Blue Lock: Reborn As Isagi

Join the discord in the auxiliary chapter give a review and don't remember to drop your power stones please. 

If you can do all three I'll post everyday or more often. I've got like 10 chapters stocked up so we all good to go. 

I promise it will get better and better. 

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The gates of Ciudad La Real opened slowly as the car rolled through, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the early morning stillness. The sprawling training complex stretched out before me, an architectural marvel of glass, steel, and perfectly manicured pitches. It was impressive in a way, but not in a way that moved me. This was La Real, the so-called greatest club in the world. For most people, walking through these gates would be a dream realized. For me, it was just another step on a path I'd already chosen.

The car stopped in front of the main facility, and I stepped out, bag slung over my shoulder. The emblem of La Real loomed above the entrance—bold, proud, the golden crown practically daring anyone to question its dominance. The air smelled faintly of cut grass and the faint chemical tang of meticulously maintained turf.

"Mr. Itoshi, welcome," a suited man greeted me as I approached. His handshake was firm, his smile just polite enough to mask the fact that he was probably testing me with his gaze. "I'm Javier Morales, director of football. It's good to have you here."

"Thanks," I replied, curt but polite.

Javier didn't waste much time with pleasantries, leading me inside the complex. The halls were lined with photos of past and present players, their victories immortalized in high-definition. It was hard not to notice the smug faces of players holding trophies, but I wasn't here to admire anyone. I was here to play.

"You'll meet the coach shortly," Javier explained as we walked. "And of course, the team. But first, let me show you around."

I nodded, not really interested in the tour. The weight room, the medical facilities, the indoor pitch—it was all state-of-the-art, as expected. Nothing I hadn't seen before. The only part that caught my attention was the outdoor training pitch. Through the glass, I could see players already warming up, passing drills and light sprints dotting the field.

One figure in particular caught my eye—a guy with messy, sandy-colored hair moving like he was born for this game. His touches were light and precise, and even from this distance, I could see the swagger in his movements. Leonardo Luna. I'd heard about him—a rising star at La Real, the kind of player people couldn't stop talking about.

"Ah, Luna's already out there," Javier said, following my gaze. "He's...unique, as you'll see. Don't let his attitude throw you off."

I didn't reply. I didn't need Javier to tell me who was worth my time. Luna might have talent, but whether he was good enough would be decided on the pitch.

Javier eventually handed me off to Coach Martín, a wiry man with sharp features and an aura that screamed discipline. He wasted no time, clapping his hands to get my attention.

"Itoshi, welcome to La Real. I'm Martín, your coach. Let's see if you're ready for this."

"Of course," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

He led me to the pitch, where the players were now gathered. Their chatter quieted as I approached, their eyes turning toward me. It was the same everywhere—curiosity, skepticism, maybe a little hostility. No one wanted to make room for the new guy, especially one with a reputation like mine.

"This is Sae Itoshi," Martín announced. "Our new signing. Treat him like any other teammate."

I scanned the group, my eyes landing briefly on Luna, who was smirking. He leaned against a goalpost, his body language so relaxed it was almost mocking.

"Another prodigy, huh?" Luna said, his tone light but laced with challenge. "You're gonna fit right in."

I didn't bother responding. Words were meaningless here. Everything that mattered would happen on the pitch.

We started with warm-ups—basic drills to loosen up. The pace was sharp, the passes crisp. It was all so...standard. I went through the motions, my body adjusting quickly to the rhythm of the team. It wasn't until we moved into possession drills that things got a little more interesting.

Luna was on the opposing team, of course. From the moment the ball was in play, his presence was impossible to ignore. He was fast, unpredictable, and relentless in his pressing. Twice he tried to close me down, and twice I flicked the ball past him without breaking a sweat.

"Not bad," he muttered the second time, grinning as he jogged back into position.

The third time, he managed to intercept my pass, darting in like a shadow to steal the ball. He dribbled past two players with ridiculous ease before threading a pass that split the defense and set up a clean goal.

"Wake up, Itoshi!" he called out, his grin widening.

I didn't react. Showboating was nothing new. Let him have his moment.

When we moved to scrimmages, I finally got the chance to show them what I could do. The ball came to me, and everything else faded away—the players, the noise, even the coach's sharp eyes. I controlled it with a single touch and immediately drove forward. Luna was on me in an instant, his foot snaking out to block my path. I shifted my weight, slipping past him with a smooth feint before threading a pass to the striker.

Luna turned, his expression somewhere between surprise and excitement. "So, you do have some bite."

The scrimmage continued, the intensity ramping up with every passing minute. Luna was everywhere, pressing, creating, taunting. I matched him move for move, my passes cutting through their defense, my vision turning their formation into a puzzle I could solve without effort.

By the time it was over, the scoreboard didn't matter. What mattered was that I'd proven myself. The players might not have said it outright, but their nods and glances told me enough. Even Luna gave me a small clap on the back as we walked off the pitch.

"Not bad, new guy," he said, his grin as irritating as ever. "Maybe this'll be fun after all."

I didn't respond, but a small part of me wondered if he might be right.

—--------------

The bus doors hissed open, and I stepped down onto the gravel path leading to PXG's training grounds. My first thought? This place looks expensive. My second thought? I hope they remember they hired a football prodigy and not a janitor.

The complex was massive, a sprawling jungle of glass walls, steel beams, and meticulously trimmed hedges shaped into the letters "PXG" for no reason other than to flex their budget. Not that it impressed me. Big clubs like this always tried to overcompensate for something.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and adjusted my scarf, tilting my chin upward in what I imagined was a pose of dignified aloofness. Nobody greeted me at the entrance, so I just walked in, head held high. I could hear distant shouts and the unmistakable thwack of balls being kicked. It was like stepping into the lion's den. Perfect.

The receptionist—a woman chewing gum so loudly it could've been a fire alarm—barely looked up from her phone. "Name?"

"Charles Chevalier," I said, enunciating my name like it was a rare wine label.

"Uh-huh," she muttered, tapping something on her keyboard. "Locker room's down the hall. Don't touch the trophies."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I touch them?"

She smirked. "Everyone tries. PXG makes you earn those."

With a shrug, I turned and made my way down the hall. The sound of players yelling and coaches barking orders grew louder with every step. I was just about to push the door open when it slammed into me from the other side.

"Oi, new kid!"

I staggered back, clutching my nose. A guy with neon green hair and a grin that practically screamed chaos was standing there, arms crossed.

"Thought I heard a newbie skulking around," he said, looking me up and down. "You lost?"

"No," I said flatly, brushing past him. "Are you?"

The locker room was even more chaotic than I'd expected. Guys were yelling over each other, some tossing shoes around, one guy trying to juggle three balls and failing miserably. It was like a madhouse, and I was supposed to survive here?

"Alright, everyone shut up!" a booming voice echoed through the room. A man who looked like he wrestled bears in his free time stomped in, his mustache twitching with fury. This had to be Coach Armand.

"Who's this twig?" Coach asked, pointing at me like I was a science experiment.

"Charles Chevalier," I said, lifting my chin slightly. "The one you've been waiting for."

A ripple of laughter spread through the room. One guy actually fell off the bench.

"Got a mouth on you, huh?" Coach said, narrowing his eyes. "Well, let's see if you've got the feet to back it up."

He turned and stomped toward the pitch, and everyone scrambled to follow. I took my time, making sure my scarf was perfectly adjusted before stepping out.

The training pitch was like a battlefield. Players darted around, shouting, tackling, and generally acting like they were in a warzone. Coach didn't waste any time throwing me into the mix.

"You! Chevalier!" he barked. "You think you're a big deal? Show us what you've got!"

I stepped onto the field, ignoring the smirks and snickers from the other players. The drill was simple: a 4v4 possession game with no rules except keeping the ball. Easy enough, right?

The second the ball came to me, three guys lunged at me like wolves. I sidestepped one, spun past the second, and nutmegged the third without breaking a sweat.

"Hey!" the nutmegged guy shouted, spinning around. "You can't do that!"

"Pretty sure I just did," I replied, sending a no-look pass across the field that landed perfectly at my teammate's feet.

The chaos continued. Every time someone tried to close me down, I slipped past them, either with a feint, a flick, or just pure audacity. At one point, I rainbow-flicked the ball over a guy's head, and he actually tripped over himself trying to catch up.

"Is this guy for real?" someone muttered.

"Chevalier!" Coach shouted. "Stop showing off and play like a team!"

"Why?" I called back. "I'm doing fine on my own!"

That earned me a glare, but I didn't care. Teamwork was overrated.

After the drill, I grabbed a water bottle and leaned against the goalpost, watching the others. That's when the neon-haired guy from earlier walked up to me, still grinning like a maniac.

"Alright, fancy boy," he said. "You're good. Annoyingly good. But let's see how you handle me."

"And you are?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Damien," he said, flipping his hair like it was a cape. "The king of PXG."

I smirked. "King? More like court jester."

The players nearby let out a collective "Ooooh!" as Damien's grin widened.

"You've got guts," he said. "I'll give you that. Let's see if you've got the skills to match."

Coach, sensing the tension, decided to throw us into a one-on-one drill. The goal was simple: get past your opponent and score. Damien was quick, I'll give him that, but he relied too much on his speed.

The first time he charged at me, I stopped the ball dead, waited for him to commit, and then chipped it over his head. He turned just in time to see me volley it into the net.

"Lucky shot," he muttered.

The second time, I nutmegged him again. By the third, he was fuming.

"You're insufferable!" he shouted.

"Thanks," I said, dusting imaginary dirt off my sleeve. "I try."

By the time training was over, half the team hated me, and the other half was too confused to decide. As I walked back to the locker room, Damien jogged up beside me.

"You're a pain, you know that?" he said.

"And you're predictable," I replied.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, Chevalier. You've got my respect—for now."

"Good," I said, smirking. "I'll keep it."

As I stepped into the locker room, I couldn't help but feel a small flicker of satisfaction. PXG might have been chaos, but it was my kind of chaos. If they thought I'd bend to their rules, they had another thing coming. I wasn't here to fit in—I was here to conquer.

—-----------------

"Yu-chann come quickly, it's important!" my mothers cheerful voice said towards me. 

"Coming mom!" I replied back while coming down from my room into the sitting room .

I was about to ask what she called me for before I saw a letter in her hands, had blue lock started early?!I jokingly said in my head before looking closely and seeing a badge I had seen before. 

"Well.. a few people were really happy with your skills and!!!!" My mom exclaimed. 

"And?" I replied. 

"You received an offer from the team PXG based in France!" My dad finished for her. 

I couldn't even reply, the only reply to show what I was feeling was my gaping mouth and slight grin. Had scouts really been interested in Japan all along. They had chosen me of all to go to one of the world's best team.

This was arguably the best day I've had in this world..

'ARE YOU FOR REAL!!!" 

"WELL DONE YUU-CHAN!!" My mom shouted, reaching in for an energetic hug. It was like she was jumping on me. I could feel the pride radiating off her. She was happy that I was able to get inside of the academy. 

This made me feel kind of bad, because I wasn't exactly the same Isagi that she had given birth to. However, I was the one that she knows so does it really matter. 

"I always knew you could do it!" my father said to me with a huge smile on his face. 

I was about to reply with "I know" but I had to humble myself in their positive attitude. Maybe egoism and physiological thinking don't go well together and you want to take advantage of people all the time. 

"Yuu-chan there is another one from another club!" my mom said. 

"Another one?!" I asked with a bit of surprise. You'd think an egoist would expect this but sometimes this is a bit much. 

"I think it says Manshine United?" 

"United? Not City?" I replied with confusion. I knew this was probably another club that wasn't shown in the original. 

"Yes, Manshine United, not City," she confirmed. 

"Rejected!" 

"So sudden… Please give some time to reconsider!" my father said. I nearly wanted to sock the motherfucker. 

United was known for messing up players left and right. Their perfect career was taken away by their horrible team and financial situation. I knew that was in my old world but you can never be too safe. 

"No need to reconsider, I like PXG more than United," I mentioned. 

"It's your decision but remember you can't choose it just because of personal preference." 

"I just did, I'm going PXG and there isn't a debate on it,"I calmly said back. 

PXG could prove to have some difficulty but it would help develop more. And playing in that ruffian team that couldn't even get on the European stage wasn't just for me. With PXG I would be able to secure Champion League finishes all the time. 

"There is someone I'm waiting for in PXG, I'm not sure if he knows himself but I'm sure it would be quite the surprise," I continued. 

"My Yuu-chan is making friends!" my ever positive mother said. I just smiled and contemplated at the choices in front of me. As they say this changes everything.