Chapter Text
It feels exhilarating.
Adrenaline is pounding through Isagi and he runs across the soccer field: his chest heaving, sweat-slick bangs stuck against his forehead, exhaustion at the edges of his vision.
But the focus of matching with Kaiser cuts through all of that.
They complement each other’s movements, perfectly in sync with no wasted effort, surpassing their limits over and over and over again. They’re always right where they need to be, coming up with the same ideas and reaching the same conclusions without a single word spoken between them. Isagi can’t remember the last time his brain worked this fast.
This devil’s contract with Kaiser is amazing.
His path to victory! It’s never been easier to smell a goal. Everything is laid out before him.
This time. This place. This moment.
This-
And suddenly everything shifts.
Isagi jolts as he watches the soccer ball slam into the net, past the outstretched hand of the goalie, and to the deafening roar of the crowd. The ball that had, only a moment ago, been right in front of him. The ball that has now settled nicely into the goal. The ball he doesn’t remember kicking.
Did the thrill of the game make him black out or something? A sense of panic and dread swelling inside him, Isagi turns to look for Kaiser when his teammates start running towards him, excited cheers and screams of victory pouring from their lips: Nagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Aryu, Reo-
What are they doing on the field? When did they even get here? How did they get here?
They’re not members of Bastard München -- or Paris X Gen.
Yukimiya and Karasu are still here, but they’re not wearing the BM and PxG uniforms, respectively. They’re in Blue Lock’s colors as they celebrate to the furious applause of the crowd.
Right now, this should not be happening.
And yet, Nagi’s firm arms are wrapped around him and hoisting him in the air, Bachira’s hands at his back, Chigiri clapping at his shoulder-
The score on the board reads 3-4. With the Neo Egoist League’s point system, the game should have ended at three points.
The Neo Egoist League doesn’t have a live crowd.
Kaiser isn’t anywhere on the field.
The way blood rushes through his ears, it cracks louder than a clap of thunder.
What the actual fuck is happening-
Panic pools in his stomach as his breath begins to come out in short gasps. He’s looking around, his senses on overdrive, but he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing -- like his mind can’t even begin to process what’s happening. The overwhelming, joyous screaming. The sensitive bumps on his wrists. The cacophony of smells in the air.
Isagi is exhausted and out of breath and on the verge of losing it because, somehow, somehow, he seems to be back at the end of the match against Japan’s U-20 team.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air.
“The only one left in the goal box, #11 Isagi Yoichi, unleashed a withering direct shot to score a winning goal for Blue Lock! And just now the game-ending whistle has sounded! With a score of 4-3… the Blue Lock Eleven have won!”
What. The. Fuck.
Just like before, Gagamaru is leaping onto the group, sending them careening into the ground with a thud. They’re all laughing with wide grins as they hold onto each other, nuzzling at his skin. Plenty of Blue Lock players are keen on physical contact, especially after such a heart-pounding victory, but he doesn’t remember them being this touchy-feely.
Why does it feel strangely comforting?
And once again, Aiku approaches him with a smirk.
“That was such a glam finale, Isagi,” Aryu commends as he helps him off the ground. Isagi finds it in himself to mumble out a gratitude as his eyes continue shifting around, analyzing everything around him. Aryu pauses and twirls a piece of hair around as he gives him a concerned look. “Are you feeling okay? Your scent seems almost distressed. You just scored the winning goal -- you should be ecstatic!”
… His scent?
“Nice goal, hero,” Aiku greets him, hands on his hip. “Were you aiming for my blind spot the whole time?”
This feels almost exactly like what happened before, but it’s as though something is off. Like he’s back in his childhood bedroom, but someone’s moved all his furniture a few centimeters to the left. Or he’s rewatching his favorite movie, but a couple of scenes have been rewritten and no one bothered telling him.
Isagi gives the same explanation as before about finding a point where he could score one shot and trusting that Rin’s trance would let him beat Sae.
Aiku grins as he pulls off his gloves with pointed teeth. His canine teeth look really sharp. Is that a strange thing to notice? Isagi doesn’t think he’s ever noticed it before.
“Ha! In that moment, you reflexively ran to the point where those three conditions overlapped and the ball just happened to land there. Guess you called down luck, Isagi Yoichi. You’re quite the omega, aren’t you?” Aiku reaches out to give him a handshake. “The U-20 team lost. Congratulations, Blue Lock.”
Omega? Is that what Aiku just called him?
Isagi’s not familiar with the term, but he’s pretty sure it’s a letter of the Greek alphabet. He’s certainly never been called that before.
But it didn't sound like an insult. If anything, Aiku had said it with a hint of awe and reverence in his voice.
Hesitantly, Isagi reaches out to shake Aiku’s outstretched hand. His grip feels unusually strong, the size of his hand almost engulfing his. Quickly, Isagi pulls himself away and stares at Aiku’s large hand.
Isagi has always been one of the shorter players at Blue Lock. He knows this. He has no shame in acknowledging his physical stats.
But Aiku definitely seems taller and more rugged -- if such a thing is possible. Honestly, everyone kind of seems taller…
Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe during the Bastard München vs Paris X Gen match, he tripped over the ball and ended up with brain damage and now he’s trapped in some sort of bizarre dream, forced to relive his Blue Lock experiences slightly off kilter. Or maybe it’s the opposite and his mind conjured up some hyperspecific hallucination like the Neo Egoist League and-
No. Not possible. Never mind.
No way his mind conjured up Michael Kaiser.
And even if Isagi can sense that things seem slightly different, conversations have been playing out similarly enough that he can’t dismiss the honestly absurd notion that he’s somehow time traveled back to the end of the match against Japan’s U-20.
Gagamaru’s patting him on the head, giving him words of praise. And if Isagi remembers correctly, Igarashi should approach him any second now to tell him that reporters are calling for him-
“Hey Isagi! This is crazy! They’re calling for you!” Igarashi exclaims as he hops into view. “They said they want to interview you for TV! That’s nuts!”
Time travel is not possible. But Isagi has no idea how else to explain what is happening. And he can’t just tell people that he thinks that he’s traveled back in time.
How would he explain everything that’s happening to him? Everyone would think that he’s completely lost it! On top of that, he still needs to figure out what’s different about this time around before people start questioning him.
Better to keep quiet, play along for now, and analyze the time and space that he’s landed himself into before he thinks about what to do next.
“Everything alright, Isagi?” Gagamaru asks as he tilts his head. “Your scent is off.”
Speaking of smells, Isagi doesn’t remember this field smelling this much.
It’s such a dizzying mix of smells, it’s borderline unbearable. Isagi can sense a headache coming on. The freshness of petrichor even though he can tell it’s not about to rain. The cozyness of a campfire with no fire in sight. The salt of the ocean breeze- he’s clearly nowhere near the ocean.
Even if he somehow time traveled, the more Isagi notices, the more something isn’t adding up. Isagi feels a pulse thrum beneath his skin and he resists the urge to rub at the sides of his neck.
Isagi waves off Gagamaru’s question and walks over to the gaggle of reporters and film crew, no need for Igarashi to push him into the spotlight this time.
“Ah! Here he comes now,” a reporter with a bright smile says into his earpiece. The bright flashes of the cameras leave his eyes in a daze. It’s almost exactly as he remembers -- except for the cacophony of smells and the buzzing beneath his skin.
The reporter thrusts his microphone in his face. “We’d love to hear your impressions now that the game is over!”
Isagi remembers the reporter’s questions from last time, but the first time around, he hadn’t been stuck in shock after experiencing the impossible phenomenon of time travel. He’s always been oversensitive, but everything feels like so much. Even though the game has ended, his instincts are still running on overdrive. And it feels as though it’s for a reason that has nothing to do with traveling back to the past.
What is making him feel like this?
He gives a similarly stuttered response about being happy as he tries to reorient himself.
The reporter moves onto his next question: “We saw you have a chance at becoming a U-20 representative today. It’s almost unprecedented for an omega to be in such a position! What are you looking forward to next? Do you think you have the capabilities?”
Fuck, he really needs to figure out what the word “omega” means.
But there’s one thing Isagi doesn’t need to think about. Regardless of the timeline, he knows exactly what his goal is, what his goal has always been.
“Blue Lock is going to win the U-20 World Cup. And I’m going to bring Japan a U-20 World Cup victory.”
Isagi can’t even begin to explain how he ended up back in the final moments of the Blue Lock Eleven vs Japan’s U-20 match.
He has no idea what the fuck an omega is. Or why one of the cameramen filming him has some sort of collar around his neck. And no clue why the excitement in the air is so thick it feels literally palpable.
But he still has his memories from the Neo Egoist League -- all the skills and realizations and knowledge he’s learned along the way. And Isagi is going to use what he knows to keep growing, keep getting stronger, keep destroying and reinventing himself until he’s holding victory in his hands.
And there is another thing Isagi is sure of: he is absolutely going to use this opportunity to fuck with Michael Kaiser.