Chapter 8: The World Cup Trophy
After the match ended, Naruhaya Asahi entered the cafeteria and noticed the glowing message[Goal Rewards]on the screen.
Scoring 1 goal equals 1 point, which can be exchanged for prizes.
1 point: Sirloin steak, massage
3 points: Retrieval of your phone
5 points: High-class comfort bed
10 points: One-day outing pass
For the amnesiac Naruhaya Asahi, a one-day outing pass held absolutely no value.
Aside from the address a kind stranger had given him, he had nowhere else to go.
And besides, if he went out, he would still have to figure out where to eat for the day…
Three meals a day… what a hassle.
Looking over all the prizes, the only things actually useful to him were the steak and the return of his phone.
The high-end comfort bed wasn't bad either — at least it guaranteed good sleep — but…
At this moment, Team Z was being pestered endlessly by members of Team X, who surrounded them asking all kinds of questions.
The players each wore an exhausted expression. They hadn't scored even a single goal in that match, yet they still had to endure the constant tugging and idle chatter from the others.
Those guys weren't after anything else. They simply wanted to know how the top scorer in their team trained in his daily life.
Everyone's already-tired faces, after finishing the match, looked even more haggard.
It took a while before Yoichi Isagi and the others finally broke free from the group and entered the cafeteria.
Among the somewhat wilted, low-spirited Team Z members, only the airheaded Gagamaru still had decent energy — after all, Naruhaya Asahi had promised earlier to treat him to something delicious.
When the group dragged their heavy feet into the cafeteria, they suddenly noticed a large crowd slowly gathering toward one side.
From afar, people were forming a huge circle, as if watching some strange spectacle.
Team Z originally planned to ignore it and go eat.
But right then — a rich, mouth-watering smell of meat drifted through the air like an invisible force and grabbed every one of their noses.
That enticing aroma seemed to have magical properties, endlessly teasing their taste buds and appetite.
Combined with long-standing hunger and the exhaustion from intense exercise — like a "Debuff" applied to their bodies — every member of Team Z found their feet moving on their own, drawn irresistibly toward the smell.
When they got closer, they were shocked to find three long tables placed side-by-side not far away.
And what was even more jaw-dropping — on these three tables sat eleven neatly-arranged plates of steak!
The steaks were golden-brown, perfectly seared, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, releasing waves of irresistible aroma.
Isagi and Igarashi couldn't help swallowing. Among all of them, only the two of them had been stuck with natto and pickled radish — nothing good. They had planned to trade with Kunigami for his curry, but Chigiri the Queen of Interceptions had snatched it first, causing the two to go their entire Blue Lock stay without even tasting meat.
Now, with free steak scent wafting at their noses, of course they wanted to inhale it as long as possible.
"Hey! You two stop spacing out — get over here and eat steak."
Kunigami slapped their shoulders, trying to snap them out of it.
Isagi stared blankly at everyone already sitting and eating:
"Why is everyone allowed to eat steak? Isn't it someone else's?"
Igarashi echoed anxiously:
"Right?! This totally looks like something reserved for 'Kings of the Field.' What if they get mad we ate their food and beat us up?!"
Kunigami heard that and instantly understood these two idiots had been so intoxicated by the steak aroma that they'd completely forgotten what "King of the Field" Naruhaya had said earlier:
"This is what our team's 'King of the Field,' Naruhaya, is treating us to. He said he wants us to remember how good steak tastes — so in the next match, we'll have more motivation to score goals."
At this moment, Isagi and Igarashi gazed at Naruhaya Asahi — who was devouring steak up ahead — with burning admiration in their eyes, as if looking at a savior for the two bottom-ranked players.
But when they noticed the hungry, predatory stares from players of other teams eyeing the two untouched steaks nearby…
they instantly realized danger.
The pair bolted toward the last two steaks, took a deep breath, inhaled the aroma like starving beasts, then cautiously picked up utensils and carved the meat with reverence before immersing themselves in the feast.
Before long, Isagi seemed to sense something. He raised his head and exchanged looks with the others.
Then, everyone got up and headed toward the serving area to collect the food allocated according to their rankings.
Meanwhile, sitting at another corner, Naruhaya Asahi had no idea this entire side-plot had happened.
He hadn't wanted to hog seats in the cafeteria. The table he sat at had three steaks; the other two had four each — arranged that way to avoid taking too much space.
Across from him sat Gagamaru Gin, naturally — because among all the steaks, only this one still had a half-plate of fragrant stir-fried pork liver with leeks. Clearly, this was the promised reward Naruhaya had said he'd let Gagamaru taste.
After Gagamaru collected his ranking-allocated dumplings, hot miso soup, and freshly steamed rice,
his table became quite abundant.
But the "King of the Field" Naruhaya Asahi's table looked rather pitiful:
Half a portion of stir-fried pork liver with leeks.
One steak.
One bowl of miso soup.
One small bowl of rice.
And nothing else.
Just then, Gagamaru did something completely unexpected —
he split half of his dumplings and placed them on Naruhaya's tray.
At first, Naruhaya didn't think too deeply about it. He simply assumed Gagamaru knew he liked dumplings and generously shared.
He thanked him politely and went back to fiddling with his phone, trying to find a video to watch while eating.
But immediately after, half a curry, stir-fried vegetables, salt-grilled saury, karaage, bacon-and-eggs, salad (damn it), thick omelet, natto (…why), and pickled radish (…again) began filling up every spare corner of his tray.
He had just found the perfect video to watch with his meal — but now there was no place to put his phone.
Only then did he realize his surroundings were suddenly overflowing with food.
A swarm of question marks floated over Naruhaya's head.
He looked at the others: What are you all doing?
Representing everyone, the ever-caring Kuon Wataru thanked him first:
"Thanks for the steak you shared."
Naruhaya immediately protested in disbelief:
"No— that was so you remember the taste of victory and—"
Lemon cut him off:
"Much appreciated."
Interrupted once, Naruhaya tried again:
"It was so you guys don't collapse from malnutrition and drag me down during matches, so I—"
Imamura Yūdai:
"Thanks man! Tonight I'll teach you my pick-up techniques— I mean, ball-blocking skills."
Interrupted twice, Naruhaya forced himself to continue:
"I only did it because the Administrator doesn't care about our nutrition, so if I didn't—"
Kunigami:
"You're unexpectedly a good guy."
Interrupted a third time, Naruhaya just:
"…" ┌( ´_ゝ` )┐
Silence was tonight's Cambridge Bridge.
Once everyone had finished expressing their thanks, Naruhaya finally felt his ears were clean again — and he also realized his image had completely collapsed in front of these people.
First of all, their gratitude was absolutely useless to him. He'd bought them steak because he remembered a pro athlete once suddenly vomited on the field due to not eating meat for too long.
He didn't remember who that poor idiot was, but he sure as hell wouldn't let something that stupid happen on his field.
The match was already miserable enough — completely bullying weaklings — which annoyed him.
If during a match Isagi or that monk fainted from only eating natto and pickled radish… he would rather forfeit and crawl into a cave.
Secondly, if he only treated the two weakest players to steak, it wouldn't help raise the entire team's hunger for improving their skills.
So treating everyone to steak once was the optimal choice.
Luckily, Team X players were complete trash last match, so he managed to earn 14 points.
Subtracting the 3 points he had to spend on retrieving his phone, the remaining 11 points were just enough to buy steak for everyone.
Once these people ate steak, their taste buds would no longer accept low-quality food so easily.
Taste → Desire.
Nutrition → Performance.
If these football rejects achieved those two things through steak, he'd have full confidence the next match would be exciting.
Unfortunately, those two simple goals were achieved in a twisted way.
Nutrition.
After getting steak, the higher-ranked players wanted to try lower-ranked foods — Chigiri's stir-fried veggies, Lemon's thick omelet, etc.
Everyone began exchanging food.
Of course, no one traded with Isagi and the monk.
Desire.
Everyone's desire to score increased — but since goals were now team-based instead of individual, Naruhaya even saw on these weirdos' faces… that damned expression of approval.
Great. With expressions like that, even if he ordered them to do something absurd, they'd probably obey.
Putting aside whatever these idiots were thinking, when Naruhaya finally turned to eat and saw the mountain of food, he face-palmed.
This wasn't gratitude — it was an attempt to stuff him to death.
Seeing the spiky-haired guy from Team X approaching, Naruhaya immediately decided to get rid of excess calories — by giving him a steak he definitely wouldn't refuse.
Barou Shouei looked down at the steak suddenly placed on his tray, then at Naruhaya's cold stare:
"What the hell are you up to?"
Naruhaya let out a short laugh.
"Nothing. Team Z dumped a pile of food on me, and I can't finish it. I happen to have an extra steak, so I'm giving it to the only one who kept chasing me relentlessly last match."
Barou — with his delinquent face — didn't get angry at being treated like a beggar. Instead, he looked down at the short kid with a "you're amusing" expression.
"You know, shorty, you should try talking more straightforwardly."
"Shorty" Naruhaya didn't react at all:
"I'm not interested in your trash advice. Just make sure you become Team X's top scorer. I still want to see this annoying bulldog in future matches."
"Fine, I'll take that blessing."
Barou walked off with the steak, looking like he had just learned something new.
Nice — one high-calorie problem removed.
Naruhaya finally placed his phone on the spot previously occupied by the steak and began watching the video of Mr. Arthas waking up in August while eating.
—Switch to July of the 21st World Cup.
The FIFA World Cup Trophy finally found its new owner: the Gallic Roosters of France.
Noel Noah raised the trophy high, while other members of the French national team supported their injured players, standing together beside him.
After reporters from France and other countries finished taking photos, the American reporters — carrying their expensive equipment — slowly arrived.
To be blunt, even a layman could tell instantly which side had the better cameras.
The most expensive camera the Europeans brought couldn't compare to the Americans' cheapest unit.
$1M Hitachi SK-UHD.
$2M Sony CineAlta.
$4M Arri Alexa series.
Each machine carried onto the field one after another, including a stunning $7M Alexa series camera carried by an old man in a vest.
Everyone knew exactly why these machines were prepared.
Unfortunately, the players they were supposed to be recording were already rushed to emergency care… leaving only their "enemies" on the field.
These wealthy American reporters took pictures of the champion team with expressions like they wanted to eat someone alive.
If not for the newspaper's orders, they would have left this graveyard long ago.
That damn scene should have been recorded by the French with their outdated cameras!
If their adorable Arthas hadn't collapsed on the field, those damn French wouldn't have won the cup.
Just wait. Four years later, when their little darling became an adult, he would show the world who the true ruler of the field was.
When all reporters finished, unsurprisingly, PIFA used the photo taken by the old man in the vest.
In that picture, Noel Noah's golden, dazzling eyes shone with an unforgettable light — part confusion, part the exhilaration of victory.
At the same time, a breeze swept through, lifting the hair of the American players around him, every strand captured perfectly.
Everything merged — Noah's resolute gaze, the vibrant motion of hair, the victorious atmosphere — forming a breathtaking scene that felt alive.
It was more than a photo.
It was a story. A feeling.
Late July, scorching sunlight spilled through the hospital window onto Arthas's pale face.
After long and painful treatment, he slowly opened his eyes.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in his family's own hospital — advanced facilities, elegant environment — none of which mattered at the moment.
What mattered was that his parents rushed to his bedside the moment they heard the news, eyes full of worry and relief, nearly crying when he woke.
As he slowly recovered, he began trying to walk again using crutches. Despite still needing support, he insisted on being discharged.
When he finally stepped out the hospital doors, fans who had been waiting erupted instantly.
Crowds surrounded him, shouting and screaming in excitement.
Arthas smiled gently and said:
"Could you please make way for me?"
His voice wasn't loud, but carried unquestionable authority.
Instantly, the packed crowd parted like magic, forming a clear path.
Arthas walked through and reached a luxurious car.
The door opened, he got in carefully, and the car sped toward the press conference for the US Soccer Federation.
Arriving there, he was assisted into the hall, moving step by step on crutches.
At first steady, then faster — perhaps out of impatience — until he lost balance and fell forward.
At that critical moment, a strong arm caught him —
the US national team coach, the scout who had brought him from Japan to America.
Teacher and student stared at each other silently, but emotions passed between them without a word.
Reporters who had photographed the trophy shot earlier now excitedly captured this moment too.
A middle-aged man and a child.
The handover of America's old era and new era of football.
"Mr. Arthas, do you have any thoughts about France winning the World Cup?"
Arthas didn't answer with words.
Instead — he performed a silent pantomime.
He curved his left hand as if holding a heavy object, guarding it like it would slip away if he loosened his grip. His right hand stroked the imagined trophy's rounded top, balancing it carefully.
The coach instantly understood.
He stepped behind Arthas and lifted him, elevating the invisible trophy so more could see.
As Arthas raised it higher and higher, US teammates gathered around, lifting him and the invisible symbol of hope together.
The old man with the $7M camera was already at the perfect angle, recording everything.
Everyone who saw the resulting photo knew what the boy was holding.
The 22nd World Cup Trophy.