BLUE LOCK CHAPTER 28: SUPER SPECIAL

SUPER SPECIAL

The Score That Says Everything

The numbers don’t lie. 3–0. Team V leads, and the scoreboard hangs over the field like a verdict. From Team V’s side, one of their players glances at the wreckage and asks Reo, almost lazily, “How many points till I can slack off?” It is not arrogance, it is boredom. Team V has seen this before. Every team they face follows the same pattern: they absorb the pressure, lose their nerve, and quietly fall apart.

Team V’s assessment is clinical. “It’s the same pattern as the other teams we’ve played so far. Looks like they’ve lost the will to fight. It’s probably okay now.”

From the Team Z side, someone pushes back on that framing. “Don’t you mean dispirited?! You bonehead!” But the correction doesn’t change the reality on the scoreboard. Three goals down, backs against the wall, Team Z looks, to every outside observer, like a team already broken.

Every outside observer, that is, except one.

The Monster Wakes Up

While his teammates process the weight of the deficit, Meguru Bachira is somewhere else entirely. His eyes are wide. His grin is spreading. And what comes out of his mouth is not despair — it is delight.

“This is getting fun.”

The words land like a grenade in the silence. His teammates stare. “What’s with him?” one asks. The answer, simply, is: “I dunno.”

Someone tries to reach him with logic. “There’s no way we can win at this rate… But it’s 3-0…”

Bachira cuts through it like it isn’t even worth acknowledging. “Huh? I mean, aren’t those three awesome?!” He isn’t being sarcastic. He is genuinely, almost frighteningly, excited. Then he turns and asks the question that reframes the entire chapter:

“Are you scared?”

He answers it himself before anyone else can. The three goals Team V scored weren’t the result of a broken defense or a lucky bounce. They were something else. “Their goals were just… super special. We can’t stop them with a perfect defense.” He lets that land. And then, with a grin that belongs more to a predator than a footballer: “I’m getting pumped.”

The logic, delivered with terrifying simplicity: “We just have to… That makes it simple.”

The Declaration

Bachira doesn’t wait for permission. He doesn’t call a huddle or propose a plan. He simply moves — charging forward with the ball, and declaring his thesis to anyone who will hear it.

“Become super special, too!”

The sound of the ball leaving his foot punctuates it. His teammates erupt immediately. “Wait — don’t just start on your own!” But Bachira is already gone, operating on instinct, driven by something his teammates can see but not quite name.

Isagi, watching, arrives at his own conclusion. The weapons are known. The formulas have been studied. Team V has scouted them, absorbed their strategy, and neutralized it. Isagi’s mind works through the problem with cold clarity: “If using those to the max still isn’t enough… then the only way we’ll score against these guys… is if we can surpass our own limits, right?”

It is not a pep talk. It is a diagnosis.

The Monster Inside

Before Bachira ever touches the ball in his solo run, the chapter pulls us inside his head — and what lives there is not a footballer’s tactical plan. It is something rawer.

“The monster inside me is saying… ‘When things look dire, don’t get scared… Get excited!!'”

Isagi watches him. Says his name quietly. “Bachira…” And in that single word is something close to awe — and something close to fear.

One vs. The Best

Bachira drives straight at Red Mikage, one of Team V’s key players. The matchup is announced with the weight of a duel: Meguru Bachira vs. Red Mikage. Mikage doesn’t flinch. “Bring it on, Meguru Bachira,” he says, smiling.

What follows is a masterclass in pressure and creativity. Bachira opens with high-speed scissors, a stepover feint technique designed to freeze defenders. Mikage tracks it but cannot commit. “You’re not getting away! No, he’s going right… Left?” The ball stops. Mikage mutters, disbelieving: “No way…”

Bachira shifts into a feint spin roulette, pulling Mikage further off balance. Mikage, to his credit, reads it just in time. “Not bad,” he concedes.

But Bachira is not done.

Zantetsu Tsurugi enters the frame, stepping up to cover. “No way I’m letting you past, bangs!” A new duel opens: Zantetsu Tsurugi vs. the glasses-wearing Team Z player. Zantetsu is direct about his limitations — “I can’t beat you in speed!” — but he isn’t retreating. “But what about a head-on attack?”

The glasses player analyzes rapidly. Bachira bounces the ball. A loop? A run-off? An outside trap? The options stack and collapse in real time. “Is he going left… or right?!!”

Then Bachira does something that stops everyone cold.

A mid-air elastico. Pulled off in the middle of a match, under pressure, against top-level defenders. The glasses player’s reaction says everything: “A mid-air elastico?!”

Bachira’s own reaction is, somehow, the most unnerving part of all. “It just popped into my head! Oh! I did it.”

The Walls Close In

The individual brilliance has broken through two defenders, and now Team V scrambles to contain what they cannot stop alone. Mikage makes the call: “All of you take him at once! You can’t stop him one-on-one!”

Bachira, surrounded, grinning, uses the moment to deliver a war cry that is addressed to everyone, his team, his opponents, and perhaps himself. “Now we’re talking! All of us… are here to become the world’s best striker, right?!”

He keeps driving. Defenders converge. Teammates shout for the ball. “Pass it!” And then, through the chaos: “If we can’t even beat Team V… then that’ll mean that’s all we were worth!”

From the sideline, Isagi watches with something shifting inside him. “You’re amazing, Bachira… At a time like this…”

The Weight of the Last Game

As Bachira counts down the defenders between him and goal, “Three to go… Two… One…”, Isagi’s internal narration becomes the chapter’s emotional core.

“If we lose and everything ends here… we’ll never… get to experience a match this intense again.”

It is not about winning. It is about what losing permanently takes away. And so Isagi makes his own resolution, arriving at the same place Bachira reached from the very beginning, but through a different door. “If this is going to be the last game in my soccer career… then feeling hopeless can wait until after we lose! Right now, we just…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.

Zero

Bachira reaches his moment. The defenders dive. Team V scrambles. And Bachira, in the kind of play that cannot be scripted or prepared — executes a rabona. The kicking leg crosses behind the standing leg. The ball bends into the net.

BFFT.

The scoreboard updates: Team Z: 1.

The reaction from Team Z is immediate and volcanic. “WHOOA!!! BACHIRAAAA!!!”

And Bachira, turning to Isagi with something between pride and joy, asks the only question that matters to him: “Did you see… my super special goal?”

The Philosophy of the Impossible

In the aftermath of the goal, Bachira addresses his team, and the chapter finds its thesis. He is not calm. He is barely contained. But what he says is precise.

“See? If we want to score goals!!! …we just need to make plays that surpass our own limits… Aren’t things getting fun?”

The faces of Team Z, exhausted, sweating, shaken, begin to change. Something ignites.

Team V Recalibrates

Across the field, Team V processes the shift. The scoreboard now reads 3–1 at the 45-minute mark. The assumption that this was over has been rattled.

“Is Team Z… feeling dispirited?” one of them asks. The answer, now, is clearly no. Zantetsu is frustrated, muttering about being bested. Reo reads the room and arrives at the only logical conclusion: “We’ll just have to crush them completely.”

And then, exhaling like a man who had hoped for an easy afternoon, Reo says what he’s really thinking.

“Aww… What a pain…”

The final panel lingers on Isagi. Close. Quiet. Smiling.

The second half hasn’t started yet.

What Comes Next

The fire that Bachira lit in the final seconds of the first half has changed everything. Team Z scored not through strategy or superior technique, but through a player who refused to be afraid of the impossible. The monster inside Bachira doesn’t retreat when the odds stack against it. It feeds.

Team V knows now that this match is not over. And Team Z, for the first time since the opening whistle, believes it too.

Continue to Chapter 29 →