The next stage (245)

Nakada pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping his lips as his sister's voice continued its rapid-fire assault on his eardrums. Her words, a jumbled mess of excitement and playful jabs, were undeniably annoying at times. Yet, beneath the constant chatter, he sensed a genuine concern, a wellspring of affection that resonated deep within him.

She was, after all, his sister. The one constant presence in a life increasingly dominated by data streams and calculated maneuvers. The one who'd always cheered him on from the sidelines, her face a beacon of unwavering support. He couldn't bring himself to truly dislike her, not when her presence held a weight far greater than mere annoyance.

She was the other half of a childhood spent navigating the complexities of life with a working mother. When the house felt empty, her laughter filled the void, her presence a source of warmth in a world increasingly driven by cold logic.

He acknowledged her attempts, however clumsy, to curb his obsessive focus on football. He saw the worry etched on her face when he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion during training. It gnawed at him, this concern, a foreign emotion that threatened to disrupt his meticulously crafted world.

But perhaps, just perhaps, there was room for a different kind of processing. A processing of emotions, of sibling bonds, of a vulnerability he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge before. He wouldn't abandon his data-driven path, not entirely. It was the foundation of his dominance, the key to unlocking his full potential.

But maybe, just maybe, he could allow a sliver of space for his sister's chaotic presence, for the warmth of their connection. After all, even the most sophisticated machine needed a human touch now and then.

As the plane soared higher, the world shrinking into a miniature landscape, Nakada made a decision. He wouldn't shut her out entirely. He'd indulge her, answer her questions, for a little while at least.

Back at the Blue Lock facility, a different kind of tension crackled in the air. Twenty-two players, hopeful and ambitious, stood gathered in a room, their eyes scanning the group for a familiar figure. Bachira, his gaze sharp, was one of the first to notice the absence. Nakada, the undisputed king of the Neo Egoist League, was nowhere to be seen.

A hush fell over the room as Ego strutted in, a self-assured smirk plastered on his face. He addressed the room, his voice amplified by a microphone. "Well, well, well," he boomed, his tone dripping with theatrics. "I see some of you unpolished gems are wondering where Nakada-kun is." A ripple of murmurs confirmed his observation.

"The reason is quite simple, really," Ego continued, drawing out the suspense. A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes. "None of you are a challenge for him. You see, he's transcended your level. He needs a different kind of fire to push him further."

Ego's words hung heavy in the air, a calculated jab meant to both provoke and inspire. A lone voice, emboldened by anonymity, piped up from the crowd. "But doesn't he still need to pass the selection to be chosen for the national team?"

Ego's smile widened. "Ah, a valid question," he conceded. "Normally, yes. But can any of you, in all honesty," he scanned their faces, his voice dropping to a low challenge, "claim you can take his spot? Who among you is confident enough to unseat the prodigy?"

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that spoke volumes. Each player shifted uncomfortably, their gazes downcast. They all knew the truth. As talented as they were, as much potential as they possessed, none of them could rival Nakada's brilliance. He was a force of nature, a data-driven phenomenon they could only aspire to.

Ego's lips curled into a cruel smile. He had planted the seed of doubt, the gnawing awareness of their limitations. But within that doubt, he also hoped, a spark of determination would ignite. After all, wasn't that the very essence of Blue Lock? To forge these unpolished gems into weapons, to push them to their breaking points, to create a striker hungry enough to devour even a prodigy like Nakada? The game had just begun.

Ego's announcement sent a jolt of electricity through the room. Twenty-two dreams condensed into ten coveted spots. The air crackled with a renewed intensity, the comfortable camaraderie of shared confusion replaced by a cold, hard focus. Here, in this windowless room, the competition had transformed. Nakada's absence wasn't a void, but an opportunity – a chance to prove themselves worthy, not just to Ego, but to themselves.

"Now, my unpolished gems," Ego's voice rang out, a hint of sadistic glee coloring his tone, "let the battle for the starting eleven commence! But remember, there's only ten spots left. May the hungriest striker win." A cruel smile stretched across his face.

A collective glint of determination hardened the players' gazes. Doubt and intimidation, lingering from Ego's earlier words, were pushed aside, replaced by a burning desire to prove their worth. Nakada might be a prodigy, but they were not mere also-rans.

They were here to fight, to bleed, to push themselves beyond their limits. Blue Lock was a crucible, and they were ready to be forged into the weapons it demanded.

The whispers started, strategies forming, alliances solidifying. Bachira, his eyes gleaming with a competitive fire, scanned the room, no doubt searching for a teammate who could complement his unorthodox style. Others huddled together, their voices hushed but their stances resolute. The tension in the room was palpable, a storm brewing before the first clash.

This wasn't just about securing a spot on the team. It was about proving they belonged, that they had the hunger, the killer instinct, to compete on the world stage. Nakada might have been the uncontested king, but a king was only as strong as his court.

And these unpolished gems, spurred by Ego's challenge and their own burning ambition, were determined to shine. The battles to come would be brutal, a test of not just skill, but of spirit.

But from this crucible, a new generation of Japanese strikers would emerge, hungry, relentless, and forged in the fires of Blue Lock. The game had begun, and the stakes had never been higher.

A/N Anyway this chapter was supposed to drop Friday but I got writer block and couldn't write for a bit.

This story shall go on Hiatus until the manga add more info or until I had enough of waiting and make my own arc.

See ya in July,hopefully by then the manga will have started the next stage.(who am I kidding that match will still be on going by then)