Chapter Text
The outcome of the fierce match, France versus Japan, was the hot topic in the media around the globe the moment it ended. The players were still in the process of stepping off the pitch when Blue Lock Social, BLS in short, literally exploded with comments and reports about the game. Blue Lock had left a lasting impact on the world during the Neo Egoist League, and it was predicted that they would keep this momentum in the World Cup. However, when their group was announced, most of that positivity all but died. Many thought Japan was as good as dead after it was grouped with France, England, and Nigeria. Each of these three teams was incredibly strong, France especially, as it was considered the strongest contender in the tournament.
Yet, the negative general opinion about their apparent fate quickly turned after Blue Lock's devastating win against Nigeria, which made them the best team after the first round of matches ended. Still, there were many voices left that gave them no chances because their next opponent was France, the strongest contender in the U20 World Cup. England would follow after that and was extremely strong too, so only a few believed in Blue Lock's success.
The events that took place during the match between France and Japan, however, caused the scales to tip over again. While the match was ultimately lost, it was far from a crushing defeat as many had anticipated. On the contrary, experts and commentators alike agreed that both teams faced each other on equal terms, so France's loss was not categorically ruled out anymore if the former and Japan should face off again. The final count of the game of 3:2 in France's favour underlined those claims. Such results couldn't be achieved if one team was overwhelmingly stronger than the other.
Especially, Isagi Yoichi's performance was highlighted as the best of the whole game, despite his obvious struggles in the first half of the match. It was unclear what kind of feud he had with Hugo, France's number two, but it was obvious he emerged victorious in their bout, which boosted Blue Lock's reputation as well as their roster, which was capable of competing with the concurrence from Europe and other continents, unlike in the past.
In return, Hugo's overall performance was questioned the moment the game ended. He was an official member of the New Generation World XI after all, and yet he still struggled to overcome Isagi Yoichi, who wasn't a member of the group and ultimately lost to him in the end. There were even voices saying Hugo should be removed from his position in the New Gen XI. In the end, though, a mutual agreement was formed that Hugo's loss was not a display of weakness but a showcase of how strong Isagi Yoichi had been in the match instead.
That being said, there were a lot of voices calling Isagi out for his immature behaviour that was not suited for the occasion. While it was understandable that the pitch could get heated with countless dreams on the line, it served as no excuse to speak out of line as he did, though his exact words were not recorded. Regardless, the reactions from Loki and Hugo after a brief exchange with Blue Lock's ace said more than a thousand words ever could.
It was only a little setback, though, and the world acknowledged that Japan could win the World Cup; many now favouring Blue Lock to win against England, which put the latter under a lot of pressure because their match against Nigeria was a close victory with a final count of 2:1, the same team Blue Lock had crushed overwhelmingly in a 4:0.
Naturally, the outcome between France and Japan also reached the upper echelons of the head organisation, PIFA. One man in particular had watched the match with growing curiosity, his sharp gaze locked onto the ongoing fierce duel between Isagi and Hugo. For the people sitting in the chairs behind him, like loyal lackeys, that development was a particular surprise since the man was known to be a master of his emotions, never allowing anyone to take a guess at what was going through his mind. That he of all people showed visible interest in anyone... the mere idea gave them the chills.
When the screen showing the end of the match flared to a blank, the man leaned back in his chair. Grabbing the smooth head of his walking cane, his thumbs caressing the surface of black and white diamonds assorted to a round shape that looked like a soccer ball, he allowed his thoughts to wander for a brief moment.
He thought about the match he had watched moments ago, as well as the summaries of Japan's game against Nigeria. He also took the four matches of the Neo Egoist League into consideration for his evaluation of the player who had ignited a spark of curiosity in his old heart.
Each match painted the same canvas, different from one another but equal in their presentation. Constant growth fuelled by the hunger to devour the world. Such was the core theme that each image displayed beautifully.
There were countless players in this world, but only a few dozen had the potential to achieve greatness. The player who had piqued his interest was equal to an unpolished gem in his eyes. He looked like an ordinary rock at first, but was far more than that. Not only was he a gem, this one had a mind of his own, and unlike others of his kind, he crawled forwards in the relentless stream of destiny, the constant water pressure slowly polishing the surface and chipping away at the impurities.
It was impossible to tell because his face showed no emotions, but the man was pleased about that kind of mindset. It was always the people fighting against the currents that would leave their mark in history. The past had already proven that countless times, the names of those people now called legends these days. He acknowledged this particular player's progress, and it made his decision easy, because that was how soccer should be, what he wanted to see from the new generation: a hunger to devour everything.
With his mind settled, he moved and pulled out a pen and a small notepad from the chest pocket of his suit. The motion was simple, yet it demanded a strong sense of authority from those who shared the room with him. If the dragon moved, his servants had to hold their breath unless they wanted to incur his wrath and be burned to death.
The man scribbled a name on the first page, his elegant handwriting speaking of royalty. Above, he added the small moniker NGXI, below a number. Then he ripped the page off and held it up.
His assistant to the right moved instantly, taking the small sheet of paper from him as he bowed in deep reverence. When the assistant inspected what he had written on the paper, his breath hitched, momentarily thrown out of his role.
The man stared at his assistant in response, displeased about this pointless delay. His penetrating gaze drilled through the assistant, making him quiver in pure fright.
“We will prepare the announcement immediately, Mr. President,” the poor soul squeaked a few octaves higher from his usual tone.
Quiet hustle and shuffle followed after he gave his order, the people sitting behind him rising and leaving the room one after another until he was the sole occupant left.
He leaned into the comfortable leather of his chair as he switched on the screen again. This time, it didn't display a match but the profile of a certain player, the one that had picked his interest and whose name he had scribbled down.
The youth looked ordinary, but sometimes the most beautiful gem looked like any other rock, like platinum hidden beneath the surface of silver. This kind of beauty was not something the uneducated mob could see, let alone comprehend, a rare gem meant to be admired by the few.
Folding his time-worn hands on top of his walking aid that was more sceptre than anything else, the man watched in calm silence as the profile data got updated according to his wishes. Such was his power, for he was Ray Dark, president of the PIFA organisation. His words were the laws the world of soccer obeyed. If he wanted something done, it would be done.
And in this moment, he wished to see another rising star taking to the sky and show the world what soccer could be.
“Don't stop growing. Keep baring your fangs towards the established order, challenge it and show the world what you are capable of while you engrave your name in soccer history.”
━━━━━━ ❖ ━━━━━━
“That was an extremely dumb move, stupid brat! Ya' can be glad ya' only pulled your hamstring and that it's nothing more serious than that,” the physician named Emile grunted aggressively as he was fixing the compression sleeve around Hugo's right thigh.
The midfielder only nodded, wincing when Emile pulled the fabric of the compression tighter than what was probably good. Still, Hugo remained silent, not saying a single word. Or rather, he didn't dare to, fearing the consequences he might face in case he protested about the rough treatment.
Firstly, he knew he messed up and that his current condition was entirely his own fault. His thigh made that clear when a sharp, knife-like pain tore through the back of his leg as he pushed his body beyond its limits, trying to stop Isagi from scoring. Karma got instantly back to him for the dangerous move, earning him a pulled hamstring while he also failed to stop Isagi's goal. That reality was like salty alcohol that got poured over an already festering wound.
Needless to say, he didn't manage to get off the pitch on his own either because kneeling was as far as he got before his leg protested in throbbing pain. Therefore, he was forced to call Charles over to help him get up.
Their little gremlin was a contrarian to the very core, but Hugo had a good rapport with the young playmaker. There were no protests or snarly remarks on Charles' side, only unconditional support. Sometimes Hugo wondered if Charles viewed him like an older brother because he acted differently around him. Maybe he should ask him one of these days.
With his arm slung around Charles' shoulder, Hugo limbed off the pitch with his beliefs shattered and pride bruised, hiding his pain-contorted expression beneath his usual poker face. Somewhere in the middle, Loki joined them and took Hugo's other arm.
Like that, they walked at a snail's pace until they arrived at France's corner... where Emile was already waiting, radiating anger like a seething chimney.
The physician Emile was the other reason why Hugo stayed silent throughout the whole process of his medical check. His world lay in shambles after Isagi smashed it apart, but he didn't have a death wish just yet. Getting on Emile's bad side was a sure-fire method to get there instantly, so Hugo kept his mouth shut while Emile examined him on the bench first and later in the infirmary when it was clear he wasn't an immediate case for the hospital, something that could still change.
Emile was a bit of a legend in the world of soccer. He was a giant of a man, standing at a ridiculous height of over two metres with arms as thick as Hugo's whole body. He kept his head cleanly shaved and was tattooed all over. Not to jump into stereotypes, but Emile had a very threatening appearance that made even people like Bunny or Michael think twice before they talked back to this man. Emile's long and thick Viking beard further enhanced that impression. On top of that, he had a loud and aggressive personality, never speaking but instead always shouting each word that left his mouth. It stood in stark contrast to his work as a physician for soccer clubs around the globe as well as his support for animal shelters. Emile was probably the best example of a harsh-looking exterior, while his core was quite soft in comparison, yet it didn't make him any less intimidating.
After the medical checks were done and it was confirmed Hugo had no serious injuries, he was carried back on a stretcher to France's locker room by Emile and his assistants. That was also how he found himself in the current situation, where the renowned physician had just finished the final touches on the compression.
“Ya' can watch the next match from the bench.” Emile declared when he was done with his work.
There was a collective of surprised noises, although probably each member already guessed it would come to this after witnessing Hugo limping off the field. A pulled hamstring was not that serious of an injury, but if not taken seriously, it could quickly become a long-term issue where Hugo had to take an extended leave for recovery purposes. This was the worst-case scenario Hugo had to prevent at all costs, for the team but also for his own sake. It could impact his future as a soccer player.
With two wins under their belt anyway, it didn't matter how the final match against Nigeria would end. As such, whether Hugo joined or not wouldn't impact France's future in the tournament. Still, losing was not an option, so Hugo's injury-related absence was a heavy blow to the overall performance of the team as well as morale. He was their number two, not without reason after all.
Standing to his full height, the giant of a man levelled the midfielder with a threatening glare.
“And this is not a sweet lil' request from ol' senile Emile but a fucking order! Got that? If I catch ya' even looking at a freaking soccer ball in the next three days, I'm gonna show ya' what it means to get messed up, and I swear I'll rip out those eyelashes of ya' myself!”
Hugo nodded again when faced with the man's mighty bellow.
Emile huffed at the meek reply. “Pretty compliant now, aren't ya'? Quite the shift considering ya' where behaving like a crazed fool when your boyfriend was involved.”
Hugo froze.
Now, he was normally a calm and collected person, and he took great pride in the fact that he rarely got upset. He considered it one of his strengths to stay level-headed most of the time. That he had a limit, too, today's game had shown, but those cases were extremely rare. Yet, Emile's commentary made his facade crumble instantly, the implication about Isagi and him hitting Hugo like a train that had gone out of control.
“We are not-” he stuttered, his usually cool composure totally broken for the second time in one day. Yet, his denial only met a smashing door that not only made the door frame rattle but also the whole wall. Emile had already left, making it impossible for Hugo to correct the physician's false assumption about Isagi and him. This was going to haunt him from now on.
The moment Emile's quaking stomps were no longer audible, Charles pulled a grimace and stuck his tongue out.
“Blegh! Bye-bye, mister scary!”
The air in the room had been stiff until that moment, but leave it to their little gremlin to lighten the mood by saying something stupid. Most members began to chuckle at Charles' antics before resuming with changing their clothes or getting ready to hit the showers. Although the game had ended almost an hour ago, France's team had waited with leaving till Hugo's check-up was complete and they were up to date about his condition.
Loki and Charles stuck with him throughout the whole ordeal, considering the trio was somewhat closer than the rest. Therefore, these two were getting ready for a much-needed shower.
While the room fell into a normal post-game routine, Hugo stayed put on the bench, his compressed, bare leg stretched out. He was glad that Emile's implication was not brought up by anyone, not even Charles, although he was pretty certain the whole team had heard it and knew whom the physician meant when addressing that person as Hugo's boyfriend.
The midfielder shook his head, trying to get rid of that idea. The less he thought about it, the better for his sanity.
That was his plan at least, but Hugo found himself incapable of not thinking about Isagi Yoichi. His leg was shackled for the next few days, so training was out of the question unless he wanted to incur the anger of Emile. He could certainly do without finding out what the physician meant when he talked about 'showing him what it meant to be messed up.' Not to mention, he was quite fond of his long eyelashes.
Getting on the physician's bad side was not an experience Hugo wanted to go through. With training made impossible for him, he had no way of distracting himself, though. He was already facing the issue of Isagi overtaking his mind now, so how was he supposed to live through the following days when all he could do was think about that unsuitable striker and how infuriating he was?
Taking a shower was no option either, at least not till tomorrow. With his hamstring pulled, Hugo had to stay away from a hot shower, so he was forced to take either a freezing cold one or forego cleaning himself altogether.
The idea to limb across a wet surface made even more slippery from shampoo and body wash didn't sound appealing to Hugo's ears, especially not when his reward would be a cold splash. He would like to prevent another run-in with the gargantuan physician if possible.
Moreover, from how loud Charles was cackling inside the showers, Hugo assumed the slippery chaos was already in the making, so no shower for him today. Inwardly, he grunted at the thought of going to bed unwashed and smelling like sweat, but his other options were worse. Besides, he had a single room and could do the bare minimum later with a washcloth. Not the best solution, but the best compromise with all things considered.
Yet, with that, his momentary distraction was already over, and his brain wandered back to Isagi almost naturally, revisiting each encounter they had during the match.
Hugo had viewed him as someone unsuitable to reach the throne of number one, someone who lived outside of logic. Of course, he was free to dream about whatever he wanted, but there were simply some heights people couldn't reach, no matter how hard they tried.
Hugo had realised that early in his life and adjusted accordingly to live the best he could. He didn't want to look back at his life when he had grown old and fragile, realising that it all had been meaningless. That would be too sad and potentially break his aged heart then and there, ending his tale.
In that regard, he and Isagi were the same. Neither of them was suited for the title sitting on top of the podium, the second spot the best they could achieve. Hugo thought that Isagi would see it too if he pushed him a little. Once they saw eye to eye, Hugo would have a rival who would challenge him for his position because Isagi was not weak by any means. He was strong, and if they became rivals for the position of the world's number two, Hugo could become stronger by clashing with Isagi.
That was what he really thought after studying Blue Lock's heart for days, picking his habits apart until he had a clear vision of the egoist Isagi Yoichi.
Yet, the former turned out to be different from what Hugo imagined. Although he managed to get under Isagi's skin at first, injecting his thought process and conclusions into him, the situation changed the moment the second half began. When the whistle sounded, Hugo suddenly found himself facing a solid wall that was so high, he couldn't see the top. Walking around it was no good either because it was as wide as it was high.
He tried to break through because that was the only option remaining, but Isagi persisted against each of his advances, blocking him before he could put in as much as a little dent. It was impressive how quickly Isagi had shifted gears, and Hugo would be lying if he said this drastic shift didn't catch his curiosity.
However, in the heat of the match, his newfound curiosity was quickly vaporised the moment Isagi began to find his buttons and push them without hesitation. Paired with his loose mouth, Hugo faced an extremely infuriating person who got under his skin quickly, quicker than anyone he could remember before. Isagi was even more infuriating than Bunny, who was notorious for his chaotic rabbit antics.
Hugo couldn't remember a time when he yearned to crush another player so badly as he wanted to crush Isagi. Was there ever even a time before Isagi?
Somewhere in the middle of the second half, Hugo found that everything about Isagi infuriated him. His mocking grin, the teasing glint in his eyes, his ability to keep up with him. Simply everything. Isagi had a good head on top of his shoulders, and yet he was unable to see the simple truth, refusing nature's order while he attempted to write his own rules.
Isagi Yoichi was a person Hugo couldn't understand on a cellular level, and the midfielder hated it; he hated it so much that his lips curled into a tight snarl.
But more than anything, he hated himself for thinking that Isagi was maybe right and that he wasn't. When Isagi outplayed him, outsmarted him, Hugo saw in him not an abnormality. No, a creature like that couldn't be basked in such a radiant light that took Hugo's breath away.
What he saw in that moment was the light of someone who fought against his destiny and slowly conquered it, not in a single charge but a slow, gruelling war of attrition. It was pure grind because destiny fought back ferociously with all its might, and yet Isagi had gained the upper hand in that war he waged against his destiny, pushing it further and further back.
It was the height of foolishness, the opposite of Hugo's own logic. He should abhor that unsuitable form of living, yet, in that single moment when Hugo saw Isagi's radiant light, he had no such thoughts. All the midfielder saw was someone worthy to be titled number one, the position Hugo could never achieve, according to his logic. And when Isagi scored his goal, he looked breathtakingly beautiful.
And that was the truth that unsettled Hugo so much, the truth that opposed everything his logic stood for. For one lone moment, Hugo had thought that Isagi could achieve his dream, which in turn meant that he wasn't living unsuitably.
This kind of thinking acted like venom, almost as if Isagi was a poisonous snake that had bitten him during their clash. The venom was spreading throughout his body, affecting his thoughts while slowly corroding him from the inside out.
Hugo was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the showers had stopped a while ago. Before long, the members from PxG who hadn't already retired yet re-entered the changing section of their locker room.
When they stepped into the premises, each one stopped instantly after noticing the tense air charged with energy that was ready to snap, even Loki. Their eyes fixated on Hugo, who was brooding like a volcano again that was about to explode, much like he was on the pitch earlier.
One of the players stayed blissfully unaware of the building danger.
“Ahhh, that was refreshing,” Charles moaned contentedly. His blond locks were still dripping wet, but he was already clad in a black tank top and shorts, which he had paired with a pair of ridiculous-looking kitten slippers. Only a gremlin like him could wear such a weird combination of clothes and look happy.
He walked to his locker, fiddling with the lock before opening the door. Out fell a worn soccer ball, which he immediately began to bounce on his foot.
“But man, Blue Lock was way stronger than I thought. That cyan fringe dude was constantly getting on my nerves with his constant marking. Monsieur Ahoge was on a roll, too.”
The young playmaker let the ball bounce a couple of times on his foot before kicking it softly, switching to balance it on his forehead.
“Almost want to see how it feels to play with him.”
The air in the room grew colder while also heating up at the same time. Charles remained unaware of the conflicting atmosphere, not noticing how Hugo's body grew tense.
“Hey, Loki. Is it allowed to steal players from other teams?” Charles asked with a singsong voice. “I want to make a nasty pass to Monsieur Ahoge and see what he does with it. Could be really fun, just like it was with Shidou.”
“Charles,” Loki began, his tone unusually guarded. “You ought to shut up right now.”
“I'm a contrarian! If you tell me to shut up, I want to-”
Charles' answer fell short when he shifted his eyes towards Loki, but stopped mid-motion when he caught a glimpse of Hugo. He was grinding his teeth on one another while his face twisted into a tight scowl, at least the parts Charles could see, because most of Hugo's face was covered by his bangs.
The playmaker gulped, finally getting the hint. He was a contrarian to the very bone, but even he valued his life. That, and seeing Hugo in such a state, was utterly terrifying.
Charles took a step back to increase the distance; however, that decision set a chain of events into motion.
The moment his foot moved backwards, it got caught on a sweaty sock. Charles lost his balance when his foot slipped, almost screaming from surprise, almost. But his mouth stayed shut, because he was forced to watch in utter horror how the soccer ball rolled off his head from the sudden motion and got struck dead in the centre from his slipping foot.
The effect was the same as on the field, the soccer ball getting shot from the combined forces of his fall and slip-up. That wouldn't be a problem in itself. Accidents happen all the time. They were nothing a heartfelt apology couldn't fix.
Yet, the resulting thwack! that echoed in the locker room like a dark omen made it the worst imaginable outcome. From all the people present, the ball struck Hugo straight in the face, the leather slapping him sideways.
“Ah...!” Charles shrieked as he fell on his ass, the pain numbed from the fright consuming him whole from Hugo's potential reaction.
Despite his fears, there was nothing. Hugo said nothing, didn't glare daggers at him, didn't threaten to murder him. Hugo did nothing in response, only correcting his posture. This unresponsiveness was far more terrifying than anything else.
“I.. I'm...It wasn't...!” Charles stuttered from where he trembled on the floor like dead leaves. The other members were eerily silent too, looking like they were weighing their options, whether they should start running now or just accept their fate.
And Hugo? Hugo stayed silent, too caught up in the spiralling thoughts that rendered him incapable of sensing his surroundings. Even the accidental shot to his face was not registered by his brain because it had all but been consumed by Isagi now, the striker all Hugo could think about.
Their match played over and over again in his mind, the final moment where Isagi stole everything from him repeating itself in an endless loop. It would start over every time Hugo bore witness to Isagi's light, the bright essence befitting of someone aiming to be number one in the world.
With it came the boundless frustration that Hugo had lost to that, that he had lost to that light and thought it looked beautiful. With every repeat, his scowl deepened, his crushing defeat sinking into his core until it was all he could think about.
Then it boiled over, the brooding volcano that had sunken to the bottom of the ocean finally breaking out with a violent burst of raw emotions.
“RRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH”
Hugo screamed.
His fingers curled and uncurled violently, saliva escaped from his mouth, his whole body trembled.
Hugo had always believed in the natural order, believed that living suitably with the destiny he was born with was the best choice in life. It had never failed him, always made his life comfortable with no setbacks.
Until he met Isagi, the one who lived so unsuitably yet beat him and stole everything Hugo had. The midfielder had never experienced the sour taste of defeat, never gone through the frustration and pain from getting crushed alongside his dreams and beliefs.
He had no clue how to deal with the cluster of emotions inside him, so he let it all out with the first thing he could think of, his mouth opening to unleash a scream of his unfiltered emotions.
Loki was taken aback by seeing his childhood friend act like this, because this reaction was a first for him, too. The other members were frozen stiff, not daring to move a single muscle. And Charles? He screamed in utter fright, his survival instinct kicking in.
“Je suis désolé, Hugo! Je ne voulais pas faire ça!”
I'm sorry, Hugo! I didn't mean to do that!
Dashing out of the room, Charles continued to scream in panic while he ran through the stadium's hallways, fearing for his life.
“Sauve-moi, maman, papa!”
Save me, mom, dad!
The rest of PxG also began leaving the room in haste, not as dramatically as Charles, but the hurry in their steps was noticeable. Loki stayed, lingered, for a while longer, where he only watched as Hugo was consumed by the events from the game.
In the end, he left, too, knowing this was not something he could help Hugo with. This was a battle he had to fight for himself, but he had faith in his best friend that he would overcome this barrier. In a small portion of his mind, he was even delighted about this outcome. Hugo was strong, strong enough that Loki always kept an eye on him. But he was awfully docile too, never stepping out of the boundaries he had set for himself.
Isagi had torn those barricades down now and awakened the monster that lurked behind them. Now it was free, and Loki was excited to see it for himself, see what that monster could achieve.
“Looks like things will be interesting from now on,” he muttered to himself as he walked towards France's hotel.
Back in the locker room, Hugo was panting heavily, his throat raw from emotions. Saliva ran down from the corners of his lips, but he didn't care how animalistic it made him look. His mind was still overtaken by Isagi, but he knew what he had to do now.
He had resolved himself, and he would see it through.
“This is not the end! I won't let it end like this, Yoichi. I'll tear you down, and if it's the last thing I do!”
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When the sun breached through the barrier of the horizon the next day, the whole world and Japan in particular were still in a state of exhilarated excitement. Talks about the match between France and Japan were the hot topic across the country. Even secluded areas where people normally never thought about soccer followed the updates on BLS as they went along with their daily lives.
In the early morning, there were only minor updates about the events that took place in Blue Lock's Side B. The number of participants had already dropped to two digits in a matter of a few days, so it wouldn't take much longer until the two final members to join Blue Lock's roster would be announced, in addition to the mysterious third contender that had already been chosen.
Other than that, BLS hosted no special announcements or the like. However, at 09:15 sharp, the official Blue Lock account reposted a post that was originally made by the PIFA organisation overlooking all leagues in the world a minute prior. The content from the linked announcement of PIFA reanimated the euphoria of the prior night.
Not only that, the details that were shared by PIFA created ripples in the entire soccer world, which was taken by storm in a matter of minutes. The reason for that was simple, as simple as the announcement from PIFA itself.
Isagi Yoichi is hereby appointed as the official last member of the New Generation World XI.