Ego grinned, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the shadows of the room. "When you destroy your previous common sense and throw your entire being onto the scales... only then will you understand what you truly desire!"
"Is it glory? Or is it... to become a world-class striker?!"
"Think, you unpolished gems! Start thinking!"
"Think about how to seize victory in the next match. Take up your own weapons... and shatter your opponents. I'm looking forward to the show."
The screen flickered and died.
Silence fell over the room.
"Seriously, what the hell is that guy talking about? I can't follow this crap at all," Raichi grumbled, scratching his head in frustration.
Thinking? Scales? Philosophy? To a man who only knew how to scream and charge, it was all noise.
Isagi Yoichi, however, was lost in thought. He had come here to get stronger, to reach the national team... he wouldn't have taken that first step into the facility if he wasn't prepared to change.
Aki watched them, a thin smile playing on his lips.
The winners always hear a different message than the losers. In the original story, Ego was much more clinical in explaining the "Zero to One" concept. Here, he was being direct, forcing them to undergo a revolution of the self. He wanted them to realize that their "weapons" were their only lifeline.
Kunigami was the first to step forward. He rubbed his chin, his expression grave. "I think I get what he's saying. It's what Isagi mentioned earlier—our individual abilities."
"To put it simply: our weapons."
"Weapons?" Raichi's brow twitched. "You mean my magnificent shooting technique?"
"I wasn't asking you!" Kunigami snapped. He turned his gaze toward Aki, remembering that Aki had mentioned something similar days ago. It was clear Aki had understood the core of Blue Lock long before the rest of them.
Isagi's eyes also drifted toward Aki, seeking a definitive answer.
"Weapons?" Aki let out a short, sharp laugh. "Is it really that hard to grasp?"
"Everyone has a specialty. Little Shark over there thinks his shooting is his weapon—that's his 'specialty.' "
Aki gestured toward the corner of the room, where Bachira was currently curled up on the floor, snoring softly. "A weapon is your most prominent, overwhelming ability. Look at Bachira. His dribbling is top-tier. In the last match, he was able to maintain possession and dictate the flow because of that singular, protruding talent."
"That is personal ability. That is the effect of a weapon."
"As for how you choose to manifest that weapon on the pitch... that's your problem."
"I get it," Isagi said, raising a hand. "Ego wants us to identify each other's weapons so we can coordinate better in the next match, right?"
Aki didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either.
Isagi's interpretation wasn't entirely wrong, but it was too "safe." Ego was likely watching the footage, knowing that Team Z was still a fractured mess. This was a nudge to evolve, not just to cooperate.
As the discussion progressed, the task of recording everyone's data—usually Kuon's job—somehow fell onto Isagi's shoulders.
Isagi turned to Aki. "What about you? What's your weapon?"
Isagi was genuinely curious. If he had to guess, it was the "Ultra Long-Range Strike." After seeing that impossible goal in the first match, he was sure he hadn't guessed wrong.
Aki saw the expectation in Isagi's eyes and smirked. "Speed."
"Speed?" Isagi's pen halted. He blinked in confusion. "But... your shooting is incredible. Why would you say speed?"
Aki tilted his head, looking bored. "Who told you my shooting was 'incredible'? That was just a basic play."
The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at Aki as if he'd grown a second head. A basic play? That standing, long-range missile was a "basic play"? Only two people in the entire wing could even dream of that distance.
And he was saying that wasn't his strongest weapon?
"Hey..." Naruhaya spoke up, his voice tinged with a hint of suppressed fear. "We're doing this to build a better tactical formation for the next game. Can you not mess around?"
Aki met his gaze, his smile widening. "I'm not messing around."
"I told you, that's not my 'weapon.' My weapons are speed, power, and absolute dominance on the pitch. Who told you a player can only have one?"
"Wouldn't that be a bit unfair?"
Aki sat up, his aura shifting. "From the moment a player identifies their weapon, they usually find its ceiling. A 'weapon' is just a label for a person's strengths. I'm not mocking you lot..."
"...I'm just saying that some people aren't limited to one. Some people are 'Hexagon Warriors.' Can you define their weapon in a single word?"
"So don't look so shocked. A weapon is just what you think is your strongest point. I just happen to think I'm strong in every category."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Is this guy just showing off, or is he actually that much of a monster?
Isagi, feeling the pressure, eventually scribbled "Speed/All-Rounder" next to Aki's name. Then, he realized he hadn't written down his own.
He thought back to the match. His "weapon" felt different from the others.
Spatial Awareness?
Isagi looked at the group, trying to explain the feeling. But to the others, his description sounded vague and abstract. Only Aki truly understood the world Isagi saw.
After skipping over his own entry, Isagi turned to Chigiri Hyoma, who was sitting in the corner like a detached princess. "What about you, Chigiri? What's your weapon?"
Chigiri didn't even look up. "Me? I know what it is, but I have no intention of telling you. Don't ask."
A triple-rejection.
"Forget it," Raichi barked. "Stop bothering the Selfish Queen. He's just a bench-warmer on the pitch anyway."
Isagi sighed and didn't push it. He sat back down and looked at the chart.
"Regardless, we need strong weapons to survive as strikers. Now that we have a rough idea of what everyone can do, we can assign positions properly."
"For the next match, let's try this: Yoru Ryoshu as the Center Forward, Kunigami on the Left..."