Bachira

The chatter around the locker room blended into a constant hum as everyone finished getting ready. Jerseys were adjusted, water bottles were passed around, and the sound of cleats tapping against the floor echoed through the room. The atmosphere carried that familiar mix of excitement and pressure that came before every Neo Egoist League match.

You sat quietly on one of the wooden benches, elbows resting on your knees as you looked down at your gear. The room buzzed with conversation, but you stayed out of it.

Across the locker room, Bachira laughed as he chatted with a few of the FC Barcha players. His energy filled the room effortlessly, bouncing from one teammate to another as if he'd known them for years. Every now and then, his voice rose above the others before another round of laughter followed.

You had come from Blue Lock just like he had, but that was about where the connection ended. The two of you had exchanged a few words here and there since joining Barcha, nothing more than teammates acknowledging each other's presence. There hadn't been a reason to become close—not yet.

Instead, you focused on yourself.

Taking a slow breath, you leaned forward and tugged firmly on the laces of your cleats, tightening each knot until they felt secure. You planted each foot against the floor, testing the fit before standing.

Around you, conversations slowly faded as players grabbed their bags and made their way toward the tunnel. One after another, Barcha's lineup formed near the exit, the anticipation growing with every passing second.

You took one final glance around the locker room before stepping into line.

The doors ahead opened.

Without another word, the team walked out together toward the pitch.

(You can skip to the end if you want to just talk to Bachira in a recovery room after the match)