Team Z vs. Team W
Score: 3 - 3
Time Remaining: 30 Minutes.
The game had dissolved into a nightmare. It wasn't football anymore; it was a public execution.
Team Z tried to attack, but every time they did, Kuon was there.
Not to help. To hinder.
"Pass to me!" Kuon would yell, dragging a defender into the passing lane, effectively creating a double-team on his own teammates.
"Whoops!" Kuon would say when he 'accidentally' bumped into Bachira.
The Wanima brothers were relentless.
"Look at them struggle," Junichi laughed.
"Pathetic," Keisuke sneered.
They stole the ball from a frustrated Raichi.
Counter-attack.
Kuon "tripped" trying to defend, leaving the center wide open again.
Junichi Wanima blasted a shot past Iemon.
GOAL.
Team Z: 3 - Team W: 4
"Dammit!" Kunigami punched the turf. "We can't win! It's impossible!"
The morale of Team Z shattered. They were down a goal, playing 10 vs 12, with their own top scorer actively sabotaging them.
Isagi stood at the center circle. He wasn't panting. He was staring at the ground, his eyes darting rapidly.
Calculation... Calculation... Error.
My Metavision can see the threats. I can see Kuon's movements. I can dodge him. But I can't dribble past 11 players and a traitor all by myself. Not with these physical stats.
He looked at his teammates.
Raichi was exhausted. Bachira was being triple-teamed. Kunigami was mentally broken.
And then there was Chigiri Hyoma.
The red-haired pretty boy (Rank 292) was standing on the right wing, doing absolutely nothing. He was jogging. Avoiding contact. Protecting his right leg like it was made of glass.
Isagi walked over to him.
"Hey," Isagi said, his voice low and dangerous.
Chigiri looked up, startled. "Isagi?"
"Get off the field," Isagi spat.
Chigiri blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," Isagi stepped closer, invading his personal space. "We're playing 10 vs 12. But actually, it's 9 vs 12. Because you? You're a ghost. You're useless."
Chigiri frowned. "You don't know anything about me. My leg..."
"I don't care about your leg," Isagi cut him off, his blue aura flaring. "You're scared. You think you're tragic because you had an injury? Boo-hoo. Everyone here is fighting for their life. But you're just watching."
Isagi grabbed Chigiri's collar.
"If you're going to give up, just go sit on the bench with the other losers. I'd rather play with 9 men who want to win than 10 men where one is a coward."
Isagi shoved him away.
"You're not a soccer player, Chigiri. You're just a spectator with a good view."
Isagi turned his back and walked away to the restart spot.
"Don't pass to the redhead," Isagi commanded the team. "He's dead weight."
Chigiri stood there, frozen. His hands were trembling.
The words cut deep. Coward. Spectator. Dead weight.
Memories flashed in his mind. The doctor's words. If you tear that ACL again, your career is over.
Fear.
But Isagi's eyes... those cold, judgmental eyes... they hurt more than the fear.
He looked at me like I was trash.
Chigiri clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms.
I'm not trash. I was a genius. I was faster than anyone.
The whistle blew.
Kickoff.
Isagi got the ball. He moved forward.
Kuon came to block him. "Give it up, Isagi! It's over!"
Isagi didn't pass. He didn't shoot.
He smashed a long ball into the open space on the right wing.
A space where nobody was.
"A bad pass?" Kuon laughed. "You're panicking!"
Isagi stared at the empty space.
No, Isagi thought. I'm betting. If there's an ego in that red head, he'll run. If he doesn't... we die here.
"RUN, CHIGIRI!" Isagi screamed, his voice cracking with intensity. "PROVE ME WRONG!"