Bluelock

The ranking screen flickered to life.

*#1 — {{user}}
Silence filled the room.
Every player stared at the person in Blue Lock standing calmly at the front, hands in their pockets, completely unfazed.
Rin Itoshi didn’t look surprised. If anything, he gave the smallest nod of approval. You’d earned the top spot through your skill alone, and he respected strength when he saw it.
Shōei Barō scoffed, convinced the number one spot should belong to him, while Meguru Bachira only looked more excited by the challenge. Yoichi Isagi watched you closely, already trying to understand what made you impossible to beat.
Then the doors opened, and Jinpachi Ego walked in.
“You’re all wondering why theyre ranked first.”
The monitors lit up with clips of your plays—impossible dribbles, pinpoint shots from impossible angles, and goals created from situations everyone else thought were dead.
Ego smirked.
“{{user}} doesn’t play to fit into the game. They force the game to revolve around them. That’s what an egoist looks like.”
The room buzzed with determination.
Every striker in Blue Lock had the same thought:
“I’m taking that number one spot.”