Whether by coincidence or thanks to that brilliant pass from Ryūma,
the ‘Blue Lock’ team, who had been focused on compact defending, were now forced to spread out.
Yoichi Isagi moved in near Seishiro Nagi, keeping a sharp eye on Sae Itoshi as he thought:
(That goal was basically a miracle. If we lose our footing again like before, we’re done for.)
(At least Ryūma didn’t go for a solo dribble. With his ability, it’s still unclear whether Tōya’s setup will actually work.)
(What we need to watch out for next is—)
(Sae Itoshi’s passing lanes!!)
(Huh?! Why is he charging straight at me?)
Snapping out of his thoughts, Yoichi Isagi immediately braced himself, eyes locked on the approaching Sae Itoshi.
At that moment, the pupils in Sae Itoshi’s eyes were swallowed by blinding white light, and within the white flames surrounding him, rows of numbers began to surface.
This meant Sae Itoshi was finally getting serious.
“The match is leveling up. Only the idiots who can keep up with me get to see the view from here on!”
Before Yoichi Isagi could even react, Sae Itoshi strung together a flawless chain of dribbling moves, gliding past him in an instant.
(What? An elastico nutmeg?!)
(And then immediate acceleration? Damn it, seriously?!)
(He abandoned the earlier style of looking for gaps and prioritizing passes—now he’s breaking through himself to add passing options?!)
(And with all of us gradually entering FLOW—no, with everyone on the field raising their level—he’s pouring in even more firepower?!)
(Sae Itoshi wasn’t using his full strength at all!)
(His skill ceiling is bottomless!!)
While Yoichi Isagi processed all that, Sae Itoshi had already blown past both Tabito Karasu and Meguru Bachira.
“No good! Someone else get in front of him!”
“Don’t need you to tell me, Mushroom-Head!”
Rin Itoshi sprinted in, eyes locked on Sae’s back, frustration boiling inside him.
(Damn it, damn it—damn it!!)
(How far apart are we now? Back then he was right beside me… we were supposed to be connected—)
(Sae Itoshi, how much further are you going to leave me behind?!)
With that rage bubbling over, Rin Itoshi lunged in for a fierce slide tackle—
—but Sae simply lifted the ball and hopped over it with ease.
Rin hit the ground hard, his right hand clutching the turf as frustration gripped his chest.
(That same feeling again… sinking, deeper and deeper.)
(I’m done with this slow, boiling, suffocating feeling—)
(Didn’t I already destroy it with my own hands and move past it?)
(This time—this version of me—will beat you!!)
(Anything Sae Itoshi can do, I can do too!!)
(We share the same blood!! Synchronize with him—)
(If I were Sae Itoshi, how would I crush ‘Blue Lock’?!)
From the commentary booth, Atsuto Tereasa erupted:
“Whoa! Sae Itoshi is tearing through their formation all on his own!”
On the field, Tabito Karasu—beaten again—shouted desperately, “Yukimiya, cover! Please!!”
But even Kenyu Yukimiya couldn’t stop a fully serious Sae Itoshi.
Rin Itoshi, trailing behind Sae, frantically pushed his brain into overdrive, trying to find a solution. This update ıs available on Nov3lFɪre.ɴet
(His dribbling is completely different from Yukimiya, Bachira, or Ryūma!)
(Pure dribblers all have their own style—they’re ‘proactive,’ choosing their own moves.)
(But Sae Itoshi dribbles ‘reactively’—he first reads the opponent’s rhythm and movements, then counters with precision!)
(It’s opportunistic, ‘counter-style’ dribbling!!)
In the few seconds Rin processed all that, Sae Itoshi had already surged into Blue Lock’s defensive third.
(Back then, before I even started playing, I was simply obsessed with Sae Itoshi’s football ‘philosophy.’)
(A style that calculates the optimal answer—crushing the opponent in the shortest time, in the most efficient and rational way!)
(The true essence of Sae Itoshi’s football—)
(is ‘Pure Destruction’!!)
As Sae drove in deep again all by himself, the Blue Lock side finally realized something was wrong.
“No way?! Seriously—?!”
“He’s actually planning to run it all the way alone, just like Ryūma?!”
Rin didn’t hear any of them. Right now, his eyes were fixed only on Sae Itoshi.
(Damn it, where’s he passing?! If I were Sae Itoshi, what would I do?!)
(If I were him, what kind of soccer would I want to play?)
(What kind of goal would I want? What would I be aiming for right now?!)
At the same time, Sae Itoshi came face-to-face with Blue Lock’s glamorous defender—Jyubei Aryu.
But naturally, Jyubei Aryu wasn’t enough to stop Sae.
In the next moment, Sae Itoshi struck at the perfect timing, sending the ball toward the Blue Lock penalty area.
(An outside-spin pass that throws off my timing?!)
(A shot—? No, that’s wrong—)
(It’s a cross for Ryūma!!)
Everyone in Blue Lock paled—his timing was perfect.
Ryūma, already airborne, whipped his right leg back. The ball looked ready to meet his foot exactly as he swung through.
“It’s over, Blue Lock!!”
But something Ryūma never anticipated happened.
Before the ball reached him, Rin Itoshi’s head suddenly appeared right where Ryūma’s kick was about to land.
“Right here, you bastard!”
Startled, Ryūma hurried to pull his power back—he feared a full-force kick might genuinely hospitalize Rin.
But even with him holding back, Rin hadn’t adjusted his jump angle at all. His entire face slammed hard into Ryūma’s calf.
The impact threw off the timing, and Ryūma ended up sending the ball out of bounds just as the referee’s whistle blew.
From the commentary booth, Atsuto Tereasa shouted:
“Ah—! He blocked it!!”
“But he took that shot straight to the face!!”
“Blue Lock’s Eleven Elite are demanding a yellow card!”
“At the last possible moment, Rin Itoshi has saved them!”
On the field, Ryūma walked up to Rin, who was kneeling with his hands over his face, looking utterly speechless.
“You okay, Rin? You really have a death wish, huh?”
“You know exactly how strong my shots are. It’s only because I reacted fast that I held back!”
“Otherwise, that one would’ve put you in the hospital for days!”