Blue Lock - Conqueror!

A chorus of frantic voices spilled out from behind the door, punctuated by sharp commands and groans of frustration.

"Go from the right! They're gaining on us!"

"I'm trying, okay!"

"You're the worst player I've ever played with!"

"That ain't my fault—I'm new at this!"

"Get that one over there!"

Kurona, freshly showered, stood in the hallway outside his room, towel slung lazily over one shoulder. His damp hair clung to his forehead as he paused, listening to the chaos with a mix of amusement and resignation. He already knew who was behind the commotion.

Letting out a soft sigh, he pushed the door open, revealing the scene inside. The room, outfitted with four beds, was their shared living space. Rin sat on one of the beds near the corner, focused entirely on lacing his shoes with a precision that mirrored his on-field intensity. He barely acknowledged the noise, too immersed in his task.

The source of the racket, however, was unmistakable. On another bed, Isagi and Nagi sat shoulder-to-shoulder, hunched over a phone. The glow from the screen lit up their faces as they leaned in, fully absorbed in their game. Isagi's brows were furrowed in concentration, while Nagi, ever calm, occasionally smirked, his fingers moving with practiced ease across the screen.

Kurona leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head with a small smile. 

"You two are loud enough to wake the whole dorm" 

He muttered, though his tone lacked any real annoyance.

Nagi didn't look up, his attention glued to the game. 

"Not our fault Isagi's bad at this" 

He said nonchalantly, dodging an on-screen attack with ease.

"Hey!" 

Isagi shot back, glaring at Nagi. 

"I told you, I'm new to this!"

Kurona chuckled as he stepped further inside. The story unfolded naturally in his mind: after freshening up, Nagi must have started playing a mobile game, sparking Isagi's curiosity. Given that Isagi also had a phone, it didn't take long before he asked to join.

Now, the contrast between the two players was stark. Nagi, a natural talent at anything requiring quick reflexes and strategy, played effortlessly, while Isagi struggled to keep up. His fingers jabbed at the screen awkwardly, missing key moves and earning a barrage of criticism from Nagi, who, despite his usual laziness, took games surprisingly seriously.

"You need to time it better" 

Nagi instructed coolly, sidestepping another enemy attack.

"I'm trying!" 

Isagi snapped, his frustration mounting.

Kurona grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, watching the pair with mild amusement. Rin, meanwhile, remained in his corner, tying the last knot on his shoelaces before glancing briefly at the commotion. He shook his head slightly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Idiots."

The room settled into a peculiar rhythm: Rin, silent and focused; Isagi and Nagi, locked in their noisy, competitive world; and Kurona, the quiet observer, enjoying the chaos in their shared space.

They had chosen to relax instead of diving straight into another match. The intense game had taken its toll, and the break gave everyone a moment to process what had just unfolded. Rin, especially, needed time to confront the sting of his defeat.

It wasn't just that he had lost—it was who he had lost to. Isagi, the player he had underestimated, had outplayed him and then chosen him for his team. Rin had fought so hard to crush Isagi, yet here he was, now part of the very team that had bested him.

As Rin laced his shoes in silence, his gaze drifted toward the source of the commotion. Isagi, sitting on the edge of the bed, was hunched over a phone, his movements clumsy as he fumbled through the game. Nagi, seated beside him, was clearly the expert, his fingers moving with precise, effortless control.

What struck Rin wasn't the noise or the game itself—it was Isagi's expression. The normally sharp and calculating striker looked like a kid, his face lit up with a mix of excitement and frustration. Every time he made a mistake, he groaned loudly, while Nagi scolded him with an exasperated calmness.

Rin's chest tightened.

This was the guy he'd lost to?

The player who had dismantled his strategy and turned the game on its head? Now here he was, playing a mobile game with childlike curiosity, his competitive edge transformed into playful determination. It felt surreal.

And yet, as Rin watched, he realized something. Isagi wasn't just clumsy—he was curious. That same curiosity that drove him to explore the game now was the same trait that had fueled his performance on the field. Isagi's mind worked differently; he didn't shy away from difficulty. He leaned into it, even when it meant stumbling or failing along the way.

That was what had made him so formidable during their match.

Rin clenched his fists at the memory. While Rin had been consumed by the pressure to win and dominate, Isagi had faced the challenge with exhilaration. He hadn't been overwhelmed by Rin's skill; he'd thrived on the difficulty, learning and adapting with every play.

Now, that same approach played out in front of Rin in the simplest of ways. Isagi wasn't sulking over his inexperience in the game; he was having fun figuring it out, even if it meant looking ridiculous in the process.

Rin shook his head, a mixture of irritation and begrudging respect bubbling within him.

How could someone be so infuriatingly carefree and yet so deadly when it mattered most?

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Isagi stood in the training room, the soft thud of the ball echoing with each precise touch. After a long and well-deserved rest, he had returned to the grind, dedicating himself to sharpening his skills. The fluorescent lights above cast a clean glow on the space, illuminating every drop of sweat that clung to his determined face.

He moved with purpose, weaving through an array of cones he had set up to mimic defenders. Each step was calculated, each touch deliberate. Isagi's foot seemed to magnetize the ball, guiding it effortlessly as he navigated the makeshift obstacles. His imagination fueled the drills; in his mind, these weren't just cones—they were towering opponents, elite defenders who he needed to outsmart.

The secret to his precision lay in the skill bestowed by the System: Ball Control. Isagi's mastery over the ball was unmatched, almost otherworldly. Where others might struggle to maintain control in tight spaces, Isagi thrived. The ball responded to him as if it were an extension of his body, obeying his every command with uncanny accuracy.

He feinted left, then right, pivoting sharply to maintain his imaginary lead against the "defenders." His movements were fluid yet unpredictable, a blend of raw instinct and calculated strategy. Every touch of the ball carried intent, from the delicate flicks to the explosive bursts of speed that left the cones spinning in place.

Isagi's focus was absolute, his mind syncing perfectly with his body. He wasn't just practicing; he was envisioning scenarios, simulating high-pressure situations where he would need to make split-second decisions. He saw himself outmaneuvering Rin, tricking Nagi, and bypassing even the most formidable goalkeepers.

The room seemed to shrink around him as his intensity grew, the lines of reality and imagination blurring. To any observer, it would have been clear—Isagi wasn't just training; he was creating, building a masterpiece of skill that would take him to the top.

Rin stepped into the training room, his sharp eyes immediately drawn to Isagi. The steady rhythm of the ball striking the floor and the precision in Isagi's movements were mesmerizing. Each dribble, each feint, and every quick pivot radiated a fluidity Rin hadn't seen during their match. It was as though Isagi was a different player entirely—free of the tension and weight of competition. 

Rin's brows furrowed as he watched. Was Isagi holding back during their match? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. On the field, Isagi's movements had been sharp but not like this. Now, he moved as though the ball were an extension of himself, each motion effortless and seamless. It was frustrating to think that he might not have faced Isagi at his peak, but it was also undeniably intriguing. 

That frustration simmered within Rin, fueling a familiar fire. Isagi had become more than just a rival. He was now a hurdle, one Rin was determined to overcome, just like his older brother, Sae Itoshi. It was infuriating to admit, but Isagi had carved his place in Rin's mind—another opponent standing in his way to the top. 

Yet, as Rin's frustration burned, there was another realization—one that gnawed at his pride but couldn't be ignored. Isagi's relentless playstyle, his unwavering determination, and his ability to force Rin into a corner had done something Rin hadn't expected. 

They had pushed him to grow. 

In their match, Isagi had forced Rin into moments where there was no choice but to surpass his limits. Every time Isagi outmaneuvered him, Rin had been driven to dig deeper, to sharpen his focus, to refine his instincts. And it had worked. He had felt it during the game—the clarity, the heightened sense of purpose that only came when he was fighting to stay ahead. 

Rin hated the thought of owing any part of his growth to someone else, least of all Isagi. But the truth was undeniable. Isagi's presence on the field had made Rin better. 

Now, as Rin watched Isagi train, he felt a strange mix of emotions. Frustration, admiration, determination—it all swirled together, strengthening his resolve. Isagi wasn't just a rival to defeat; he was a challenge Rin would use to sharpen himself further. 

Rin's jaw tightened as he turned away, leaving the room silently. If Isagi had helped him grow, then Rin would make sure to repay the favor the next time they faced each other. He would push Isagi to his limits, just as Isagi had done to him. And then, he would surpass him—just as he intended to surpass Sae. 

The thought brought a flicker of a smirk to Rin's lips. The next battle would be different. He would make sure of it. 

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