End of The Golden Duo

Match:Team V vs Team W

Score:1-1

Time Remaining:65 minutes

After the goal, the field was momentarily quiet. Shiro had just scored an incredible volley, but the players knew the battle was far from over. Kurona walked over to Shiro, his face a mixture of admiration and concern.

"That was amazing, Shiro. But… you nearly got intercepted by Karasu. That guy's vision and spatial awareness… It's like he knows exactly where everyone is on the field, even before they make a move," Kurona said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the growing tension.

Shiro, wiping the sweat from his brow, flashed a grin. "Yeah, I felt him closing in. But I'll figure him out. He's good, no doubt, but he's not unbeatable. I'll find a way through him. He's just another challenge."

Kurona nodded, though a hint of worry remained on his face. "I hope so. We can't let him get to us."

The match continued, and unfortunately for Team V, Shiro's confidence was about to be tested in ways he hadn't anticipated. Despite his brilliance on the ball, Karasu's off-ball movements, his sense of timing, and his positioning were starting to overwhelm Team V. Each time Shiro attempted to push forward, Karasu was right there, anticipating his moves, blocking passing lanes, and forcing him to make quick decisions.

And it wasn't just Karasu. The speed and technique of Yukimiya were undeniable. His ability to slip through defenders, control the ball with elegance, and make precise passes left Team V scrambling. Hiyori, with his passing ability, made sure every counter-attack was met with a perfect ball into space. And Otoya, unpredictable and merciless, kept finding openings with his street-smart dribbling, always a threat on the wings. Together, the four players of Team W were proving to be more than just skilled—they were playing as a well-oiled machine, one that Team V was struggling to dismantle.

Sixty minutes into the match, Team V was down 1-9, and it wasn't just the score that felt crushing. It was the overwhelming sense that no matter how hard they fought, they couldn't keep up. Karasu had added two more goals to his tally, his off-the-ball movement and intelligence making him nearly impossible to mark. Each time the ball came near him, he had a way of slipping past defenders and getting into dangerous positions. His third goal came from a brilliant cross from Yukimiya that was perfectly placed, leaving Karasu with an open net.

Then there was Yukimiya. After a beautiful piece of dribbling to break free from Shiro's defense, he found the back of the net twice in quick succession. His ball control, his ability to read the game—Yukimiya seemed unstoppable. With each goal, Team V's morale seemed to drop, the gap widening with every minute.

Otoya wasn't far behind. His unorthodox style, unpredictable movements, and ability to create space in tight situations allowed him to find his rhythm. The ball would always find its way to him, and once it did, he made sure it would be converted into another goal. Three goals from Otoya had pushed Team W's lead to an insurmountable 9-1.

For Shiro, the realization was beginning to sink in. Despite his earlier brilliance and the team's potential, they were being overrun. His attempts to break through Karasu's defense were met with frustration. Every time he tried to turn the ball around, to find space, Karasu was already in his blind spot, disrupting the flow. And while Shiro's physicality and ball control were undeniable, they were starting to feel like a lone flame in the midst of a storm.

Kurona, too, was struggling. His defensive role, though pivotal, wasn't enough to stop the wave of attacks from Team W. They were simply outclassed in every department—speed, technical ability, and vision. The team, as a whole, had been exposed.

As the ball rolled into the net, another goal for Team W, Shiro collapsed to his knees. The ninth goal had just been scored, and Yukimiya had made him look foolish in the process, effortlessly dancing past him with an array of dazzling footwork. Shiro's pride, his sense of self, had taken a hit. He watched, helpless, as Yukimiya strutted away with the ball, an expression of quiet satisfaction on his face. Shiro's chest heaved, his breath ragged as frustration and anger consumed him.

Not again. I can't lose. I don't want to lose... I don't...

The thoughts swirled in his mind, a whirlwind of doubt and defeat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so powerless. He had come so far, trained so hard, only to find himself humiliated in front of his teammates and opponents alike. A cold sweat trickled down his face as he stared at the ground, willing himself to push through the exhaustion, to fight back.

But then, something inside of him snapped.

Fuck it.

The anger and frustration turned into a new, raw energy, and Shiro's eyes sharpened with an intensity that seemed to change the very air around him. He stood up slowly, as if a switch had been flipped. His muscles tensed, his posture straightened, and in an instant, he was back on his feet.

I can't do anything now, huh? Fine. If I'm going to lose, then I'll lose by giving everything I've got. I'll score two more fucking goals. I'm not going down like this.

His gaze hardened. The aura around him shifted—thick, heavy, like a storm about to break. His focus was razor-sharp, every fiber of his being honed in on the task at hand. The doubt was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating drive. He wasn't going to let this match slip away without showing exactly what he was capable of.

As he looked across the pitch, his teammates could feel the shift in his presence, the dangerous energy he exuded now. The confidence that had been wavering moments ago was now replaced with pure determination. He was no longer just playing to win—he was playing to make sure no one would ever forget the name Shiro.

The match restarted with the sharp blast of the whistle, and immediately, Kurona passed the ball to Shiro. There was no hesitation. Shiro surged forward with a single-minded purpose, his eyes locked on the path ahead. He knew what he had to do, and he wasn't going to waste a single moment.

The first challenge came quickly—Yukimiya, the defensive mastermind, stood in his way. As the two met in a 1v1, Yukimiya tried to predict Shiro's next move, his sharp eyes analyzing every subtle shift of Shiro's body. But something was different. There was an intensity in Shiro's movements, a newfound sharpness that threw Yukimiya off. His dribble had become faster, more fluid, sharper. It was like he was in a different gear altogether.

Before Yukimiya could react, Shiro's footwork exploded in a series of rapid, seamless moves. He feinted with a stepover, then flicked the ball behind him in a perfect elastico, and with a quick twist of his body, he flicked the ball over Yukimiya's head in a flawless sombrero, leaving him in the dust.

The crowd—if there had been one—would've held their breath, but on the field, Team W's players were all stunned. Yukimiya, caught off guard, watched helplessly as Shiro glided past him with effortless ease.

But Shiro wasn't done. Without breaking his stride, he surged forward, now facing Otoya. The ball danced at his feet as he closed the gap. In an instant, Shiro slid the ball through Otoya's legs—an audacious nutmeg. Otoya reacted too late, unable to close the gap in time as Shiro sped past him, leaving him with only the fading echo of his footsteps.

Next, Karasu stepped up, trying to use his strength and positioning to block Shiro's path. But Shiro was no longer the same player he had been earlier. His backheel was swift and precise, sending the ball sliding through Karasu's legs with a flash of brilliance, before the ball was at his feet again.

Hiyori, the last defender, came charging in, desperate to stop Shiro's rampage. But Shiro was untouchable now—his body moving in a blur of speed. Hiyori reached out, trying to make the tackle, but the gap between them remained insurmountable. Shiro's acceleration was pure, raw power. Hiyori could only watch as he flew past.

In the space of just a few seconds, Shiro had dismantled Team W's entire defense—Yukimiya, Otoya, Karasu, and Hiyori—one by one. His dribbling was almost magical, each move executed with a mastery that was impossible to deny.

The players of Team W stood frozen, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed. It was as though Shiro had transformed before their eyes, his previous weaknesses gone, replaced by an unrelenting force of nature.

The question lingered in the air: What happened to Shiro? How had he gone from a struggling, isolated player to this unstoppable force, weaving through their best defenders like they were nothing more than cones?

Even Shiro himself felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He was in the flow—every movement, every touch of the ball felt like it was destined to be. There was no doubt, no hesitation. Only the next challenge, the next step. And nothing was going to stop him now.

Ego Pov:

Up in his office, Ego Jinpachi sat with his legs crossed, his sharp gaze locked on the screen in front of him. The match was unfolding in chaos, but his attention was fixated on one player—Asura Shiro. The fluidity in his movements, the razor-sharp decisions, and the overwhelming aura of domination radiating from the screen were unmistakable.

Ego leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, his chin perched on his clasped hands. His analytical mind raced as he processed what was unfolding before his eyes. "So, it's finally happened," he murmured. "Shiro's reached it... the flow state."

His lips curled into a smirk, but there was a glint of surprise in his sharp eyes. "Tch. I thought this would happen much later," Ego muttered to himself. "Perhaps during the second selection... or maybe even the finals. But of course, it had to be him—this reckless, unpredictable genius—to break the timeline."

He rewound the footage of Shiro's rampage, watching the seamless transitions in his dribbling, the instinctive feints, and the unrelenting pressure he applied to Team W. It was as though the ball had become an extension of his very soul.

"Flow state..." Ego whispered, his voice low and contemplative. "The pinnacle of performance, where the mind and body merge into one perfect machine. It's not something that can be taught, not something that can be forced. It's raw, primal, and unique to each player. And Shiro... this genius... he's the first to unlock it in Blue Lock."

Ego leaned back, his chair creaking under the shift of weight. His steepled fingers hovered in front of his face as he analyzed the situation further. "But why now? Was it the humiliation of that ninth goal? The sheer will to refuse defeat? Or is this just who he is—a monster born to thrive under impossible pressure?"

The faintest chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced back at the data on his screen. Shiro's metrics were spiking in every category—speed, stamina, spatial awareness, ball control—all well beyond his normal thresholds. It was both exhilarating and dangerous.

"This changes everything," Ego muttered. "Flow is a double-edged sword. It can make you untouchable, but if you lose yourself in it, it can destroy you. Shiro's body and mind are at their limits, and he doesn't even realize it."

Ego's smirk returned, sharper than ever. "Good. Let's see how far you can push yourself, Shiro. Because this is only the beginning. The question isn't whether you can survive the flow state. The question is whether you can make it your weapon and crush everyone in your path."

He leaned forward, his eyes blazing with anticipation. "Show me, Asura Shiro. Prove to me that you're not just the first to enter the flow state, but the one who can conquer it. Become the striker who will redefine football itself."

Shiro Pov

The match was reaching a fever pitch. Shiro's eyes blazed with intensity as he stood on the ball, calculating his next move. The midfield was a battlefield, but the defenders were beginning to back off slightly, wary of his newfound aura. For the first time in the match, Shiro felt an opening—a possibility he hadn't considered before.

His mind raced as he glanced at the goal, the defenders, and the space between. Within 40 yards from the goalkeeper's cage, an audacious thought struck him. Why not try something new? Something I've never done before.

Shiro tightened his stance, his body feeling both light and powerful, like a coiled spring ready to unleash. The memory of his previous long shots flashed in his mind. They were impressive, yes, but they were never from this far out, and certainly not under this much pressure. But now, with his vision sharpened by the flow state and his body operating at its peak, he felt invincible.

If my left foot's power and my shooting precision are my strength, Shiro thought, then why not combine them into a single weapon?

He took a deep breath, planting his right foot firmly next to the ball. The defenders hesitated, unsure of his next move. Karasu, observing from the midfield, narrowed his eyes, sensing something dangerous. Yukimiya shouted, "Don't let him shoot!" But it was too late.

Shiro swung his left foot with everything he had. The sound of his boot connecting with the ball was like a cannon firing. The ball rocketed forward with incredible force, spinning in a controlled spiral. Its speed was breathtaking, cutting through the air like a missile.

The goalkeeper's eyes widened as the ball approached, seemingly faster than anything he'd ever seen. It didn't just travel—it screamed toward the top corner of the net with pinpoint accuracy. The sheer velocity gave the goalkeeper no time to react.

THUD!

The ball smashed into the back of the net, rattling the goalposts and leaving the entire field in stunned silence. Shiro stood tall, watching the aftermath of his shot. His chest heaved, his face stoic, but his mind was electric.

He whispered to himself, almost in disbelief, "Sniper Shot..."

Roberto Carlos's left foot power × Quaresma's shooting ability =

SNIPER SHOT

Ego, watching from his office, leaned forward with a rare flicker of excitement in his eyes. "So he's done it," he muttered. "He's created a weapon unique to him. A long-range shot that combines devastating power with unmatched accuracy. This genius really thinks outside the box... literally."

Back on the field, Kurona ran up to Shiro, a mix of awe and excitement on his face. "That was insane!" he exclaimed. "You just scored from 40 yards out like it was nothing!"

Shiro smirked, his focus unwavering. "It's just the beginning," he said, his voice low but filled with determination. "Even if we are goint to lose this, I'll need to use everything I've got."

The match was nearly over but for the first time in what felt like forever, Team V had hope.

Score:2-9

Time Remaining:2 minutes

With only two minutes left in the match, Team W restarted confidently. Their overwhelming seven-goal advantage all but guaranteed their victory, yet they were determined not to let Shiro tarnish their dominance. The quartet, known for their synchronization and tactical prowess, steeled themselves to maintain control and avoid further humiliation.

Karasu received the ball at the restart, intending to dictate the tempo and stall Team V's sudden surge. But in a flash, Shiro, now playing like a man possessed, broke through their formation. His anticipation was perfect, intercepting Karasu's pass before the latter could even react.

In a blur, Shiro accelerated past the midfield, weaving left and right as defenders scrambled to block him. His movements were fluid and unpredictable, leaving Yukimiya and Hiyori chasing shadows. Otoya attempted to close the gap, but Shiro's pace and sharp changes in direction left him behind as well.

Now at the edge of the penalty area, Shiro adjusted his position, taking just a split second to line up his shot. Without hesitation, he unleashed another powerful strike—a shot that seemed to defy physics with its precision and speed. The ball rocketed past the stunned goalkeeper, burying itself in the back of the net with an audible thud.

As the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match, Team W had secured a 9–3 victory. But the atmosphere on the pitch felt anything but celebratory for them. Shiro had ended the game with an emphatic statement, scoring two jaw-dropping goals in the final minutes and leaving Team W visibly shaken.

Karasu, breathing heavily, wiped the sweat off his brow. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "This man alone is enough. He's a one-man army. If he had a better team, we would've lost for sure."

Yukimiya glanced at Shiro with a mix of respect and apprehension, realizing they had underestimated him.

For Team V, despite their loss, it was a moment of pride. Shiro had not only shown his potential but also forced one of Blue Lock's strongest teams to acknowledge him as a threat. Ego, watching the scene unfold, leaned forward in his chair, smirking.

"Victory doesn't always come in numbers," he mused. "Sometimes, it's about leaving an impression that lasts longer than the scoreline. Asura Shiro just did that."