Chapter 42: Chemical Reaction
The stadium was trapped in a heavy, pressurized silence. On the monitors, the 2-0 glowed, but the air on the pitch felt like it was about to ignite.
As the ball left Eshan's boot at the end of the last play, Isagi didn't wait for it to arrive. He was already gone. His brain was working at a frequency he had never felt before; the field had turned into a map of moving pieces. He didn't need a word from Eshan to know where to go. They both saw the same opening Reo had left behind.
Isagi reached the empty grass just as the ball arrived. Reo was lunging, and Zantetsu was a blur coming from the flank, closing the angle. Isagi didn't hesitate. He played a sharp, first-time pass back to Eshan and continued his sprint, disappearing into the chaos of the box.
The Team V defense swarmed Eshan immediately. Three players converged on him, cutting off every standard passing lane. To the crowd, it looked like Eshan had been backed into a corner. Eshan didn't look at the defenders. He didn't even look at the goal.
Without breaking his stride, Eshan struck the ball with a strange, high-arc lift. It wasn't aimed at any player. He sent the ball into a completely empty "dead zone" far away from the action. The Team V defenders froze, their eyes tracking the ball as it soared toward a patch of grass where no one was standing. It looked like a massive mistake.
But as the ball began to drop, the space wasn't empty anymore.
Isagi appeared out of the blind spot of the center-back, emerging at the exact moment the ball hit its peak. He hadn't run to where the ball was; he had run to where Eshan knew it would be. The keeper was caught halfway off his line, his eyes wide with shock. Isagi didn't let the ball touch the grass. He met it with a clean, direct volley that screamed into the back of the net.
TEAM Z 3 - 0 TEAM V
The net snapped back with a violent crack. Isagi stood there, steam rising from his shoulders, his breath coming in jagged gasps. He looked at Eshan, who was already walking toward him with a calm, approving nod.
"I saw it," Isagi whispered, his eyes still glowing.
"Good," Eshan said. His voice was steady and cool. "Then stop thinking and just keep moving."
Across the line, the "Kings" of Team V were broken. Reo was on his knees, staring at the grass in total shock. 3-0. It was a scoreline that defied his reality. Beside him, Nagi was standing perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Eshan. The boredom was gone.
"Hey, Reo," Nagi said. His voice was quiet but heavy. "I think I want to try now."
The atmosphere changed instantly. It wasn't just Nagi's words; it was the way the air around him seemed to thicken. Reo looked up from the turf, his eyes red with frustration, but when he saw Nagi, his breath hitched. Nagi wasn't slouching. His shoulders were back, his spine straight, and his pupils had shrunk into tiny, sharp points of gray light.
"Nagi... you mean it?" Reo whispered, scrambling to his feet.
Nagi didn't answer. He just walked to the center circle and waited for the ball. When the whistle blew, he didn't pass back to Reo. He didn't look for Zantetsu. He simply took the ball and began to move.
It wasn't a sprint. It was a rhythmic, predatory march.
Raichi was the first to meet him. "I don't care how much of a genius you are! You're not getting past—"
Nagi didn't even let him finish. As Raichi lunged for a shoulder-check, Nagi performed a dead-trap mid-stride, killing the ball's momentum so suddenly that Raichi's own weight carried him flying past. Nagi didn't even look at him. He just flicked the ball back into his path and kept walking.
"He's... he's different," Igarashi stuttered, moving in to help.
Nagi's eyes flickered to the left. He saw Gagamaru and Igarashi closing in, forming a wall. Any other player would have looked for a pass. Nagi just kicked the ball high into the air.
"What is he—?"
The ball soared ten feet up. As it began to drop, Nagi leapt. It was a jump that defied his height—graceful, like a cat. While still in the air, he trapped the ball with the back of his heel, flicking it over his own head and over the heads of both defenders. He landed softly, the ball dropping right back onto his laces.
He had just bypassed three players without the ball ever touching the ground.
"Eshan," Nagi said. It was the first time he had spoken Eshan's name during the match.
Eshan was waiting at the edge of the box. He didn't panic. He saw the "heat" Nagi was putting off—the raw, unrefined genius that was finally being directed at a single target. Eshan stepped forward, closing the space, his eyes tracking the micro-movements of Nagi's hips.
Nagi didn't slow down. He drove straight into Eshan's space. As they collided, the sound of their jerseys snapping echoed in the silent stadium. Nagi tried to use his long limbs to hook the ball around Eshan's frame, but Eshan was like a shadow. Every time Nagi moved the ball, Eshan's foot was already there, blocking the path.
It was a stalemate of pure talent.
"You're fast," Nagi muttered, his breath hitting Eshan's neck. "And you're always in the way. It's annoying."
"If it were easy, you'd be bored again," Eshan replied, his voice a cool contrast to Nagi's rising heat.
Nagi gritted his teeth. He performed a rapid-fire sequence of "fake" traps, trying to bait Eshan into overcommitting. He flicked the ball from his left foot to his right, then behind his back, all while moving at a pace that should have shattered his balance.
Eshan didn't bite. He stayed low, his weight perfectly distributed, his silver-gray eyes never leaving the ball. He wasn't guessing; he was feeling the rhythm.
Nagi realized he couldn't get around him. So, he decided to go through him.
Using his superior height, Nagi leaned his entire weight into Eshan's shoulder. At the same time, he flicked the ball upward, intending to perform a "jumping volley" right over Eshan's head. It was a move that required perfect timing and insane core strength.
Nagi's foot made contact. The ball hissed as it took off.
But Eshan had already anticipated the lift. Instead of jumping to block the ball, he used his forearm to create a split-second of leverage against Nagi's chest. He didn't push him—he just redirected Nagi's center of gravity.
The shot left Nagi's foot, but the power was gone. The ball didn't scream into the net; it rose in a weak arc. Eshan didn't flinch. He met the ball with the top of his foot, using his touch to absorb every ounce of energy left in the shot. The ball dropped to the grass, dead, right at his toes.
Nagi landed, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had given everything in that drive. He had "tried," and he had still been stopped.
"Is that all your 'trying' gets you?" Eshan asked. He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and started the next drive.
Behind him, Nagi stood frozen in the box. He looked at his hands, then at Eshan's retreating back. The frustration wasn't going away. It was growing. It was turning into something else—something that looked a lot like a real ego.
"Reo," Nagi called out, his voice shaking slightly. "Again. I'm not done."
The war wasn't over. It was just getting started.
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A/N: Hey! I hope you all are liking the chapters. I really need your feedback because it helps me 'evolve'. It's always great to hear from the actual people reading this—I would love to hear from you guys!
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