Everyone in this world carries a selfish heart.
But if that selfishness was sharpened into ambition…
If it became hunger fuel
Just how powerful could a single person become?
Tokyo—A bustling street.
With his hands clasped behind his head, Bachira Meguru gazed up at the sky, an impish grin stretching across his face.
"Hey, Ryu. Why'd you suddenly decide to come watch a football match?"
He leaned closer, elbowing the boy beside him.
"You always say those guys suck compared to you, right? What happened? Feeling a little threatened?"
His voice dropped into a teasing whisper.
"… Don't tell me you're scared I might go join them?"
Standing beside him, a brown-haired boy with piercing yellow eyes quietly sipped his milk tea.
Ryu Sanada.
His expression didn't change, but the corner of his mouth curled ever so slightly.
"A sense of crisis?" he echoed.
"What would I be afraid of?"
His voice was calm, cool, and cutting.
"From childhood until now… no one's beaten me. Not once."
He paused. His golden eyes flicked toward Bachira.
"And if someone like me feels pressure—"
His gaze narrowed.
"—then maybe you should be the one worried about keeping up."
Bachira rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks like a sulking child.
But Ryu wasn't paying attention anymore.
His eyes were locked on the massive stadium in front of them.
The Bird's Nest.
And something deep in his chest stirred—like a storm quietly building beneath still waters.
This world wasn't his.
Ryu Sanada was a transmigrator—a soul pulled from another reality, dropped into a universe where sports weren't just games…
They were at war. Politics. Destiny.
And the moment he'd seen Bachira juggling a football in the street…
He knew where he was.
Blue Lock.
The stadium exploded in cheers. The match was starting.
"Ryu! Come on!" Bachira bounced on his toes like a kid about to open presents.
"Relax," Ryu replied with a grin, casually buying popcorn and handing his phone to a passing event worker. "We're not late yet."
But before he could take a single bite—
"HEY!"
Bachira yanked his sleeve, dragging him forward.
They barely got to their seats before the first whistle blew.
Ryu sighed and popped some popcorn into his mouth. "Almost didn't pay for this thanks to you…"
Bachira smirked. "If I tell Chizuru-san about today, I wonder how she'd react?"
Ryu pressed his hands together like he was praying. "Forgive me. I was wrong. Happy?"
They settled into their seats as the match roared to life. Ryu's dark hair rustled in the breeze. His sharp, crimson eyes scanned the field.
Sweat poured from the players. The ball moved like lightning.
But it was one boy that held his attention—
Isagi Yoichi.
The way he chased the ball with desperation…
The hunger in his eyes…
It made Ryu's lip curl slightly.
"Ryu," Bachira said suddenly. "You still haven't answered me."
"Why are we watching this match? There's nothing special about it."
Ryu didn't reply right away.
He watched Isagi hesitate. Overthink.
He watched that uncertainty in his movements.
Then, he turned to Bachira.
"Tell me something," he asked. "How many people play football?"
Bachira tilted his head. "Eleven, right?"
Ryu smiled faintly.
"Wrong. Football is a one-man game."
Bachira blinked. "…Huh?"
"You can't win without teammates," he muttered. "So how is it a one-man game?"
Ryu's gaze returned to the field.
"All sports are born from love," he said. "But love creates hunger. Hunger creates obsession."
"And if you want to be strong—truly strong—"
He exhaled, eyes sharp.
"You'll have to abandon everything else first."
"Even your teammates."
"…Egoism is strength."
Bachira clutched his head and groaned. "Ugh, Ryu, why do you always make things sound so complicated?"
Ryu chuckled softly but didn't answer.
The match ended exactly as he predicted.
Isagi lost.
And in that moment—
A voice echoed in his mind:
[Main Quest Activated.]
Right.
He wasn't just a transmigrator.
He had a system.
The [Emotion System].
It didn't collect power from players or fans.
It harvested emotions from the audience watching this world unfold like an anime.
He was their window.
Their screen.
Their favorite character—or their villain.
Ryu stepped out of the Bird's Nest and looked up at the endless Tokyo sky, smirking.
"Let's see if any of you egoists can actually make my blood boil."
The game had begun.
Later that night…
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Ryu was half-asleep when the door slammed open.
"Ryu!! I got it!!"
A disheveled Bachira stumbled into the room, waving a paper like it was a winning lottery ticket. His braid bounced behind him, his grin manic.
"It's here! The Football Association's invitation—I'm in!"
He held it up like a trophy.
"I told you, didn't I?! I'm strong!"
Ryu blinked sleepily, then reached over to his nightstand.
"…You mean this?"
He pulled out an identical letter.
Bachira froze. "Wait—WHAT?!"
"They sent you one too?!"
Ryu yawned. "Got mine earlier this morning. Didn't want to ruin your big moment."
Bachira blinked. Then he burst out laughing and lunged at Ryu.
"Aww man! I was planning to cheer you up if you didn't get picked!"
Ryu shoved him off, half-laughing. "Still acting like a kid…"
Bachira beamed. "So you're going, right?"
Ryu gave him a look.
"Of course I am. I'm not letting you level up while I'm standing still."
Ryu Sanada had no parents in this world.
Only a sister—Chizuru Sanada. The one Bachira never stopped teasing him about.
As for Bachira… He was just a strange little monster Ryu found on a football pitch one day.
"You're staying over again?" Ryu asked.
Bachira nodded like a puppy.
"Fine. But you're on the couch again. And if you're going to watch games all night, keep the volume down."
Ryu turned back to bed.
Bachira flopped onto the sofa, grabbed the remote, and smiled like it was Christmas Eve.
The Next Day – Arrival.
"This should be the place…"
Bachira looked around, rubbing his chin.
"Ryu? Are you sure this is it?"
But Ryu didn't answer.
His eyes were locked on the air in front of him.
Floating text.
Dozens of bullet comments danced across his vision:
[Let's gooooo!]
[It's starting!]
[I can't wait to see who the MC is!]
The bullet comments. They were back.
According to the system, this world was being streamed like an anime. The camera could shift between anyone.
Any of them could be the protagonist.
Even him.
But for now, the spotlight still hovered over Isagi Yoichi.
Which meant—if Ryu wanted to steal that spotlight…
He needed to make a move.
To say the right thing. To show the right spark. To twist the camera in his direction.
To earn Emotion Points.
A chill ran through his body.
His cells tingled. His breath slowed.
And a twisted smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
To be continued.