0. Today vs. Tomorrow

Y/n.

A boy with an ego so big was suffocating.

Today, he was a high school superstar. Tomorrow, still the same boring publicity that comes with it. He sighed heavily and cleared his throat, sniffling just a bit. His fame would stay the same.

At least that's what he thinks.

Jinpachi Ego, the JFA's new savior, smiled deviously. He had planned a lot for this new superstar. He would treat the boy like a prince. Y/n was like heaven on earth to Ego. A light at the end of the tunnel. A savior of Japanese soccer.

However, Y/n was arguably short. He stood at around five-foot-two, or a hundred and fifty-seven centimeters. His body was lean. His body was fit.

And thick thighs save lives, right? His certainly did. His thighs and calves were pure muscle, allowing him to push himself around the field at horrifying speeds just to get open. His body often kept up with his ridiculous speeds, just as he had trained it to.

"Right..." Y/n drawled breathily, leaning backwards as held his backpack straps tightly. He groaned, his body still tired. "I have a game tonight..."

He really just wanted to skip school and start playing. He wanted to relish in winning once again and didn't want to bother with classes like English or geometry. He didn't care about learning another language, really. He just cared about winning in soccer. He didn't want to go to history, he didn't want to go to biology; he really didn't want to go to biology. He knew there would be a test today.

Even so he made his way through the gates of Hakuho High, paying no mind to any greetings. He didn't know any of the students' names, and really only knew the teachers. If people asked him for assistance, he would do his best. Top of his class? Easy peasy... Besides some odd little rich boy stealing his seat at first.

He had heard of Hakuho's newly-established soccer team, but he didn't care for it. He'd rather stay on a team where everyone was experienced (requirements were at least three years under your belt). He didn't care for anyone or anything to do with Hakuho, really. He got here because he was smart, not because he was rich. His mother was relatively wealthy, though, so going here if he wasn't as smart as he is wouldn't be an issue, either.

The classes were...long. Really long. He almost fell asleep in each of them, and started daydreaming about soccer and winning the World Cup. He was exhausted for school, but not for soccer. The hours felt long and grueling. He wasn't in the mood to learn about the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade or cell division.

He put his head on his desk.

"L/n!" A teacher shouted.

"Yeah?" He responded groggily.

"Head up and listen!"

Y/n gave a thumbs up. "I'm listening, my neck just hurts."

He was in fact not listening.

He made it through the day, dreading each and every class only to fall asleep for around a quarter of the periods he had left to endure. He waited for that bell to ring and let him leave the hell he called Hakuho.

Riiiing!!

He got up out of his seat immediately. He threw his bag over his shoulder and bolted out of the classroom.

He certainly had places to be...

🥀🥀🥀

"Pass to me if you want to win! Don't you ever doubt me!" He chided. Soon after realizing his very words, his eyes went stupid wide. "Wait—"

"There he goes again."

"When will you ever change?"

Not cool. This wasn't cool at all.

"No, I didn't meant it," he added, trying to redeem himself.

"Whatever."

"Why are you trying so hard?"

"I swear! Cross my heart and hope to die, I didn't mean a single word!" He slapped his chest and shouted. His face showed regret, but his eyes didn't.

"Yeah, I hope you die," an angered Jingo said, arms crossed.

"You didn't," Y/n whispered.

"Oh, I did," Raichi spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm done with your games, 'King'. Beat it."

Y/n's eyes were wide. He was so close to boiling over. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows knitted into a position fit for a scowl. He exhaled slowly with a slight hiss.

He looked over at his teammates to see if they'd say something.

They didn't.

They just looked away from him.

"You're sickening," the blonde male continued, turning his back as well.

🥀 🥀 🥀

Everyone on the field was his plaything. He did whatever with them, until he couldn't.

The bench was cold. The metal stung like a thousand bees as the short boy sat down on it. He had never felt so useless. So abandoned.

He had always loved to work alone, but it bit him in the ass. He'd rather do everything if his teammates were too incompetent to give him a single pass.

Shooting, shredding grass and tearing up dirt as he sped down the center of the field. He just wished the team was full of people who would support him and wouldn't object to his orders. Silent followers.

He belonged on that field, not that other stupid guy that took his place. He was better.

Not selfish, but self aware.

He would take this as a time to reminisce when he was needed on the field. Not that he wasn't anymore. His temper had just boiled over, and his thoughts became too much to harbor along with the big ego he carried like a camper's backpack.

Shoved in, spilling out the sides as the backpack was barely able to contain so much.

Whenever he entered the field, his steps were always the ones to emit light rustling noises. They were eerily quiet. The loudest sound his feet made was his first step. A sound that everyone feared.

A sound that gave him his name.

It scared the opponents, and his team was somewhat glad he was playing for them. Even if his reign was like tyrants, a dictatorship, a selfish king that they could barely handle, they were just glad they didn't have to deal with him

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

He slapped the bench. No. He punched it.

His knuckles were white

A hand towel lay folded over his hair, suppressing the volume of it.

His head dropped.

The towel fell.

He stood up and left as soon as the game ended.

He was pissed. Royally pissed. It was him that was the most important on that field. Him, and no one else. It was him. Him. Him. Him. Him.

Him.

Him.

Him.

Nobody else. No one.

No one-

"Y/n, dear, you have a letter on the table," his mother spoke softly, her hand on his shoulder as she held out her other, motioning for Y/n to take a seat.

"Oh, thanks, I guess," Y/n replied quietly, still upset about the match.

He opened up the envelope, making sure he was gentle with the paper inside.

Salutations, L/n Y/n,

You have been selected to join 299 other contestants in a project we like to call Blue Lock.

Produced by the JFA (Japan Football Association), we have gathered 300 18-and-under forwards from around Japan. Only you are receiving a letter with such detail.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and your presence would be a blessing to witness.

Accept now, dear King of the Field. We trust you would like to keep your sport career.

If you know what's good for you, that is.

Now that that's out of the way, we (the Blue Lock admins and staff) have a few questions we would like you to answer in the format of a video recording. Do not worry, we will have you review the recording and you may ask us to cut out any parts you would like.

We have a trusty team of editors that are being paid well, so they should do their job correctly. If they do not, then this whole idea of a recording will go down the drain.

Albeit the chance is slim, it could still happen.

We do not believe it will, however.

We trust you will comply.

If you decide to agree to the recording, please arrive tomorrow at around 5 in the morning at the address listed here...

XXXXX, XXXXXXX, XX, XXX.

We need you to arrive a week in advance so that we can have enough time to properly edit the recording and check the audio so that it isn't muffled or anything of the sort.

Now that that's over with, we are having all the invited contestants arrive next week on a Saturday morning, 10 a.m. sharp. After that, the doors will close. Tardiness not acceptable. You may, however, arrive early.

Doors open at 7 a.m.

We trust you will join us, striker.

Do not be late, oh so renowned Susurrus.

We look forward to your terrifying ability being showcased to the world. Your fame among the other 299 contestants is no joke. I'm sure they know who you are.

Be selfish, lovely Egoist.

Best regards,

Jinpachi Ego of the JFA.

Being invited to a special project for the JFA to answer questions and have it be shown to two-hundred and ninety-nine people was no joke!

Maybe tomorrow would be different after all!

A smile full of happiness crept up his face. Even he could abandon his selfishness and help others get closer to their dreams.

Only to crush them in the end, and come out on top.

He snickered a little.

Just like always.