THIRD PERSON POV
Hibari awoke with a jolt, the sudden silence heavy in the large room. He blinked, pushing off the cool wall he had leaned against.
His eyes scanned the space, a growing sense of alarm coiling in his gut. The familiar forms of his teammates were gone. No snoring, no quiet breathing, no signs of life beyond the faint hum of the building. He must have dozed off too long.
He looked around, a handful of other players still lingered, scattered like sheep left behind by their herd. They too seemed to be latecomers, perhaps waiting for a strategic moment or simply overcome by fatigue.
Hibari stretched, a slow, deliberate movement that eased the stiffness from his limbs. Then, without a word, he walked towards the now familiar sliding door. He stepped through, entering a long, dimly lit hallway.
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FIRST PERSON POV
I emerged into a small field, about the length of one half of a soccer field.
I walked to the center of the field, a wall panel opened up and shot a soccer ball out of a cannon. I stopped it with my foot as something appeared in front of me.
A holographic goalkeeper with the name Blue Lockman appeared in front of me. A goal area was projected behind him, 'This is really cutting edge stuff.'
I did what any person would do in this situation, I shot the ball.
Didn't put anything special on it, just a soft gentle curve into the top right corner.
I smiled in satisfactory as I watched the ball travel to the goal, but my smile faded as Blue Lockman proceeded to dive and block my shot.
Huh?
Blue Lockman then crossed his arms as he stood awaiting my next shot.
What a sassy goalkeeper.
"Oh ok buddy." I laughed as I looked around the room for visual cues as to what my goal was here.
On the wall, it had a time.
1ST STAGE
TIME
89:43
CLEAR CONDITION
100 GOALS
"Just score 100 goals on this hologram? Mmmmm ok." I mused, but after my first shot Blue Lockman blocked, I might have to put a little more effort in.
I lined up for my second attempt, a slow, deliberate breath filling my lungs. This time, I put a little more force behind the strike, adding a subtle spin. The ball sprang from my foot, a white blur arcing through the air with grace.
Blue Lockman, reacted, diving with impressive speed. But the added spin, the unpredictable bend in the ball's path, was just enough. It fooled him, slipping past his outstretched digital hand and nestling cleanly into the top right corner of the projected net.
A whistle sounded, and the number ticked down.
99 GOALS
I continued to fire shots, each one a calculated effort, and each one found its mark. Curve balls, dipping shots, power strikes aimed at its blind spots, every attempt was a success. The whistle became a regular, and with each successful goal, a creeping boredom began to set in. This was hardly a challenge.
90 GOALS
The repetition was mind-numbing. My kicks became almost automatic, my focus drifting. I started experimenting, trying trick shots or trying to fool Blue Lockman. He would flail, occasionally getting a fingertip on a particularly cheeky shot, but the outcome was always the same. Another whistle.
80 GOALS
My eyes half-closed, I barely registered the ball coming from the cannon anymore. My body simply moved, a perfectly optimized machine designed for one task: putting the ball past the digital guardian. The lack of genuine resistance was palpable. I yawned, wondering how long this would go on. My internal clock was ticking, but the time on the wall panel seemed to mock me with its slow descent.
70 GOALS
Suddenly, the familiar drone of the cannon changed. A low hum vibrated through the ground, and the wall panel shifted, retracting with a mechanical hiss. The timer on the wall flashed, and new text appeared:
LEVEL 2
'Level 2? What does that mean?' I thought for a second.
A second panel opened, and this time, a full-sized holographic defender materialized directly in front of me, positioned to cut off any direct shot path to the goal. Another soccer ball shot from the cannon. As it rolled to my feet, the defender shifted, mirroring my assumed movement. A red line appeared on the ground, which seemed to be saying for me shoot beyond 20 meters.
I nudged the ball forward, the defender immediately stepping up, attempting to close the space. "Was this supposed to make it harder?" I mused aloud, a faint smirk touching my lips. The added variable was a welcome change from the monotony of the solo Blue Lockman.
This defender, a rigid program, was just another piece to manipulate. I took a quick touch, feigning a drive to the left, drawing the defender to overcommit.
Then, with a precise shift of my weight, I pulled the ball back, whipping it around his static form. The shot itself was a calculated marvel, a curving masterpiece that arced perfectly, bypassing the outstretched digital leg of the defender and swerving past my favorite goalkeeper's dive into the top corner.
69 GOALS
Nice.
60 GOALS
By now, I would think that fatigue would begin to settle in. I guess those conditioning days weren't just for show. I still had plenty left in the tank.
50 GOALS
The holographic defender, though a minor addition, did at least provide something new to consider. I continued to exploit its predictable programming, weaving around it, feinting it out of position, or simply arcing shots over his head.
40 GOALS
LEVEL MAX
The holographic defender dissolved and reformed. Now, however, it started with the ball at its feet, positioned directly in front of the goal. New instructions appeared:
PLACE BALL IN SPECIFIC POINT IN NET FROM OVER 20 METERS. PLAYER MUST TAKE BALL FROM HOLOGRAM.
"Oh, you don't like my defensive abilities, Ego?" I thought, a genuine, challenging grin spreading across my face. This was more like it.
I advanced, my steps light, my eyes locked onto the defender and the ball. The hologram, surprisingly, moved with a newfound fluidity, its digital feet dancing over the ball, protecting it.
He was trying to bait me, to force a reckless lunge. But I was patient. I watched, analyzed, waiting for the slightest opening, a flicker in its programmatic defense. Then, with a sudden, almost invisible shift of my body, I lunged, extending my leg and cleanly poking the ball away from its control.
The system immediately displayed the next objective: GOAL IN BOTTOM LEFT CORNER. Without hesitation, I struck the stolen ball. It was a high curve with a wicked trajectory, spiraling with an impossible bend into the designated bottom left corner.
39 GOALS
The defender immediately reset, ball at its feet again. It had adapted.
The move I used to steal the ball just moments ago wouldn't work.
Its stance was different, its 'eyes' more focused. I analyzed its new pattern, calculating angles, anticipating shifts. One feint, another subtle body movement, and then, a quick, precise poke. The ball was mine again.
This time, the system demanded a GOAL IN BOTTOM RIGHT CORNER. I flicked my foot, sending the ball on a low, skipping trajectory that kissed the inner post before nestling perfectly into the right side of the goal.
30 GOALS
20 GOALS
My muscles burned, sweat trickled down my face, stinging my eyes, but I ignored it. Each successful theft, each perfectly placed goal, fueled my ego further.
10 GOALS
0 GOALS
A final, triumphant whistle echoed through the field. Exhausted but satisfied, sweat dripping from my brow, I slowly walked towards the open door. I stepped through, entering a dimly lit hallway bathed in a cool, dark blue light, advancing to the Second Stage.
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Hibari rubbed his neck as he stepped through the door, finding himself in a room smaller than the previous one. He craned his neck side to side, taking in his new surroundings. Several people immediately fixed their gazes on him, analyzing his every move, seemingly trying to surmise his capabilities.
'Hmph. As if you could fathom my skills,' Hibari thought to himself, a dismissive smirk playing on his lips.
His eyes then landed on a monitor above.
"FORM A TEAM OF 3 PEOPLE AND PROCEED THROUGH THE DOOR."
'Teams of 3? Ugh, what a hassle,' Hibari mused, his brow furrowing slightly at the unexpected requirement.
I looked over my choices, which was not a whole lot to look at.
A low commotion caught Hibari's attention.
Someone was on the floor, clutching their face in agony. Blood streamed from their nose, pooling between their hands as they groaned in pain.
"Bastard! You could've broken my nose! And for what?! All because I wouldn't team up with you?!"
Hibari's gaze shifted to the source of the commotion. His eyes fell upon a tall, well-built striker with a striking, tan complexion. His spiky golden hair, interspersed with prominent pink strands, hanging down in front of his face.
The golden-haired player simply laughed, a high-pitched, almost gleeful cackle. "What's wrong, you little germ? Couldn't feel the tingle? Your cells didn't explode at the thought of the ultimate football?! I'm trying to find someone who can make my whole body orgasm with play, not some half-baked reject who can't even get excited about the prospect of exploding!" He bounced on the balls of his feet, an uncontainable energy simmering beneath his skin.
Hibari's eyes narrowed, a cold calculation forming in his mind. This was chaos, certainly, but also raw, unadulterated talent. "You. Let's form a team."
The other strikers in the room looked at Hibari as if he were insane, their eyes wide with disbelief at his blunt proposal to the volatile golden-haired player. The chaotic one's gaze snapped to Hibari, his expression shifting from amusement to sharp, predatory interest. He took a few quick steps, getting uncomfortably close to Hibari's face, his eyes piercing. "Hmm, okay, Prince Charming! You're a bit demanding, but I kinda like that." He gave a broad, unsettling smile.
Hibari subtly brushed him off with a slight movement of his shoulder. "Hurry up and find a third teammate," he stated, already turning his head towards the door to proceed. He had no desire to linger here any longer than necessary.
Before either could move, a small voice spoke up behind them.
"Um…excuse me," the voice trembled.
Hibari turned around slowly.
Hibari's brow furrowed, and he looked down at the boy. "Who the fuck are you?"
The boy flinched a bit, "I'm Gurimu Igarashi!" he shouted, his voice radiating fake confidence. "I'm a temple monk, and I want to become a professional soccer player so I don't have to work at my family's temple!"
Hibari's facial expression didn't change in the slightest, not even a flicker of interest at the monk's unusual background.
He knew that with the reputation this pink-haired chaotic striker had already made for himself, they probably wouldn't be able to get any other teammates without resorting to more "persuasive" methods. He craned his neck in the direction of the door to proceed, eyeing the nervous boy with a look that clearly communicated, "Come on then."
Without another word, the three walked through the door, advancing to the next stage of the Second Selection. As they did, the monitor above updated, displaying their newly formed unit.
THREE MAN CELL
HIBARI YAKUSHIJI, GURIMU IGARASHI, RYUSEI SHIDOU
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ADDITIONAL TIME
The door hissed shut behind them, plunging the trio into another short, brightly lit blue hallway that lead to the 3rd Stage.
"Ooh-la-la! A new journey with new bodies!" Shidou crowed, gyrating slightly. He spun to face Hibari, leaning in close with that unsettling, wide grin. "So, Prince Charming, what kind of explosion do you keep bottled up inside? I can practically smell the potential for chaos!"
Hibari merely shifted his weight, keeping his eyes forward. "Focus on the the selection," he stated flatly, his gaze already sweeping past the wild striker towards the hallway. "This isn't productive."
Shidou's eyes suddenly gleamed, and his grin widened even further. "Productive, you say?! Ooh, you mean like REproductive, Prince Charming?! Like passing on our ultimate genes with the perfect goal?!" He practically vibrated with excitement. "That's what I'm talking about! To make the ultimate goal, to leave our mark on the world! Now that's productive...and REproductive! It makes my whole body tingle!"
He then abruptly turned his manic energy towards Igarashi, who yelped and tried to duck behind Hibari. "And you, little monk! Where's your explosion, huh? I don't feel any cells detonating from you!"
Igarashi blinked, utterly confused. "E-explosion? What...what are you talking about?"
Shidou's grin widened, taking on a predatory edge. "You don't know?! Everyone's got one! The ego's spark! The primal scream of goal! Let's see if we can shake it out of ya!" He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Igarashi by the collar and lifting him off the ground, then began to shake him vigorously, like he was trying to empty a piggy bank. "Come on, come on! Where's the money shot, little monk?! Where's the boom?!" Igarashi let out a panicked squeal, flailing helplessly.
"Put him down," Hibari stated flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, though his gaze was sharp.
Shidou paused, meeting Hibari's eyes. The manic energy in his grin flickered, replaced by a momentary, almost curious glint. He slowly lowered Igarashi, who stumbled to the ground, gasping for air and clutching his head.
"Fine, fine, Prince Charming. Always so serious," Shidou chirped, then winked. "But don't think you can hide that beautiful ego from me forever. I'll make you detonate eventually."
Hibari simply rolled his eyes, turning his back on them both and walking towards the end of the hallway.
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A/N: The GOAT Shidou is here, and teaming up with Hibari no less. What kind of chemical reaction will they make?
Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and if theres anything I can improve on!
First match of the Second Selection next!
Have a great day dear readers!
Ussylliss out