01. SOMETHING GREAT

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BELIEVING

in something like a sport, that fades away as quickly as your bones rot, is difficult, especially for people like you. Ordinary people who don't particularly care about passing hobbies—that only see sport as a way to pass time or a way to cheat the economy and get rich quickly. You suppose that was why you could never get into soccer the way you saw other kids did, and the difference became glaringly obvious when you saw your childhood acquaintance (that would soon transpire into your begrudging friend) watch a match for the first time.

He had never played before this moment, but at the ripe age of seven, he watched his first soccer match and decided, right then and there, that he would become the best soccer player ever. This dream became a bit more mature and refined as time went on and you both grew older, however, going from being the best soccer player, period, to the greatest striker.

Sure, you saw this dream as childish, no matter how serious he was about it, but you would never want to crush his hopes like that—because despite everything, he was still your friend. But this childish dream was maybe why he became so amazing at soccer and why, even after losing in a pathetic match at 13, he still worked as hard as he could. And maybe that was why he became so incredible when you never could. Maybe that was a requirement for becoming great—to have a childish dream of being the greatest. You decided, after being admitted out of the hospital, that you would never have a dream like that again.

It wasn't like you were even given the luxury to dream, anyway, so it wasn't that big of a deal to you. Just like everything else, it was out of your reach by a mile, and you learned to accept this sort of thing as a part of your immediate future.

Something as strange and ridiculous sounding as the program Blue Lock was something you would've usually initially brushed off as another thing that was out of your grasp. But this time, it leaned down so you could grab it with your fingertips, and clutch as tightly as you could as to not let it go. You couldn't let this opportunity go to waste—because this job could be the start of something great.

That great thing in question is not having to work an eight-hour shift every night for at least a few months. Sure, you would be dealing with god knows who, but you were sure that if you could babysit each of your little cousins for seven hours at twelve, this would be a piece of cake.

You looked down at the letter in your hands once more, looking up at the tall building that stood at the address you were given. You made yourself look as presentable as possible—but still kept that casual calm vibe that defined you. Still, a nervous feeling crept up in your chest as you adjusted your hair in the windows you passed by, wondering who your boss may be. You hoped he wouldn't be a strange old man who crept on barely legal girls. 

If this was the only reason I got this job, I'd be pretty upset, you think and press your lips tightly together.

You walk into the building, and it is completely devoid of life, except for four other girls, all huddled together into a group and chatting amongst themselves, seeming nervous. One of them noticed you, and pointed, eyes wide and glossy lips parted.

"Hey! Do you know what's going on?" She demanded, brows furrowing and squinting her fiery red eyes. The woman glanced back at the stage behind her, looking as if she were considering something. She flipped a short, shoulder-length strand of bleached blonde hair over her shoulder while staring you down.

You shake your head, taken back by her forceful tone and accusatory pointing. As rude as it seemed—you couldn't blame her, because this situation did feel strange to you as well. "No, I have no idea. I just got a letter and wanted the job."

Another girl, with soft brown eyes and hair and an even softer voice, spoke up, "Me too... But when I got here, I was all alone, and I thought I got the wrong place. The others showed up soon after, but we've just been standing here for a while."

A third woman speaks up—who sports a jet black pixie and blazing orange eyes—without an ounce of hesitation, turns to the stage and yells out, "OI! IS THIS A STUPID PRANK?! WE'VE BEEN WAITIN' 'ERE FA' EVER NOW! IF THIS—"

Suddenly, the lights dim, and so does her voice, turning into a small squeak of confusion as the spotlight points at the stage, and your eyes follow. There, is a man. Skinny and tall—more lanky, actually—with glasses and straight bangs. He is peering down at you five with a piercing stare, eyes wide and lifeless. You suddenly feel uncomfortable with his soul-sucking gaze, and squirm around to move yourself behind the girl who was yelling before, who was either so entranced or too shocked to notice.

"Welcome," he begins, voice taunting, and yet, completely serious, "To your fine new job as a caretaker for jewels. I am Jinpatchi Ego."

The fourth girl—with long blue hair that reached her back and green eyes—who had not spoken until this moment, takes a step back and shakes her head, "For... what? Huh? What even is this?"

The strange man on stage taps his fingers together like an evil supervillain. "You five are not special in any way. You do not possess any talent—except for your ability to make sure others, that are talented, are at their best." He sits on his chair strangely, you note, with his legs propped up so he is squatting on the leather. His is face completely deadpan as he insults you five, almost refreshing blunt and does not sugarcoat. "This institution takes sparkling diamonds in the dirt and polishes them to become priceless jewels, and you five are a step to accomplishing that."

The bleach-head steps forward with a hand on her hip and a nasty glare directed at him, "Look bro, all it said in the fine print is that we would have a job taking care of a bunch of soccer players, not some weird gem bullshit. I didn't sign up to be no miner."

"Don't miners find the gems...?" The soft girl spoke up, but quickly shrunk behind pixie cut at bleach-heads' piercing glare.

"The gems in question are the rising stars. There will be five teams, ranging from V to Z, and each of you will manage a single one. You five will manage their daily needs, track their activities and progress, and most importantly, help them to become the shining gems they ought to become." He stands up, out of his squatting position and raises his arms, extending them outwards beside him. "If you cannot do these things, you will become useless to me. I can, and will, replace every one of you if you prove to be worthless to Blue Lock."

"Wait, slow down," Pixie cut raises her hands and cocks a brow at Ego, who tilts his head owlishly and peers down at her. "So all 'e got ta do is take care of a few rowdy ass boys? Easy. Shoulda said so earlier."

"Of course. Your whole purpose in this program is to make sure your team succeeds. Naturally, if you don't have a team, then you don't have a purpose here." Ego clutches his face and gives you all a piercing stare. "There will be many eliminations here in Blue Lock. We will eliminate the incompetent players, and leave only the best. This applies to you five as well. If your team does not succeed, then it shows your failure as a manager to help them, and as such, you will be expelled from Blue Lock, effective immediately."

Your blood runs cold, and you stare at Ego in disbelief. If your team—your purpose in this place—does not prove their worth, then you are done for. You're gone with them, with no chance to help your family, and definitely no chance to keep this money. You don't want this job. You need this job. Your entire life is put into the hands of a handful of teenage boys, who need to play soccer.

"We decided to gather a group of women that are around the age of most of our players here." Ego motions towards a woman next to him, barely concealed by the curtains beside the stage. "Anri found that teenage boys have an easier time connecting with others within their age range, and even more so if they are female."

"So you set us up to be ogled at?!" The bleach-head snarled at him, scrunching up her face and jumping forward—almost in a canine sort of way.

"No. I set this up so you can help the sole reason for your life here in Blue Lock. Anri especially found that each one of you, despite many clear personality flaws, can connect and encourage others easily. You five have exceptional skills in every aspect a manager should have, and that is the only talent you have that matters here." He shakes his head. "It does not matter if you have any clue what soccer is or not. Learn it, if you do not, and refine your knowledge, if you do. Your job is riding on the success of the teams that are ogling at you, so you should learn to respect them."

You all go silent, and he stares down at you as if you are lesser than him. And in his mind, you all probably were. A stepping stone, for the true stars to shine. You don't mind, however. Because you never wanted to shine, as much as average people usually want to do, you were no queen.

"I take your silence as that you all comply with this. In a few hours, three hundred players will be here, and until then, you have that much time to make your life here at Blue Lock as comfortable as possible. You may take any possessions from your home as you wish, but after today, you are required to stay here for the duration of Blue Lock." Ego turns around on his heel, and his glasses give off a blinding sheen, covering his eyes in a white glare. "Before you go, however, you all may decide which team you will get in whatever way you see fit. This is the start of something great in your lives."

He walks away, and the spotlight dies down, surrounding you five in darkness until the lights flick on. You stand in the circle you five had unconsciously created, a silence surrounding you all for a little while.

"Well," The blue-haired girl shuffled her feet on the floor, all of you quickly turning your attention to her. She tensed at the eyes, "How are we going to decide who gets which team?"

"Maybe we should decide going up by one. Let's do Z first." The bleach-head said, then almost immediately after, stuck her finger on her nose and yelled out, "Not it!"

The rest followed quickly after, leaving you, as the last one to react and consequently, being stuck with the last team. You ignore them as they decide who gets which team after this, staring into the distance with a grimace. If team Z is the worst team, then by all means, you'll be going home. You can't go home. Not now. You told your mom you'd be fine, but going home now would only prove her right. 

"Yay!" The soft-spoken girl cheers a little, pumping her fists up in the air and smiling cutely, "I got Team V!"

"Seriously? Stuck with Y..." The bleach-head rolls her eyes, snarling at the ground.

"X is 'kay," The pixie-cut girl shrugs her broad shoulders, folding her arms over her head and cocking her head towards the soft-spoken girl. "You're a lucky lil' chump."

She only giggles nervously in response.

"W for waste of motherfucking space." The blue-haired girl snickers to herself, cocking her head to look at you. She grins mischievously after seeing that you are stuck in your world, slapping her hands on your shoulders and knocking you out of your thoughts with a loud laugh. "Haha! Got you!"

You clutch your aching limbs and give her a hard stare—which ends up completely unaffecting her, if anything, it only made her cackle louder—and walk away, out the door and into the chilly morning air. You don't listen to the calls of the others, walking faster and faster until you are on your way home.

Ego told you five that this would be the start of something great, but right now, you miserably thought about how this would be the end of your life.

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