Blue Lock: Isagi the egoist

Ray Dark sat at the head of a long, polished table in a private room within one of Madrid's finest hotels. The room hummed with the weight of football's most influential minds, the managers and presidents of Europe's biggest leagues—Premier League, Bundesliga, Serie A, Ligue 1, and La Liga. Each had their own ambitions, but today, Ray commanded their attention.

"Gentlemen," Ray began, his tone smooth yet commanding, "the game needs a stage for its rising stars. The talent we've cultivated, scouted, and developed deserves more than scattered youth tournaments. I propose something bigger. A Junior Champions League."

The room stirred. Whispers exchanged. Eyebrows raised.

"This isn't just a competition," Ray continued. "It's a spotlight—a stage to crown the future kings of football. Players like Yoichi Isagi, Michael Kaiser, Lorenzo, and Loki—these names will dominate headlines before they even set foot in senior leagues. And when they do, their value, their influence, will be astronomical."

One manager, skeptical, folded his arms. "And you think this is sustainable? Turning kids into superstars before they're even adults?"

Ray's smirk deepened. "Sustainable? No. Profitable? Immeasurably. The title 'New Gen XI' will define them. Pressure makes diamonds, gentlemen. And we will own every single one of them."

The room fell silent. Ray leaned back, his gaze piercing. "In one year, the Junior Champions League begins. I'll ensure the world watches."

Across the globe, Jinpachi Ego watched footage of Ray's meetings from a hidden feed. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his desk, his grin unnerving as he studied the plans forming under Ray's command.

"So predictable, Dark," Ego muttered. "You build machines. I build chaos. Let's see which one takes the world by storm."

Ego's door swung open, and Noel Noa leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "You're grinning weird again."

Ego blinked, then shrugged. "Let a man enjoy his genius. Besides," he added, eyes gleaming, "your protégé, Isagi, just dropped another bomb on the pitch."

Noa raised a brow. "Seven-one?"

"Double hat-trick," Ego confirmed, spinning his chair. "The kid is a damn sensation. Ray Dark can keep plotting, but my project—our project—will leave his plans in the dust."

Back in Madrid, Re Al's 12-13-year-old academy team had just completed a match against a lesser-known opponent. The scoreboard glared: 7-1.

Isagi stood at the center of the field, his jersey drenched in sweat, but his smile as radiant as the Madrid sun. His double hat-trick had demolished the other team, leaving defenders and goalkeepers baffled by his precision and creativity.

Sae, meanwhile, bore a quieter expression. He had contributed a single goal—a penalty—but it was overshadowed by his earlier mistake that led to the sole goal against Re Al. While the team celebrated, Sae replayed that moment in his head, frustration bubbling beneath his composed exterior.

On the sidelines, scouts and coaches murmured among themselves, their eyes on Isagi.

"Forward number one," one of them said definitively. "There's no debate anymore."

After the game, Isagi was approached for an interview, a camera crew from the Spanish sports network eager to capture his thoughts. Despite his age, he handled the spotlight with practiced ease, his words humble but full of promise.

"I'm grateful to my team for making this performance possible," Isagi said in Spanish, his accent slightly awkward but endearing. "I aim to keep improving, to be the best striker in the world."

The clip went viral, drawing immediate attention not just in Spain but globally. Twitter nearly crashed as fans, particularly women, flooded the platform with reactions. tons of various, tweets jokes, and messages of admiration poured in, the buzz rivaling the infamous 2014 Germany vs. Brazil World Cup memes.

One particularly viral tweet read:

"Isagi Yoichi: Too cute to handle, too deadly to stop. The future is here."

Back in Japan, the frenzy was just as intense. Television networks replayed his interview, and fan clubs dedicated to the young striker sprang up overnight. Isagi, despite his initial shyness, had learned to embrace the attention.

"It's part of the game," he told Sae later, as they scrolled through social media. "If people support me, it just means I can't let them down."

Sae smirked. "You're handling this way better than I thought you would."

Isagi grinned. "What can I say? I've grown up a little."

In his private suite, Ray Dark reviewed the footage of Isagi's game and the media storm that followed. The young striker's rise was meteoric, just as he had hoped.

Typing a quick message, Ray sent a directive to his network of scouts:

"Accelerate plans for Junior Champions League. Ensure Michael Kaiser, Lorenzo, Loki, and Isagi face each other. New Gen XI must be reality within two years."

Sipping a glass of wine, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. The pieces were falling into place. And nobody—not even Jinpachi Ego—could stop him.

The world of football was on the verge of transformation, with Ray Dark and Jinpachi Ego orchestrating their masterplans. At the heart of it all, young players like Isagi, Sae, and Kaiser were unknowingly marching toward a future that would redefine the sport forever.