Chapter 3: Blue Lock
After getting far away from the "incident site," Naruhaya Asahi planned to find the Japan Football Union on his own—since he couldn't remember where he lived anymore.
After checking road signs and asking normal-looking passersby for directions, Naruhaya Asahi finally reached the destination.
Then came the bad news:
The door was locked.
Worse news:
He had no place to stay.
Even worse news:
His stomach had begun growling.
With no other options, Naruhaya Asahi sat on a bench in a nearby park and continued rummaging through his jacket pockets, searching for anything that could help him get through this crisis.
After digging and digging, he finally found something hidden deep inside:
Two bundles of 10,000 yen banknotes, a black card, and a letter.
Seeing the two bundles of cash, Naruhaya Asahi immediately did the math.
One bundle had exactly 100 bills.
Two bundles meant 2,000,000 yen—around twelve thousand U.S. dollars.
And just like that, Naruhaya Asahi thought:
Wow. I'm poor.
[TL: Give me that much money and I will be fine for 10 yrs I think.]
Still, this amount should last him about a month. Hopefully, the Football Union would provide lodging and meals.
He didn't know what the black card was, so he simply put it away. Then he opened the envelope.
"Dear Boss, this is the key to my home. If you arrive in Japan too late and can't find a suitable place to stay, you can stay at my place. Water and electricity shouldn't be cut off. P.S. The address and location of the spare key are included."
Ohhhhh!!
Naruhaya Asahi jumped in excitement. He finally saw hope. Even though he didn't know who wrote the letter, he was extremely grateful this person had prepared a resting place for his amnesiac self.
He took a train to the address written in the letter, found the spare key, and successfully entered the house—which looked like someone had just finished moving out. Using the phone book inside, he ordered dumplings and drinks, surviving the crisis.
"Lucky day! Today is a great day!"
After eating to his heart's content, he opened the summons letter. Seeing the word "football," he felt he needed to understand what football even was.
Fortunately, this house seemed to belong to a kid who liked football; there were many football-related newspapers stored in the cabinet under the TV. Some important pictures and information had been cut out, but that didn't stop him from learning what kind of sport football was.
After finishing the newspapers, Naruhaya Asahi continued exploring the house. He turned on the TV and found that it still worked—but seemed to only play tapes. So he picked up a nearby VHS tape to see what was inside.
What he found was this year's World Cup final: France vs. America.
Time passed as he watched. When he reached the penalty shootout and saw American captain Arthas collapse in a pool of blood, Naruhaya Asahi felt his clothes become wet. He touched his cheek—it was his own tears, falling uncontrollably. He tried to stop them, but couldn't, because his heart hurt terribly.
With no choice, he took off his shirt and set it aside to dry.
After calming down, Naruhaya Asahi found himself deeply in love with football. He watched the tape again and again, ordering more dumplings to enjoy while he watched.
"Arthas is so cool!! I'm going to the Japan Football Union! I want to see him as close as possible at the World Cup!!"
When the date on the summons letter arrived, Naruhaya Asahi put on a freshly bought outfit and headed to the Japan Football Union.
Almost reaching the venue, he once again ran into the black-haired boy who had suddenly screamed on the street last time. Worse, the boy was also holding a summons letter like his own.
Thankfully, the boy looked happy this time—so he probably wouldn't suddenly attack him…
While the boy was still cheerful, Naruhaya Asahi slipped past him and hurried into the venue.
When he opened the door, he saw high schoolers and middle schoolers wearing different school uniforms. Judging by their build, they all seemed to play football.
The black-haired boy entered after him, along with a handsome white-haired boy he didn't recognize.
Originally, Naruhaya Asahi wanted to stay far away from the two—but then heard the white-haired boy begin sharing intel about other players.
"Sennou High School's ace striker—Okawa."
"Tallest high-school forward—Ishikari."
"Oh, Aomori's Messi—Nishioka is here too."
Hearing this, Naruhaya Asahi suddenly wondered:
Is this place full of strikers?
But after scanning the room and seeing a dozen smaller-built or midfielder-like guys, he let go of the idea.
The lights dimmed. A spotlight illuminated a melon-headed man on the platform. The microphone on his head amplified his voice across the hall.
"Ahem. Congratulations, talents. You are the 300 exceptional strikers I selected with my own judgment and subjective opinion. All under the age of eighteen."
"In addition, my name is Jinpachi Ego. I have been hired to lead Japan to win the World Cup."
The audience stirred.
Naruhaya Asahi stood close to the black-haired ahoge boy and the white-haired handsome one. Hearing them whispering, asking if anyone knew who this guy was, he found the whole thing… boring.
Not because the man on stage was unremarkable,
but because the people around him began whispering like clueless sheep.
Naruhaya Asahi could sense the madness in Ego Jinpachi—the clear smell of someone forged on the football field.
But none of the 299 players recognized him. That only meant one thing—
these players never gathered enough intel.
Which meant their football skills were likely lacking as well.
Training with weak players sounded boring.
However, Ego Jinpachi seemed interesting—likely someone with overseas experience or vision. Otherwise the Japan Football Union wouldn't spend a fortune bringing in an outsider with no football knowledge.
Ego ignored the murmurs and continued:
"I'll be blunt. If Japan wants to dominate world football, it needs only one thing—
To produce a striker of a new era.
I will perform an experiment to create the world's No.1 striker from among you 300."
"Behold—the facility for this experiment—BLUE LOCK."
He raised a hand and pointed.
Instantly, the projector came alive like magic, showing the corresponding images.
The first image was a strange facility shaped like a five-star football. A massive central pitch surrounded by neatly arranged stands—clearly meant to simulate the atmosphere of official stadiums.
Next appeared a bright, spacious cafeteria, lined with clean, orderly tables and chairs.
Then came specialized training grounds—standard tracks, advanced physical equipment, and simulated match environments.
Watching all this, Naruhaya Asahi thought:
"If these pictures aren't fake…
Japan Football Union spent a fortune on an insane reform plan."
Under the gaze of 300 players, Ego continued:
"Starting today, you will live here together and complete the special elite training program I designed. You cannot go home. Say goodbye to your past football lives."
"But I promise—if you survive BLUE LOCK's battles and laugh last, kicking out the other 299, the final one standing will become the world's greatest striker."
"That is all. Pleased to work with you."
A madman.
A pure madman.
The milk-candy–haired boy licked his lips. His pupils flashed with a five-pointed star, like he might go on a killing spree in the next second.
"This manager guy isn't bad at all… This burn-the-bridges attitude—just like Arthas. I like it!"
Since he'd lost his memory and had no national tournament to attend, joining BLUE LOCK would also solve his lodging and food problems.
The other boys were different. They looked completely shocked. No one understood what Ego was saying.
The white-haired boy next to Naruhaya Asahi was the first to speak:
"Sorry, I can't accept what you said. We all have our own teams. Some of us are preparing for the national tournament. I won't abandon my team to join some inexplicable training camp of yours."
His statement woke up the other players preparing for the nationals. They began agreeing loudly, some even demanding Ego step down and let a proper speaker take over.
Naruhaya Asahi turned to look at the white-haired boy—admiring his sense of responsibility.
Judging from the reactions, the national tournament spot was a hard-earned opportunity. If they stayed here, their teams of eleven would need to find a new striker in extremely limited time. At worst, it meant abandoning their team's honor.
BLUE LOCK's timing was objectively awful—forcing them into a cruel choice:
Team honor or personal strength.
The arrangement felt deliberate—like Ego was forcing them to choose quickly.
"Is that so? Looks like you're already incurable…" Ego waved dismissively, completely ignoring their opinions. "LOCK OFF! If you want to leave, then get out!"
The boys widened their eyes.
"You value your teams? Compared to becoming the world's No.1 striker? Is being a high-school ace in a weak football nation that important? Huh? The thought of you people carrying Japan's football future makes me despair. Listen carefully!"
"Japan's organizational teamwork is the best in the world."
The projector displayed Japan's national team in heroic poses—smiling, confident, concentrated.
"This is thanks to your national trait of 'consideration for others.'
Other than that? Every ability is unquestionably second-rate."
"What is football? Eleven cooperating players? Teamwork? Doing it for your friends?
Wrong! That's why Japan will always be weak."
The projected image suddenly vanished, wiped clean from the wall like erased chalk. Silence filled the room.
Ego glared at them, proclaiming the reality of football:
"I'll tell you what football is—it's a sport where the one who scores more goals wins. Goal scorers are the greatest. Anyone talking about brotherhood or teamwork can get out."
Naruhaya Asahi thought of his idol Arthas. So he wasn't bothered.
But the others reacted violently.
White-haired boy Kira Ryosuke clenched his fists, furious:
"That's insulting. Take it back! Honda, Kagawa, countless others—we grew up watching the whole team fight as one! They are my—"
"Honda? Kagawa? Who are they?"
Hearing that, Kira turned sharply. Seeing Naruhaya Asahi's utterly clueless face, he was stunned:
"Hey?! What are you even saying?! They're Japan's football stars!"
Naruhaya's eyes lit with realization.
"Oh! They were on that Japan national team photo earlier, right?"
Ego slapped a hand over his face and laughed wildly:
"Hahahaha! Exactly! As that kid said—Honda? Kagawa? They didn't win the World Cup, did they? In that case, they're failures. Who remembers failures?!"
"I'm talking about becoming No.1 in the world. Take Noël Noah for example—the striker who beat Messi and Ronaldo, the current world's No.1, winner of the Ballon d'Or."
On screen appeared a white-haired French national team player, cold and uninterested in the world around him. His eyes burned with unshakable confidence. He raised his leg and launched a brutal kick.
"Eric Cantona, greatest player of the 20th century, said this: 'The team doesn't matter. As long as I shine.'"
A brown-haired player turned slightly, showing off his sculpted jawline, uncaring about everything else.
"Pelé, three-time World Cup champion, greatest in history, said: 'World's best striker, midfielder, defender, goalkeeper—ask me any position, the answer is me.'"
A dark-skinned player grinned, baring pristine white teeth, flaunting his arrogance with no restraint.
Ego's entire posture twisted with manic excitement:
"Well? Annoying, right? But they're No.1!
Every era-defining striker is a rare egoist!
Japan lacks this extraordinary 'egoism'!"
He straightened and returned to a calm tone:
"Without the world's strongest egoist, you cannot be the world's strongest striker. I want such a person to be born in this country."
"I want to create the one hero standing atop 299 corpses."
"Now, gems—one question."
"Imagine this: It's the World Cup final. 80,000 spectators. Score is 0–0. Stoppage time. Last attack. You break free of the defenders. Receive the pass. One-on-one with the keeper. A teammate six meters to your right—passing guarantees a goal."
"In that moment of ultimate pressure, can you shoot without hesitation? Only such madmen can advance!"
The door behind him slowly opened, signifying the start of a new era in Japanese football.
Ego pointed at them:
"Football exists for strikers. Everyone else is a supporting role. Abandon common sense. On the field, you are the protagonist!"
"Live solely for the ecstasy of scoring—that is what a striker is!"
Bong…
Naruhaya Asahi heard running footsteps. Before he turned, he saw the black-haired boy—Isagi Yoichi—eyes blazing with the desire to become the world's best striker, sprint straight toward the open doors.
Like an agitated catfish thrown into a calm pond, his movement triggered the "sardines" into motion—everyone charged through the door.
Within moments, everyone except Naruhaya Asahi and two others had gone inside.
Ego looked at the remaining three:
"What now? Only you three left."
The purple-haired boy stared at the door, excited:
"Let's go, Nagi!"
The white-haired boy looked utterly annoyed.
"No. Sounds bothersome."
Naruhaya watched the two begin arguing. Bored, he scanned the stage—and spotted a refined-looking woman.
He politely asked her for a football so he could practice.
Surprisingly, she handed him one.
"Nagi Seishiro isn't some fake genius you can find anywhere—"
The purple-haired boy was mid-argument when—
PONG!
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Covered in gray powder, Naruhaya Asahi stared at the hole he accidentally kicked into the ceiling.
He mentally waved goodbye to one bundle of 10,000-yen bills.
The three who had been arguing froze, instantly silenced, staring blankly at the hole—then at the "culprit."
The culprit ignored them, returned the ball to the lady, pulled out a bundle of cash, placed it in her hand to compensate for the damage, bowed deeply at 45 degrees, apologized, and briskly walked through the door.
At that moment, Naruhaya wished he could crawl into a hole himself.
I'm sorry, everyone!! Please stop looking so shocked!! Forget everything!!
Behind him, Mikage Reo stared at Naruhaya's fading silhouette, whispering:
"Genius… Was that power even human?"
Nagi stared blankly at the hole in the ceiling.
"O × O"
On stage, Ego Jinpachi was thrilled. Among the raw stones he'd gathered was a gemstone already partially carved.
He turned to the stunned pair and explained:
"The American runner-up of the 21st World Cup has a phenomenon-level star—the world's strongest attacker and the man who popularized killer football—the American captain Arthas. Also known in Japan as the traitor Daigo Otoshi. His power exceeds even what you just saw from Naruhaya Asahi."
"After all, his strikes can kill. So—will you join us, genius?"
Footsteps echoed.
In the end, only Ego Jinpachi and Anri Teieri remained in the hall.