𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢

now that you had finished your role in the Second Selection, wearing your regular uniform, you had to deal with a task that chibi Anri said was of utmost importance.

which was serving 5 stuck-up international players.

they wanted lunch before playing against the Blue Lock teams.

my god, it was like serving aliens who have never tasted food. this was your first time that you hated being a polyglot.

"i didn't come for this shitty food." Dada Silva. eat shit and die.

"i wanna have sex with woman in kimonos." Adam Blake. go fuck yourself.

"this food is so not cute. i can't even post it!" Pablo Cavasoz. post your public hanging.

"hey, hey who are you? what's your name?" Leonardo Luna. kill yourself.

"u-um guys, she's getting real pissed here..." Julian Loki. why is this mf bald?

having enough of these so-called World Five pushing your buttons like a toddler, you lightly tapped the table, causing the table to break into multiple pieces.

"what the?" Blake exclaimed, in shock.

"if you don't want to eat, get the hell out of here." you said, with a face that could be described as the spawn of Satan.

not like they could see your face through the mask, but you get the idea.

"woah. how're that strong? you just tapped the table." Loki asked, a confused look decorating his face.

you felt the weight of an arm on your shoulders. turning to see who it was, you saw the face of Leonardo Luna.

"hey, you wanna play football? that was some nice strength you got there, Blue Lock employee." Luna said with a smile.

creepy man luring kids in his basement ahh smile.

"if i beat all of you, then would you not bother me anymore?" you asked with your eyebrows knitted together.

the World Five looked at each other before laughing in synchronization. mocking you.

after all, they were professional players who had already honed their skills for years. you were merely an employee.

♕

that was around two hours ago.

now, you were relishing the moment you saw the World Five sitting on the floor, absolutely wiped out from the football match that you had just won.

4-1 was the final score.

eat that, you stuck-up bastards.

"we, the World Five, lost? no fucking way..." Silva said.

"yes fucking way. there are always bigger fish in the sea. all of you lost because you were too complacent with your own skills." you answered.

the faces that the World Five made were going in a special chapter in your memories.

urgh. i'm getting out of here. sweating doesn't suit me. but one thing that you gave merit to the World Five was that they actually made you exercise a bit.

as you were about to leave, you were held back by somebody gripping your hand. deja vu?

"wait." Loki said.

"what? i'd thought you'd leave me alone after i won. or maybe the World Five is as bad at keeping promises as they are at football?"

"i wanted to apologies. we are international players, and we shouldn't have treated you like garbage." Loki said, seemingly undeterred by your insult.