In this world, every soul harbors a seed of selfishness. If that ego is crushed and condensed into pure ambition, just how powerful can a human become?
...
The streets were a surging tide of people.
Bachira walked with his hands clasped behind his head, tilting his gaze toward the sky. "Aki, what sudden impulse brought you out to watch a football match?"
He shot a sideways glance at his companion. "Weren't you just saying the other day that these washouts aren't even half as good as you? What's the matter? Feeling a sense of crisis?"
A mischievous glint danced in Bachira's eyes. "Or are you just afraid... that I'll find someone else to play with?"
Beside him, a young man with obsidian hair and crimson eyes sipped his milk tea. A faint, sharp smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "A crisis?"
"What reason would I have for that?" Aki asked, his voice smooth. "Since we were kids, has a certain someone managed to beat me even once?"
He paused, his red eyes locking onto Bachira's. "If even I'm starting to feel a 'sense of crisis,' then you should be worried... about whether you can keep up with me."
Bachira rolled his eyes, his lips pouting in a silent grumble.
Aki's gaze drifted toward the looming silhouette of the Bird's Nest stadium. Beneath his calm exterior, a spark of genuine excitement flickered. His name was Yoru Ryoshu, but he wasn't originally of this world. He was a wanderer who had crossed over into this reality where "sport" reigned supreme.
In this world, football and volleyball weren't just games; they dominated the international stage to the point where national conflicts were settled through the results of a match. From the moment he had passed a local pitch and spotted a young Bachira Meguru, he had understood everything.
This was the world of Blue Lock.
The muffled roar of the crowd drifted from the arena, making Bachira fidget with anticipation. "Aki, the match is starting!"
"Don't rush me." Aki smiled, stopping to buy a bucket of popcorn. As he did, he smoothly pulled out his phone and presented it to a beautiful woman nearby, his intent clear.
A vein throbbed in Bachira's forehead. He lunged forward, grabbing Aki's arm and dragging him toward the entrance.
By the time they reached their seats, Aki was leaning back, casually tossing popcorn into his mouth. "You almost made me leave without paying..."
Bachira let out a cold snort. "Aki, I wonder what would happen if I told Auntie Hui about what you were doing just now..."
Aki immediately pressed his hands together in a mock plea. "Don't. I surrender. My mistake, alright?"
As they settled their banter, the whistle blew. The match had begun.
Bachira watched the pitch for a few minutes before his expression flattened into boredom. "Seriously though, Aki... you still haven't answered me. Why did we come to see this game? There's nothing exciting happening."
Aki's eyes remained fixed on the pitch, watching a sweat-drenched Isagi Yoichi struggle against the flow of the game. "Meguru, how many people do you think it takes to play football?"
Bachira hummed, thinking for a second. "If we're talking about the numbers on the pitch... then eleven, right?"
Aki chuckled softly. "I've always thought football was a game for one."
"Why?" Bachira asked, tilting his head. After all, if a single player was missing, the match couldn't even start. How could it be a solo game?
Aki watched Isagi, who looked like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. "In any sport—football, volleyball, it doesn't matter—if you truly love it, you develop an intense desire to compete. A hunger."
His voice dropped an octave, turning colder. "And once you decide to become the strongest, you must first learn to abandon your teammates. Individualism... egoism... that is the key to power."
Bachira rubbed his temples, a bitter smile on his face. "Ugh... Aki, could you maybe make it sound a little less complicated?"
"Haha." Aki let out a short laugh and fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the field.
It wasn't long before the match ended. Just as the story dictated, Isagi Yoichi suffered a crushing defeat.
In that moment, a mechanical chime echoed in Aki's mind.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host. The main quest is about to begin.]
As a transmigrator, Aki wasn't without his tools. His "Emotion System" was unique. The "emotions" it collected didn't come from the people around him—but from the "audience" who viewed this world as a story.
Walking out of the Bird's Nest, Aki looked up at the vast sky, his smile widening.
"Let's see if you egoists can actually make me feel something."
"The game is on..."
Life rarely goes exactly as planned, but sometimes, the surprises are predictable.
Thud, thud, thud!
A frantic pounding on the door jolted Aki from his sleep. Bachira burst into the house, looking half-crazed with excitement. He hadn't even bothered to take out the small hair-ties holding his signature bobs in place.
"Aki! I got it! I actually got it!"
Bachira brandished a formal envelope—an official invitation from the Japan Football Association.
"See? I told you, Aki... I'm strong!" Bachira bragged, chest puffed out.
Aki sat up, his hair a bird's nest of messy black strands. He let out a long, weary sigh. "You mean this thing?"
He reached over to his bedside table and held up an identical envelope.
Bachira froze. "Aki... you have one too? They invited you?"
Aki nodded slowly. "I received it a little while ago. I wasn't going to bring it up because I didn't want to hurt your feelings if you didn't get one."
"Heh! No way!" Bachira lunged at him, nearly tackling Aki onto the bed. "And here I was thinking about how I was going to comfort you!"
Aki peeled the energetic Bachira off him with a groan. "Alright, enough. Stop acting like a kid."
"So... are you going?" Bachira asked, his eyes wide and hopeful, searching Aki's face for any sign of hesitation.
Aki smiled thinly. "Of course. I can't let you go off and level up without me, can I?"
Aki had been alone since he arrived in this world. He had never seen his parents; he had only been raised by his older sister—the "Auntie Hui" Bachira spoke of. As for Bachira himself, he was simply a "little monster" Aki had picked up on a neighborhood pitch years ago.
Aki rolled his eyes. "I assume you're planning on staying the night again?"
Bachira nodded shamelessly. "What, am I not welcome, Aki?"
"You're welcome to the sofa. Just keep the volume down on the football highlights."
Aki turned and headed back to his room to reclaim his lost sleep. This was a routine they had perfected over the years. Bachira just grinned, flipped on the TV, and made himself at home on the couch.
"This should be the place."
"We didn't take a wrong turn, did we? Aki?"
Bachira's voice seemed to fade into the background. Aki wasn't looking at the building in front of them. Instead, his vision was crowded by translucent, floating lines of text—scrolling "bullet comments."
[First! I'm first!] [It's starting! It's finally starting! I can't wait!] [Blue Lock, let's goooo!]
According to the system, this world was being "broadcast" as an anime. The perspective shifted constantly; anyone could be the protagonist.
Including himself.
Aki's eyes landed on Isagi Yoichi, who was standing near the entrance. Currently, the "Protagonist" status was anchored to Isagi. That was why the comments became so dense as they approached him.
If he wanted to earn "Emotion Points," he had to interact with the center of the frame... or better yet, crush him on the pitch until every eye in the audience was forced to look at him instead.
At the thought, the cells in Aki's body began to thrum with a violent, involuntary tremor. He couldn't suppress the grin spreading across his face.