Chapter 28: The Mechanics of Defiance
The training hall of Building 5 was a cathedral of neon and silence.
Eshan Sato sat on the floor in a deep straddle stretch, his forehead nearly touching the turf. His breathing was the only clock in the room—slow, deliberate, and rhythmic. Most people saw his Absolute Ball Feel as a supernatural gift, but as his muscles lengthened and his joints settled into their sockets, Eshan remembered the cost.
Seven years.
Seven years of waking up when the world was dark. Seven years of "One more rep" when his lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass. In his previous life, he had been a man who understood the value of time. Now, in this younger body, that understanding had become a weapon. While the Wanima twins were likely practicing their synchronized "eye-talk" and Kuon was obsessing over his 3-4-3 formations, Eshan was calibrating his Nervous System.
He stood up, the movement as fluid as oil. He didn't look at the clock. He didn't need to. His internal rhythm told him it was 4:12 AM.
He walked over to the ball rack. Instead of taking one ball, he took three.
He began a Triple-Ball Juggling Drill—a feat of coordination that usually required a circus performer's focus. But Eshan didn't look at the balls. He kept his silver-gray eyes fixed on the far wall. He used his Absolute Awareness to track the spheres by the sound of their flight and the slight displacement of air they caused.
Left foot. Right knee. Back of the neck. The balls moved in a perfect, chaotic orbit around his body. He wasn't just training his feet; he was training his brain to process multiple points of "The Void" at once. If he could track three balls in total darkness, then tracking eleven defenders in a stadium would be like reading a children's book.
"You're not even looking at them."
Eshan didn't break the rhythm. He let the third ball drop onto his laces, flicked it back into the orbit, and then killed all three simultaneously—one under his foot, one trapped on his thigh, and one caught on the back of his neck in a perfect "triple-dead-stop."
He turned his head. Kuon was standing by the equipment bin, holding a clipboard. He looked pale, his eyes darting toward the balls Eshan had just mastered.
"Team W is next, Eshan," Kuon said, his voice forced and a bit too friendly. "They're brothers. The Wanima twins. They have a 'telepathic' connection. My plan is to—"
"I don't care about your plan, Kuon," Eshan interrupted. His voice wasn't aggressive; it was worse. It was indifferent. He walked toward the bench to grab his water, his corded muscles rippling under his sweat-soaked jersey.
Kuon flinched. "But we need a strategy! They've watched our footage. They know you're the core of Team Z. They're going to double-team you the entire ninety minutes."
Eshan took a long drink of water, the liquid cooling his throat. He looked at Kuon over the rim of the bottle. His silver eyes were like mirrors, reflecting Kuon's own insecurity back at him.
"Let them," Eshan said. "If they send two, it means one of you is open. If they send three, it means the midfield is a vacuum. I've spent seven years preparing for 'impossible' pressure. Do you really think two teenagers with a gimmick are going to stop the engine I've built?"
Kuon gripped his clipboard tighter. "You're too confident. This is Blue Lock. One mistake and we're all erased."
"Confidence is for people who hope they're good," Eshan said, stepping closer. He was taller than Kuon, and the sheer physical presence he radiated was suffocating. "I'm not confident. I'm certain. Go back to your room and keep drawing your little arrows, Kuon. But don't ever think that your 'logic' is what's keeping us alive. The only reason you're still in this building is because I haven't decided to win without you yet."
Eshan walked past him, his shoulder barely brushing Kuon's. The friction felt like a warning.
As Eshan exited the hall, he didn't head to the dorms. He headed back to the gym. He still had a set of weighted lunges to complete. The Wanima twins were a footnote. Team V was a destination. But the "Zero-Point"—the moment where he would finally stand on the world stage—was the only thing that truly mattered.
Inside his mind, the 27-year-old soul whispered a single truth: The world is loud, but the ball is silent. Follow the silence.
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A/N: Hey! I hope you all like the chapters.
I know i did a few mistakes like 'info leak' in some ch's.
I'm still finding my rhythm,
but I am dedicated to give you better chapters. Happy to have you here for the journey! See ya~