Hearing that sudden, wild laughter, everyone shot a wary glance at Yoru Ryoshu, wondering if he'd finally snapped.
It was just one intercepted ball. Was all this really necessary?
Only Bachira understood. He watched Aki, his eyes curving into crescents like a crescent moon. As the person who knew Yoru Ryoshu best, he had rarely seen Aki in this state. Before coming to Blue Lock, Aki had navigated every match with a chilling lack of interest. Whether he won or lost usually depended entirely on his mood at the moment.
But now, Aki was genuinely excited. In this facility, there were existences that could potentially rival him—and he was beginning to savor the prospect of crushing those existences into the dirt.
For the first time, the world had stopped being boring.
Yoichi Isagi, however, had no idea that his precise calculations had just unchained a monster. His vision was narrowed down to a single point: the goal. The biting words of Barou and Raichi echoed in his mind.
A man who doesn't dare to shoot doesn't deserve to be a striker...
He, Yoichi Isagi, was no coward.
At that moment, Barou caught up, his eyes burning with a savage light as he locked onto Isagi. He let out a cold sneer. "A rookie who's too afraid to pull the trigger... are you bringing that ball here just to hand it to me?"
Isagi didn't answer. Instead, a terrifyingly sharp aura erupted from his pupils.
He slammed on the brakes, stopping dead in his tracks. Barou, caught in his own forward momentum, couldn't compensate in time. In that split second of vacuum, Isagi hooked the ball up with one foot. As it reached the perfect height, he unleashed a thunderous volley.
BOOM!
The ball screamed into the top left corner of the net. Goal!
Isagi thrust his left arm into the air. After a two-second silence that felt like an eternity, he let out a primal roar of triumph.
His teammates swarmed him, but Isagi's eyes immediately sought out Yoru Ryoshu. When he met that invasive, predatory gaze, his newfound exhilaration evaporated, replaced by a cold dread.
After all, he had effectively stolen this goal from Aki's feet.
As Aki approached, Isagi opened his mouth to apologize, his heart hammering against his ribs.
But Aki was smiling. "So... this place really can forge a true monster. Not bad, Isagi. Not bad at all."
Aki leaned in. "That play just now... you predicted I was going to move, didn't you?"
Isagi nodded dumbly. He had expected an interrogation or a threat, not a technical question about his foresight.
"Hey! That point belongs to Isagi!" Igarashi suddenly scrambled over, his face a mask of bravado despite his trembling legs. He thought Aki was looking for trouble over the stolen ball. "So what if he intercepted you? A goal is a goal, right?"
Aki didn't even grant the monk a glance. He kept his eyes on Isagi. "You predicted my movement based on the 'feel' of the pitch when you first passed to me, didn't you?"
Isagi's brow furrowed. "You... you knew?"
He didn't fully understand what that "feeling" was, but it was exactly as the others said—it was like having eyes in the back of his head, allowing him to perceive the ripples of movement across the entire field. He could sense where the ball wanted to go.
Sometimes, it still surprised him—like when he thought the ball would go to Raichi, only for Kuon to seize it instead.
"An impressive ability," Aki praised. He turned to walk away, leaving Isagi standing in a daze of confusion. But as he turned, his voice drifted back, low and chilling. "Isagi... if your future performance fails to keep me entertained..."
"...then I will personally crush your dream into dust."
Isagi shivered. He knew instinctively that Aki wasn't joking.
Beside him, Igarashi let out a huff of fake confidence. "Who does he think he is? He only scored two goals. One of these days, I'll show him what I'm made of!"
"Give it a rest," Naruhaya interrupted, adjusting his cleats with a cynical smirk. "You're not even in the same league. If he actually got serious, you wouldn't even be a footnote on this pitch."
"What did you say?!"
Before the argument could escalate, the team gathered in a tight circle.
Raichi was still fuming about being bypassed, but seeing Isagi snatch the ball from under Aki's nose had actually improved his mood significantly. Kunigami and Chigiri shared a quiet look; the clock was winding down. They only needed to defend until the whistle to secure a victory over Team X.
"So, for the next play, we should—" Isagi started.
"Forget defending," Bachira interrupted, shrugging. "Even if they score one more, the worst we get is a draw. Instead of playing it safe, why not try to recreate that miracle?"
He flashed a mischievous grin. "Like, say... stealing the ball from Aki one more time?"
Isagi let out a wry laugh. "Please. That was just luck."
"Luck is just another word for talent," Bachira chirped.
Kunigami cracked his knuckles. "So we keep the pressure up and stay on the offensive?"
"I'm in!" Raichi was the first to raise his hand. He was tired of being stifled; he was starving for a goal to reclaim his pride.
The whistle shrieked, signaling the final push.
Both teams took their positions. Team X had clearly restructured their strategy during the brief lull; both sides were at their physical limits, but the air was thick with the scent of an impending explosion. This final point would decide everything.
Barou stood at the head of Team X's formation, his gaze fixed on the scoreboard: 2 - 3.
If he wanted to win, he needed two goals in the dying minutes. At the very least, he needed one to force a draw. If he lost here, he'd be halfway to the abyss.
The veins on his forehead bulged with a violent intensity.
"All of you!" Barou roared at his team. "The moment you get the ball, you pass it to me!"