One day after the Prefectural Final.
Isagi Yoichi was a celebrity. Or at least, that's what it felt like in the hallways of Ichinan High School.
"Good morning, Ace!"
"Hey Isagi! You were amazing yesterday!"
"We're going to Nationals! It's crazy!"
Girls giggled as he walked by. Guys slapped his back. Even the teachers gave him nodding smiles. Isagi walked through it all with a polite, fake smile plastered on his face.
Thank you, he said. Yeah, we did it.
But inside his head, his mind was a frozen tundra.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Isagi looked at his teammates—Tada, the Captain, the others. They were walking with their chests puffed out, acting like kings.
You guys are garbage, Isagi thought, his eyes scanning their walking patterns. Tada, your first touch is heavy. Captain, you have zero vision. We won yesterday because I dragged your sorry carcasses across the finish line. In the Nationals, against real teams like Aomori Yamada or Bastard Munchen's youth, we will get slaughtered.
He sat at his desk, staring out the window. The victory felt empty. He had conquered the prefecture, but he felt like a shark stuck in a goldfish bowl. He needed more. He needed players who could actually see what he saw.
When he got home that evening, the house was quiet. His parents were in the kitchen, looking nervous.
"Yoichi," his mom said, holding a white envelope. "This came for you. It's from the... Japan Football Union."
Isagi blinked. The JFU?
He took the envelope. It was heavy. Expensive paper.
He tore it open.
"To Isagi Yoichi. regarding the 'Blue Lock' Player Improvement Project."
It wasn't an invitation to a youth camp. It wasn't a scholarship. The wording was strange. It sounded like a summons.
"Are you in trouble?" his dad asked, worried.
"No," Isagi muttered, his eyes narrowing as he read the location. "I think... I think I'm being challenged."
The next day. Japan Football Union HQ.
Isagi stood in front of the massive building. He wore his Ichinan High uniform, but he felt out of place. Not because he was intimidated, but because the air here smelled different. It smelled like money and bureaucracy.
"Isagi Yoichi?"
A voice cut through the noise of the city. Isagi turned.
Standing there, looking like a model who had just stepped off a runway, was Ryosuke Kira. The guy Isagi had humiliated yesterday.
"Kira," Isagi said, his voice bored. "What are you doing here? This is for winners."
Kira's perfect smile twitched. A vein popped on his forehead.
"Don't get cocky just because you got one lucky goal, Isagi. I was invited too. My individual stats were top-tier, even if my team lost."
"Individual stats?" Isagi laughed. It was a cold, dry sound. "Stats are for people who can't control the game. I controlled the field. I controlled you."
Kira stepped forward, fists clenched. "You little—"
"Hey, stop blocking the entrance."
A massive, muscular boy with orange hair walked past them. Kunigami Rensuke. He looked like a superhero. Behind him was a monk with a shaved head, and a weird guy with black and yellow hair who was humming to himself.
Isagi ignored Kira and followed them inside.
Let's see what this is about.
They walked into a massive, dark room. It looked like a warehouse.
There were people everywhere. Hundreds of them. All high school students. All strikers.
Isagi's eyes immediately went into Metavision mode. He scanned the room.
300 people. All forwards. Why? Where are the midfielders? The defenders?
"Testing, testing. Mike check. One, two."
Bright lights blinded them. At the front of the room, on a stage, a skinny man with glasses and a bowl cut stood like a weirdo. He held a microphone lazily. Behind him was a woman holding a tablet.
"Congratulations, you unpolished gems," the man said. His voice was scratchy and rude. "I am Ego Jinpachi. I've been hired to destroy Japanese football... in order to rebuild it."
The crowd murmured.
"Destroy?"
"Who is this guy?"
Ego continued, his eyes wide and crazy. "Japan has good teamwork. Japan has good passes. But Japan sucks at one thing. We don't have a Striker. We don't have a monster who can score when the world is ending. I am here to create the world's greatest Egoist."
He pointed a long, bony finger at the crowd.
"There are 300 of you. I will lock you in this facility, 'Blue Lock'. You will live together. You will eat together. And you will destroy each other. Only one of you will survive to become the striker for the National Team. The other 299... your careers will end."
The room exploded.
"What?!"
"You're crazy!"
"We have Nationals coming up! We can't just quit our teams!"
Ryosuke Kira stepped forward, raising his hand. "Excuse me! This is nonsense. My team is relying on me. I am the Jewel of Japan. I can't abandon them for some cryptic survival game."
Ego sneered. "Jewel of Japan? Hah. You're just a weakling who hides behind the word 'teamwork' because you're scared to take the shot yourself."
"Take that back!" Kira yelled.
Isagi stood silently in the middle of the chaos. His heart was pounding.
Not from fear.
From excitement.
He gets it, Isagi thought. This skinny weirdo... he sees the grid too.
Ego's words resonated with the darkness inside Isagi. The darkness that hated passing to Tada. The darkness that wanted to devour the field.
"Throw away your common sense!" Ego shouted. "Look at the screen! Messi. Ronaldo. Noel Noa. Ask them if they care about teamwork. No! They care about their goals! They live for their own ego! If you want to be the best, you have to be a maniac!"
Ego pointed to the door behind him. It opened, revealing a blinding white light.
"If you have the guts to throw away your mediocre high school life... step through this door. Abandon your teams. Abandon your friends. Come and become the best."
The crowd hesitated. Everyone was scared.
Ryosuke Kira was shaking, conflicted.
Isagi Yoichi didn't hesitate.
He started walking.
"Isagi?!" Kira gasped. "What are you doing? We have Nationals! Ichinan is waiting for you! You're the hero!"
Isagi stopped. He turned his head slightly, looking at Kira over his shoulder. His eyes were glowing with a blue aura that only he could feel.
"Nationals?" Isagi scoffed. "Playing with those amateurs? Listening to my coach talk about 'friendship' while I do all the work?"
He turned his body fully toward the door.
"I'm done carrying trash. I'm going to a place where I can devour real food."
Isagi took the first step.
He ran.
He sprinted toward the light.
"Wait!" Bachira Meguru, the weird guy, laughed and ran after him. "He looks fun!"
"Dammit!" Kunigami grit his teeth and ran too.
The dam broke. The herd followed. Even Kira, teeth clenched in fury, ran toward the door.
"I won't let you beat me again, Isagi!"
Isagi entered the blinding light of Blue Lock. The heavy steel doors slammed shut behind them.
Welcome to hell, Isagi thought, a twisted smile forming on his lips. Finally. A game worth playing.