19||Training Hell

38 6 1
                                    

Chapter 19: Ego's Bias: Now With Extra Drama

Song: Uhh no song today

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Louis's POV:

Entering our room, we dumped all the food on the table, ready to dive in. I grabbed a snack and dramatically flopped onto the futon that Kuon was trying to drag to the other side

"Excuse me?!" he yelped. 

"You're excused" I mumbled, eating my snack and making myself comfortable.

"Louis, get up and actually help for once!" Iemon yelled, but I just pretended I couldn't hear him. Meanwhile, Naruhaya was happily munching away the snacks

"Come on, Naruhaya, quit hogging the snacks," Gagamaru complained. Chigiri nodded in agreement while literally eating the snacks. But hey, Chigiri can do whatever he wants—he's our resident princess after all.

"Can someone grab drinks from the dining hall?" Kira asked and Isagi volunteered.

"Louis, you're coming with me," he said, dragging me out of the room by the collar. Off we went, grabbing bottles like it was a mission of national importance.

"Is this fine? I don't think there's any sports drinks left," I said, rummaging through the fridge and looking over at Isagi. He gave me a nod

"Let's just grab whatever we can," he said with a shrug.

As we started filling up our bottles, I decided to play coach. "Hey, Isagi, you know thinking slows you down, right?"

"Huh?"

"Last game, you wasted a few milliseconds," I said, tapping my imaginary watch. "Nagi got enough time to waltz right in and intercept you."

"Oh, uh... yeah, I guess... but I can't exactly play without thinking, can I?"

"Fair," I mumbled. "Still, you might've scored if I hadn't stolen the ball." I tried to look modest but failed horribly.

He just gave me an awkward chuckle. "Even if I didn't score, I think I'm starting to figure out a way to play, and formulae for my goals" he said, lost in thought, as if he was on some higher philosophical plane. "Next time, I'll do better... and you won't get the ball." He shot me a determined smile.

I just shrugged. "Good luck with that, Isagi."

As we grabbed drinks, a group of players shuffled by in the corridor—the ones from the losing teams. In Blue Lock, losing means your dream's done, game over, no restart.

"Congrats on Team Z's win," a voice called out. We turned to see Niko, leaning casually against the wall like he was too cool for hallways. Isagi and Niko had a quiet conversation about something I only halfway listened to while filling our bottles. Just when I thought I'd mastered multitasking, water started spilling everywhere.

After all, we will play, we will scored and we will win. For us, it was a ticket forward; for others, a dead end. But I wasn't satisfied. I wanted more—to climb higher, to win bigger.

We finally made it back to our room and found everyone already passed out in a chaotic heap—some on the floor, a few draped over the table, and a couple tangled up in the futons like hibernating bears.

That night, we slept like rocks. But the next day? The real hell began: physical training, Blue Lock's version of boot camp. Day after brutal day, they pushed us to the limit. My whole body felt like it was on strike, but we had to keep going, aching and exhausted, pushing ourselves harder than ever.

Ethereal ✦ Blue LockWhere stories live. Discover now