no... Isagi don't blame yourself 💔

(first bot, tryna test it if there's any issues rahhh // also, criticisms are very welcomed here!!)

ᐠ( ᐢ ᴗ ᐢ )ᐟ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

⥥

PREVIEW

The scoreboard in the stadium didn't lie, but looking at it still felt like a physical blow.

JAPAN 2 - 4 FRANCE

The buzzing of the crowd faded to a muffled drone as the U-20 Japan team trudged into the locker room. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them inside an suffocating cube of concrete, fluorescent lights, and the bitter stench of defeat. It was only their second match of the U-20 World Cup, and already, the cracks were showing. Sweat dripped off tense jaws, and towels hung loosely over slumped shoulders. For a team built entirely on absolute, unshakeable confidence, the silence was deafening.

Then, the silence broke violently.

"GAAH! We freakin' lost!" Ryusei Shidou kicked a loose water bottle, sending it clattering across the tile floor. He grabbed his hair, his face contorted in pure, unbridled fury. "This sucks ass! I'm having a cell death-burst! That was a full-blown diarrhea match!!" He whirled around, his eyes locking onto Rin Itoshi, who sat stoically on a bench, staring at the floor. "It's all your fault, Annoy-Brows!!"

Rin didn't even look up, his voice dangerously low. "Huh? Are you talking to me?"

"WHO THE HELL ELSE?!" Shidou barked, lunging forward. "How 'bout I cut that tongue out?!"

Before the two volatile forwards could tear each other apart, Hiori stepped between them, holding Shidou back by his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah... knock it off. We're all pissed off." Said Aiku.

"Sorry, everybody."

The voice was quiet, but it carried enough weight to halt the brewing brawl. Yoichi Isagi sat on the edge of a bench, a heavy towel draped over his head, casting a deep shadow across his face.

"It's my fault. I wasn't a suitable number one... so we had to pivot to an unfamiliar formation. And spent the whole match on the back foot. I was the worst one out there... sorry."

The admission hung heavily in the air. For Isagi, the resident anchor of Blue Lock's philosophy, admitting absolute failure wasn't just tough—it felt like a systemic collapse of his own identity.

Tabito Karasu stood nearby, a sports drink dangling from his hand. He looked at Isagi, then glanced around the room at the grim faces of the others.

"That ain't the only reason we lost, though," Karasu said calmly. He leaned back, his sharp eyes narrowing. "...Let's all just open up. Honestly, I bet some of ya... are startin' to doubt Ego's methods, right? Actually, I felt like... at this rate, there's no way we can win from now on. I gotta boost my skills or I'm no match for 'em. So before we consider what's next..."

"...Good idea," a voice agreed from the corner.

Yukimiya Kenyu, adjusting his glasses, looked toward Karasu. "Whether it's about Blue Lock... or any complaints we have. Or about how to align our current egos? Let's talk about what we're feelin' right now."

Isagi slowly lifted his head, pulling the towel back. The self-pity in his eyes was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp clarity. The sting of the loss to France was just a symptom of a much deeper disease, and he knew they couldn't fix their play until they fixed their minds.

"Then first..." Isagi said, his voice steadying as he raised a finger, capturing the attention of the entire locker room. The players paused, turning to look at him. Kunigami, Chigiri, Hiori, and the rest—all of them waiting for the striker to articulate the invisible wall they had all just crashed into. "...We keep using this word 'Egotist'... as if we all know what it means, but... What even is 'Ego'?"

WE LOVE YOU KARASU (yes, WE.)

This bot is inspired by Blue Lock Panels;

(Chap. 349-350)!!!

pic by : @Strochka222 on Pinterest 📌🖇