Chapter Text
Santiago Bernabéu Stadium was at full capacity.
Tens of thousands of fans were at the edges of their seats, hearts pounding out of their chests. A sea of colors and banners rippled in the night air, and their thunderous chorus of cheers, chants, and claps shook the whole foundation.
Bright lights lit up the pitch, the grand stage for the play. Eyes watched with ardent fervor.
Nothing else existed but here and now.
–
Up in the announcer booth.
John: [We’re down to the last 15 minutes of the match and the score is still 1–1. Neither side is willing to give an inch!]
Mickey: [You can say that again, John. They’re really upping the tension, but the crowd is loving it! Listen to those cheers!]
On cue, live footage from various parts of the stands played on the screen.
“That’s the future of PXG? My grandma runs faster than that!”
“Bench that Number 8! Who the hell allowed him on the roster?!”
“One more goal! One more goal!”
“Come on ReAl!! This is our home turf! Make your daddy proud!!!”
“Why aren't they bringing out the big guns?! That old relic of a coach must be [redacted for broadcasting purposes]!”
John: [Right… Re Al is performing optimally, but Paris X Gen is giving them a run for their money. Julian Loki is on fire tonight! Looks like France has a real shot in winning this exhibition match!]
Mickey: [Don’t forget. Re Al has Sae Itoshi, the New Generation World XI’s midfielder. Look, he's not even breaking a sweat!]
John: [Not just Sae, but also–Wait! Do my eyes deceive me?]
Mickey: [No John, I don't think they are. I'm seeing the same thing!]
John: [I was starting to think they wouldn't let him play! After such a close game, ReAl is finally taking this match seriously! At last he enters the stage, and the whole crowd goes wild!]
John and Mickey: [The God Weaver, Isagi Yoichi!]
If Isagi had to pinpoint where everything began, it would have to be this.
He was only four then. Just a boy who liked to eat all the veggies on his plate before the meat, ran around the house with his parent’s heavy blanket over his shoulders playing pretend hero, cried when he got hurt, stomped his feet when he was angry, laughed when he was happy. He was a child who still needed to hold his father’s hand to cross the street and hid his face in his mother’s skirt when meeting new people.
But even then, his father reminisces occasionally in the delicate hush between the fading line of day, Isagi was never just a boy.
There were moments, seemingly insignificant at the time, that stood out.
Isagi was an inquisitive child. Though he hid behind his mother’s legs, his eyes were bright with restless curiosity. However, after a few minutes, they were returned to their usual lustre until he found something else to hold his interest.
During the rare family gatherings as well. Issei had wondered why Isagi, who’d been bursting with eagerness, suddenly hid himself in the back garden to poke at the flowers. Perhaps his dear son had eaten too many sweets and was crashing. However, reality was completely contrary to his expectations.
“I’m done seeing them. It’s boring now.”
“Now, now, Yocchan,” Issei scolded gently, hiding his incredulity behind a disapproving frown. Isagi was usually such a sweet boy. “It’s rude to call people boring, no matter the reason. If you don’t like talking with the grown-ups, then–.”
Isagi raised his hand to press two fingers on his father’s bottom lip. It was a habit he’d picked up from Iyo, and Issei found it too adorable to stop.
“No, Papa. I’m done seeing them,” he said slowly as though the words would mean something different the second time.
Issei was understandably confused. “I’m sorry, darling. Can you tell me what you mean?”
It was then that Issei realized. Isagi saw everything. He noticed who was tired, who was faking a smile, and even noticed the tension between his aunts everyone had been pretending didn’t exist for the sake of peace.
Isagi carried a kind of quiet awareness–a sensitivity to the world, to people, that most people lacked.
Amazing. Issei was certain that Isagi’s future would be bright regardless of what he chose to do.
Then, not even a month later, Isagi proved him right.
A single goal sealed his fate.
In all honesty, Isagi doesn’t remember much after that.
He knows that a JSA staff had been passing through the area in search of talents. It was by chance they witnessed Isagi’s game, and after speaking with Issei and Iyo, they offered to pave a path for Isagi. What parent wouldn’t be thrilled when presented with a way to secure their child’s future?
And, what child wanted to disappoint their parents?
The first year was relatively simple. After preschool, Isagi would ‘train’ in the facility in between snack breaks and naptime. All the while the JSA were spreading news of a new football prodigy in the making.
When he was five, they started promoting him more aggressively. He was suddenly the face on the front of every sports magazine, making TV appearances, playing in exhibition matches where he was pitted against kids much bigger and older than him–and he won.
Every.
Single.
Time.
By 7, he was a household name in Japan.
They called it a once-in-a-lifetime genius; a superior breed of talent that stands above the rest. If you ask Isagi, he’ll give you a smile. Sweet with a carefully measured curve.
“I’m just observant, that’s all.”
Down at Re Al’s dugout, a teen leaned casually against the railing with his hands buried in his pockets.
The harsh stadium lights outlined the fine features of his face, all sharp lines and cheekbones. Among the blondes, blacks, and browns, his strikingly pink hair stood out like a sore thumb. Teal eyes like polished glass were hooded with disinterest, but beneath that veneer was an unmistakable desire.
Sae Itoshi.
At 13 years old, he was recruited by the illustrious Re Al, the strongest football club in the world. Then, at 17, he became a part of the New Generation World XI where only the most outstanding footballers around the world are selected to join.
Now, in this current moment, he was a thorn in Isagi’s side.
“Is this really necessary?” Isagi unzipped his track jacket with unhurried movements to reveal the Re Al jersey beneath. He didn’t need to look at Sae to know that the older teen’s eyes were shining with satisfaction like a beast staking its claim.
Shameless.
Isagi tugged at the hem of the jersey with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just a temporary member. I wouldn’t even be in Spain if it weren’t for–."
“Stop stalling, ‘God Weaver’.” Sae’s tone was flat, but there was a pinch of mockery underlying his words. He pointed with his thumb at the large screens wrapping around the stadium. “Look. Your fans are getting impatient.”
Isagi looked up instinctively only to get hit by regret.
The cameras panned to a group of what looked to be female high schoolers who, upon noticing they were being broadcasted, immediately thrust up printed sheets of paper which formed a picture–no, not a picture but the picture of Isagi in that accursed perfume ad he'd done last year–framed within a bright pink heart. The words [You're playing your role perfectly] were printed in neat calligraphy on top while on the bottom was [This is where you fall… for me].
“...”
“You don’t want to disappoint them, do you?”
“Oh, shut up. I have a name. Try using it,” Isagi huffed, bumping Sae’s shoulder lightly as he walked onto the pitch. It should look like a simple graze of the shoulders at the angle the cameras were shooting from.
He’s been very careful about showing his irritation towards other players since the last incident involving a particularly infuriating German forward. His manager had been pulling his hair out at the sudden surge of media coverage reporting that the ‘God Weaver’ was beginning to lose his humanity, viewing players as objects on the board to be used and discarded at will.
Same song, different tune.
Also extremely ironic considering it was Michael Kaiser, someone who was infamous for his selfishness on the field.
These are the same hypocrites who used his half-month hiatus to fuel the rumors that he was hiding a career ending injury. That’s why Isagi was even here playing in Re Al’s youth team for an exhibition match in the first place. It was a way to silence the rumors while also waving a proverbial middle-finger at their faces.
He also owed that man a favor. Not something he nor Sae liked to think about. Isagi's just lucky it was something like this and not nurse duty.
That aside, it’d be better if he could just take the journalists to court. Unfortunately, they’re irritatingly skilled at wording their articles in such a way that they can’t get sued for defamation.
Recalling it left a bad taste on Isagi’s tongue. Perhaps that’s why he kept going instead of letting the conversation drop as he usually did.
He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, subsequently blocking his mouth from view. “Also, cutting people off mid-sentence because you don’t like what you’ll hear is childish.” The sharpness of his words were a sharp contrast to the gentle curve of his eyes. “Don't you think so, Boy Genius?”
Sae snorted. His gaze wandered from Isagi’s thin waist up to those luminous sapphire orbs. “Then, are you going to teach me how to behave?”
Jesus Christ.
“You’re unbelievable.” Isagi’s lips fought off a grimace.
On the bench, the other Re Al members were very pointedly looking the other direction and pretending that they weren’t there. Even the coach was keeping himself busy by yelling at the poor guy who was just subbed out.
No one wanted to get in between… whatever this was.
Isagi, also not wanting to be a part of it, hurriedly stepped out of the technical area onto the field.
“The clock doesn't stop ticking, Itoshi. You can save your nonsense for later.” He waved his hand over his shoulder in a beckoning motion. “Let’s see how much you’ve grown since last time. Don’t bore me.”
“As you command.”
–
Kickoff!
With less than 13 minutes on the clock, Re Al made an explosive attack.
Isagi dribbled the ball down the field. His eyes were in constant motion, taking in every minute detail and tracing the invisible threads that only he could see.
Right on cue, a wall appeared.
“Hold it right there, Yowichee! I won't let you get the best of me again!”
Number 5, Marcelle. He was twice Isagi's size but with only a tenth of the intelligence. It makes him rather easy to deal with.
Without wasting a movement, Isagi stepped over the ball with his right foot and twisted his waist to put his body between Marcelle and the ball. As he spun–
Tap.
–he used the momentum to hit the ball with his left heel, sending it flying in a straight path up the right field.
Right into Sae's waiting feet.
“Hah! Pipsqueek, you think you can beat me in defense–hey! Where's the ball?!”
“You idiot! Use your eyes!”
“Did all the nutrients go to your muscles instead of your brain?!”
Isagi didn't bother sticking around.
Using Marcelle’s hesitation, he broke through and headed towards the concentration of players ahead. Already, his mind was whirling.
How are the players positioned? What’s their next move? Where is the ball? Where will the ball be?
There!
His body moved in accordance with his thoughts. Puzzle pieces fell into place until the picture was completed with full clarity.
He can see it now.
The breaks in the flow.
–
Sae drove the ball forward, feet light as he dribbled past the line of defense and left the humiliated defenders in the dust.
Fwoosh!
“The quality of youth players nowadays has dropped, huh,” Loki tutted. He cut off Sae's path, cleats digging into the ground, and smirked. “Mind taking it easy on them?”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
As Loki closed in, Sae didn’t rush to dodge. He paused his step and waited. Closer. Then, with a flick of his foot, he shifted direction in a heartbeat leaving Loki swinging at air.
“This is the extent of your abilities without that annoying flea hopping around.”
Loki’s lips twitched at the blatant provocation. “Look who's talking,” he spat back Sae’s earlier sentiment. “Without your main striker, all you can do is pass.”
“Tch.”
They were in a deadlock. Sae tried to break through with a Marseille turn, but Loki’s speed allowed him to cut off every angle. He didn't need to read Sae's movements at all–only react.
A cockroach that refused to be squashed.
It only took a moment, a brief lapse in concentration, and Loki closed in like a sharp scenting blood. Sae’s recovery was a step too late and the ball went flying.
Thump.
“Nice pass.”
Teal and amber widened at the new arrival.
Isagi appeared like a phantom, receiving the ball with his chest, not waiting for it to drop before he was already moving. “A bit more practice, and you might win the World’s No. 1 Midfielder title from Itoshi,” he encouraged with a cheeky smile.
With a tilt of his head, Sae got the hint.
They worked together. Short, high-speed passes up the field. With Isagi’s eyes, he could see the breaks in Loki’s stride, optimizing his passes to the millisecond. Even someone with Loki’s speed would struggle to keep up between two monsters juggling.
Bam!
Slam!
Wham!
Especially, Loki thinks bitterly, when they’re not even looking at each other.
Isagi felt the familiar heat piercing the back of his head. He couldn’t stop his smile even if he wanted to.
The other PXG players tried to intercept, but they were small-fry in comparison to their ace. One-by-one they were caught and tangled by their own momentum.
Isagi pulled the threads tighter and tighter.
His ears rang: fans cheering, players screaming, blood rushing in his ears.
Where there is harmony, there is discord. At the heart of it all are connections. Football was boring. You kick the ball into a net and win. What’s so interesting about that? A striker’s role was too simple.
Isagi stopped abruptly. Behind him, Loki’s eyes widened as he forced his body to stop before he crashed into the smaller teen’s back. Around them, the defenders stumbled.
With just one move, you can disrupt the tempo.
Time slowed. Isagi twisted his foot on the pitch and jerked to the left, narrowly dodging Loki. Like the moon to the tide, the wave flowed after him.
Sapphire eyes shone brilliantly under the lights.
What Isagi found interesting was how easy those connections–
BAM!
–could break.
The ball flew between the cracks in the defense, slamming hard onto the ground before curving to the right with a sidespin towards the goal.
“Fuck! Goalkeeper!”
“Don’t let it go in!”
“Who do you think you’re up against?”
Loki’s legs tensed before he burst in an explosion of speed. It should have been impossible to make it in time, but he wasn’t called the God Sprinter for nothing. Between one second and the next, he was in front of the ball’s trajectory.
The last piece fell in place.
Isagi pinched his lower lip between his fingers while his other arm rested on his waist. “Your level of thinking is still basic.”
A seamless connection. Loki’s jaw slacked when Sae sliced through the last line with precision. This wasn’t an attempt to score. Isagi was passing.
Sae reared his leg back.
Slam!
The ball went in the opposite direction of where Loki and the goalie were blocking, cutting a straight path into the upper left corner of the net.
Whoosh!
[GOAL]
[2-1]
The crowd held their breath, the tension thick enough to cut, before erupting in cheers–thousands of voices rising in a deafening roar. The stadium shook as fans jumped in celebration. Banners flew proudly in the air.
The reaction was a bit much for an exhibition match.
Isagi’s brows furrowed before smoothing out. Now that the game was over, there was no reason for him to stay any longer.
The ending was as predictable as always.
–
“Mon amour, leaving so soon?”
Isagi looked over his shoulder to find Loki leaning against the door to the empty Re Al lockers. Currently, the teams should be standing through some announcements and shaking hands to show sportsmanship. As a temporary player, Isagi wasn’t required to stay behind.
However, Loki was definitely supposed to be there.
“Your coach is going to skin you alive.” Isagi threw his sportsbag strap over his shoulder. “What do you want, anyway?”
Loki stepped forward, closing the space between them with a few strides. His arms were crossed loosely. “Come on, don’t play dumb.” He leaned close until their noses were almost touching. “You could have ended the game sooner, but you decided to humiliate me thoroughly first.”
Too close. Isagi leaned back with a frown. “You decided to do that on your own.”
“Like I’ll believe that, ‘God Weaver’.”
“Whoever came up with that name needs to count their days,” Isagi grumbled with discontent. Sometime after joining the Re Al youth training camp when he was 12, the press started referring to him by that title. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like it now.
He scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Look, my ride’s waiting outside. Can you get to the point already?”
Loki brightened up like he was waiting for this. “Dinner.” He grabbed Isagi’s hand into his own, larger ones. “That’s the least you could do. You know, after making my reputation take a hit.”
This again.
Don’t get Isagi wrong. Loki was a handsome man, though his personality on the field could use some work. Not really his fault, of course. Most footballers were like that.
Outside of that, he had good humor, charming, attentive, and persistent.
And…
Oppressive.
It was like an iron brand poised over his skin, hovering in anticipation and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. To mark.
It was a dark sort of familiarity.
Isagi has been the subject of such attention for years now, starting from when he was recognized by the Japanese Football Association in his youth and then made worse when he debuted internationally.
He has long become accustomed to it, to ignoring it, pretending he didn’t notice.
Because he knew that even the smallest hint of acknowledgement would have these beasts in human skin abandon all sense.
Loki was one of the more mellow ‘suitors’ interested in Isagi which was why he wasn’t as cold with him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
Even now, his hold on Isagi’s hands was deceptively gentle. He knew that a twitch of his fingers would have those hands clamping down like iron bands. Beneath the earnestness in those amber eyes was a dark intensity.
“I…”
“What’s going on here?”
Isagi was never so relieved to see Sae. The older teen was standing at the entrance where Loki was before, hair disheveled and chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. He looked more stressed than he did during the game.
Loki’s jaw clenched before his face loosened in an easy smile. He dropped Isagi’s hands and raised his own to show he was harmless. “Nothing, nothing. We were just chatting. Right, mon amour?”
“Yeah, nothing.” Isagi pushed past Loki and walked up to Sae, ignoring the obvious disbelief radiating off him. “I’ve got an appointment later. If you guys want to duke it out, wait until after I leave.”
“We’re not done here.”
“Yes.” Isagi’s voice broke no room for argument. “We are.”
From the periphery watching the good show, Loki let out a low whistle. Sae’s fingers clenched at his sides. It was like he was imagining something, or someone, beneath the mercy of his hands.
“... Fine.” He moved to the side so Isagi could squeeze through. It was a narrow space. That meant however way Isagi tried to go, they would inevitably touch. “We’ll talk later.”
That had Isagi’s eyes rolling, but he kept his lips tightly shut.
He didn’t fully relax until he was out of the building and inside the comfy interior of the Audi. His driver immediately hit the accelerator when he closed the door. Smart man.
Isagi will have to give him a raise later.
The villa was empty when he got back.
Warm light streamed through the sheer curtains painting the beautiful interior with sunset colors. A light breeze blew through the open windows bringing with it the faint salty scent of the sea. On the rustic wooden coffee table, a folded note rested with a lobster paperweight holding it in place.
Isagi picked up the note and opened it to find his mother’s familiar scrawl.
Yocchan,
Amazing job as always! Sorry we couldn’t welcome you back, but your father decided to take me on a romantic sight-seeing trip around Europe! Don’t worry about us and enjoy your time too, darling!
Love, hugs, and kisses from Mom and Dad ♡
A soft, amused smile stretched across Isagi’s face. That’s right. It was nearing their anniversary, wasn’t it?
He placed the note down and walked to the open balcony. The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, leaving behind a sparkling trail of stars. His eyes took in the view while he dialed his manager’s number.
“Mr. Komaida,” he greeted when the man picked up. Then, voice dripping with warmth, “I need you to book the best accommodations you can find for my parents, wherever they decide to go. And put all their expenses on my card. Make sure they’re taken care of.”
When he got the affirmation, he dropped the call. He remained on the balcony until the last lights of the sun faded before returning back inside.
Isagi was just about to make dinner when he saw it.
A white, inconspicuous envelope lying on the floor beside the sofa. His brows furrowed as he went to pick it up. It must have been left on the coffee table as well, but without anything to hold it down, flew off.
“This is…” He read the sender information, brows raising. “The JFA? Don’t those old fogies have anything better to do than bother me?” Isagi was going to toss the letter into the rubbish bin without reading it when a name caught his attention.
Jinpachi Ego.
That name was familiar. It should be…
Noel Noa’s formal rival, right?
The dark, gray room was bathed in the cold lights from the wall of monitors. Their screens cast sharp lines of shadows along the walls and floors, and the content of the videos were reflected off the surface of Ego’s glasses.
His fingers tapped the table impatiently as the seconds ticked down. It was almost time.
Ring!
Ring!
Ri–!
Click.
Ego answered the video call and leaned back against his swivel chair. Contrary to his casual slump, his gaze burned unblinkingly as the screens shuttered to reveal the subject of his fascination.
“Hello, can you hear me?” The voice was as clear as if they were in the same room together. “The Chairman said you wanted to talk.”
Isagi Yoichi. Their first meeting.
“That's right. I'll thank you for getting back to me so quickly... I saw you rejected the Blue Lock invitation.”
Isagi nodded. “Sorry, give me a second.”
The camera shook as he placed his phone down on what appeared to be a kitchen counter. With the new angle, Ego could see the cutting board with various vegetables spread out to be prepped.
“...”
“Is that it, then?” Isagi grabbed a knife and started chopping the onions. “You want to change my mind? It looks like you've got a lot you want to say, so I'll hear you out. But.” He pointed the knife at the screen. “I'm ending the call if you waste my time.”
It was a rather surreal situation. Still, the teen was willing to listen.
Ego stood up and crossed his arms behind his back. “I'll keep it simple. Isagi Yoichi, you're wasting away.”
“Okay…?” The teen looked bewildered.
“You’re a genius, but you lack hunger. Just an empty shell blessed with heavenly talent but without the desire, the desperation to risk your life. When you first debuted as a footballer, you were a striker, weren't you? But somewhere along the line, you decided to step down and take a more supportive role. The media called you a fraud, then. Wasting away your potential. Half-baked. The truth is, you were just bored.”
Isagi had long stopped moving. His fingers were white from how hard he was gripping the knife handle.
But he didn't deny it.
“You even practiced a speech and everything... Where are you going with this?”
Ego’s grin split his face, and he spread his arms at his sides. “I'm saying, that makes you perfect for Blue Lock.”
The more he spoke, the more fervent his voice became.
“You're not satisfied with mediocrity. What you want… is something to break the mold and bring chaos to the entire field. These past few years, you've been drifting through different clubs–not to test their worth, but so you won't get bored of the same old toys.”
Re Al.
PXG.
Bastard Munchen.
Ubers.
FC Barcha.
The best clubs in the world, yet treated like free food samples.
To have that kind of arrogance, that ego. It sent shivers down Ego’s spine, and his grin gained an obsessive edge.
“Project Blue Lock’s goal is to create the world’s best striker. In order to do so, we create an environment where the players put their lives on the line. You either die or drag yourself out the depths of hell.”
“Doesn't that sound interesting?”
That's the hook.
After a long pause, Isagi heaved a sigh. “I can tell you're very passionate about this, but… the participants are all regular Japanese high schoolers.”
Isagi had read the information provided. He'd even talked to Chairman Buratsuta, suffering through an hour of simpering just to learn more about this program. The program itself was questionable, but the main reason Isagi rejected the invitation was because it was unfair.
“Those guys have no clue how big the world is outside of Japan. Isn't it mean to have me as their opponent?”
There's the line.
Ego pushed his glasses and smirked. “Is that a genuine concern?” He mocked. “As you are, you can’t be the best, nor do you want to be the best striker in the world. At the very least, you can be a catalyst to the creation of a new football hero.”
Sinker.
Isagi finally cracked a smile. There was nothing nice about it.
“Fine, you got me.” He grabbed the phone and held it up to his face–close enough that, through the large screen, one could count each individual lash. “Make this worth my while, Ego.”
Ego’s back straightened, triumphant. “That's more like it. Welcome to Blue Lock, Isagi Yoichi.”
–
The moment Isagi hung up, Ego's phone started buzzing with another incoming call.
Click.
“Yeah, yeah, before you ask, he accepted.”
Ego’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as the person on the other end said something. The hand not holding the phone was busy picking lint off his vest.
“... What a pain… I was going to do it before you even asked. This isn't a favor or anything. I've been wanting to do this for a long time.”
Ego glanced at the wall to the left of the monitors, a space that was hidden from the camera’s angle.
Under the soft glow of the screens, newspaper cutouts and magazine articles littered the wall.
[A New Star is Born!]
[Lost in Transition: A Waste of Genius?]
[Isagi Yoichi Proves the World Wrong for Doubting Him]
[The God Weaver Strikes Again!]
The pictures really didn't do Isagi justice. It was through a monitor, but the teen’s presence still carried a commanding gravity.
It'll be a challenge to break him down and reform him again, but the end results would be worth it.
God Weaver.
To weave a God with his own hands.
“Just don't forget our deal, Noa."