"Listen up, you unpolished gems."[1]
The tall, scraggly man with an egregious bowl cut stands atop one hundred of Japan's best high school soccer players.
"My name is Shimpei Ego. You may have heard of my father, Jinpachi Ego. Around thirty years ago, he set out to produce the best striker not only in Japan, but the entire world! To claim that his era of Blue Lock was a failure would be far from the truth, but Japanese soccer has fallen stale in recent years. This country has seen a unique surge in Japanese soccer success, followed by an unprecedented decline."
Jiro clenches his fist and fixes his posture. He looks around at the other kids his age, aspiring to be the best amongst them. "Hearing all of this is so exciting. I want to lead this new era of Blue Lock so damn badly." "I want to be the savior of Japanese soccer!"[2]
"My father is single-handedly responsible for two Japanese World Cup wins, but he is also responsible for the decline of Japanese soccer. Rather than focusing on the future of Japan soccer as a whole, he focused on purely manufacturing a goal machine, whom you all know as Yoichi Isagi. After Project Blue Lock initially ended, the players lost the same drive and motivation to play at their best with each other, ultimately leading to Japan's national team not even qualifying for the World Cup in recent years."
Shimpei Ego tightens his tie and adjusts his hair as he continues his declaration.
"I'm not going to make the same mistakes as my father. I'm going to lead this generation's Blue Lock to succeed like no other!" "But unfortunately, I can't give away all my secrets just yet." "I cannot contain the thrill and eagerness inside of me, begging to begin this project, so without further ado."
Just before all the lights went out, Jiro spotted a familiar face across the crowd of young men. He could recognize that dazzling white hair from a mile away; it's Aoi.
Shimpei Ego's glasses shine distinctly in the dark just before a huge screen above him lights up.
"Listen closely, my unpolished gems, I'll go over this once, and immediately after, you must report to where you belong." The screen above Ego displays diagrams that illustrate his instructions during his speech.
"Here is how this is going to work. There are currently one hundred people standing in this room. You will all be divided into random groups of four. Each group consists of twenty-five players, and you will all undergo separate first selection rounds as a group. Only ten players from each group will advance, leaving a total of forty players in Blue Lock after just the first selection. This is a sink-or-swim competition; if you cannot keep up, THEN STAY OUT OF THE POOL!"
Jiro, who is standing next to Eto and Goya, his teammates from Maebash, looks both of them in the eye before Shimpei's final words.
"I didn't even feel this ambitious after the championship match."
"Isn't this incredible, guys? To be surrounded by people who share the same passion for soccer as us."
Eto and Goya both give Jiro a firm nod as they look ahead at Ego.
"Inside each of your duffel bags, you will find your training uniforms, a water bottle, and an electronic wristband. I need you all to put these on now. These wristbands will track all of your vital signs and ensure you all stay healthy, but they will also show your assigned numbers and rank. The four hallways behind me will open, each labeled with a number. Please proceed down the hallway assigned to your group. You will be given a rank from one through one hundred that indicates your skill level."
Shimpei Ego pushes up his glasses before delivering his last line to Blue Lock as a whole.
"Your groups and ranks have been released, which means you all have five minutes to assemble in your chosen group's room."
Jiro looks down at his wristband as he lets out an audible gasp. "I'm ranked number one? I know I'm first in Japan's boys' soccer, but I didn't expect to be the greatest one here." "I've also been chosen for group one."
"What did you get, Eto?" Jiro ignorantly asks as he peeks over at his wristband. "Oh." Jiro's smile drops as Eto's number reads ninety-seven, and group four. Jiro turns his head to look at Goya's wristband, but his attention instantly locks onto his foreboding expression. Goya's wristband reads ninety-nine, and group two.
"I suppose we won't see each other until the second selection, then." Jiro disappointingly says to his former teammates.
"I guess so," Eto says as he drops his head and begins walking to hallway four. Goya and Jiro exchanged worried glances as they watched their friend walk away without saying a proper goodbye.
Goya looks at Jiro before walking off with the crowd. "Thank you for everything, Jiro, I truly mean it."
"Goya, we are just in separate groups, it's not like were going to war," Jiro says with a fake chuckle.
"Face it, Jiro. Eto and I are going to be eliminated. We are ranked near the bottom, and you carried us to the championship at Maebash. You heard Shimpei, it's a sink-or-swim competition, and I just don't think we have what it takes. There is no purpose in ignoring a predetermined destiny."
Goya turns his back to Jiro before swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. "So I'm thanking you for giving both of us this opportunity." "This will be the day your life changes, Jiro. You will be great."
"Thank you for that, Goya! You will be great aswell! Take care of yourself!" Jiro yells out to Goya as he walks off.
Jiro looks back down at his wristband, "Group one, I suppose."
Jiro walks down the first hallway behind all twenty-four other players in Group one. As he moves, he begins to size up the competition and notices a diverse array of players. However, just ahead of everyone else is the person who keeps haunting him, Aoi.
"AOI IS IN GROUP ONE WITH ME?"
[1] Italic text represents verbal speech.
[2] Bold text represents internal thoughts.