21. Field of Dreams, Threat on the Screens

He was floating.

His eyes slowly opened, met only with a starry sky all around him. He felt light. At ease. He was airborne in a sea of darkness with burning stars as his only light source.

He looked down at his body, his skin bare of clothing. He was met with the sight of scrapes and bruises. He was tired, his limbs sprawled out and moving languidly. He turned his head, his hair curling around his face.

He was met with a void. A void with white teeth and sad eyes. It was...just a thick cloud of smoke, yet it looked so sad. It radiated a warm yet melancholic energy. He tried to reach his hands out slowly to it, but his body wouldn't move. The stuff he had put himself through was affecting him inside his psyche.

Instead, the smoke touched him. It held his arm gently, his tired eyes locking with gloomy white crescents that looked like one of the phases of the moon. He felt...calm; soothed.

Was...this his monster?

"You look so sad," he whispered. "I'm sorry..."

It seemed to nod. But its voice was hoarse and breathy. It sounded like it had a scratchy throat. "I thought you did not feel guilt..."

He let himself be engulfed by the smoke's makeshift limbs, his body being curled up against what would be its chest.

"I do," he responded quietly, the flame-like essence of the smoke licking his body and outlining his flesh, "at least now..."

"You are but a weapon in their eyes, child," the smoke spoke more sternly, switching topics.

Y/n's body grew slightly chilly at the monster's tone. It haphazardly let go of him, his body phasing through its limbs. He looked at it. He stared deep into those white eyes. He could feel his body ache.

"Look at yourself."

Y/n did so. He slowly turned his head, eyes scanning over his most natural state. He understood that he was in a state of nudity, and only harbored scratches on his skin like how he had observed before. He turned his head to look beneath himself, seeing a surface mirroring what he couldn't see.

His backside.

Long gashes were abundant on his back, with small scratches peppered around the wounds. He counted the long injuries. Six. Six overlapping, long gashes that would surely scar if only faintly.

Y/n's cheeks puffed out in disgust and his brows furrowed . He was utterly mortified.

"You are still in that field," his monster said, its voice almost calm and soothing. "Asleep. So soundly, like that of someone in a coma."

"Am I just...dreaming?" Y/n inquired.

"No. You are in liminal space."

"Isn't that..."

"The space between life and death."

Y/n felt sick to his stomach. He was finally able to stand on steady ground instead of floating loosely in the air.

He looked down at his wobbly legs, and then looked up. Before him were memories. When he was betrayed, and when he was loved. When he was selfless, and when he was selfish.

When he was...a child. He was reliving that memory through this liminal space. He was reminded of how happy the sport had made him, and he then realized something.

He realized that...he had utilized soccer as a way to achieve satisfaction in winning, rather than a way to just have fun and be free. He had let go of that freedom and ultimately felt chained to the sport. Like it was his lifeline.

He rolled his eyes and digressed, even if the realization affected him deep down.

"We are our own worst critics. Do not bother with the rate at which such mediocrity is improving. Once you're a professional, it's hard to find something that you haven't excelled at in the field," the monster spoke softly.

In the blink of an eye, everything was gone.

He opened his eyes and was met with the blinding lights on the ceiling. He squinted his eyes and scrunched up his nose, his face all sweaty and the still air attacking his cuts.

He groaned and wiped a tear from his face. He put his hands on either side of his body and rose to his feet. He didn't stand up straight. He was hunched over and wobbled over to a wall to help with his balance.

He made his way to the doors and grasped the door frame tightly as he took an unsteady step to the left. He didn't care that he hadn't cleaned up.

Every step he took was torture. He had pulled muscles during his so-called training. A lot of his wounds had dried but some still bled slightly. The liquid stained his skin in a crimson hue, still ultimately soaking his torn bodysuit mercilessly.

He sighed heavily and wiped his face with his grimy hands. He had barely made it to his team's shared room before he stumbled and tripped over his own feet, colliding with the floor.

"Ow.." Y/n muttered, his body trembling as he tried to pick himself back up.

"Idiot," came a low voice, followed by two hands pressed to Y/n's sides. "Does this hurt?"

Y/n shook his head. "Just stop touching me."

Rin grit his teeth. "Would you rather have an immature, lukewarm idiot with too much energy, someone who's absolutely obsessed with your physique and fawns over you, or someone who's able to keep a level head pick you up?"

"The latter," Y/n mumbled.

"That's what I thought." Rin hoisted Y/n upright and kept his hands secured against the shorter boy's sides. "We're getting you to the medic."

"I don't want you bringing me there," Y/n retorted.

"If you expect me to go find your cousin in this situation then you're shit out of luck."

"Then just leave me." Y/n wiggled in Rin's grip, trying to pry the latter's hands away from his sides. "Let go."

Rin scoffed. "Why are you even trying to get me off you? You'll fall if you do."

"At least stop gripping me so tightly, it hurts."

Rin's grip loosened a bit as he shifted his left arm underneath Y/n's  knees, and his right arm securing the top half of Y/n's back. He picked the shorter boy up.

"Dude!?" Y/n shouted, thrashing around weakly in Rin's arm.

"Stop," Rin demanded, his voice low and his calmer demeanor fading and becoming something more angry. "Don't thrash around, L/n. You're weak and injured. We need you healed for our next match."

Y/n calmed down and sighed through gritted teeth, turning his head away from Rin. 'Need me for next match... I'm just a weapon. Only a weapon. No longer human.'

The doors had closed automatically after Rin angrily stepped out of the shared room, his disposition portraying slight aggression.

"You were gone for almost a day," Rin whispered. "You left early, no one but Bachira knew where you were, and I..."

"You were worried," Y/n drawled in a whisper, a slight smirk on his face.

"I was not."

"Yes you were."

"Shut up."

🥀🥀🥀

"Ego," Anri called out, "why didn't you just tell him to stop over the intercom."

"Why?" Ego repeated. "Because if he wants to improve, he has to realize there's more to soccer than how strong you are. His mentality is weak and he refuses to acknowledge it."

"He hurt himself, Ego."

"So?" Ego grabbed the chopsticks on the table and dug them into his noodles. He stuffed his face with the slime-looking concoction, paying no mind to Anri's concern.

He had told the woman to get Y/n another bodysuit and leave it at that as well as to let the medics do their job.

"He's working himself to death," Anri protested again. "He'll get so exhausted he'll die from it."

"No," Ego replied, his mouth still full of food. He swallowed, clearing his throat and getting ready to spit a speech to Anri about his observation. "He was just mad. He'll learn one day that the only thing driving him forward at that moment was pure rage. He's an incredibly angry child. So much so it's hard to keep his fury a bay, and he releases it however he possibly can. He's found himself at a disadvantage in advancing and it's only making him angrier. If he can't realize that, then it's game over for him."

Anri slowed her movements. "I see. But still, we need to do something."

"No we don't," Ego answered, taking another mouthful of his ramen. "Listen, the kid's got guts and drive, but he hides it unwillingly because of his anger. The reason we saw drastic improvement with those ninety goals was because he entered flow."

"Flow?" Anri turned and raised a brow.

"Flow," Ego restated, continuing to eat.

"What's flow?" Anri asked.

"You'll see."

"I don't... I don't get it."

"But he's oblivious to his improvement," Ego said as he finished the last of his cup ramen. "Play his last goal before the second selection. It should be in file L/N, fifth one down."

Anri did as she was told.

"Now watch him carefully. Do you see how his movements start to flow together even if only for a few minutes? Like he's taking in the information and spitting out an answer just as fast as he absorbs it? His ego was awakened only slightly within that moment. He's much more fascinating once you analyze his actions. He's a type that drives out someones power only to neutralize it in a matter of seconds, but it can only be done when he's entered flow. He awakened in that very moment and hasn't realized it yet. He's scared to rewrite his brain chemistry, but he's already done it," Ego stated. "Several times. But that's not all."

Anri listened carefully.

"He's a monster fueled by rage, and lacks any rationality whatsoever when he's angry. That's why he pushed himself. He only encouraged his growth stamina wise, nothing more. He needs to understand that when he's calm, his plays are more tactical. He switches from a picture perfect imitation of Sae's beautiful destruction to chaotic dismantling after being irritated only a little. He mars his opponents either way, though." Ego had gone off on a tangent. He had practically exposed himself for deeply analyzing Y/n like some intense math equation that would take weeks to understand.

"How do you know this much?" Anri asked, her face showing a mix of awe and confusion.

"When you're a big fan of someone," Ego started, "you become obsessed with them and notice things that they themselves hadn't."

"So you're obsessed with this kid?"

"What can I say?" Ego answered calmly, shrugging. "He's interesting. Sae thinks so, too. Speaking of Sae, did you send him the file of Y/n? As well the document consisting of the links to the compilations of his best plays as well as the analysis of how he pulls off some of the crazy moves he's capable of?"

"I emailed the files to Itoshi Sae, yes," Anri stated with a nod. "He thanked us and the Blue Lock staff for bringing such an enigma and that he'll be sure to analyze Y/n's plays before they come into contact with one another."

"Great, but there might be a threat we have to worry about," Ego blurted.

"Don't be silly," Anri sighed.

"I'm not," Ego said firmly. "Jinja Waru."

"Who?"

"Ren told me about his father and how he speculated that he was still alive. He's probably all the way back in America, though, so I wouldn't let it keep you up at night." Ego turned to look at his phone as it vibrated intensely against the small free spot on the interface.

He looked back at Anri and shooed her away. "Go give Y/n his bodysuit."

He picked up his phone once Anri left and looked at who was spamming his messages.

J.WA.RUU:

Where is your facility locate?

J.WA.RUU:

I take the kid off your hands. Where is Blue Lock location?

J.WA.RUU:

If I can't, can I at least come see facility? I would like to know how it works and how it look inside.

J.WA.RUU:

Answer me scrawny coach. Where is Blue Lock?

J.WA.RUU:

Answer me.

Ego sighed, looking at the messages. "I have something to lose sleep over, though."

J.WA.RUU:

I can see you read my message. Answer me.

EGO.JINP4CHI:

We can video call if you wish. Just know that your reasons for taking "the kid" will go in one ear and out the other. Your son told me everything I need to know about you, and you will not be able to put your hands on the child you want. I will not allow him to endure the type of torture that your son did, and neither will Aoi and Ren. Please refrain from trying to find the facility because even if you did manage to find it, the doors are incredibly secure and there are plenty of security cameras scattered around the outskirts of the facility. The local police will be contacted if you show up.

J.WA.RUU:

Video call? Okay. We can. When? Also, I do not have a son. I never had son. Don't know who Ren is.

EGO.JINP4CHI:

This weekend.

Ego sighed, deciding not to respond to his self-incriminating remark.

J.WA.RUU:

Google meet? What is your email?

EGO.JINP4CHI:

Okay. Here: ego.jinpachi@live.com

J.WA.RUU:

Thank you. What time? Sorry, Japanese is rusty. Wife helps usually. Better at speaking Japanese. Not typing.

EGO.JINP4CHI:

It's fine. Maybe 7pm Saturday? Will that work?

J.WA.RUU:

Yes. That is okay. I can do Saturday. See you then?

EGO.JINP4CHI:

Sure. Bye.

Ego left it at that and put his phone face down. He sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He didn't even want to know what he just got himself into.