Chapter 52: Second Round of Selection Ends
Blue Lock Training Ground…
Yūshin Zeya was engaged in intense one-on-one training with his brother, Yūshin Seiichi.
Zeya advanced like a cheetah, the ball glued to his feet. Seiichi followed like a shadow, closing the space with relentless pressure. Neither would yield. The physical clash between them escalated, surging like waves colliding in a storm.
In the end, it was Zeya's monstrous strength that prevailed. With a powerful shoulder shove, he forced Seiichi back, then struck with his right foot like lightning.
Boom!
The ball rocketed into the upper-right corner of the goal.
"Okay, okay, okay! You only know how to use your body," Seiichi complained, his breath ragged as he watched the net ripple.
He hated to admit it, but he lost more often than not in these duels. Zeya couldn't take the ball from his feet, sure—but Seiichi also couldn't shake him. He couldn't carve out the space needed for a clean shot.
Even when he forced one, the chance of scoring dropped steeply.
"The strong don't make excuses," Zeya replied coolly, brushing sweat from his brow.
"Huh? Since when did you become such a poet?"
Seiichi expected him to laugh and gloat, like usual. He was already preparing to turn that mockery into fuel.
But Zeya didn't take the bait.
"You almost tapped into it again just now," he said instead.
Seiichi blinked, catching the reference immediately—the "shared vision" they'd achieved during the World Stars match. The fleeting, transcendent link that allowed them to move like one.
"That again?! I've tried everything these past few days!" Seiichi clutched his head in frustration. "How do we trigger it again? I've meditated! I've visualized! I even—"
He suddenly leaned in and whispered slyly, "Wanna try sleeping in the same bed tonight?"
"Get lost," Zeya said flatly.
…
After showers, they returned to the dorm.
Inside, Rin, Bachira, and Hiori were all focused on their notebooks and vocabulary lists.
Seiichi flopped onto his bed, phone in hand.
"Seiichi , your English is worse than mine. Shouldn't you at least try to study a little?" Bachira called out without looking up.
"Foreign language? Nope. If I was bad at it in my last life, then there's no saving me now," Seiichi replied confidently.
"Haha, you're so weird," Bachira laughed. "How do you even know you were bad in your past life?"
"Don't encourage him," Zeya muttered while lacing up his sneakers. "He was a bad student back then, and he's still a bad student now."
That got Seiichi's attention. He threw down his phone, rolled up his sleeves, and lunged forward.
"You've done it now, Zeya!"
"They're at it again…" Bachira sighed and closed his eyes. "Every day, like clockwork."
The two twins bickered so often that it was hard to believe they had such divine chemistry on the field. They looked less like siblings and more like rivals fated to fight forever.
Ding-ding-ding!
Suddenly, the broadcast echoed throughout the dorm.
"The second round of selection has concluded.
All players who advanced to the third round, please change into your training vests and report to the central hall immediately."
"It's finally here," Rin said, slamming his notebook shut. His eyes glinted with an icy gleam. "No more waiting."
"Eh~ So we're moving on?" Hiori asked, stretching lazily. "Kinda looking forward to it."
"Yeah. And thank God I don't have to hear you nag anymore," Seiichi said as he tossed on his vest.
…
The central hall.
A large metal gate rose slowly, and five figures emerged into the room.
"Isn't this a shame? I was ready to strike a pose," Seiichi muttered, disappointed by the lack of an audience.
"Didn't the announcement say we were entering in the order we cleared the round?" Hiori said helpfully.
"You're better off not posing. No one wants to see that," Zeya said, side-eyeing him.
"Do you think Isagi and the others made it?" Bachira asked curiously. His mind drifted back to the members of Team Z.
"If they didn't, then they weren't worthy of becoming the best in the world to begin with," Seiichi replied coldly—but behind the sharp tone was a flicker of hope in his eyes.
He was looking forward to meeting them again, as equals… or as rivals.