[11] Yo Hiori's Resolve

Clap... Clap... Clap...

A slow, intermittent applause echoed through the room as Ego appeared on the screen once again.

"Well said," Ego remarked coldly. "Let me reiterate for everyone here: you are all unpolished gems of talent, and in this place, results are everything."

"Now then, the last one to be caught—get out. You've lost your qualification."

The eliminated player opened and closed his mouth as if wanting to protest but ultimately said nothing. With a defeated expression, he picked up his luggage and exited the room.

"That saved me quite a bit of effort," Ego continued. "Otherwise, I'd have to visit each room, listen to the wails of the failures, and waste my time explaining everything to them. Really, it's unnecessary extra work."

On the screen, Ego lifted a cup of coffee and took a sip with a blank expression. "But not everyone is as perceptive as you. So, as a formality, I'll explain it again."

"Still, since you've saved me the trouble of dealing with mediocrity, let's use the extra time for a little chat."

"After experiencing this game of tag, does anyone have any thoughts?"

The group exchanged uncertain glances until finally, a blue-haired boy raised his hand.

"Um... the size of this room—it should match the dimensions of the penalty area, right? And the time limit is strange. It's not a whole number. For a standard game, the time given for strategic decision-making seems unusually short."

"Hmm... Hiori Yo, Rank #244," Ego said, surprisingly offering a rare word of praise. He gestured, summoning a 3D model projection.

"You're right. This game was designed to test your ability to handle the ball within the penalty area. Those on the run need awareness of their surroundings, strategic thinking, and spatial perception. On the other hand, those chasing need refined dribbling skills and the ability to shoot accurately while on the move."

"In an average match, each player's ball control time is about 136 seconds."

"Kanzaki Shinichi was the first to realize this and willingly took on the risk of potential elimination to become 'it,' seizing the initiative in offense. He waited until the very last second to make his move, eliminating any chance for a counterattack from his opponent."

"A forward is someone who takes full responsibility for scoring, fighting until the very last moment. Shinichi not only dared to shoulder that responsibility but also changed his attack target on a whim, based purely on personal preference. He executed a high-difficulty pivot shot to hit No. 245, who was completely in his blind spot."

"This is precisely the ego-driven desire to win, unshackled by collective norms, that I seek. It embodies the selfishness that a striker must possess."

"The world-class players you idolize experience this kind of cutthroat battle every match. So, how does it feel to bet your life on a game for the first time? Were you scared? When Shinichi was chasing you, it felt like encountering a wild beast barehanded in the wilderness, didn't it?"

"You were terrified, weren't you? Your scalp tingled, and maybe you even got goosebumps. But when the game ended, wasn't there a sudden sense of relief? A thought of, 'Thank goodness, I'm still here!'?"

"That's the feeling of victory! Just as Shinichi said, some of you may have seemed inadequate in his eyes, yet you're the ones who remain. Meanwhile, a more skilled player was eliminated. That's how merciless the world of competition is. And now, in this first game, you are the victors!"

"Remember this feeling. Engrave it in your minds. Every time you savor this thrill, your sense of self will grow stronger. Eventually, each of you will have the chance to surpass Shinichi and get closer to the pinnacle of becoming the world's best striker."

"You're really getting into the role of a teacher, huh? Even serving up some motivational soup," Shinichi remarked with visible annoyance, openly derailing Ego's narrative. "If this bunch is the best they've got, they won't surpass me in a hundred years."

"Kanzaki Shinichi," Ego responded, unfazed. "Given your performance, I can offer you some special training. How does it feel? Enjoyable, right? The sensation of deciding someone's fate, destroying their future?"

"Not really. It's pretty ordinary," Shinichi replied dismissively. "All I did was eliminate an unremarkable player. There's no thrill, not even a sense of accomplishment."

"Without a worthy opponent, I can't get excited. If I had eliminated someone like Noel Noa, I might have been happy for a day—then forgotten his name within a week. Whoever stands in my way must fall. That's all there is to it."

"Excessive confidence can border on foolishness... but for now, stay as you are," Ego remarked coolly. "The third round… is coming. But for now, congratulations—you've passed the Blue Lock admission test."

"As Shinichi mentioned earlier, the 11 people in this room now form a team. From this moment forward, you will live together as a single unit. Sometimes you'll support each other, sometimes betray each other, and sometimes crush each other's dreams. Welcome to Blue Lock's Team X."

...

"Whoa, whoa, is that even human? Weren't we told everyone summoned here is under 18?"

"At that speed, why isn't he specializing in track and field? His talent completely outclasses us."

"Not just track and field—every single test category, he's way ahead of the pack. If there were a talent chart, he'd be on a completely different level… no, at least two levels above us!"

In a room filled with training equipment, a group of people huddled together, whispering among themselves. Naturally, the focus of their discussion was none other than Shinichi, who was undergoing testing.

"Got nothing better to do?" Shinichi shot a sharp glance at the group watching him. He wasn't about to let himself be treated like a circus monkey.

That single glare was enough to scatter the crowd like startled birds—except for one person, who stayed behind silently, staring at him.

"Hiori Yo? What do you want?" Shinichi sighed, setting down the dumbbell he was lifting.

Casually, he grabbed a towel to wipe his sweat.

His exceptional memory, honed by his golden-level talent, recalled this character who barely made an appearance in the anime's finale.

"I'm just curious," Hiori began, his tone calm. "Why do you play football? You're so strong—surely everyone has high expectations of you."

For a moment, Shinichi was caught off guard. Based on the anime's ending, he had pegged Hiori as someone like Bachira, someone who played for the sheer joy of it.

But now?

This guy seemed more like a walking annoyance.

Shinichi, remembering how intense his own clashes with Isagi and Kaiser were in the manga, waved dismissively, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Other people's expectations? There's plenty of that nonsense. Why should I live my life for something like that?"

"Running, chess, archery—pretty much every sport I've tried, I've excelled at. And every single time, those people begged me not to waste my talent, to keep pursuing it."

"But why should I care? I just do whatever I feel like doing," Shinichi replied casually, his tone indifferent. "Right now, football is interesting. Blue Lock is interesting. So, I play football. If tomorrow basketball has a 'Generation of Miracles' popping up, I'd switch to basketball just for the fun of it."

"But didn't you say you want to become the best in the world? Doesn't that goal matter to you? Isn't there something—or someone—who gave you that expectation, pushing you to—"

"Stop. Just stop," Shinichi interrupted Hiori's rambling, raising a finger to emphasize his point. "Get one thing straight. It's not that I want to become the world's best. I will become the world's best. It's a fact—something no one can change, an inevitable reality."

"So, your so-called expectations? They don't matter. Whether they exist or not, it doesn't change a thing. I only act based on what I find enjoyable. That's all there is to it."

With that, Shinichi grabbed his towel and walked off, leaving Hiori standing there, speechless.

Hiori thought back to what Karasu once told him: to embrace others' expectations and strive for greatness.

Yet for Hiori, expectations—anyone's expectations—meant nothing.

The mere thought of the word was enough to make him feel sick.

Born into a family of elite athletes, expectations were all Hiori ever knew.

Their only demand was for him to be the best, devoid of affection or support.

The moment he failed to meet those expectations, the family bond would crumble, as if it had never existed.

To keep his family intact, Hiori continued playing football, but coming to Blue Lock was, in truth, an escape—a way to get as far from them as possible for as long as he could.

Yet, for the first time, Hiori encountered someone who could disregard all of that.

Karasu couldn't do it.

Nor could the other so-called "prodigies" blinded by the expectations of parents and coaches, mistakenly believing they were chasing their own dreams when they were really just products of others' desires.

Only Shinichi, this truly free individual, could live untouched by the expectations of others.

Hiori realized that if he hadn't come to Blue Lock, he never would have met someone like Shinichi.

Perhaps the weight of expectations Hiori couldn't bear could be shifted onto Shinichi, who wouldn't care about carrying yet another burden.

Because of Shinichi's confidence, his talent, his performance during the first game of "tag," and even his flaws, Hiori saw something in him.

In that moment, as they exchanged glances during their discussion, Hiori was certain: Shinichi saw the same horizon he longed for.

Hiori instantly dismissed all of Ego's lofty words.

After all, he never really aspired to be the best in the world.

But he had realized something.

Kanzaki Shinichi—this man didn't care about the title of "World's Best."

His eyes were fixed on something far beyond that.

His ambition, Hiori concluded, was far more terrifying than anyone else in Blue Lock—even more so than the creator of this system, Ego Jinpachi.

Despite not carrying the weight of anyone's expectations, what was it that drove Shinichi to this point?

Hiori was certain: even though Shinichi made it sound effortless, he wouldn't stop until he reached his ultimate goal. Could it really be as simple as he claimed? Driven purely by interest? By the laughable reason of something being "fun"?

Hiori suddenly recalled Shinichi's attitude during the first game. Perhaps Shinichi never saw any of this as a challenge.

To him, it was just a "game" he was destined to clear.

"Honestly, what a single-minded guy," Hiori murmured.

But for the first time in his life, something inside him burned with excitement.

He felt an allure—something completely different from Ego's rhetoric—something utterly insane that was drawing him in.

Even if their meeting was a coincidence, it was enough to give Hiori a reason to fight.

He couldn't bear the thought of Shinichi's talent going to waste.

And standing by Shinichi, he would witness the turning point in football history.

Watching from the sidelines as Shinichi rose to greatness, step by step, and as the storm that would sweep through the football world took form, Hiori knew he would feel something unique—something no other football player could ever experience.

He, Hiori Yo, wanted to see just how far Shinichi could go while carrying the weight of his expectations.

For that vision, Hiori was willing to become the "carpet" paving Shinichi's path to the throne of history.

He would dedicate his life to that future.

This wasn't a choice made for him by someone else—it was the path Hiori had chosen for himself.

Of course, what Hiori didn't know was that Shinichi wasn't lying about certain things.

If he ever did encounter a "Generation of Miracles," he probably would drop football and dive headfirst into basketball.

After all, the system driving Shinichi was the "Legendary Athlete" system, not restricted to football.

He had only picked football because the "Blue Lock" main storyline seemed interesting, and he was using it as a way to level up.

If such a thing ever happened, and Shinichi really switched to basketball, Hiori—who had silently bet his life on Shinichi's success—might just become a professional hitman overnight.

The next day, he'd be hunting Shinichi down like someone planning to take out a world leader.