THIRD PERSON POV
The day was November 20th, participants of "Blue Lock" are being driven via bus to the facility where Soccer is at its most intense. Where their egos would be born.
Hibari kept to himself on the bus, as did everyone else for the most part. The ride was an eerie and uncomfortable silence filled with tension and piercing gazes. Everyone there truly did believe they were worth a damn.
Hibari glanced out the window at the scenery going by, he caught site of a massive facility he could only guess was this "Blue Lock" place. That and the big blocky letters that spelled out "Blue Lock" on the side.
The high-schoolers were filed off the busses in single-file lines once they reached the facility. Their belongings and personal possessions like wallets, phones etc. were being confiscated at the entrance by a red-haired beauty.
"Next, Hibari Yakushiji," The red-haired woman called his name, signaling him to come forward.
"So you know me, I'm flattered really." Hibari commented, a slight smirk on his face.
She held out a bin in front of him, it had dozens of possessions inside of it. "Please place your phone and wallet in this bin."
Hibari agreed and placed both of his belongings into the bin, "You know. While you have it, you should put your number in there as well."
"Yea, I don't think so." She bluntly replied.
"Ouch. Well that'll be the only shot I miss the entire time I'm here anyway."
She then handed him a uniform, "Go to the room indicated by the letter on your uniform, and then change into your uniform there and await further instructions."
"I look forward to seeing you again too." Hibari walked off, throwing a wave towards her.
She looked fed up with him at that point.
He made his way through the various halls that all looked the exact same. He looked down at his uniform, which held a number on the shoulder sleeve and below it a letter.
253-W
'I guess I should be looking for room W then?' Hibari thought as he ventured through the various never-ending hallways.
He spotted a room with some vibrant blue lettering on the door, it said "Room W" on it so he naturally entered. Inside, he found multiple others, he counted 8 besides himself. They already had their uniforms on and one was in the process of changing.
The room was empty aside from the other players and a row of lockers lining the wall to Hibari's right. White walls, harsh lights overhead, and the sound of bare feet shifting on the polished floor.
Hibari walked in and went straight to a locker. He didn't acknowledge anyone and no one acknowledged him.
Hibari unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, showing his muscular form, he tossed his shirt inside the locker as he swapped it out for the top half of the body suit he had been given.
As he was changing, two more people walked in. In total now, that made 11 people, the standard number of players on a soccer field.
It was best to keep quiet for now, at least until he found out whether the others here were going to be his opponents or his team.
He finished changing and leaned up against a wall to wait.
He eyed the others around him, reading the numbers on their sleeves. He took note that his own number was the lowest in the room. They all had similar number ranges to his, counting forwards from 253 to 254, 255 etc.
To Hibari's surprise, one more person entered the room. Hibari took notice of this person,
He was average in height, slim-built, with dark pink hair that hung unevenly over his eyes. One side was braided down loosely, tucked behind his ear. His eyes were sharp but half-lidded, giving him a calm, unreadable look.
He walked over to the lockers and began changing.
Hibari wondered why there was 12 people now, he could understand 11 but 12?
Just then a voice broke the silence,
"No way! Kagesaki Tech's Hibari Yakushiji?" Some dude sauntered up to him,
Hibari turned his head slightly. A tall, wiry kid with spiky hair and a too-wide grin was walking over to him, barefoot like the rest, practically glowing with self-importance.
"I thought that was you," the guy said. "Man, I've seen your matches online. That one touch dribble against Seiran? Filthy. You glide through defenders like it's nothing."
Hibari didn't respond. He stared for a moment, then looked away.
The guy didn't get the hint.
"I'm actually known for my dribbling too. Real sharp control, quick hips. I hope we get to play together, I think we would be unstoppable together!"
'Together? What a joke.' A thought ran through Hibari's head he almost laughed.
Unfazed, the guy turned to face the rest of the room, arms spread like he was on a stage.
"Anyway, since we're all together in here, we might as well get on the same page. Name's Shidouma. I played forward for Seisho High. I've been in a few national camps, so if anyone needs help getting settled or figuring things out, feel free to ask."
"We should all introduce ourselves to build trust!" Shidouma asked enthusiastically.
No one moved. No one said anything.
"You talk like this is a team meeting. We don't even know if we're supposed to be on the same side." Hibari finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence.
Shidouma kept going. "Well I think if we all cooperate, we'll all—"
A mechanical click echoed through the room as a screen above us flickered on. Static gave way to the sharp image of a man with disheveled hair and deadpan eyes: Jinpachi Ego.
He stared straight at them through the monitor, hands behind his back.
"Are you all finished changing, my diamonds in the rough?"
Everyone instinctively looked up.
Ego continued without waiting.
"You twelve have been placed in this room based on my personal evaluations. From this point forward, I want you to consider the players you're sharing this space with as both your roommates and your rivals."
A few heads turned, some glancing around the room. Hibari stayed still, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen.
"I have quantified your skills," Ego went on, "and ranked each of you according to my own advised decision-making system. The numbers on your uniforms? That is your current rank out of the three hundred strikers brought to Blue Lock."
Hibari's eyes narrowed. He looked down at his shoulder.
253.
His jaw tightened. He clenched his teeth slightly. That number made his stomach churn.
"These rankings," Ego said, "are not set in stone. They will change based on your performance during training, tests, and matches."
He paused, then let the next part hang.
"Six months from today, the top five players at Blue Lock will be selected to participate in a critical international tournament."
That got a reaction. Even Hibari raised an eyebrow. A few of the others looked around, visibly stirred.
Ego didn't stop.
"Those top five will be officially registered as forwards for Japan's U-20 National Team during the World Cup."
Hibari exhaled slowly through his nose.
The stakes had just shifted.
"And for the rest of you," Ego said coldly, "if you lose here at Blue Lock, you will forfeit your right to ever represent Japan in football. Not now, not in the future. Not as a striker, not in any position. You will be eliminated from the path to the top. Permanently."
Some mouths fell slightly open. The room's tension snapped into focus.
Ego's stare hardened.
"I've gathered you here to measure one thing above all else: your ego. What drives you. What defines your ambition."
A mechanical whirring echoed from the ceiling.
A square panel slid open, and a soccer ball dropped from above, landing with a dull bounce in the center of the room.
All eyes followed it.
Ego didn't flinch.
"Let's begin with a test," he said.
The screen shifted to a wide view of the room from a ceiling camera.
"We're going to play a game of tag."
No one moved.
"You have 136 seconds," Ego said clearly. "One of you will begin as 'It.' That person must strike someone else with the ball to pass on the tag. Whoever is 'It' when time runs out will be… locked off."
He let that last part hang.
Then added, almost playfully, "Oh, and no using your hands."
His tone shifted into a mocking sing-song for the last part, like he was enjoying it too much.
The monitor then flickered, switching to a new display.
A glowing blue graphic appeared: a digital player icon with short spiky hair and a familiar face.
It looked exactly like one of the players in the room. The name next to it read, "Anzai Takumi" signaling he was the first person it. He was also the highest ranked player here at 264.
"Ergh! I'm it? So be it!" The player now identified as Takumi grunted.
2:09
Takumi began dribbling towards us as he geared up for a kick. He let it loose and hit nothing but the wall as everyone scattered.
The sweat already beginning to stain his brow, Takumi went for another attack only to miss again.
1:40
Takumi was on the right side of the room in the middle. There was a player with behind his back in the corner and one in front of him in the corner as well.
Hibari was on the left side awaiting his next move.
Takumi wound up his leg for a power kick, putting his whole body into it as he engaged his leg muscles.
"Guess I'll have to get a bit creative!" Takumi shouted as he unleashed the full force kick at the player in front of him with black hair. The ball sped towards him incredibly fast, but he managed to scrape out of the way.
The ball had so much force on it that it ricocheted off the wall and to the complete opposite side of the room towards the player in the opposite corner.
'That guy has good spatial awareness, he recognized the positions of each player and took advantage of them to deceive who he was going for.' Hibari thought about Takumi.
He must've let his guard down because he reacted late and the ball ended up getting a piece of his foot. The monitor screen changed the name.
Kairu Saramadara, rank 256
1:00
Saramadara had braided aquamarine colored hair. He held a calm look on his face, he didn't freak out or lose his cool when he got tagged.
"Huh. Guess I caught a ripple," he muttered, lazily pushing himself upright.
A few of the players tensed up, already anticipating the next wild shot. But Saramadara didn't rush in like Takumi had. He stretched his arms above his head and let out a quiet breath, shoulders swaying like he was loosening up for a jog on the beach.
"Alright," he said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Let's ride this flow."
The ball was still rolling at his feet. He stepped onto it smoothly, balancing with one foot as he scanned the room, not like a hunter, more like someone watching the tide.
The others kept their distance, trying to stay light on their feet, but Saramadara didn't move with urgency. He dribbled lazily, the ball sticking to his toes with unassuming precision. His arms swayed with rhythm, more dancer than striker, more surfer than athlete.
The pink haired individual with the braid, who had been watching silently from near the back wall, subtly shifted his position. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes, half-lidded and patient, tracked Saramadara with interest.
Saramadara feinted toward the middle, then pivoted toward the left. Then the right. He was watching them, not as opponents, but like waves he had to time. He let the seconds drip off the clock like water down waxed fiberglass.
0:18
He suddenly angled toward the player with the dark pink braided hair.
He didn't yell. He didn't telegraph. He just shifted his weight, gently nudging the ball forward, then sprang into a whip-fast kick.
The ball spun off his foot, low, fast, and cutting tight like a carving turn on water.
Kurona reacted half a second late.
But Hibari saw it coming.
The moment Saramadara's hips rotated, Hibari knew.
Hibari pushed off the wall, moved low, fast, and intercepted the ball mid-roll with the side of his foot, catching it just before it could strike pink hair.
0:06
The impact echoed slightly. Saramadara blinked, surprised, but amused.
Hibari didn't wait for anyone to speak. His foot hooked under the ball in a tight motion. He wound back and fired, clean, fast, and low, across the room.
Shidouma hadn't even seen him move.
The ball slammed into Shidouma's face with a loud thud, effectively breaking his nose with a CRACK.
0:00
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the tag game.
The monitor updated.
Renji Shidouma, rank 258
Red blood effects spilled down the monitor screen, Renj Shidouma's soccer career was now dead.
Hibari walked over to Shidouma, who was sitting, holding his bloody nose in his hand.
He stopped in front of Shidouma. Looked down at him. Then leaned forward, grabbing a fistful of his spiky hair and yanking his head up.
Shidouma winced, still dazed from the hit.
Hibari crouched low, pulling him in until they were nose to bloodied nose. His voice was low, but steady, like someone savoring a private joke.
"Never meet your heroes," Hibari said, the corner of his mouth curling into a wild, off-kilter smile.
He let go of Shidouma's hair, and the boy's head slumped back down, limp and beaten.
"Well done my diamonds in the rough. With that being said, Renji Shidouma, you lost. LOCK. OFF. YOU PATHETIC LOSER."
Renji started tearing up, saying something about how it wasn't fair. He has no right to forfeit his career because he lost a game of tag.
Renji finished his tantrum and fucked off.
"Congratulations." Ego began, "Those of you who remain, have passed the Blue Lock entrance examination."
"Now look at those around you, you 11 players will be living together, sometimes as rivals, other times as teammates, but for now...you're Blue Lock team W." Ego finished, letting us know that we would all be working together as one...for now.
With that the monitor turned off and nobody moved or said a word.
Hibari was leaning against the wall, keeping to himself after Ego declared they would be a team.
That's when the pink-haired boy with the braid stepped toward him. His expression was still unreadable, but as he got closer, Hibari noticed something about him, his canines were unusually sharp. Not in a grotesque way, just…noticeable.
"Why'd you step in?" he asked calmly. "I would've gotten tagged if you didn't. Not that I'm complaining."
Hibari didn't look at him right away.
"I wasn't doing it for you," he said after a beat. "That guy was pissing me off."
The pink-haired boy nodded once, like that was all the explanation he needed.
"Well, thanks anyway," he said, voice still low. "I don't really like the spotlight, the spotlight…but it seems like you do. Or at least, you know how to control it. Mind if I follow your lead, lead?"
That got Hibari's attention. He raised an eyebrow, studying the boy more closely now.
"And what should I call you? Shark Boy?"
The boy actually smirked a little. "Ranze Kurona."
"Hibari Yakushiji," Hibari replied, finally pushing himself off the wall.
He looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone who had just witnessed what happened. Most of them turned away the moment he looked at them.
"Let that first test be a warning to all of you," Hibari said, pointing a thumb at himself.
"Because I'm the one calling the shots now."
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ADDITIONAL TIME
The bus rattled quietly along the countryside. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating with tension, like a pot just waiting to boil. No one spoke. No one even coughed.
Hibari sat by the window, arms folded, looking stoic and intense. The kind of guy who probably dreamed about scoring goals in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Then, without warning, he slipped one hand into his jacket.
Out came his phone.
He plugged in a pair of earbuds like it was a secret mission, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. He turned the screen away from the aisle, tapping quickly.
On his screen: Idol Stage Heroine!!, a colorful rhythm game full of cutesy, squeaky-voiced pop idols.
The music kicked in.
"Let's chase our dreams! In rainbow-colored cleats!"
Hibari's face didn't change. Stone cold. Focused. His thumb moved with terrifying speed as sparkles exploded across the screen. He was sweating. Not from nerves, from combo preservation.
He leaned a little closer to the screen, eyes narrowing, vein bulging slightly on his forehead.
"Don't choke now… You've been practicing this track all week," he muttered.
Just as he was about to hit the final 1,000-combo note
His thumb slipped.
MISS!
"Stage failed…"
His pupils shrank. The world darkened behind him.
A huge pulsing tick mark grew on his temple. His face turned white with rage as a single string of comically large sweat dripped down his cheek. His clenched fist shook.
"Are you… kidding me?"
Across the aisle, a player peeked over, having caught a glimpse of the failure screen.
"…Yo, were you playing a rhythm game just now?"
Hibari turned to him slowly. Blank white eyes. Shadow over his face.
He didn't say anything.
He just held the phone up, the screen showing a pouting chibi idol saying "You'll do better next time, Coach!"
"...Never mind," the player said, recoiling into his seat.
The camera zoomed out slowly as Hibari reloaded the stage, muttering, "No mistakes this time. I'm going full combo if it kills me."
Cue the idol game music starting back up.
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A/N: Thats all she wrote! Whatd yall think?
Super glad I get to put Kurona in this story! HE NEEDS MORE SCREENTIME. My goat shark Blue Locker. Hopefully I do him well personality wise in future chapter because we really don't know his personality, even in the manga aswell.
Also the additional time thing, good idea or no? I think it would just be a fun little gag to add at the end of every chapter. Not to be taken seriously but just to see the characters act a little silly!
For a schedule, I will aim for 1-2 chapters a week generally. I'll see if I can hold myself to that.
Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
Ussylliss out