·Chapter 69: A Step AheadMar 23Share"Didn't you hear me the first time, Highlights? I ain't teaching you shit!"
Lavinho's voice was as lazy as ever, dripping with dismissal as he lounged in his room, one leg propped up on the bed, his toned arms resting behind his head. He had no interest in company—especially not in playing mentor.
Yet, standing at his door, unfazed as ever, was Bachira Meguru.
There was no usual playful glint in his golden eyes, no teasing grin or singsong taunt. Instead, his gaze was steady—focused.
"...So as I was saying,"
Bachira continued as if he hadn't been dismissed, his tone unusually serious.
"I want to beat Isagi. But right now... I don't see how."
Lavinho's smirk faltered, just for a second. His eyes flickered with interest as he finally shifted, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees.
"Isagi, huh?"
The name had weight now. The kid who'd been just another challenger in Blue Lock had risen to the top.
"You mean the 'Hero of Blue Lock'?"
Bachira's lips curled slightly.
"Uh-huh."
Bachira nodded, his golden eyes sharp with determination.
"So… is he your goal?"
Bachira's expression brightened, but there was a fire in his gaze—something different from his usual carefree nature.
"Yeah"
He declared.
"When I lost to Isagi, he told me we'd meet on the next stage… but we never got to play against each other. Now that I have the chance, I want to crush him."
The air around him shifted. A low, electric charge coursed through his words—not from anger, but from something deeper.
"There aren't many people who can challenge him anymore. Back then, he was ranked lower than me. But then he just kept going—kept evolving at a ridiculous speed. Now he's Blue Lock's No. 1."
Isagi Yoichi had changed. He wasn't just some promising talent anymore—he was a force, someone who could tilt the entire battlefield in his favor.
Bachira's fists clenched, but his smile widened, eyes gleaming.
"But I don't want to just watch him climb alone"
He continued, his voice dipping into something darker—something more desperate.
"I want to be there—right beside him. I want to break him down and make him chase me instead. I want to force him to get even stronger... because of me."
His heart pounded, his pulse hammering in his ears.
That feeling. That moment when Isagi's eyes locked onto him—not just as a friend, but as an opponent. As a threat. That was what he wanted. That was what he craved.
But right now?
Right now, to Isagi, he was just… there.
Not a rival. Not a wall to surpass. Just another player in his orbit.
And that wasn't enough.
Bachira inhaled sharply, excitement burning in his veins.
'I'll change that.'
This time, when Isagi looked at him, it wouldn't be as a mere presence on the field.
It would be as his equal.
.
.
.PresentAs Isagi and Bachira locked eyes, the world around them seemed to blur, fading into the background. In that instant, nothing else mattered—only the thrill surging through their veins, the raw exhilaration of a play unfolding at its peak.
Isagi had shaped this play from the ground up, molding every movement, every action to fit the exact scenario he envisioned. A calculated masterpiece—one meant to end in spectacular fashion.
But Bachira had read it all.
Or maybe he hadn't read it—maybe he had simply felt it, an instinct so sharp it let him dance along the thin edge of prediction and reaction. He had expected Isagi to do something audacious. And because of that, he had moved.
And it had worked.
Bachira's chest rose and fell with exhilaration, his heart pounding in rhythm with the game. He had done it. He had stopped the play Isagi had crafted from nothing—a sequence no one else had even seen coming.
And now, Isagi was looking at him.
Not just noticing him. Seeing him.
Bachira's lips curled into a grin, his fingers twitching in anticipation. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for.
Now, he could fight Isagi on equal terms.
"Wh-What!? What an exchange that was! Ness sends a pass to Isagi while Kaiser acts as a decoy—a masterful play from Bastard München!"
The commentator's voice boomed through the stadium, the excitement palpable.
"Yeah!... But—wait a second. Doesn't Kaiser and Ness look... shocked?"
"Huh...?"
The second commentator's voice wavered as the camera panned to the scene.
"Ness's... on the ground?"
A stunned silence washed over the stadium.
"Is it possible... that—"
"Yeah!"
His co-commentator cut in, voice hushed with realization.
"And even a play like that was stopped by FC Barcha! It's for throw-in now"
The commentators, still processing the chaos that had unfolded, scrambled to dissect the bigger picture—just what had they witnessed?
On Bastard München's bench, the substitutes sat frozen, their eyes locked onto the field in stunned disbelief.
Raichi, however, was anything but quiet. His teeth clenched, fists gripping the edge of his seat as irritation boiled inside him. That was a perfect goal opportunity. Ness had set it up. Kaiser had broken through the defense. Everything had been lined up for a flawless finish—until Isagi stole it.
"Tch! What the hell was that!?"
Raichi growled, scowling.
"That was Kaiser's goal!"
Naruhaya and Hiori, sitting nearby, had a different reaction. Unlike Raichi's frustration, they were overwhelmed by what they had just witnessed.
Isagi hadn't just been in the right place at the right time—he had built the play. He had moved like a chess master, not only positioning himself for the final strike but also shaping the field to make it possible.
But as their thoughts raced, a more unsettling realization crept in.
If Isagi had truly planned the entire sequence, then that would mean—
'Did he predict the trajectory of Ness's pass…?'
Hiori's brows furrowed, his analytical mind working through every angle. The precision, the movement—it was possible.
Naruhaya, on the other hand, felt his stomach twist. He shook his head slightly, refusing to accept it.
'No way. That kind of foresight wasn't human.'
It had to be a fluke, a miracle—something even Isagi himself hadn't expected.
On the field, Isagi and Bachira returned to their positions, there was no need for words. Their bodies were already moving.
This was far from over.
Across the field, Kaiser stood still, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Isagi's back. His jaw tightened, fingers twitching at his sides. He had seen it—every movement, every calculated step that led to Isagi's interception of his play.
And he understood it.
That was what irritated him the most.
He had underestimated Isagi.
No—he had failed to account for him.
Kaiser's mind replayed the sequence in detail. Isagi had passed the ball to Grim, but instead of fading out of the play, he had continued moving, slithering through the cracks in the defense, positioning himself in a way that only made sense after it was too late.
Kaiser clenched his fists. The goal had been blocked, sure—but the facts remained.
Isagi had two shots on goal. One of them had hit the back of the net.
Kaiser had none.
The Emperor of Bastard München was being pushed to react.
A slow smirk crept onto his face, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.
"Tch…"
Kaiser scoffed under his breath, rolling his shoulders as he shifted back into position.
'Fine then, Isagi.
Let's see how far you can go.'
Kunigami stood at the sideline, gripping the ball tightly in his hands as he prepared for the throw-in.
The moment the referee's whistle blew, he launched the ball toward Genser.
Genser wasted no time. He trapped the ball and immediately took off down the right wing. His target was set—Ness, who had deliberately positioned himself outside the cluster forming near the box.
It was a smart move. Staying out of the chaos meant he had more space to receive and redirect the ball, giving Bastard München another angle of attack.
Or at least, that was the plan.
But just as Genser prepared to send the pass—
SWOOP!
"Huh...?"
The ball was gone.
Yanked right from his feet.
It wasn't a tackle. It wasn't a block.
It was a robbery.
And the thief?
Kunigami Rensuke.
The Wild Card had had enough.
Enough of waiting. Enough of being a shadow in a game where everyone else was carving out their names.
Since the match had started, he had been sidelined. Overlooked. Forced into a role where he didn't even touch the ball.
No more.
This was his moment now.
He wanted to score.
Kunigami surged forward, his entire body coiled with raw determination. The moment he entered the shooting range, he didn't hesitate.
With a sharp pivot, he swung his left leg—a motion ingrained into his very core.
BOOM!
A cannon of a shot exploded from his foot, a bullet aimed straight for the left corner of the net.
The sheer force behind it sent a ripple through the air, a testament to his incredible physique.
But—
THWAP!
The goalkeeper reacted.
A lightning-fast dive, his body stretching to full length. His fingers met the ball, deflecting it away at the last possible second.
It landed at the feet of an FC Barcha defender, who wasted no time. With precise control, he secured possession and immediately launched it forward, snapping Bastard München's offensive momentum in an instant.
Kunigami gritted his teeth, his fists clenching.
So close.
But close wasn't good enough.
He turned on his heel, moving back into position.
FC Barcha wasted no time. The moment they regained possession, their counterattack began in full force.
The ball moved rapidly between their players, a seamless exchange of quick, precise passes designed to dismantle Bastard München's defensive shape.
And at the heart of it—Bachira Meguru.
He was already in motion, sprinting toward the midfield with the ball at his feet.
But then—
A familiar presence appeared in his path.
Isagi Yoichi.
Bachira's lips curled into a grin.
His golden eyes gleamed with excitement, an unmistakable glint of mischief flickering within them. He had already stopped Isagi's play before, disrupting his flow and turning the tide in Barcha's favor.
But this time was different.
This was about him versus Isagi.
One-on-one.
He wanted to beat Isagi.
Head-on.
Isagi locked his eyes onto Bachira, his body already set in a defensive stance. Every muscle was coiled, every nerve on high alert. He knew that stopping Bachira wouldn't be easy—the dribbler thrived in these one-on-one duels, dancing past defenders.
As Bachira closed the distance, Isagi studied his posture.
Bachira was a mystery in motion, his body language betraying nothing about his next move. He had an infinite array of options, and that made him even more dangerous.
Then, the shift.
Bachira feinted right.
Isagi followed, already anticipating the cut-in.
And just as expected—there it was. A sharp switch to the left.
But Isagi was ready. His instincts had seen this play before, and his body responded instantly, mirroring Bachira's movement with perfect timing. His footwork was sharp, his balance unwavering.
He could steal this.
He could shut Bachira down—
"Huh…?"
Isagi's breath hitched.
Just as he was about to make the interception, Bachira did something completely unexpected.
With a single fluid motion, while still sprinting, Bachira flicked the ball backward with his heel—
A one-legged Rainbow Flick.
The ball arced beautifully over Isagi's head, bypassing him entirely.
In a split second, Isagi's mind raced to process what just happened. He instinctively decided to take a calculated step back, positioning himself strategically to intercept the ball before it reached Bachira. With the agility, he executed a scorpion trap, ready to skillfully flick the ball up behind his leg.
"Too slow, Isagi~"
Bachira was already past him, sprinting forward with that same playful grin, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief.
And then—
Tap.
From out of nowhere, Otoya.
Without hesitation, Otoya met the airborne ball with his head and redirected it—right back to Bachira.
"Are our passing skills and ball control still not enough for Tika-Taka style, Isagi?"
A perfect one-two pass.
Isagi's widened eyes followed the ball as it soared back toward Bachira, who was already surging ahead, leaving him behind.
Bachira had played him.
Bachira knew that defeating Isagi in a one-on-one situation wouldn't be easy. His plan was to beat Isagi, but using Otoya was a crucial part of that strategy. If it hadn't been for Otoya's involvement, Isagi would have been able to trap the ball before Bachira could get to it.
Bachira pushed forward, effortlessly weaving through the field with the ball at his feet.
Genser and Grim rushed in from both sides, closing the space around him. They had used Isagi as bait to set up this double press.
But Bachira smirked. He wasn't falling for it.
With a quick flick of his heel, he popped the ball over their heads, a heel lift pass that sailed smoothly to Lara on the left. A deliberate move—a mockery of their defense.
Genser and Grim froze, their press dismantled before it could take effect.
Lara controlled the ball with a sharp touch and immediately sent it across to Otoya on the right.
The tempo exploded.
Bachira surged forward, slipping past his markers with ease. By the time Otoya received the pass, Bachira was already in position. A quick return pass met his stride perfectly.
Without hesitation—BOOM!
His shot blasted past the goalkeeper, slamming into the back of the net.
GOAL.
The spectators erupted as FC Barcha's players reveled in their equalizer, the front trio basking in the glory of their combined effort. Lara and Otoya rushed toward Bachira, who stood at the center of it all, his arms stretched wide as if embracing the moment itself. Lara leaped onto his back, his laughter blending with the cheers, while Otoya threw an arm around his shoulders.
Bachira had accomplished it; he had won. He defeated Isagi, exactly what he had desired and wanted.
Their celebration painted a stark contrast to the figure standing behind them. Isagi's gaze remained fixed on the scene, his mind dissecting every second leading up to the goal. He wasn't shocked anymore. No, that feeling had already passed. What remained was a cold, biting realization—this was his mistake.
He had seen Otoya move. The warning signs had been there, clear as day. And yet, he had failed to keep up with Bachira's unpredictability. Maybe he had been too absorbed in crafting his own attack, too focused on constructing his plays, that he had overlooked Bachira's chaotic artistry.
A slow exhale left his lips, this wasn't over. If he wanted to dominate this field, he had to evolve. He had to see more.
"You really are a liability. Just because you scored a goal doesn't mea—"
Ness stormed toward Isagi, his voice laced with frustration. He had seen enough. The mere sight of Isagi was already irritating him, but what fueled his anger even more was the fact that this nobody had dared to overshadow Kaiser. First, he had scored before him. Then, he had the audacity to intercept a pass meant for their Emperor.
Isagi was becoming a problem—a thorn in the side of their carefully crafted Kaiser system. If he couldn't cut him out of the game, the least he could do was put him in his place.
But Isagi wasn't listening.
Without even sparing Ness a glance, he strode toward the goal, his focus locked onto the ball nestled in the net. He bent down, fingers wrapping tightly around it, before turning on his heel and marching back toward the center spot.
He didn't have time for pointless words.
He was ready to go again.
On the bench of FC Barcha, Lavinho practically vibrated with excitement, his legs bouncing as he anticipated his moment. The Star-Change System was his golden ticket—five minutes to shake up the game, five minutes to leave his mark.
He was ready to burst onto the field, to ignite the rhythm of Barcha's attack with his samba-style flair.
But he stopped.
It was Bastard München's kickoff.
Lavinho smirked, leaning back into his seat with a knowing grin.
'Not yet.'
If he was going to take the stage, it had to be when FC Barcha had the ball.
At the referee's whistle, Kaiser initiated the kickoff, sending the ball smoothly to Ness before surging forward. His mind calm yet razor-sharp. He had seen enough. The chaos around him didn't matter—his thoughts were organized, his goal clear.
Ness scanned the field in a heartbeat. His first instinct? Play it safe. A pass to Grim on the left would stretch the field, give them space to breathe. But just as he shifted his weight to release the ball—
A shadow lunged at him.
Otoya.
Otoya moved like a whisper, slipping into the space between passes, Otoya had already seen this formula, Ness starts the sequence by passing to Grim, who then distributes it to Kaiser or plays it to Genser on the right.
But Ness wasn't just a pawn in this game—he was a maestro. With a sharp pivot, he twisted away from Otoya's challenge, creating just enough separation before slicing a perfectly curved pass to Grim on the wing.
Grim doesn't even have to adjust. He meets it in stride, the ball landing at his feet like it was destined to be there.
And then, he explodes.
A burst of acceleration.
Speed, control, precision—Grim had it all, and in his mind, there was only one priority.
Find Kaiser.
That was how Bastard München operated. Every attack was engineered around their emperor. Every player was a cog in a machine designed to serve one purpose—feed the ball to Kaiser and let him finish the job.
But things are different now.
The presence of Blue Lock players has begun to disrupt the system. What was once a seamless tactical flow has become a battlefield. Kaiser isn't free anymore.
Kunigami is there.
He's not just marking Kaiser—he's challenging him.
Like Isagi, Kunigami has already defied the Kaiser system. Isagi stole a pass and scored on his own, refusing to play by the rules. Kunigami did the same, stripping Genser of possession.
And now, their punishment is clear—the other Bastard München players have cut them off. No passes, no support. They aren't part of the system anymore.
However, Kunigami doesn't care.
Even if he's shut out, even if he's ignored, it doesn't change his mentality. He isn't here to support anyone—he's here to score for himself. Right now, his focus isn't on Bastard München's tactics or Isagi's movements. His battle is with Kaiser. He isn't marking Kaiser just to disrupt the play—he's challenging him for the final pass. He knows his own physical abilities, and in his mind, there's no doubt—if the ball is played to Kaiser, he will get to it first.
Grim wastes no time. The moment he decides against the risky pass to Kaiser, he quickly sends the ball curling back toward Ness—The attack must be reset.
Ness is already moving forward, eyes locked onto the ball, his strides calculated as he positions himself to receive. He's the orchestrator now. With Kaiser still tangled up with Kunigami and not yet in an ideal scoring position, it's up to Ness to reshape the attack, to set the tempo and open a new path forward.
The ball hurtles toward him, slicing through space.
But just as Ness prepares to take control, a voice cuts through the air.
"You should really be more unique with your approaches, Bastard München… Or you'll end up making things boring."
In an instant, a blur of motion crashes into the passing lane. Bachira.
His body twists mid-air as he leaps into the path of the ball, his wild, unpredictable energy disrupting the perfect flow of Bastard München's system.
He had been watching—reading, dissecting, waiting. Just like Otoya, he had already memorized the way Bastard München plays, their rigid patterns, their unwavering reliance on structured movements. And now, he tears through it.
His instincts scream at him—take it, break the sequence, turn the flow of the game into chaos. He times his interception perfectly, his foot stretching forward to snatch the ball before Ness can even react
—
But then, another voice.
"Sorry, Bachira. I'm still training these rookies. But don't worry… I'll dance with you."
The moment Bachira reaches for the ball, Isagi is already there.
Just as Bachira had read Ness, Isagi had read Bachira.
It's an instant of brilliance—a counter-read of a counter-read. Isagi had anticipated Bastard München's setup, but at the same time, he had also predicted Bachira's reaction to it. He saw the pieces moving even before they were set into motion.
As Bachira leaps to intercept, Isagi bursts forward, shifting his body into position with precision.
The ball, still mid-air, now has two predators lunging for it, two different reads colliding at the same moment.
Isagi positions himself perfectly. He has more ground. Bachira, still mid-air from his interception attempt, is late.
Isagi traps the ball with his chest. The impact is firm, controlled—the ball doesn't bounce away wildly but instead settles into his space like it belongs there.
This is it. His moment.
Everything he's analyzed, every read he's made, has led to this instant. His first goal had been a declaration—proof that he could shatter the Kaiser system.
Now...
It's time for his second goal.
.
.
.
.
.
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