Blue Lock :Reborn Rose Emporer

Rewriting the Skies

When air no longer breathes, you become the storm.

65:00 – Napoli Suffocated

Napoli moves like a fog—slow, spreading, invisible until you're inside it. Their passing doesn't dazzle with flair but with control. Possession flows between them like vapor slipping through fingers. And every time one of us steps forward, they shape-shift—pulling us just enough to break our line.

But we've been watching.

We've been learning.

Captain Varga's signals flick across the pitch—silent nods, faint gestures, perfectly rehearsed. Our midfielders don't press… not like before. They shadow. Always five yards away. A tease.

We stalk.

And then—snap.

The moment comes.

Napoli's midfield surges too deep into our half, still believing they're in control. They don't realize we've stopped falling back. Grim, Tanaka, and I stay in advanced positions. Femi floats like a phantom between their center backs. And slowly, almost imperceptibly…

We build a wall.

A line forms behind their attacking line. The trap tightens.

They try to pull back.

Too late.

We're pressing from behind now, compressing them between midfield and backline like a hydraulic press. The air thickens. Space disappears. And then—

Varga intercepts.

The ball rolls to Kron, who calmly passes back.

The keeper—far outside the box—doesn't hesitate.

A high, clean launch.

The sky is ours now.

Grim's Gamble

The ball descends like a meteor.

Grim receives it on his chest—absorbing the spin—then flicks it wide. Tanaka is already running in a mirror line behind him. A decoy pattern. They cross paths in a flash.

Tanaka—fake heel.

Grim—real backheel.

The Napoli keeper rushes forward, confused, angles off.

But he forgot the two shadows behind the chaos.

Me and Femi.

We don't touch the ball. We don't move too fast. We just stand there—blocking the Napoli defenders, occupying the space between timing and instinct.

Grim slips the ball between both center backs.

The keeper rushes. Grim chips.

Goal.

2:1 – Bayern regains the lead.

Commentator:

"WHAT A RESPONSE! Bayern München has rewritten the press. They didn't break Napoli's defense—they suffocated their options! And now the wall they built is pushing forward with crushing force!"

80:00 – Rewriting the Rules

We smell blood.

Napoli tries to reset, but the balance is broken.

Now, we are the storm.

Pass. Turn. Stop. Feint. Backheel. Diagonal switch. Mislead. Spiral.

Each motion is precise. Intuitive.

Like jazz composed on a battlefield.

I move to the center. Space opens. A misdirect from Ness. A no-look touch from Varga.

I turn. Blind turn. The keeper readies for a shot to the right.

Backspin Burst – Step #1.

I load the kick—not full power—just enough to let the ball spin.

Kaiser Impact Magnus + Trivela Blind.

Boom.

182 km/h.

The ball rockets to the right… and then rewrites gravity.

70°. 50°. 36° curve.

It arcs around the keeper's leg—his stance wide, but not wide enough.

Nutmeg. Bottom corner.

GOAL.

3:1 – Game. Set. Shifted.

Commentator (shouting):

"IMPOSSIBLE! HOW DOES HE DO THAT!? That's the Kaiser Rewrite. A ball curved through space like it rebelled against physics! There is no stopping this Bayern wave!"

87:00 – 90:00 +1

We hold the midfield like a fortress now.

A contour defense—flexible and tight. Each player pressing not as individuals, but as synchronized limbs of a giant beast. A shape that bends but doesn't break. That invites pressure, then crushes it.

We don't need vision today.

We are rhythm.

Final whistle blows.

3:1 – Victory.

Scene Shift – Dorm Room

Silence now.

The echoes of the stadium dissolve into the stillness of my room. I sit shirtless, muscles stretched, limbs loose. I fall into yoga poses—slow, deliberate, grounding my breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Silence.

Like Rin. Like the way he enters stillness before he strikes.

The match is in five days—an international break. Time to recover. Time to grow.

I reach for my phone and scroll.

Tomorrow: PXG vs Roma.

Dybala vs Julian Loki.

Speed vs Vision.

Space vs Time.

The #1 spot in the New Gen 11 ranking is on the line.

And I've been in this world for almost three years now. My window to overtake them is shrinking.

Soon, the rankings won't matter.

Soon, it will be something more.

I whisper to the air:

"I won't hold back in the next game. No more steps. I'll take the whole leap."

Scene – Flashback: The Humbling of Itoshi Sae

The dream begins.

A field. A blur of colors.

Bunny vs Sae.

The ball flows—feint, lift, jump—six feet high, then a mid-air pass.

Even with Sae in full flow, pink-black patterns swirling, his aura mythical, his flow beautiful…

It doesn't matter.

Bunny breaks him.

Step, plant, shift.

Body feint.

Sweep-jump.

Switch and stall—then a 7ft aerial backflip into a heel tap.

Nutmeg. Spin. Snap-back rotation. Land.

A final bow to Sae as he turns… to see Bunny's death stare.

And the words:

"I wanted you to know the feeling of wanting to die…

…even when you're smiling."

Flash Ends

I open my eyes.

The room is quiet. My breath steady.

The next opponent hasn't been revealed.

But whoever it is—

I'm ready.

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