As Ryūma Banjō slipped past Shūhō Aoki and Yukio Ishikari, the other two defenders from the penalty-box quartet stepped up to meet him.
Haiichi Murakami, quick to react, moved in for a frontal block.
Akemi Inoue, instead of confronting Ryūma one-on-one, played to his strengths—hovering just behind Murakami’s flanks, ready to pounce and steal the ball.
Ryūma charged at them without slowing, showing no sign of relying on his refined dribbling skills.
“Huh? What’s with him? He’s not even using technique anymore?”
“No idea. Just stay sharp. If you anticipate boldly enough to make him hesitate, I’ll take it!”
Before they could settle their plan, Ryūma was already on them. With a drop of his shoulders, a Chop Feint, and an explosive burst of speed in one fluid motion, he slipped past Murakami’s side.
(Damn it! He’s still too fast. I’ve marked him so many times, but I still can’t react in time!)
From behind, Inoue lunged in, trying to strip the ball like before.
As Inoue’s foot reached for the ball, Ryūma braked with terrifying control, halting instantly. Without even cushioning the stop, he spun through with a Marseille turn, blowing past Inoue and into the penalty area.
He skipped forward on his left foot, then whipped his right leg back into a shooting motion.
By then, Aoki and Ishikari had already rushed back, bracing to block Ryūma’s attempt. Ishikari locked onto Ryūma’s right foot, convinced it was a feint. Aoki focused on his planting foot, sure that, with Ryūma’s nature, he’d go for the shot outright.
Ryūma swung through! Aoki launched forward to intercept, while Ishikari stood his ground, fully confident in his read.
(A direct shot…? Yeah, right. It’s a pass!)
Aoki, who had already committed to the block, crashed to the turf. Flat on his stomach, he watched the pass roll by in despair.
(Guessed… wrong? That confident strike was actually a pass?!)
Sure enough, Ryūma’s kick had been a setup for Yo Hiori, who had sprinted into Team Z’s backfield.
On the left wing, Hiori now faced open space. Nearly all of Team Z had collapsed to cover Ryūma on the right, leaving only one obstacle between Hiori and the goal—keeper Yushu Furukawa.
(You set this up for me, Ryūma. I’ll put it away!)
Hiori received the ball, adjusted his angle, and fired without hesitation.
The ball curved tightly toward goal—high enough to evade Ishikari’s reach. But suddenly, that bulky figure leapt high and met it cleanly, heading away Hiori’s perfect shot.
(What? That fat guy can jump that high?!)
Shaken, Hiori turned quickly toward Ryūma and shouted,
“Sorry, Ryūma, that one’s on me—”
But before he could finish, he saw Ryūma already sprinting at blistering speed toward the loose ball. Yet another figure was even faster—as if waiting for this exact moment. The ball dropped to his feet, and he fired!
The shot curved with a deadly angle, slipping past Team Z’s defenders—only to be nicked by Ishikari’s head inside the box. The deflection dropped straight into Furukawa’s belly, and the keeper smothered it under his weight.
“Nice! Beautiful save, Furukawa!”
“Haha, Furukawa, you’re our team’s guardian!”
Team Z erupted in cheers as Furukawa sprang up, roaring in triumph.
“Tch. What kind of creature is that fat guy?”
That figure was Rin Itoshi. For the first time, he had run into something beyond his understanding. Muttering coldly, he turned to head back to his position.
“Hey! Get back here, you bastard! Don’t you have anything to say?” Follow current novels on noᴠelfire.net
Rin’s indifference only fueled Ryūma’s fury.
“Say what? You just stole the chance Hiori and I worked together to create! And Rin, if you’d scored, fine—but you didn’t even score! And then you just walk off without a word?!”
Rin’s gaze hardened, his voice sharp as ice.
“That shot was the optimal scoring position I calculated. I told you to bring the ball in, and I’d lead us to victory.”
“You’ve failed to score after countless attacks. Doesn’t that prove you can’t do it?”
Ryūma froze, then stepped forward, grabbing Rin by the collar and snarling,
“Can’t do it? And you think you’re any better? You goal poacher?”
“If I relied on you, I’d have to keep creating chances just so you could finish them off!”
Rin’s eyes narrowed as he seized Ryūma’s wrist.
“Let go. Do you have a death wish?”
“I’m just stating facts. When Hiori got your pass, he thought it was for him. But you were only using him as bait to open your own shot.”
“You never expected him to score. You wanted his attempt to pull Team Z’s defense.”
“And when he failed, you were already sprinting to the drop point.”
“I, on the other hand, calculated the best scoring position and placed myself there. I used everyone to make it happen.”
“So tell me—how am I any different from you?”
Ryūma barked a bitter laugh, eyes locked on Rin’s.
“Hiori’s shot wasn’t something I expected. I thought he’d pass back to me, so I ran to where he might send it.”
“I’m not like you—feeding off scraps and exploiting teammates.”
“And you dare say we’re the same?”
“You, who can’t even stand the thought of your brother not being the striker? That makes you the same as me?”
“My goal is to be the world’s number one striker! What about you? Surpassing your brother? Playing alongside him again? Taking revenge on him?”
“A brat like you, obsessed with your brother—you’ll never be the same as me!”
Rin froze, caught off guard—he hadn’t expected anyone to bring up his brother. A second later, fury surged back as he yanked Ryūma’s collar.
“Hey! How do you know about me and Sae Itoshi?”
“And how the hell could you ever understand what I feel?!”
With that, Rin swung a punch at Ryūma. For him, Sae was the ultimate taboo.
Ryūma tilted his head, dodging, rage burning in his eyes.
“You wanna fight? Think I’m scared of you?”
He clenched his fist and struck back. Rin dodged, and in moments, the two were trading furious blows.
Yo Hiori, Putian Daiwa, and the triplets rushed in, struggling to pull them apart.
At that moment, a mechanical voice rang out:
“Blue Lock prohibits all acts of violence! Any further aggression will result in immediate disqualification from the selection tournament!”
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