a massacre!” he growled, clenching his teeth.
“Two on him at all times!
Don’t let him breathe!” They nodded, even though the shadow of defeat was already evident.
The ball started rolling again.
And, as if it were inevitable, it ended up at Isagi’s feet.
The double marking began immediately.
Two defenders surrounded him, sticking close like shadows, preventing any direct advance.
The audience held its breath, curious to see how he would handle it.
Isagi smirked.
“That’s it?
You think you can stop me like this?” With his back to the markers, he controlled the ball with his heel, keeping it close to the sand.
One of them attempted a tackle; Isagi turned his body and shielded the ball.
The other advanced right after, stretching his leg.
In theory, there was no space at all.
But theory meant nothing in front of him.
With a sudden spin, he slipped between the two, dragging the ball with the tip of his left foot.
It was so fast it looked like a trick—one moment he was surrounded, the next he was gone.
By the time they realized it, he was already several meters ahead.
The blond captain stepped forward, the last obstacle before the goal.
“You’re not getting past now!” he roared.
Isagi’s smile widened.
He positioned his body as if he were going to shoot with his right.
The captain took the bait and jumped to block.
At that exact moment, Isagi switched legs and struck with his left, without hesitation.
The ball shot out low, fast, impossible to track.
Isagi scored two more goals in succession—one a volley, capitalizing on an unlikely cross, and another after stealing the ball at midfield and driving through alone.
With less than ten minutes remaining, he received the ball again.
This time, he decided to play.
Instead of finishing directly, he began dribbling past them one by one.
He beat the first with a sharp touch.
The second fell to an improvised flick.
The third tried to stop him physically, but Isagi executed a clean roulette, spinning fluidly.
When he faced the goalkeeper, he didn’t shoot immediately.
He made three short touches, making the opponent hesitate, lost between left and right.
Then, with a light toe poke, he pushed the ball into the net.
The final whistle came shortly after.
The rivals collapsed onto the sand, defeated—some covering their faces, others laughing nervously.
Isagi stood still, breathing deeply.
He had truly improved over the past few days.
The training routine at the gym, combined with running on the beach, had rapidly elevated his physical condition.
And, taking advantage of those beach runs, he began playing with the youths who frequented the area for fun, turning casual matches into part of his routine.
But that wasn’t enough!
He wanted to get better!
He set himself a goal to reach the level of the New Gen when the Blue Lock project began in one or two months!
.
.
.
.
.
The next day, after classes, after walking down the hallway, Isagi knocked on the door of the room he had been called to.
Upon opening it, he met the eyes of Yuki Suou, the same one who had sent him a message shortly before he went to soccer club practice.
Since she had said it was urgent, he dropped everything and came immediately to see what it was about…..
Yuki was crouched in front of a shelf, organizing some equipment.
As soon as she saw him, she broke into a radiant smile, like a flower blooming.
Lightly holding her skirt, she stood up carefully.
“Isagi!
Come here, come here!” she called, her voice sweet, almost sing-song, as she ran toward him.
The way she behaved was clearly acted—overly cute, very different from her usual elegance and refined manners.
Anyone else at school would probably be shocked to see her like that, but Isagi only smiled faintly and decided to play along.
Aside from her brother, he was practically the only one with whom Yuki acted this way.
“Sorry, Yuki.
I hope I didn’t keep you waiting!” he said, in a lightly teasing tone as he approached.
“Well, you came!
I’ve been waiting for you for sooo long!
♪” “Hey!
You’re supposed to say: ‘Not at all.
I just got here too.'” “You two are quite close.” Isagi froze instantly upon hearing the cold voice from the other side of the shelf.
His expression remained controlled, but he turned toward the sound.
Among the stacked equipment, Alisa’s blue eyes were watching him.
“Oh, Alya.
I didn’t know you were here.” “Well, excuse me for being here.” “No, it’s fine.
Ha-ha…” Isagi forced a smile while discreetly casting a protesting glance at Yuki.
She, in turn, simply tilted her head as if she didn’t understand anything, maintaining a graceful smile worthy of an impeccable lady.
Little trickster… He felt a strong urge to teach that little one a lesson.
Instead, he cleared his throat lightly and decided to move forward with the situation.
“Ahem… So…?
You wanted my help organizing the equipment?” “Yes, there’s a lot for us to do alone.
Do you think you could help us?” “Sure… I guess.
I just have the feeling I’m being used, you know.” “That’s all in your head.” “Yeah… I’m not so sure about that.” Isagi and Yuki continued exchanging light banter as they walked to the back of the room.
“Ready to start, Alya?” “Ready….” Alisa replied, without even taking her eyes off the equipment on the shelf.
Isagi gave a strained smile at her response as he took the list Yuki handed him.
“Anyway, could you start with this?” she asked….
“Folding tables and chairs… You want me to count them and check if any are broken, right?
Got it….” Isagi replied, already approaching the pile.
He paused briefly before continuing: “By the way, this has been bothering me since middle school… is this really student council work?” “I have no idea….” Yuki replied naturally.
“But it helps a lot to have a clear idea of the equipment and supplies available for events.” “I get it… but it still seems like too much work for just two girls.” “The president should arrive soon to help… but he’s been very busy, so I don’t know how long that will take.” “Ah… I see.” Isagi got straight to work, once again realizing how understaffed the student council was.
He checked whether the number of folding chairs and tables matched the list, separating those with torn cushions, damaged legs, or any other defects.
“I’m impressed.
You still have what it takes.” “Yeah, you know me.” Even tired from the demanding routine of the past few days, Isagi was careful not to show it.
He continued working efficiently while receiving Yuki’s praise, unaware that Alisa was discreetly watching him from the back.
“Isagi, can you give me a hand?” Yuki asked suddenly, behind him.
“Hmm?” He turned and found her pointing to a cardboard box on the highest shelf, with a slightly concerned expression.
Being shorter than average, it was natural that she had trouble reaching it alone.
Now it makes sense… he thought.
That’s what she needed help for.
Approaching, Isagi reached the shelf and brought the box down with ease.
“Thanks, Isagi.” “No problem… Hmm?
What’s this?” Noticing small colorful boxes under the slightly open lid, he opened the cardboard out of curiosity and found several games.
“Cards, board games… what is all this?” “This used to belong to the board games club before it was shut down a few years ago…” Yuki explained.
“Now everything is school property, since it was purchased with the club’s budget.” “Ah… so the school still lends these out?” “Yes.
Although most students don’t even know they exist.” “I can imagine.
Who would use this?” “Maybe in a booth during the school festival… or in some club activity.
I even played some with the new student council members at the welcome party recently.” “Oh?
And who won?” “Uh… I think it was me.” “Figures.” “And who came second—” “Less talking and more working, you two.” “Oh, right.
Sorry, Alya.” “My bad.” They straightened up after being reprimanded by Alisa, ended the conversation, and returned to their tasks.
From that moment on, the only thing on Isagi’s mind was work.
Silence took over the room for the next few minutes.
Only the sound of boxes being moved and the scratching of graphite on paper filled the air—until Alisa murmured something in Russian: “Обрати внимание и на меня.” (Pay attention to me too.) It hit Isagi like a critical strike straight to the heart—a surprise attack, extremely effective.
Even so, he clenched his teeth, trying to maintain composure as a strange sensation ran down his spine.
Alisa, on the other hand, seemed to savor the situation.
She had a habit of saying embarrassing things under the assumption that no one would understand.
In other words, it shouldn’t be taken literally… and reacting would only make things worse.
“Обрати внимание на меня!
Посмотри на меня!
Говори со мной!” (Pay attention to me!
Look at me!
Talk to me!) The pressure increased with each whisper.
Isagi was already starting to struggle to ignore it.
It was getting to the point where it was impossible not to consider that, at least in part, it reflected what she truly felt at that moment.
How can she say all that so easily…?
Does she really have no shame?
He complained mentally, but the truth was that Alisa was far from calm as well.
She herself was struggling against her own embarrassment.
Crouched in front of the shelf, she kept her focus on the work, but her eyes kept drifting toward Isagi’s back from time to time, even believing he didn’t understand a single word.
Even so, there was a certain relief in seeing him act normally, as if nothing was happening.
They continued working side by side.
“Обрати внимание на меня!
На меня!” (Pay attention to me!
Me!) Isagi felt a strong temptation to simply admit that he understood Russian and observe her reaction upon discovering that he had understood every embarrassing word she had said… Wait… since when did he find that embarrassing?
He frowned slightly, almost irritated with himself.
In another situation—or rather, with the mindset he remembered having before—he would probably find it merely provocative, at most curious.
But now… that exaggerated reaction, this almost juvenile discomfort… Had living a week in that world, combined with the memories of the old “Isagi,” been enough to shape his perception to this extent?
He let out an almost imperceptible sigh, adjusting his posture as he continued working.
“Alya, is everything okay?” Yuki asked from the doorway, unaware of the strange tension between the two.
Alisa’s heart raced for a moment, but she quickly recomposed her expression, adopting a light tone.
“Oh, sorry.
I was just humming a little tune.” “Я не разговаривал с вами.” (I wasn’t talking to you.) Isagi’s eyebrow twitched subtly.
He forced a natural tone as he replied: “O-oh… a Russian song, huh?
What’s it called?” Alisa turned to him quickly.
It might have been his imagination, but there was a trace of satisfaction in her gaze—as if she had gotten exactly the reaction she wanted.
That possibility alone was enough to unsettle him slightly.
“It’s called…” “You forgot the name?” “No, I remember.
It’s called… ‘An Unheard Feeling,'” she replied, slightly shy, with half-lidded eyes.
“Oh…” Isagi let out a low sigh.
Yuki approached him at that moment, her face slightly flushed, mixing curiosity and concern.
“Are you okay, Isagi?” He nodded, still catching his breath: “Yes… just a little tired.
But everything is under control.” _____________________ (A/N: First of all, thank you for reading this story.
Your support there also helps a lot in keeping the story updated consistently.
I hope you continue enjoying Isagi’s completely cursed new life in this crossover world.)