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66.POWERLESS
note: i'm sick again. fuck. but i love komi and name too much guys... they so gay coded
˖*⋆｡˚𖦹࣪˖ ִֶָ⋆｡°✩
FINALLY,
your attention is drawn away from the scene in front of you, and you're staring up at the screen when it buzzes loudly. Ego's scratchy voice rings out through the stadium, a strange sense of familiarity pairing with that awful bowl cut, "Good job on your first match, my dear Neo-egoists."
He holds a glass of an undiscernable drink in his hands and swirls it around. It looks like some sort of bubbly alcoholic drink. "Well then, Blue Lock. How was the taste of the world's wall? Boy, do I love grape squash."
He takes a long, drawn-out sip that makes your face cringe up at the noise. Just stop. "The world of pros... is like a game of musical chairs. When you get into a team that's already complete, you have to steal somebody else's position, or else you don't have a job to do. And every team... has water called philosophy. Logic. Freedom. Rules. You're not limited to only one way of surviving in that water."
"You may die in water that's not suited to you. Or you may adapt, and survive. Or you might even dye the water in your own colour. At any rate," a digital fish leaps out of Ego's glass and shatters into billions of minuscule digital cubes on the ground beneath his cleats. "Now that you understand how to fight in the Neo-egoist league... Let's move on to the new rankings, now that the first match is over."
Various names pop up on the screen, behind the digital version of Ego.
Isagi. ¥ 17,000,000. Offer club — Barsark Dortmund.
Ego takes another long sip of his glass, "These are all yearly salaries. All of the matches in the Neo-egoist league... are under the inspection of football club owners in the whole world. They check all of your plays... bid on each of you after a match... and the highest bid will represent your value. This is our new ranking system... Blue Lock auction!"
Ego goes on about the auctioning and value of the players—something he already fully explained to you, so you didn't bother to listen—looking around at the numbers on the screen before you catch it.
There. It's my name. Underneath an abstract portrait of you, there is your name, team, and the club you were offered from.
[name]. ¥ 8,000,000. Offer club — Barsark Dortmund.
That's the same club as Isagi.
Your eyes light up at the number and you turn to Komi. "Do you see that?"
"It's less than what you get paid at Blue Lock," Komi smiles, tilting her head towards you. You shake your head at her words, searching around the screen for perhaps any other person you know.
