AS YOU and Kira made your way to the main building of the Union, the tall structure loomed ahead, enclosed by a sturdy black fence door. A pole next to the fence proudly displayed the label of the building: "Japan Football Union."

As you gaze up at the towering building, you can't help but feel a sense of awe. The structure seemed to stretch endlessly toward the sky, leaving you with a feeling of insignificance. After tearing your eyes away from the impressive sight, you turn your attention to the letter in your hand. 'This must be the correct address.' you think, feeling a surge of anticipation.

"Hey, aren't you Ichinan's Yoichi Isagi?"

Your attention snaps back to Kira as he walks away from you to approach a blue-haired guy about the same age. You vaguely recognize him as the same boy playing against Kira's team on Team Ichinan. Not to mention, he is pretty cute. You take note of his appearance as he sheepishly talks to Ryosuke. Big blue eyes that seem to shimmer underneath the sun, and silky midnight hair accompanied by a little sprout on his head—He's kind of a looker.

"[name]?"

"Ah—" You flinch. "Yeah?"

Kira giggles while Isagi, as you surmised, glances at you curiously, "Let's go."

"Oh!" you nod, face heating up with embarrassment. "Let's go."

Kira opens the door and waits for you and Isagi to enter. "This must be it..." Once you all enter, you discover that there are also other guys here. It was crawling with boys from all over Japan.

Your eyes scan the area in an attempt to survey them all. "Hey...I know some of them."

Isagi widens his eyes, "Whoa...it's so crowded..."

"I've seen some of these guys before..." Kira says in awe.

"That's Sennou's ace, Okawa."

"That's Ishikari, the tallest high schooler." He points to the tallest boy. "Oh!" Then he looks over at another boy.

"And Nishioka. The "Messi" of Aomori.'"

'Hm?' You think. 'Wait...is everyone here...a forward?'

Suddenly, your heart drops at a realization. 'Am I...the only girl here?'

You did not see any other women present.

The lights shut off. A mic resounds as well as a voice from the front. "Ehem...test...test...Congratulations, you unpolished lumps of talent."

The spotlight shines on a tall, lanky man as he faces the strikers.

"According to my judgment, the 300 of you are...the best strikers under eighteen." He stares them down blankly, sending shivers down the spines of some boys in the room. "My name is Jinpachi Ego." Ego places a hand on his chest gently. "I was hired to ensure Japan's victory."

The room buzzes with whispers.

"Hey," Kira nudges you and whispers, "Do you know him?"

You shake your head, "No clue, sorry. You, Isagi?"

"Not a clue." The blue boy is just as stunned.

Ego gestures outward, "I'll say this plainly. Only one thing is necessary for Japanese soccer to become the best in the world: the birth of a revolutionary striker...With the three hundred of you here...I will experiment to create the world's best striker." He points to the wall projection behind him. "In this facility created solely for that purpose. "BLUELOCK."

'Blue...Lock?' You stare at the screen projection behind the man. The concept is interesting, that's for sure.

"Starting today, you all will be living together while following the special training regime I've devised....You will not be able to go back home, and as of now, can consider your football career over. But I promise this—If you manage to survive in BlueLock and defeat the other 299 players around you...You, the last player standing...will have become the best striker in the world."

Ego stares down at everyone. "That concludes my explanation. Thank you."

Everyone was left speechless in disbelief.

Kira raises his hand, "Hey! Sorry, but...I can't agree with what you said just now."

'Ryosuke?' You and Isagi face your childhood friend.

"For most of us, our team is our main priority...Particularly those of us who'll participate at Nationals. There's no way I can accept those kinds of terms. I...I will not throw away my team." He finishes.

You can't help but crack a small smile at his confident attitude. Since childhood, Ryosuke's unwavering loyalty has been something that you've always admired about him. Even now, that steadfast loyalty continues to impress you, and it's something you're determined to earn.

'As always...he's standing up for others.'

"That's right...! I'm also playing at Nationals!"

"And why do we have to all live together...!"

"Yeah! Yeah!"

"Who the hell're you, anyway?!"

"Let's see someone that's not insane!"

Ego scratches his head, "I...see. All of you are messed up in the head, huh? Lock off. If you're thinking of leaving, go right ahead." He firmly finishes, shocking the rest, "Your teams are what now...? You'd choose your teams over becoming the best striker in the world...? You'd rather be a high school champ in this shithole of a country...? Huh? When I look at all of you, I cringe at the thought of Japan's future. It's enough to make a man weep."

'Huh...What?'

"You get it? Japan is the best country in the world when it comes to organizational skills in soccer, which most people attribute to our innate National character. But before you get any ideas, in everything else...We're second-rate. I want to know something...What is soccer to all of you? A sport where you try to score goals in teams of 11 members...?"

"Our bonds are important"? "I will play for my teammates"? Well, that's wrong. That way of thinking is exactly why Japan lacks soccer skills. I will show you what it's all about...Soccer is, at its core, a sport about scoring goals even at the expense of your teammates. The best player is the one that scores the most goals...If you want to play a friendly game with your pals instead, then lock off."

'What's with this guy...? He makes no sense...' You note, sweat dripping down your temple.

"How insulting. Take those words back..." Kira says, glaring at the male, "Players like Honda, Kagawa, and many others...All of those who shape the Japan National Team's lineup...The value of team play instilled in the National Team is the same that's a part of us! They are our heroes! You're wrong!"

Ego scratches his head, "Hm? Honda...? Kagawa...? Hmm...?" He grins, "You mean the squad that has yet to win a single World Cup? I don't care about that trash. I'm talking about becoming the best in the world."

"Let's talk about Noel Noa, for example. He managed to effortlessly win the Ballon d'Or over astounding players like Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. He's talked about as if he's the best striker in the world..."

Your eyes widen.

"And his words, "I feel better losing 3-4 after scoring a hat-trick than winning only by 1-0 with an assist" and, one of the best soccer players of the 20th century, Eric Cantona, said this—"When the seagulls follow the trawler, it's because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea"."

"Pele, arguably the best soccer player in history, and winner of three world cups, once said—"The best forward? The best midfielder? The best defender? The best goalkeeper? To all of those questions, I always answer: That is me"."

He bent his back, leaning backward. "Whaddaya think?! Awful, aren't they?! But they can say it because they are the best! All of them are revolutionary strikers!! Their extraordinary 'Egoism'... is the one thing Japan's soccer lacks."

"You will not become the greatest strikers in the world unless you have the ego to match."

"My purpose here is to create such a player in Japan..."

"From the corpses of 299 players, one hero will rise in all their glory!"

You shiver. 'A hero..?'

"Alright, you unpolished gems... Let me ask you one last question." He says, holding his pointer finger up before tapping his temples. "Imagine this... You are at the very finals of the World Cup... Playing under the eyes of 80,000 spectators in the stadium... You are on that very field... The score? 0-0. It's the stoppage time of the second half... The very last play. A teammate has managed to pass the ball to you... It's 1-on-1 with the goalkeeper. If you pass it to him, you'll probably score that goal..."

"The hopes of all of Japan lie on your shoulders... You are at a turning point at the World Cup finals... Without hesitation, you shoot if you desire that rebellious 'Egoism'..." The doors then open behind him. "Then step through the gate."

"I'll say it once more, loud and clear... Soccer is a sport to develop you all as strikers. Think of everyone else on the field as supporting you."

You gulp, feeling your heart accelerate at his claims. 'Main actor...? Egoism...what the heck? Can I even do this?' Your hesitation causes you to take a step backward.

"Throw away your common sense. When you're on the field, you are the star." Ego glances right into your soul. "No one else, but you."

You gasp.

"Your greatest joy is scoring points, and nothing else. You live for the excitement of that very moment."

"Now that's... a 'striker,' don't you think?" He grins.

Your eyes shake with pressure on what to do. 'I'm nothing...absolutely garbage! Why would I partake in something like—'

Someone zooms past you.

"Isagi...?!" Kira calls out, shocked.

As Jinpachi leads the way, you witness your new friend striding purposefully toward the door. His eyes shimmer with determination, and a newfound sense of purpose is evident in every step. Witnessing his resolve is truly inspiring, and you can feel your own heart quickening in response to the sight.

It seems you aren't the only one.

"Heck...! I'll go then...!"

"I'm going too!"

"Me too! I'll go too!"

You grasp Kira's arm tightly as the rowdy boys jostle past, but an insistent feeling in the pit of your stomach urges you to persevere. Despite your concerns and fears, you steel yourself and sprint forward with the throng, through the doorway, and into the heart of the formidable place that is now your residence.

While running past, you fail to see the evil smirk Ego is giving you.

'So...she decided to come after all. Let's see how you'll handle real competition, Ms. [Last Name].'

He adjusts his glasses, his grin widening further.

"300... Everyone decided to participate... It seems."

"So the gears have started to turn. From now on, I will follow your every order. The future of Japan's soccer is in those 300 players... I will leave this in your hands, Mr. Ego," Anri Teieri says, holding a stack of papers.

"...Perhaps we'll have to sacrifice 299 players for this... But that will create one true striker above them all. That's the essence of Blue Lock," he says, taking off the mic piece.

"It is..."

"Then let us begin, Ms. Anri... This will become... soccer's most critical point," he grins.

TIME PASSES and you are awoken by a gentle tap on the shoulder. You lift your head and see Ryosuke smiling at you. "Good afternoon, Sleepyhead. Sleep well?"

You gently rub your eyes to clear your blurred vision, the dim outline of the large facility coming into focus. "We're here?" you whisper to yourself. The awareness of being at the training camp sinks in, causing your stomach to churn and a swarm of butterflies to take flight within you. As your weariness dissipates, it gives way to a palpable sense of nervousness and anxiety that begins to envelop you.

Ryosuke senses this and pats your head, causing you to look back at him as you both exit the bus along with the other participants.

He smiles gently, "[name], you're a great player. You'll be just fine."

You crack a shaky grin. "T...Thanks."

Ryosuke looks around, "Wait...[name]. Are you the only woman here?"

'Seems that way...' You cry internally. "I think so."

He clenches your hand in his, a stern expression replacing his carefree and interested one. "Make sure to stay close to me, okay?"

You widen your eyes as a small blush creeps up your face. "Right."

What the heck is with him? He was never this protective. But it's nice to know you have someone among all these strangers.

As the time approached, a hush fell over the crowd and everyone started to form lines to retrieve their belongings from the staff. The staff diligently collected the boys' phones, wallets, and any other valuable items they had with them to not have anything interfere.

You and Kira go next and step up to a young lady with pinkish hair.

"Next up, [Last Name] [Name]." The woman calls out. You reach out to grab your outfit as you begrudgingly give up your phone and wallet.

'Goodbye, my sweet phone...you will be missed.'

Anri seems to notice your dejectedness and smiles. "Please head to your designated rooms."

You stare at the uniform and nod wordlessly, following your friend to your assigned room.

The stroll wasn't particularly lengthy, but it felt interminable owing to the overwhelming nervousness you were experiencing. Despite feeling incredibly anxious, you managed to conceal your emotions adeptly, ensuring that none of it was visible to others.

Once you enter the room, you immediately meet eyes with everyone staring at you. You flinch, looking down as you walk in. Their burning stares did not waver, if anything, they seemed to grow stronger once you opened the locker.

'How the heck am I supposed to change?!' You scout the area and find no other vacant room.

Did you have to head to the bathroom?

Where even is the bath?

As you gaze at the imposing locker, you notice its considerable size. It offers plenty of space inside, but surprisingly, there's only one hook for your school uniform. You can't help but let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, this will do," you mutter to yourself as you slide your belongings inside.

You step into the locker and close the door to change into the uniform the lady from earlier provided. As you slip it onto your body, you notice how light and airy it feels— like you have nothing on. The skin-tight outfit had a blue theme with lighter cerulean streaks decorating its exterior.

The in-build padding supporting your chest feels comfortable. Not too tight and not too loose.

On your right shoulder, a small white patch with the number "300" is embedded in the suit.

Stepping out of the protective cocoon of your locker, you breathe a sigh of relief as the penetrating gazes of the crowd leave you.

'Phew...they all seem to be doing their own things...'

"Excuse me~? Miss?"

As you blink, you find yourself staring at the young man standing before you. With a confident and self-assured expression, he nonchalantly slicks his hair back.

You hesitate, "Can I...help you?"

"I'm just wondering why such a stunning girl like you is stuck in a sweaty room with a bunch of guys," he smirks, "would you allow me to take you out sometime?"

You shake your head and bow, "No thanks. I'm not at all interested."

He stiffens. "But—"

"No...!"

Ryosuke and Isagi stare at the sullen boy who was just rejected.

You see the two and crack a small smile, waving slightly while standing against your locker. You squeeze your legs together and stand as rigid as possible. Relaxing at this moment is too much for you.

Really...you really hope you can get through this. This is all to pursue your dream.

"Are you done changing, you lumps of talent?"

"The others in your room are your roommates...and your rivals, who will push each other higher." Ego's wide, soulless eyes stare down at all of you in this room. You purse your lips together and brace yourself for what he is going to say.

"I've used my personal judgment to quantify your abilities...and rank you." Ego pulls up a hologram to dive into more detail. "That's the number displayed on your uniforms."

You gasp inwardly.

"Now anyone can tell with a glance at where you stand among all three hundred of you."

Your heart sinks and you fill with shock and shame as you gaze at your ranking with a sense of horror. It's like a harsh punch to the gut to know that you are dead last, at the number 300.

'I'm dead-last!'

You stare back at Ego as he continues to explain.

"That ranking will go up and down by the day...and change depending on training and games," Ego mentions,  now staring blankly at you, "Finally, those in the top five...will unconditionally be registered to participate as forwards in the U20 World Cup...happening six months from now."

'What...? Representing Japan in the U-20?' You take in this information with thoughts swirling 100 miles per minute.

"By the way...Those who fail to survive in Blue Lock..."

"—...will forever lose the right to represent Japan."

You widen your eyes until they reach the size of dinner saucers to this new revelation. Failing at this cutthroat boot camp means losing your dream...forever? That is something you absolutely can't bear to think about. Soccer is all you've ever known—it is practically your life.

Losing at this is equivalent to losing your life to you.

You stare at your ranking once more, trying to control the tears of fear bubbling up from your throat. 'No...' Inhaling and exhaling slowly and softly, you calm yourself down. 'Don't show fear. Everyone here is out to chase their dream. I'm just as much of a fierce competitor as they are.'

Despite your anxiety, you unclench your fists and relax your stature.

Ego pipes up, "What you need here to succeed is "Ego". So..." His stare immediately becomes deeper. Those pitch-black irises never fail to make you shiver. "We'll hold a little exam to test your aptitude."

You raise a brow. 'Exam?'

"Now...Time for some tag."

In the queue, a soccer ball drops from the roof, bouncing in the middle of the room before coming to a stop.

"The time limit is one hundred and thirty seconds. If you get hit with the ball, you're "it". Whoever's "it" when time runs out...has to piss off and go home."

You furrow your brows. 'Huh..?!'

"Also," he points to his hands, "no using your hands."

With that, the TV shuts off, and the game begins with a beep.

You stare at the screen with shock and embarrassment as it displays your full name, along with the number 300 accompanying it.

Now, everyone's attention is on you.

Your nerves scream at you to run away and escape embarrassment. But your gut tells you the opposite. Embrace the feeling—the stakes you're putting yourself in. This is all for the sake of your dream. You don't know what having an ego is...but you want to find out.

With that in mind, you take off and sprint towards Imamura, who shrieks at you eyeing him.

"What the heck?!" He narrowly dodges the ball as you send it hurling towards him. "Don't you dare!"

You flinch at that. Is this test even necessary?

Your heart races with urgency as you take off again, kicking the ball to anyone and pray that one of them gets hit, or at least tapped by the object. Sweat begins to seep from your every pore the longer you had the ball.

It has been 15 seconds.

'I can't lose here...that would be so embarrassing being the only girl and losing!'

You steal yourself and aim for your target, and kick with an immense amount of speed, hitting the boy that you have originally pinned straight in the face.

Imamura winces in pain, clutching his nose with a frustrated groan. His face flushes with anger as he roars, "What the hell is this about?! Are you doing this because I tried flirting with you?!"

You barely register his anger, focusing instead on your own safety. Instinctively, you move towards Kira and slip in beside him and Isagi as Imamura begins to take off again.

"Damn it...damn it...damn it!!" He curses, running and trying to hit someone with the ball. But no luck.

He sees a boy lying on the ground and smirks. "It's a cheap shot...but I'll take it..! YOU'RE IT—"

POW!

The sleeping boy springs into action and flips up to kick the latter straight in the face. This time, the impact caused his nose to bleed painfully. He stumbles back as he clutches his now bloody nose. "W—hey! That's a foul!"

The now, awoken boy slowly slumps up and rubs his eyes, groaning lowly, "Mmm..."

He opens one eye, "We just can't use our hands, right? Good morning..."

You blink. 'What is with that guy?'

"Hey."

An orange haired boy, quite a muscular one, places his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm not a fan of playing dirty. I want a clean game, you got that?" His tone is stern yet friendly. It reminds you of an older brother. You never had any other siblings, so it is just you.

"Ay, eye, mister strait-laced." The sleepy boy drones.

Just a second later, the ball hits the orange boy on his cheek, and it ricochets off the skin.

Imamura grins and clenches a fist in victory, his smirk shining through. "Sorry!" He is not sorry. "You left yourself open!"

Safe to say, Kunigami Rensuke is not happy with this development. He curses his attacker and brings his foot back before sending the ball to next Tuesday. And that next Tuesday...is Isagi's stomach. You yelp and jump away as Imamura used Isagi as a shield.

Imamura laughs awkwardly and lets him go, "Sorry, dude!"

You sheepishly pipe up, "I-Isagi...are you okay?"

Now you wanted to slap yourself. He's heaving on his knees after getting clocked in the stomach with a soccer ball! He's not at all okay!!

"Ah...my bad," Kunigami apologizes. "That wasn't meant for you."

"Woah, Isagi?!" Kira shouts.

You take a quick look at the clock and widen your eyes.

59 seconds remaining.

It seems Isagi notices this and picks himself up despite his stomach giving him hell. He rushes to the huddles of boys in the room, kicking the ball at them and watching them dodge with vigor. The soccer ball bounces back to the boy each time much to his chagrin.

You see the desperate look on his face and wonder, what's going on in his head? Is he accepting his fate?

A sudden laugh erupts beside you. The boy with the two-toned hair, grinning widely with his eyes closed, is clinging to Kunigami's back, his arms and legs wrapped around him like a human koala.

"That's your chance!" he cheers, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

"Oi, get off me!" Kunigami grumbles, shaking his head in frustration. He abruptly dislodges him, tossing him effortlessly toward Imamura. The boys collide and while the toned boy remains unscathed, it seems the flirt has hurt his ankle.

The other boy attempts to rise but struggles, wobbling on his feet.

"Uh, wait. Give me a second," Imamura says, trying to halt Isagi's attack.

"Do it, Isagi!" Kira yells from across the room.

With just 25 seconds left on the clock, Isagi rushes toward the injured candidate.

"Hey, stop!" he shouts, his voice sharp with urgency.

You find yourself unable to utter a word. The intensity of the situation is overwhelming, making you feel nauseous. Your heart palpitates as you watch Isagi close in on a fallen Imamura.

Suddenly, he stops...and turns around.

He heads to the previously tired boy, steps quick and airy.

"I like you," Bachira says, his eyes wide open and his mouth curled into an egocentric smirk. "If you want to win against someone," he continues, suddenly opening his eyes as he snatches the ball from Isagi, "it has to be the strongest."

You glance at the scoreboard again, which now reads, "Bachira Meguru." You repeat the name silently to yourself, bracing yourself even more.

With only 10 seconds remaining, Bachira starts charging after Kira, causing your eyes to widen in surprise.

"Me?!" Kira yells as he takes off to get away from Bachira.

Bachira only widens his smirk before kicking the ball, which missed. Then, attempted to kick Kira himself, which the latter dodges.

"Kira...?!" Isagi gasps.

Bachira only widens his smirk before kicking the ball, which missed. Then, attempted to kick Kira himself, which the latter dodges.

Kira breaks into a sprint as Bachira lands before the airborne ball. He stares up at it, looking for the opportunity to end this.

With that, Bachira spins and kicks the ball over with his feet as he handstands.

And as Kira smiles, thinking he is safe...

The ball lands before his slayer, Yoichi Isagi.

You watch with wide eyes as something seems to flow in Isagi's eyes at that moment—like he is possessed. His eyes swirl with his chaotic blankness...like a monster's. Isagi stares at the ball with a look of awe on his face and that slightly scared Kira.

"Isagi..." Kira drawls with wide eyes, sweat dripping from his face.

Isagi only gazes at the soccer ball as if he was possessed.

"The...strongest guy..."

Bachira grins manically, "Boom!"

In a second, the ball collides against Kira's face, effectively sending him to the floor with a nosebleed due to impact.

Isagi widens his eyes at what just happened and as Kira gained awareness from the hit, the timer buzzes loudly throughout the room, signaling that the game is officially over.

LOSE: KIRA RYOSUKE

And that is when the chaos seizes for now.

"Good job, you unpolished gems. Let us continue to the results. The player we will get rid of is—Kira Ryosuke! Lock off!" Ego says firmly.

'No way...' You think in horror. 'Ryosuke...'

"...What the heck? Do you think you'll win the world cup with this dumb crap...?! With these stupid games...Why was I...?!" Kira mutters while he trembles in anger, "How could you erase the future of a player as talented as me?! I'm the "Jewel of Japanese Soccer"!" He points at Igarashi, "So why don't you expel Imamura or Isagi instead?! Huh?!"

"Say what?!" Imamura exclaims.

"Kira...?" Isagi utters, bewildered by the teens behavior.

"What's even the point of this stupid game?! Tag has nothing to do with soccer!!" The white haired male cries.

Ego keeps quiet, before speaking, "At Blue Lock...Everything you do is related to soccer. Have a good look at your surroundings, you sham of a talent."

"Huh...?"

"The area of that room is...16.5 x 40.32 meters...the exact same proportions as a penalty area. About 75% if all goals are scored from this little area."

'It's the place before a goal..!' You recall.

"You could say it's the domain of a striker. In other words, in this small space, the positioning skills of a striker mean everything. Therefore, those unable to survive under such conditions...can hardly qualify to be talented strikers."

"So...So what?! Okay, sure, the room's width is exact or whatever! But tag's got nothing to do with soccer!"

"The skill required by the fleeing side...is tactical awareness. In other words, positioning."

"As for the pursuer, what they need is not only accurate dribbling...but the precision to make shots that will hit their target. That's what makes it optimal soccer training. Jeez..."

"That's...That's...How do you expect me to know all that shit in just two minutes?! A game of soccer lasts more than 90!!"

"The average time a player possesses the ball during a match is...about 136 seconds. You are given the exact same opportunity you would have in a real game."

"Th-Then, what'd you expect me to do in just 10 seconds...?"

Ego's eyes broaden, "Is that the same thing you'd say if this were a match?"

"Huh...?"

"Remember, from the time the ball hit you, until the clock ran out...you still had about one second left. There was plenty of time to survive by shooting it at an injured Igarashi. And yet, you wasted that chance. Imagine this. You are in the middle of a match, standing in the penalty area...it's the very last play of the game...your teammate's shit doesn't reach the goal. And instead hits your body. When it happens...you had already given up inside. Which is why you didn't notice...that by sheer luck, the ball had fallen...right before you."

"And if you had just tapped that ball with your knee, you could have been saved from your own mistake. The one who is "it" in tag...That is, the one who has the ball, decides who they want to "win"...but also gets to decide who they want to "lose"."

Kira's eyes shake with rage and sadness. He really couldn't believe that his soccer career was over before it could even begin.

He looks over at you, and you flinch at his anguished stare.

Your lips quiver and you look down.

"A striker carries all of the responsibility on his back. A striker is one who keeps on attacking until the very last second. Isagi Yoichi, who, instead of aiming for the injured Imamura, chose to defeat those better than him...And Bachira Meguru, with the initiative to aim for the strongest player...are perfect examples of people who, rather than do what was best for the team, had the tenacity and the courage to pursue their own will...That is, exactly...the "Egoism" that I am looking for. And that is why...This is your loss, Kira Ryosuke. Now, lock off!"

"That's... He... Suddenly... Bachira... was so fast, it...GGRRH!"

"Ki... ra..." Isagi says, making the male turn to him with a heated glare as he bites his lip, blood oozing out of the wound.

"This is wrong... This is... so wrong..."

Everyone can only watch him walk out the door.

Isagi turns to Bachira, who sticks his tongue out, "You... Why the hell did you pass it to me?! If I didn't take that shot... You would've been expelled, wouldn't you?!"

"So? I thought you'd kick it, so I passed it to you. Looked like ya would." He grins happily.

"Huh?"

"I mean, results are everything in this place, right?" He winks at him, "I believe in you, so I won~ Don't I?"

You watch the interaction between them. 'That Bachira is certainly something...'

"That's... just plain nonsense... from beginning to end..." Imamura says.

"Tell me about it..." You mutter to yourself.

"Nonsense...? It is nonsensical indeed. But then, so is this world. Either you win or you lose. While you're getting excited over your mediocre successes, true strikers... Tread a path of winning or losing everything... Every single day, in order to keep on surviving. How is it? Since you were born... Isn't this the first time you feel true danger?" Ego pipes up.

"Were you scared? That... was just a taste of Blue Lock's essence. You understand that much, right? The football you've played all your lives is for weaklings! Didn't you get those shivers? "Nice... I survived...!"" Ego grins, "That is the feeling of "victory"! So shove it in those brains of yours!"

"Since each time you rejoice in that feeling, your "ego" will steadily grow. And you'll need it to climb to the top and be the best striker in the world. Congratulations. You have passed Blue Lock's entrance test! Your room was designed for no more than 11 people... so from now on you'll cohabitate together. You fated eleven... You may cooperate with each other... and also betray each other... you, and the rivals you'll have to trample... are Blue Lock's "Team Z"."

You clench your arm and stare at Ego as he shuts off his camera before looking down in worry.

'Do I even have what it takes to be here?'

Once again, you look at your ranking.

'I don't know...'