Chapter 9: Team Z is Formed
Inside the Room
Kunigami stared in shock once more. He'd been the closest to Kira during that final kick, witnessing it in crystal-clear detail.
Kira hadn't even glanced toward the ball's direction. Yet, without a shred of hesitation, he'd spun around and struck it perfectly.
'If he didn't know it was coming, this defies explanation. His eyes weren't even facing that way.'
'So how did he anticipate it? I didn't even react in time, but he was already moving.'
'This guy… he's a straight-up monster.'
Bachira's face lit up with pure exhilaration.
He'd finally found him—the Monster he'd been searching for all this time.
Playing football alongside a true Monster had been his lifelong dream, and now, it was on the verge of becoming reality.
Isagi panted heavily, his mind reeling. 'What the hell just happened?'
That familiar sensation of being completely read returned, sending a shiver through him.
'My shot was perfectly concealed, yet he still saw right through it?'
'And… he'd already picked his target? That curve—it flew straight to that player like it was destined.'
'Could it be… he decided who to eliminate from the very beginning? Who gets booted is entirely up to his whims?'
The thought sent a chill racing down Isagi's spine, but a wave of relief washed over him too—Kira hadn't chosen *him* as the sacrifice.
"Don't screw with me!"
As the room reeled from Kira's display, Wataru Kuon's furious roar shattered the silence.
Kuon slammed his fist into the floor, his eyes wild with derangement.
"What the hell is this?! You guys passing it back and forth like it's nothing—why'd it end up hitting me?!"
"Why me?!"
He bellowed at Kira, rage twisting his features, unable to wrap his head around his absurd elimination.
Kira watched Kuon's meltdown in silence, turning his head away without a word.
Just as Isagi had suspected, Kira had targeted Wataru Kuon from the start.
Kuon had subtle leadership qualities that could challenge Kira's position as Room Z's de facto captain.
Moreover, in the original story, Kuon had betrayed Team Z—though he redeemed himself later, Kira couldn't trust his reliability in future matches. It might drag down Room Z's points.
Everything had gone according to plan, but ending someone else's football dream left a bitter taste. They were all just kids chasing the same impossible goal.
Reality, however, was merciless. In Blue Lock, someone had to fall.
"You lost, Wataru Kuon. Time to go home."
Ego Jinpachi's voice boomed from the screen, his figure materializing before them.
"On what basis?!" Kuon spat, defiance etched on his face. "The ball just suddenly flew at me…"
"Don't mess with me! With this kind of game? This joke of a selection process? You think this'll produce World Cup winners?!"
"That Buzz Cut guy—does he have more talent than me?! Half the players in this room rank lower than I do!"
"Why me? Why shatter the future of someone as talented as I am?!"
Kuon's roars filled the room, his resentment thick enough to choke on.
"And what does this have to do with football?! This isn't football at all!!!"
He jabbed a finger at Ego on the screen.
Ego tapped his temple pointedly. "Everything here revolves around football. Take a good look around."
"This room measures 40.32 meters long by 16.5 meters wide—the exact dimensions of a penalty area."
"Seventy-five percent of the world's goals come from inside the penalty box. This is the striker's domain."
"A striker's true value lies in their footwork within that chaos…"
Kuon froze, stunned. Had he even noticed? No… he hadn't.
But he wasn't ready to back down. "What does that have to do with this stupid game? In just over two minutes, how could you possibly judge me unfit?!"
"In a real match, the average touch time per player is 136 seconds…"
"But… if it weren't for those last few seconds…" Kuon's voice trailed off weakly.
"Would you whine the same way mid-game?" Ego shot back.
"Think back. What were you doing right before the ball hit you? You were glued to the screen, watching the timer tick down, congratulating yourself on coasting through."
"You ignored every shift on the field. Even in that final instant, if you'd stayed focused, one second would've been enough—just kick it toward someone nearby, and you'd have survived."
"Picture this: The match's dying seconds. Everyone's crammed into the box for the last attack."
"A teammate's shot sails wide…"
"It clips your body. But in that split second, you'd already surrendered, accepting defeat."
"So you didn't even realize the ball was right at your feet. One tiny touch, and victory was yours."
"A true striker bears every ounce of responsibility and battles until the whistle blows."
Kuon collapsed to the floor, defeated. Ego was right. In that crucial moment, he'd given up. No fight left in him.
But Ego wasn't done twisting the knife.
"Kira Ryosuke seized control from the jump, claiming the [Demon] role to dictate eliminations."
"Bachira Meguru snatched the ball to challenge the strongest head-on."
"Isagi Yoichi never stopped thinking, hunting for the perfect counter."
"Kunigami Rensuke threw himself into the fray, giving everything he had."
"Even Igarashi Gurimu, the moment he became [Demon], kicked it at the weakest target."
"They all embody the ego of a winner—the striker's unyielding selfishness. That's what Blue Lock demands."
"And you? You're unqualified. Lock off."
Ego's verdict hung heavy. Kuon, face ashen, rose slowly after a long silence.
Deep down, he was gentle—a guy who treated his teammates with kindness, the reliable type everyone leaned on.
But Blue Lock was a jungle of ego-driven beasts. Hesitate, and you're devoured.
He'd never imagined exiting so soon. He *knew* he had pro-striker potential.
Yet he'd played it safe, lurking on the sidelines, ceding his fate to others.
"Yeah… a player without that killer instinct? No wonder I'm out."
Kuon cracked a wry smile. He walked to the door step by step, paused, and glanced back at the room.
"Next time… I won't lose."
Then he vanished from sight.
Wataru Kuon's Blue Lock journey ended, but a new chapter awaited outside.
"Congratulations to the survivors on clearing the first trial."
"This is the brutal reality of competition. The world-class strikers you idolize claw through this cutthroat grind every single day."
"So? How's it feel—wagering your entire football future for the first time?"
"Terrified, right? Limbs going numb? That's Blue Lock's common sense."
"Did it hit you how comfortable and hollow your old days were? And are you still thinking, 'Thank God I made it…'?"
Ego launched into his signature monologue. Kira exhaled in relief—this hurdle cleared smoothly.
Next came the inter-room matches, with teams built by room.
Today's show should cement him as Team Z's core. That'd make the road ahead far less rocky.
"Congratulations! You've passed the Blue Lock entrance exam!"
"Exactly eleven remain. From here on, you're bound by shared destiny."
"Cooperating one moment, betraying the next—all while chasing your egos…"
"Welcome to Blue Lock—Team Z!"
With Ego's declaration, Team Z was born.
Kira knew the real battles were just heating up.
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