All the forwards want me all to themselves - Chapter 1

Icarus sat cross-legged with an air of boredom, watching Jinpachi Ego hold court via the projector.

He was currently in a dimly lit room, with the screen before him synchronized in real-time to Ego’s presentation. The latter had just reached his closing statement.

“To create the world’s number one striker.”

In the crowd, a white-haired boy jumped out.

“We have teammates we’ve fought alongside; it’s impossible for us to just abandon them for some mysterious project like this.”

“Euan, who is that?”

Icarus tilted his head lazily. The assistant by his side immediately pulled up a dossier on the screen.

“Ryosuke Kira, the ‘Treasure of Japanese Football’?”

Icarus’s eyes swept across the screen. “He even led his team to the nationals this year.”

“A decent seedling. We can’t let him slip away.”

On the other side of the screen, Jinpachi Ego had already assumed a look of pure disdain, waving his hands as if shooing away trash.

“Those whose vision is still limited to domestic Japanese football have no need to participate in this project. Get out.”

Watching Ryosuke Kira’s face turn ashen on the screen, Icarus let out a light chuckle and pressed the microphone on his desk.

“Testing, testing. Can everyone hear me?”

On the screen, everyone looked up simultaneously. Ego stopped his lecture, his expression turning serious.

“It seems you can.”

“Then I’ll be direct. Those who pass the test and remain will be eligible to join the U-20 National Team.”

“And then, take on the world.”

“As for ‘teammates’ if they are good enough, you will naturally meet at the summit of the world stage. But if they aren’t, what right do they have to make you condescend to wait for them?”

“Broaden your horizons, strikers,” Icarus said in a low, seductive voice. “I’ve used my privilege to give you a shortcut, and you have a chance to go straight to your dreams”

“On the world stage.”

Watching Ryosuke Kira’s pupils tremble on the screen, Icarus smiled happily.

Ambition is the best catalyst.

Become the world’s greatest striker.

Once the mobilization briefing ended, Icarus switched screens and began reviewing the profiles of the 300 selected strikers.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Enter.”

Jinpachi Ego walked in clutching a stack of documents. “Young master of the Cecil family, I thought you remembered you were only joining as the accompanying team doctor.”

“…Do not call me that.”

“Fine, Icarus.” Ego let out a sigh. “I didn’t plan on telling them that early.”

“Is it not better this way?” Icarus swiveled his chair to face Ego and tilted his head.

“To make the horse run, you must feed it grass. You’re asking these people to give up the National Tournament for a sudden training camp; you need a sufficient reason.”

“I don’t want these good striker seedlings dropping out of the project for other reasons.”

“Without enough egoism, one cannot become an elite striker.” Ego frowned. “That Ryosuke Kira seems to lack that quality.”

“That’s your problem.” Icarus swiveled his chair back, turning his back to him. “I’m collaborating with you. I provide the funds; I don’t care how you train them.”

“Egoist strikers, altruistic strikers it doesn’t matter.”

“I want the world’s greatest striker.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Ego sighed. “Is it a Cecil family tradition? Do you two brothers have to sponsor a team each? It would be easier to manage if you sponsored one together as a family.”

“Especially since your brother is already—”

“I have no desire to accept his help.” Icarus frowned, clearly unwilling to discuss the topic further. “It’s the first day of the project; as the director, you should be quite busy.”

It was a subtle dismissal.

“…I’ll leave the files here. Remember to look at them.” Ego took one last look at the side profile of the black-haired youth frowning at the screen before leaving the room.

The room fell into silence.

A moment later, Icarus spoke moping: “Euan, bring me the files.”

The blonde assistant by his side moved respectfully to hand over the documents.

Icarus flipped through them casually; most were schedules for the upcoming days. After a cursory glance, he set them aside.

“Lord Icarus ”

“You were sent by my brother; there’s no need to call me ‘Lord.’ I’m not a pure-blood vampire anyway,” Icarus interrupted.

“Regardless, you carry the Cecil bloodline. As a member of the Astley family, I cannot be disrespectful to the Cecil name,” the blonde assistant said softly.

“Suit yourself.”

“Your brother is already the primary sponsor of the RE.AL team. Why would you…”

“But that’s a Spanish team,” Icarus noted, staring at the data cards of the 300 players. “I just want to prove it to him.”

“In my mother’s homeland in this small Eastern country.”

“I, too, can cultivate the world’s greatest striker.”

There seemed to be another reason.

Icarus frowned. He couldn’t remember. Whatever.

“Most importantly, he can only uphold the Cecil traditions, following the old path of investing in established teams. But I choose a different path.”

“Right now, this is just a project. But in the future ”

“I will prove to the world that I am not just a Cecil, but Icarus.”

Watching the youth with black hair and eyes, a trace of obsession flickered in Euan’s green pupils.

The young master of the Cecil family a half-blood of humans and vampires. He hadn’t inherited the vampire genes, growing up with human black hair and eyes.

Lord Icarus, who lacked the blonde hair and blue eyes the vampires took pride in. Lord Icarus, who could not use the power of a vampire to suppress him through bloodline

Then why, why does my heart beat so violently? Why is every cell in my body screaming for me to surrender?

Icarus didn’t notice the strange look from the man beside him. To him, Euan was just someone sent by his brother. On the surface, he was a caretaker; in reality, he was a spy.

He didn’t care who his brother sent, as long as they didn’t interfere with what he wanted to do. In any case, they hadn’t been in contact for a long time.

Fragments of playing with his brother in his childhood flashed before his eyes, then vanished.

…Ahhh, dammit! Why did my brother suddenly cut off all contact!? I still want to know the reason!

The more Icarus thought about it, the angrier he got. Seeing Euan’s blonde hair out of the corner of his eye only made it worse.

Nolan would rather send someone to watch me than contact me himself. Fine. I’ll cultivate the world’s greatest striker and crush RE.AL!

Icarus gnashed his teeth and decided to turn on the surveillance monitors to distract himself.

At this time, the 300 strikers had all checked into their dorms, changed their clothes, and were waiting for the first test.

Ignoring Ego’s explanation of the rules, Icarus pulled up the video feeds for the rooms containing the top-ranked players.

“Rank 1: Rin Itoshi.”

In the video, Rin easily dodged the ball kicked by a teammate. His movements were small and his posture casual, yet his roommate couldn’t land a hit. Realizing it was a futile effort, the roommate quickly switched targets.

Icarus’s gaze lingered on Rin’s lower eyelashes for two seconds.

He quickly scanned Rank 2, Rank 3 and then his gaze froze.

Looking at the purple-haired youth in the video, Icarus raised an eyebrow.

“Reo Mikage?”

Why is the young master of the Mikage family here playing football? Did he suddenly develop an interest? Buying a team outright seems more like the Mikage style.

That old man at the Mikage house is going to lose even more hair from worry.

As he watched, he noticed a white-haired youth in the same room.

The boy was like a lazy animal, he only moved if poked. He remained motionless unless a teammate aimed a ball directly at him. But once he became a target, he only needed two small steps to make the ball miss.

His precise ball-sense allowed him to achieve the best results with the minimum effort.

The person holding the ball, who kept missing victory by a hair’s breadth, looked frustrated. After several failed attempts, he quickly switched targets.

A smart choice.

Icarus looked at the white-haired youth’s physical stats chart.

190cm. So tall. Even in the video, with his shoulders slumped lazily, he looked like a giant. His physical stats had almost no weaknesses; he was an all-rounder striker.

“Nagi Seishiro?”

If it came to a head-on collision, the person with the ball would likely be eliminated before it even touched him.

But, can someone like that really be a striker!? I seem to remember football involves a lot of running.

Looking at how Nagi currently refused to move a single extra step, would he actually be able to run on the field? He wouldn’t fall asleep, would he?

Icarus was speechless.

Icarus decided to watch someone else. And then he saw Ryosuke Kira.

At this moment, only a few seconds remained. Bachira Meguru passed the ball; Isagi Yoichi took it and suddenly fired a heavy shot, striking Ryosuke Kira who was still dazing.

Icarus looked at the remaining countdown on the screen with regret.

The rules of elimination were set by Jinpachi Ego, and Ego was the man he had chosen. Let professionals do professional work. Icarus would not break the established rules.

What a pity. Is he truly going to be eliminated? Even though he’s called the Treasure of Japanese Football.

In the moment he was hit, Ryosuke Kira thought of many things. Including the words of the voice that had interrupted Ego that morning:

“Those who pass the test and remain will be eligible to join the U-20 National Team.”

“And then, stand on the world stage to play.”

Kira still didn’t agree with Ego’s philosophy. But he craved the world stage. Not domestic Japan—the world. His previously limited vision had been artificially expanded by a voice boldly declaring they had a vast future.

Many thoughts crossed his mind, yet less than half a second had passed.

A fire seemed to burn in his heart, and power surged in his right leg instantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a dark silhouette. Without a second thought, Kira kicked the ball toward it.

Beep—

The whistle for the end of the match sounded. The person eliminated on the screen had changed.

Gurimu Igarashi stared with a contorted face at the projector, which showed his face in the final second.

“Wait, this isn’t fair!” he screamed in a breakdown.

“The one who is hit leaves Blue Lock. Those are the rules.” Ego’s face appeared on the screen, issuing the heartless command.

“But my leg was injured! I couldn’t move at all!”

“Would you say that on the pitch? In the few seconds you spent sitting on the ground, the opponent might have scored one or even more goals. The opponent has no obligation to sympathize with you or consider if you are in peak physical condition during a match.”

“Competitive sports is not a charity. If you don’t understand that yet, go home early and inherit the family business.”

“No! I don’t accept that a stupid project like this can decide my fate!” Igarashi’s face was twisted in rage.

“It doesn’t matter if you accept it or not. You can leave now.”

Ego issued the final judgment and turned off the screen.

On the other side, Ego answered a call from Icarus.

“Fortunately, Ryosuke Kira wasn’t eliminated,” Ego said coolly. “Otherwise, I feared you’d plead for him and ask me to keep him.”

“The fact that you think I’d do that truly saddens me,” Icarus said with a beaming smile. “You said it yourself—competitive sports is not a charity. If your skills are lacking, just go home.”

“After all, what I want is the world’s greatest striker, not merely the Treasure of Japanese Football.”

“On that point, you need not doubt my support.”