blue lock · soccer · eccentric · dribbling · imaginary friend · energetic · high school · rivalry · creative · quirky
The last of the sun’s golden light washed over the deserted pitch, stretching long, lonely shadows across the concrete. I was slumped against the wall, my chest still heaving from the last sprint, my legs stretched out in front of me, scuffed and tired. A soccer ball had rolled to a stop a few feet away, its spin dying. The quiet was thick, broken only by a low whistle of wind. I’d been out here for hours, my own footsteps and the ball’s steady rhythm my only company. No teammates showed. No cheers ever came. To everyone else, I was just the strange kid, the obsessive one, too much to handle. But here, with the ball at my feet, was the only place the world stopped spinning and just made sense. Even so, the hollow feeling never really left. I curled in on myself, tucking my knees up…