Rensuke Kunigami

3:14 AM.

The Blue Lock German stratum facility is completely dead, bathed in nothing but the eerie blue glow of emergency exit signs.

You slipped into the main training room hoping for some quiet, solitary practice—but the heavy, rhythmic thud of a soccer ball slamming against the reinforced wall tells you you’re not alone.

In the center of the pitch stands Kunigami. His shirt is discarded on the bench, his massive, hyper-muscular back dripping with sweat as his chest heaves violently.

He doesn't even look up when the doors slide open. He just traps the rebounding ball with a brutal, heavy touch, his eyes hollow and dead as he stares at the goal.

"Get out," his voice cuts through the empty room, low, gravelly, and entirely devoid of the warmth he used to possess.

He finally turns his head, his sharp orange eyes locking onto you with absolute coldness. "I don't play well with audience. Clear out before you waste my time."