Inside Team V's locker room.
Nagi Seishiro lay facedown on the bench, eyes glued to his phone.
"Hey, Nagi," said Zantetsu Kensei, walking over. "You skipped out halfway through practice again, didn't you?"
"Practice is a pain," Nagi mumbled without looking up.
"You know what happens when you slack off too much? Lactic acid builds up, causes glucosamine to harm your knees. Am I right or am I right?"
"…Right," Nagi replied flatly.
Reo Mikage slung an arm around Zantetsu's shoulders.
"Idiot. Nagi doesn't need to practice."
Zantetsu frowned. "Reo, you spoil him too much."
"Of course I do," Reo said, smiling faintly. "Because this guy he's my treasure."
Reo's Memories
My life used to be dull. Monotonous.
Reo's father once wrapped an arm around his mother and said to him,
"Reo, you were born to surpass me. Everything in this world belongs to you."
His mother added sweetly,
"Anything you want, darling, just say the word."
But even then, all Reo could mutter was,
"I'm bored. I'm so… bored."
Then he met Ryan Hoshino.
It was at a grand party. Reo had come along with his parents, half-asleep with boredom.
"Reo, there are kids your age over there. Go say hello," his mother encouraged.
He glanced over and froze. A group of high-class girls, daughters of politicians and billionaires, were all gathered around one boy, hanging onto every word he said.
Among them were the daughter of the Shigomi Conglomerate, the great-granddaughter of a former Prime Minister people usually treated like untouchable royalty.
And yet, they were crowding around him.
Reo recognized that boy immediately: the heir to the mighty Hoshino Group, even wealthier and more powerful than his own family.
Ryan Hoshino.
Reo walked up confidently, expecting the usual attention. Surely everyone would turn toward him they always did.
But this time, nobody cared.
They greeted him politely, briefly, and went straight back to Ryan.
Even Ryan himself didn't so much as acknowledge him; he gave Reo one indifferent glance, then turned away.
"Ryan, manners," came a gentle voice.
A stunningly beautiful woman walked up behind him Ryan's mother. She lightly tapped her son's head in mock scolding.
"Be polite. When someone greets you, greet them back."
"I don't wanna," Ryan said bluntly. "I'll say hello when I feel like it."
His mother sighed but smiled apologetically at Reo.
"I'm sorry, Reo kun. He can be a little rude sometimes."
"…It's fine," Reo muttered.
That was the first time he met Ryan Hoshino.
Years later, they ended up at the same middle school.
Ryan, by then, had entered his rebellious "chūni" phase too many shōnen manga, maybe. He'd decided he was going to be the "boss" of the school.
And terrifyingly enough, he did it.
Within a year, Ryan beat up every single boy in school, Reo included. The teachers couldn't stop him. Even groups of ten or fifteen students couldn't overpower him.
By the end of the year, Ryan Hoshino owned that school.
For Reo, those three years were hell.
In elementary school, he'd always been number one in everything: grades, sports, popularity. But now? Ryan crushed him in every category.
Ryan was always first.
Reo was always second.
When they finally went to different high schools, Reo thought he'd feel free. But instead… everything felt empty again.
He walked the halls of his elite high school, surrounded by admiration.
"Morning, Reo!"
"Congrats on getting first place again! You're amazing!"
Anything he wanted, he could have.
And yet he didn't want anything.
Everything came too easily.
It was boring.
What I want, he thought, is something truly mine, something only I can find.
That was when a soccer ball rolled into view.
Reo's eyes caught the motion on a nearby screen showing players hoisting the World Cup trophy. His heart stirred for the first time in years.
That's it. That's what I want.
He told his parents he wanted to play soccer.
His father's face hardened immediately.
"No. Give it up."
"Why? You said I could have anything I wanted!"
"You're my heir. Only those with natural talent become professional players. Starting now is too late."
His mother nodded. "You're meant to be a top businessman, Reo. This is for your own good."
Their words made his stomach twist.
Everything they give me… it's never what I truly want.
So this time, he didn't listen.
He started training on his own.
He knew Ryan Hoshino played soccer had even led his middle school to three national championships.
So Reo challenged him.
"Hey, let's play one-on-one."
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"What, you go dumb from studying too hard? You've been playing soccer for, what, a week? And you think you can challenge me?"
"I just want to see the difference between us."
Ryan sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But don't cry when I break you."
Moments later, Reo was on his knees, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat.
Ryan balanced the ball under his foot, looking down at him.
"Thirty percent."
"…What?"
"I only used thirty percent of my strength."
Reo's eyes went wide. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't even touched the ball and Ryan hadn't even gone all out.
Ryan yawned and walked away.
"Keep training. Maybe in ten or twenty years, you'll be able to see my back."
Days later, Reo sat in class, staring blankly ahead while the teacher droned on.
I'll make this school's soccer team win nationals, he thought. Then the World Cup. I'll prove them all wrong.
After school, lost in thought, he descended the stairs
and bumped into a white-haired boy sitting there playing on his phone.
"Sorry," Reo said.
The phone slipped from the boy's hand, tumbling down the steps.
Without hesitation, the white-haired boy jumped after it and stopped it perfectly midair with the top of his foot.
Reo froze, eyes wide.
That trap… it was beautiful.
The boy casually picked up his phone again.
"Still alive," he muttered, and went back to playing.
"You're amazing!" Reo said, running over. "Are you on the soccer team?"
"Ah. Dead."
"Huh?"
"Who are you?" the boy asked lazily. "If you want me to play soccer, pay me."
"What?"
"I don't play sports. I just wanna live lazy. Pay me."
"But that control… that physique… you have real talent! If you practiced, you could go pro!"
"Practice to go pro? Sounds like a pain. I hate pain. And I hate work."
Reo's father's words echoed in his mind: Only the talented can be chosen as footballers.
And right here, before him, was a natural-born talent.
He smiled. "You're interesting. Stay that way. Let's play soccer together."
My life had been nothing but boredom
until I met football… and Nagi Seishiro.
Team Z Dorms
"Guess that face means you think we can win next match," Bachira said, pulling a goofy expression.
"No, no," Isagi replied. "That looks more like an 'I've got a stomachache' face."
"Wrong!" Kunigami jumped in. "It's clearly 'How's your grandma doing?' face."
"Wrong again," Bachira grinned. "Correct answer: 'What does rain taste like?'"
"Who the hell would guess that?!" Isagi shouted.
"These Samejima brothers' guessing games are impossible!"
Iemon suddenly appeared from behind them.
"Can we please have some tension here? Tomorrow decides everything."
"See? That's an 'I'm kinda mad' face," Bachira said immediately.
"Don't use my face for your stupid quiz!" Iemon snapped.
"Alright, alright," Kuon cut in, chuckling. "Let's start the strategy meeting."
But before they could begin, Ego Jinpachi's face filled the big screen.
"Long time no see, maggots. You probably think your success so far is the result of hard work but it's nothing more than luck.
For a striker aiming to be the best in the world, recreating goals is what truly matters.
A dramatic, once-in-a-lifetime goal may be beautiful, but it's meaningless if you can't do it again.
The world is full of strikers who scored once and vanished. Why? Because their success was coincidental.
What you need now… is to create your own goal formula, an equation for scoring.
How far were you from the goal? How many defenders were in your way? Where did you receive the pass? What did you feel in that moment? Analyze it all. Internalize it. Reproduce it.
Your running, your dribbling, your finishing all of it must follow a reproducible pattern.
Every world-class striker has their own unique formula.
And you still basking in accidental glory are nothing but trash.
If you want to evolve, find the formula to repeat your success.
Matches change in an instant. Only those who can consistently reproduce their shots, those who can mass-produce explosive goals are true world-class forwards.
Don't rely on coincidence.
Crave victory."
The screen flickered off, replaced by a countdown:
Next Match – 1 Day Remaining.
Isagi sat quietly, thinking.
Recreate my shot… A formula I can use anytime, anywhere. That's what Ego means.
My weapon is spatial awareness. But alone, it's useless. I'll never surpass them unless I evolve.
Meanwhile, Ryan hadn't listened to a single word.
He was staring at the screen, stomach growling. When's he gonna shut up? I'm starving…
The moment Ego's speech ended, Ryan jumped to his feet and started heading for the door only to hear Isagi call out behind him.
"Hey, Ryan wait a second."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you're interested, you can read advanced chapters:
pat reon .com / Samorash
~> Bonus Chapter every 300PS!!