By the time Shōei Barō noticed Ryūma Banjō’s movement, it was already too late.
Ryūma barreled forward at incredible speed, brutally smashing through Barō’s outstretched left arm.
Ignoring the pain, Barō gritted his teeth and charged after him.
By then, Ryūma had already received the incoming ball. With a swift turn, he accelerated toward the White Team’s half.
Because Seishiro Nagi’s tackle had taken down Meguru Bachira, the latter had only just gotten up when he saw Ryūma breaking toward his team’s goal.
Panicking, Bachira immediately sprinted after him—but Nagi appeared at his side and spoke.
“This isn’t like you. What, trying to lose on purpose so we’ll pick you?”
“Even though Isagi chose you in the first selection round, I doubt he needs this version of you now.”
“Honestly, if we win, I’d pick Isagi. Rin probably would too.”
“And even if it were the other way around, Isagi would pick Rin over the current you.”
Finishing his words, Nagi turned away from Bachira and dashed after Ryūma.
Nagi’s voice echoed endlessly in Bachira’s mind.
(If we lose, they won’t pick me—they’ll pick Isagi instead...) ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveIＦire.net
(Then I won’t be able to play with Isagi or Rin ever again...)
That thought ignited something inside him. Bachira clenched his teeth and unleashed every ounce of strength he had left, sprinting desperately toward Ryūma as a scream of despair tore through his heart.
(I won’t allow it!! I won’t!! I WON’T!!!)
(At this point, ego and mindset don’t matter anymore—)
(Even if it kills me, I’ll win! I won’t let anyone take Isagi away!!)
“Get back on defense!!”
“Chigiri, stop that shot even if it kills you!!”
Ryūma was simply too fast. Even though Yoichi Isagi sprinted back at full speed, he was still several strides behind.
His only hope now lay with Hyōma Chigiri’s speed. Staring at Ryūma’s fading figure, Isagi thought:
(If I can just—just delay him for a second!!)
(Please, Chigiri… if I can reach him in time, I’ll cut across his shooting line and stop him!)
Chigiri, gasping for breath, hurled himself forward at top speed. The only thing keeping his legs moving now was pure willpower. Finally, just as Ryūma lifted his foot to shoot—he arrived!
“Don’t even think about it!!”
Using the momentum from his sprint, Chigiri lunged into a sliding tackle toward Ryūma.
He didn’t even have time to adjust his stance—if he slowed down for a second, the overexertion would drop him flat.
“Not bad, princess. But a tackle like that? You’re ten thousand years too early to stop me.”
With a smirk, Ryūma sliced the ball with his right foot, sending it sharply to the left before bolting in the same direction.
His control was perfect—after just a few strides, he was already back in front of the ball.
From a distance, Bachira sprinted with everything he had, thoughts raging in his mind:
(In this Blue Lock, I refuse to lose anyone or anything I’ve found!)
(Isagi’s always been by my side, playing soccer with me...)
(That’s all I wanted—because I don’t want to lose my first friend!)
(Because I never want to go back… to that lonely place again!!)
Then, suddenly, Bachira froze as his mother’s voice echoed in his mind:
“When you grow up, people start wanting to believe—but find themselves unable to.”
“So when you pretend not to hear, eventually, you stop hearing your own voice.”
(Since when… have I been scared of being alone? Playing soccer just so Isagi and Rin wouldn’t abandon me?)
(Since when did I start playing just to be needed by others?)
(I wasn’t living for my own voice… I was chasing the voices of others—)
(The one I should trust isn’t their voice—it’s my own!!)
Meanwhile, Shōei Barō used the brief opening Chigiri created to catch up from behind.
“Damn it! Get back here, you arrogant brat!!”
Hearing him, Ryūma glanced sideways with a mocking grin.
“Heh. Your arm’s fine now, huh, Muscle Gorilla?”
“You dare talk to me like that, brat!?”
Barō’s rage boiled over. He clenched his teeth and forced his exhausted body to accelerate, steadily closing the distance.
(Hah, this guy won’t rest until I humiliate him, huh?)
(Fine, fine. They call me the ‘Great Benefactor,’ after all—guess I’ll be generous.)
Ryūma’s lips curled upward as he slowed slightly, waiting until Barō was almost beside him.
Then, suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, planting his right foot on the ball and dragging it back.
Even in his fury, Barō kept his wits. He had been expecting Ryūma’s sudden stop.
The instant Ryūma halted, Barō lunged behind him to intercept—right where the ball should’ve been.
But the expected contact never came. Instead, Ryūma’s taunting voice reached his ears.
As he pulled the ball back with his right foot, Ryūma lightly hopped back with his left, then exploded forward once again.
(A fake pull-back… He made me think he was going to break behind, lured me to block it, then dashed forward to escape me!)
(Damn it! What a dirty move!)
(But don’t think you’ve shaken me off that easily—I’m the King!!)
As Ryūma sprinted ahead, a chill suddenly crawled down his spine.
When he looked back, his pupils shrank.
In his eyes, Shōei Barō’s irises burned crimson, like a starving lion lunging with savage hunger.
(Hah, he actually caught up?)
(Interesting… Under this crushing pressure, Barō’s true potential is finally surfacing.)
Ryūma’s grin deepened. He deliberately eased his pace again, letting Barō believe he was closing the gap by sheer effort.
Then, just as Barō finally reached him, Ryūma turned with a mocking smile.
“Heh… did you really think you could catch me?”
p@treon com / GhostParser