Don't mind me.... Ima just drop this and vanish .
--<<>>--
The Dream Space was usually really noisy.
Usually, when Renzo Takamine closed his eyes and drifted into this sanctuary, he was greeted by the roar of a phantom crowd. He would hear the chanting of "Messi! Messi!" echoing from the steep, vertical stands of a spectral Camp Nou. He would hear the sharp thwack of a ball hitting the crossbar, or the rhythmic thud of boots on pristine grass.
But tonight, the Dream Space was silent.
There was no crowd. There was no chanting. The stadium lights, usually blindingly bright, were dimmed. The sky above the open roof wasn't the usual vibrant blue; it was a deep purple, painted with the streaks of a setting sun that refused to go down.
Renzo walked onto the pitch, his cleats crunching softly on the grass. The sound seemed deafening in the quiet.
"Leo?" Renzo called out.
His voice didn't echo. The air felt heavy, thick with a nostalgia Renzo couldn't quite place.
Standing in the center circle was the man who had defined Renzo's existence for the last half-decade. Lionel Messi — or at least, the spiritual imprint of him that lived in Renzo's mind — was standing with his back to Renzo. He wasn't wearing his usual Barca kit.
He was looking up at the nonexistent sky, his hands clasped behind his back.
Renzo jogged over, the unease in his stomach tightening into a knot. Usually, Leo would have a ball at his feet. Usually, he would be juggling, or setting up cones, or smiling that shy smile and asking if Renzo was ready to die of exhaustion.
But Leo just stood there. A statue of the greatest player to ever live.
"Yo," Renzo said, stopping a few feet away. "Why so serious today? Did I mess up the dribbling drills yesterday? I swear I hit the timings."
Leo didn't turn around immediately. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling slowly.
"Renzo," Leo spoke. His voice was calm, but it lacked its usual playful lilt. It sounded... old. "Come here."
Renzo stepped closer, standing beside his mentor. He looked up at the sky, trying to see what Leo was seeing. There was nothing but the dying light.
"Do you know," Leo began, his eyes still fixed on the horizon, "how many years we have spent together?"
Renzo blinked. The question caught him off guard. He scratched the back of his neck, doing the mental math.
"I don't know," Renzo shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. "I was ten when I first blacked out and found you here. I'm fifteen now. So... five years?"
Leo finally turned his head. He looked at Renzo. His eyes, usually sharp and analyzing, were soft. They were filled with sadness.
"Five years," Leo corrected gently. "And three hundred and fifty-four days."
Renzo paused. The specificity of the number hung in the air like a countdown timer.
Five years. 354 days.
Renzo's eyes widened. He did the calculation again. There are 365 days in a year. If it had been 354 days...
"Oh," Renzo let out a breathy laugh, smacking his forehead. "Right. My birthday. That's tomorrow. I turn sixteen tomorrow."
He grinned, though the smile felt plastered on his face. The atmosphere was too heavy for a celebration.
"Haha, talk about timing," Renzo chuckled nervously. "Our last match of the First Selection is on my birthday. Just perfect. I'm going to score quite a few goals as a present to myself. Maybe you can teach me a new celebration today... forget that you only have one."
Renzo looked at Leo, expecting a nod, a thumbs up, or a challenge.
But Leo wasn't smiling. He was looking at Renzo the way a father looks at a son who is packing his bags for a war.
"Renzo," Leo said softly. "When you turn sixteen... I will be gone."
The world stopped.
Renzo's heart skipped a beat, then hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"What?" Renzo whispered.
He laughed again, but it was a jagged, broken sound.
"What are you talking about? Gone? Gone where? To the bathroom? Do spirits need to pee?"
"Renzo," Leo said, stepping closer. "My time here is done."
"Stop it," Renzo took a step back. "Stop joking. It's not funny. Is this a mental test? Is this like the time you made me play blindfolded to 'feel' the space? Are you trying to test my anxiety management?"
A single tear escaped from Leo's left eye. It rolled down his cheek, glistening in the twilight, before dripping onto the jersey.
Leo reached down, picked up a football that had appeared at his feet, and began to juggle it. Thump. Thump. Thump.
"I don't know how I ended up here," Leo said, watching the ball rise and fall. "I don't know why the universe chose me to be in your head, or why it chose you to carry my shadow. Maybe I am real, or maybe I am something you made up to act as a wall."
He caught the ball on his neck, balancing it perfectly, before letting it roll down his back and flicking it up with his heel.
"But I enjoyed every moment of it," Leo whispered.
"SHUT UP!" Renzo screamed.
The shout echoed through the empty stadium, cracking the silence. Renzo's hands were shaking.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Renzo yelled, stepping forward and grabbing Leo by the shoulders. He expected his hands to pass through, like a ghost, but Leo felt solid. "Don't bullshit me! You're my coach! You're my partner! We aren't done! I haven't mastered the La Croqueta yet! My weak foot is still at 85%! We have work to do!"
Leo looked at Renzo's frantic face. He smiled. It was the warmest, saddest smile Renzo had ever seen.
"You don't need me for that anymore," Leo said. "I don't know when it happened, Renzo. But somewhere along the line... you stopped being just a vessel for my skills. You became my son."
Renzo froze. His grip on Leo's shoulders tightened.
"I watched you grow," Leo continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I watched you cry when you couldn't dribble the ball. I watched you vomit from exhaustion and get back up. I watched you fall in love with that girl. I watched you become a monster."
Leo placed his hand over Renzo's hand.
"I enjoyed playing with you. Laughing at you when you tripped. Teaching you the beauty of this game."
As Leo spoke, a soft light began to emanate from his feet. It wasn't a glow of power; it was a dissolution. His boots were turning into particles of light, floating up into the purple sky.
"No..." Renzo breathed, his voice breaking. "No, no, no, no..."
"It's time, Renzo."
"I SAID NO!" Renzo shook him. "You can't go! I can't do this without you! I'm just a kid! I'm just a fake genius! Everything I have is because of you! If you leave, I'm nothing!"
"You are everything," Leo corrected him sternly.
The light was rising. It had consumed Leo's legs. He was fading.
"It was a rule," Leo said, his torso beginning to shimmer. "A rule of this magic. I guide you until you are ready to walk alone. Until you are sixteen. That is the contract."
"Screw the contract!" Renzo cried, tears streaming down his face, hot and stinging. "I don't want to be alone! Don't leave me, Leo! Please!"
Leo stepped forward. The light was up to his chest now.
He pulled Renzo into a hug.
It was the first time they had ever hugged. In five years of training, of high-fives, of pats on the back, they had never embraced.
Renzo buried his face in Leo's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. He clutched the fabric of the white jersey, trying to anchor Leo to this reality, trying to hold him back with sheer force of will.
"Why do you have to go?" Renzo wept, his voice muffled by the shirt. "Why?"
"Because you have to fly now," Leo whispered into his ear. "And you can't fly if I'm holding your hand."
Leo pulled back. He was translucent now, a being of pure light and memory.
He held out the ball. The ball they had used every single day. The ball that had thousands of scuff marks from their duels.
"Take it," Leo said.
Renzo reached out with trembling hands. He took the ball. It felt heavy. It felt warm. It pulsed with a faint heartbeat.
"This is my final gift," Leo said, his voice sounding like it was coming from far away. "It's not my talent. It's my love for the game. Keep it safe, Renzo."
Leo's face began to dissolve into stardust. His eyes, the last thing to remain, held a look of infinite pride.
"Happy Birthday, my son. Become the greatest."
"LEO!" Renzo screamed, reaching out to grab him again.
But his fingers grasped only air.
The particles of light swirled upward, spiraling into the dark purple sky, joining the stars.
The stadium began to collapse. The stands crumbled into dust. The grass turned to gray mist. The world was ending.
Renzo stood alone in the void, clutching the ball to his chest, screaming at the empty universe.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
***
Sleep room:
"NO!"
Renzo sat up violently, his body jerking forward as if he had been electrocuted.
He was in the Blue Lock sleeping quarters. The room was dark, filled with the rhythmic breathing and snoring of Team V.
Renzo was gasping for air, his chest heaving, his pajamas soaked in sweat. His heart was hammering so hard it hurt physically.
He looked at his hands.
Empty.
There was no ball. There was no warmth.
He looked around the room. Nagi was a lump under his blanket. Reo was sleeping soundly. Zantetsu was muttering something in his sleep about vitamins.
They were there. But he was gone.
Renzo scrambled out of his futon. He felt suffocated. The air in the room was too thin. He needed to get out.
He didn't put on his shoes. He stumbled out of the room, barefoot, running down the cold, concrete corridor.
It was just a dream, Renzo thought frantically. It was just a nightmare. If I go back to sleep, he'll be there. He has to be there.
But deep down, in the pit of his soul, he knew. He felt the hollow space where Leo used to be. The connection was severed. The line was dead.
Renzo burst through the double doors and out onto the indoor training field.
The massive facility was silent. The artificial turf was cold and damp. The high-powered LED lights were dimmed to 'night mode'.
It was empty.
Renzo walked to the center circle. The plastic grass pricked the soles of his bare feet, but he didn't feel it.
He stood in the exact spot where, in his dream, Leo had faded away.
"Leo?" Renzo whispered.
His voice echoed off the metal walls. Leo... Leo... Leo...
No answer.
"Hey!" Renzo yelled louder, his voice cracking. "Come out! It's not funny! I have a match tomorrow! I need to warm up! Come out!"
Silence.
"I said, come out!"
Renzo fell to his knees.
The reality crashed down on him with the weight of a mountain.
He was sixteen. It was midnight. The contract was fulfilled.
For six years, he had never been truly alone. Even when he was bullied, even when he was ignored, even when he was struggling, he had the greatest player in history in his corner. He had a secret friend. A mentor. A father.
Now, he was just a boy in an empty field.
The dam broke.
Renzo curled into a ball on the turf, burying his face in his hands.
A guttural, agonizing sob ripped from his throat. It wasn't the cry of a frustration; it was the wail of grief.
"Don't leave me..." he sobbed into the quiet night. "Please... don't leave me alone..."
Tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the artificial grass, just as Leo's tear had done in the dream. But these tears were real. The pain was real.
For the first time since he was ten years old, Renzo Takamine was truly, terrifyingly alone. The training wheels were off. The safety net was gone.
And the silence of Blue Lock had never been so loud.
--<<>>--
The queation is was Leo, real or a metal problem👀