All the forwards want me all to themselves - Chapter 4

The newcomer’s blonde hair was dyed with a pink gradient, his golden eyelashes framing black eyeliner. His pink slit pupils were filled with a raw, primal hunger.

“Look at this. I’ve found something interesting~”

A flush of red appeared on his dark skin, and his pink pupils rolled upward slightly, as if he were about to faint from ecstasy. His tone trembled with a strange, shivering pleasure.

A freak.

Icarus ignored him, turning to receive the next ball shot from the air. He adjusted his posture in mid-air, but just a split second before he could strike, his vision went dark.

His path to the ball was blocked.

The freak had intercepted it with a bicycle kick, the ball plunging into the net with massive force.

How nonsensical. No greeting, and he steals my ball. Icarus frowned at the pink-haired freak.

“Do you want a match? Then play properly. Don’t steal my ball.” He hadn’t had his fill yet.

“A match? Sounds interesting. How do we play?”

“A goal-scoring contest would be meaningless,” Icarus said with a slight smile, his black pupils dancing with cunning. “You shoot; I defend. We swap after five minutes. Let’s see who scores more.”

Icarus could tell at a glance that for this pink freak, a leisurely contest like the one with Rin Itoshi would never satisfy him.

“Fine,” the freak grinned excitedly. “As long as that little body of yours doesn’t get crushed under me.”

“Don’t trouble yourself with worry,” Icarus retorted.

“Then—”

Icarus locked eyes with the man’s excited pink pupils. Hearing the whistle of a ball behind him, he trapped it instantly without looking back.

“Match start.”

The pink-haired freak lunged forward, closing the distance in two giant strides. He stared intensely at the black-haired youth, launching a ruthless tackle.

Icarus smiled. At the exact moment the opponent’s foot was about to touch the ball, he gave it a gentle flick with his inner arch. The ball rolled gracefully past the man’s foot, perfectly evading the steal.

The man then used his robust physical advantage to pressure Icarus’s positioning, but Icarus stood firm. Faced with the aggressive press, he maintained his center of gravity flawlessly, handling the back-and-forth between offense and defense with ease.

The freak’s reaction speed was incredible. He followed up immediately, looking as though he was about to intercept the ball, but Icarus’s ankle flicked with agility. He tapped the ball with his outer arch to the right while moving his body in the same direction, instantly breaking free from yet another attack.

Ignoring the freak’s increasingly ragged breathing, Icarus turned his back to shield the ball, keeping it masterfully under his control.

The five-minute countdown beeped, signaling the end of the round.

“Your turn.”

Icarus kicked the ball gently toward him. The moment the whistle blew, he initiated a high-pressure press just as the other had done.

The freak’s ball control was above average, but it was somewhat lacking before Icarus. Icarus easily shook him with a few feints, hooking the ball away during a blind spot in the other’s vision. Without waiting for a reaction, he accelerated to break through.

Feeling the pressure closing in from behind, Icarus suddenly chipped the ball up, avoiding the sliding foot of the man behind him. He took the opportunity to pivot quickly, sidestepping the fallen freak.

He caught the descending ball with ease and continued his drive. In a sudden flash of intuition, Icarus stopped dribbling and struck the ball with a heavy first-time volley, just as the pink-haired freak launched another tackle.

The ball missed the tackle, but the person didn’t. Icarus fell heavily to the ground, with a 185cm man sprawled on top of him.

The man’s body was scorching hot from the exercise, heat radiating through their points of contact. As a drop of greasy sweat dripped from the man’s face onto his neck, Icarus furrowed his brow in discomfort.

“Get up.”

“Who are you?”

The freak didn’t budge, keeping him pinned to the ground. His slit pupils were contracting rapidly from the intensity of the match.

“Introduce yourself before asking for someone’s name,” Icarus said succinctly, driving his knee upward in a sharp kick.

The freak let out a sharp intake of breath.

“Also, lousy players have no right to know my name.”

Looking at the man rolling to the side clutching his leg, Icarus stood up gracefully and brushed the dust off his clothes.

“Goodbye actually, let’s not meet again.”

Though Icarus loved football, that man’s lack of boundaries was too much. Rin Itoshi was better—when he said play, he just played. Even if Icarus didn’t tell him his name, he didn’t throw a fit; he just made a promise to play again.

Comparison really is everything. Looking at it this way, Rin Itoshi seemed quite “well-behaved.”

“Shidou Ryusei.”

A wickedly sharp voice sounded from behind.

“My name is Shidou Ryusei. Can I know your name now?”

The dark corridor lay ahead, and behind him was a burning gaze that felt like it was trying to pierce right through him. Icarus didn’t look back as he strode into the darkness, leaving only a silhouette.

“My answer remains the same—”

“Lousy players have no right to know my name.”

The moment Icarus escaped that skin-crawling stare, he rushed back to his room to shower. Ahhh, I touched someone else’s sweat! He scrubbed himself frantically.

Though he was a half-blood, the vampire’s obsession with cleanliness still affected him. Normal sweating or falling while playing was fine, but that man’s slimy sweat made his skin crawl.

He said his name is Shidou Ryusei?

Icarus sat at his computer and began checking his files. His physical stats were impressive. Compared to other aspects, his dribbling was slightly weaker, but his scoring ability was top-tier.

Hm? This guy didn’t belong to any team before? No recorded honors? Where did Jinpachi Ego find this football maniac?

Icarus saw it clearly. Shidou Ryusei’s love for football couldn’t be described with mere words; it was fanatical. Every cell in his body seemed to shiver, screaming with joy at every goal. During their match, Icarus had been slightly influenced and caught up in the heat of the moment.

Then he was brought back to his senses by that “divine” tackle at the end. It would be much better if he had a sense of personal space.

Icarus sighed and closed his laptop, only to turn around and face Euan’s glowing green pupils in the dark.

“?!” Icarus gasped. “Euan, what are you doing here?”

Euan looked deeply at the young master, whose eyes were darting around guiltily, but chose not to expose him. “I heard the water running in the bathroom and wanted to ask if Lord Icarus needed assistance.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Icarus left the computer, faking a yawn. “Ah, working this late really makes one sleepy. I’m going to bed. You should rest early too, Euan.”

“Then I shall take my leave.” Euan bowed respectfully and vanished from the doorway.

The black-haired youth breathed a sigh of relief. A long-awaited drowsiness washed over him, and his well-exercised body finally drifted into a satisfied sleep. Just before he lost consciousness, a thought crossed his mind: It’s the middle of the night why was Euan dressed so formally, as if he were about to go out?

Icarus stared boredly at the monitors. The screen was split into several segments, each showing a team engaged in either a one-sided slaughter or a fierce tug-of-war.

This was roughly the final match of the group stage. Once it was over and he confirmed no participants were injured, he could rest for a while.

He was supposed to rest.

Icarus watched the red-haired youth collapse in the video and let out a sigh of regret. Vacation’s over. Time for overtime.

He turned and left the room, heading toward the infirmary. He’d likely have a guest very soon.

Isagi Yoichi, who had just scored, was still roaring in joy when a red-haired silhouette suddenly collapsed before his eyes.

Chigiri Hyoma clutched his knee, his face deathly pale. Intense pain, like a bolt of lightning, had split him in two, making it impossible to stand. He had overexerted his right leg in the match. And the price might be.

The jubilant Team Z fell into a confused silence as they saw Isagi’s grim expression. Following his gaze, they realized what had happened.

“Chigiri!”

Everyone rushed over. Chigiri gnashed his teeth, struggling to endure the rhythmic waves of agony in his knee. A sense of impending doom flooded his heart. He gasped for air, yet felt like a fish out of water.

Why? Why, why did this have to happen to me? After he had finally accepted football again, after Isagi had forced him to remember the joy of the chase, after he had fully tasted the flavor of running without shackles—

Why was heaven casting him into hell?

Just a second ago just a second ago they had defeated Team V. They were moving on, staying in Blue Lock, on the path to becoming the world’s greatest striker.

Now, none of that had anything to do with him.

The people around him seemed to be saying something anxiously, but it sounded muffled, as if he were underwater. His vision grew blurry. Chigiri thought he was crying, but the corners of his eyes were dry. It wasn’t until a heavy slap hit his cheek that his scattered vision struggled back into focus.

“Go to the infirmary! Don’t give up! Chigiri!” Isagi roared at him. Seeing no reaction, he moved to slap him again.

“I understand.” Chigiri caught Isagi’s hand and looked at the robotic stretcher that had been prepared.

Seeing that someone had finally noticed it, the robotic stretcher moved through the crowd. Using its mechanical arms, it carefully placed the fallen Chigiri onto the bed and immediately sped toward the infirmary in a pre-set direction.

Watching Chigiri’s vanishing back, Isagi murmured: “It’ll be okay, Chigiri.”

“By the way, I didn’t know Blue Lock had stuff like that,” Bachira Meguru said, standing on tiptoe to watch the stretcher go. “Feels very high-tech.”

“What in this prison isn’t high-tech?” Ryosuke Kira ran his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “Medical robots like that are a small feat for them.”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t been to the infirmary yet. I heard the infirmary has a…”

“Very good-looking doctor!”

“How nice, I really want to go see~”

“Who on earth wants to go to the infirmary?”

“So, the point is that the doctor is good-looking?! Can Chigiri really be saved!”

“Since he’s a doctor hired by Blue Lock, he must be very capable.”

Team V, having lost the match, watched the laughing Team Z in silence. In Nagi Seishiro’s eyes, the deep reflection of Isagi Yoichi’s dark blue hair lingered as he slowly blinked.