The sound of rustling fabric echoed in the locker room, crisp and sharp, like a prelude to battle. Yugen stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his jersey. The white fabric clung neatly to his frame, the Kelshea crest gleaming like a symbol of unspoken purpose. He stared at himself—not out of vanity, but out of habit. As if searching for something in the reflection.
A hand clapped his shoulder.
"Looking good, haha."
Akane grinned beside him, carefree and charged with his usual spark.
Yugen offered a faint smile, nodding. Before the silence could return, another voice carried through the room—measured, calm, yet unmistakably in control.
"Let's introduce ourselves. It'll help us understand each other better on the pitch," Yuto said, stepping forward like a general preparing his unit.
"I'll start," Akane said without missing a beat. "Akane Ota."
A beat of silence, then a mutter—low and almost reluctant.
"Sazanami Iori."
Yugen's gaze flicked toward the speaker. His thoughts stirred.
He looks like a girl... but his eyes—they're sharp. Focused.
Next came a calm, composed voice.
"Hirano Kumi."
"Sei Yuto," the leader said simply, before turning to Yugen.
"So Yugen," he replied.
Yuto nodded once, then turned to the whiteboard behind him. He moved quickly, sketching out a rough formation with practiced ease.
KUMI
. .
AKANE IORI
. .
YUTO YUGEN
"We'll run a striker rotation. Every ten minutes, we switch. It'll keep us unpredictable." He capped the marker. "I'll focus on defense and control. No need for me to rotate up."
His gaze swept over the group.
"Any objections?"
No one spoke. Yugen said nothing, but he watched Yuto carefully.
He's different. Calm, precise. A natural leader. And yet…
"And one more thing," Yuto added. "Whatever happens out there—no hard feelings."
Yugen's jaw tightened.
No hard feelings? Tch. We all have something to prove out there. We may be a team, but each of us is chasing our own dream.
---
The stadium field stretched before them like an untouched canvas. The wind whispered across the grass. Yugen and Akane walked its length in silence, observing the pitch, sensing the tension thickening in the air. Then, in the distance—they saw them.
Team Black.
A group of shadows standing still, yet exuding an aura of quiet threat. Kou stood at the front, expression unreadable, gaze fixed beyond. He turned his back without a word. Jin followed him—silent, composed. The others trailed behind.
All except one.
A smile sliced through the air like a knife.
Inyo.
His tongue ran across his lips, his grin too wide, too sweet.
He stared directly at them—as if they were prey.
Yugen froze. Something about that look—it didn't belong in a sports match.
It belonged in a horror film.
Akane whistled under his breath. "Geez. What a bunch of characters. Thought this'd be like some shounen showdown… but this feels more like a nightmare, huh?"
He laughed, but even his tone was strained.
"Come on," he added, nudging Yugen. "Let's head back. Our turn's coming."
---
A booming voice filled the arena.
"Team White—enter now!"
The lights dimmed as five figures stepped forward. Kumi. Yugen. Akane. Yuto. Iori.
Shadows stretched behind them, but their eyes were fixed ahead.
Then the announcer's voice shifted—deeper, darker.
"And now… Team Black."
The stadium lights shifted. And then—laughter. Low. Mocking.
"You're making it seem like we're the villains… keke."
Inyo's voice dripped with sweetness and venom, both at once.
Their team emerged—walking as one, but giving the impression of fragments held together by force rather than unity. Kou stood at the center, unmoved. Jin beside him, unreadable. Inyo at the side, his grin even wider.
"Oh my," Inyo cooed, locking eyes with Yugen. "Villains? Whatever makes you think that?"
The whistle blew.
Kickoff.
---
The moment the ball rolled, Kou was on it. One touch. Controlled. Direct.
He surged forward, eyes on the goal.
Yugen's pulse jumped.
Let's see it then—show me what a genius looks like.
Kou flicked a backheel to Sosei. Seamless. Then sprinted into open space.
The white team moved in response, reacting instinctively.
Kuro's strategy, Yugen realized. He's copying Kuro from the trials. Drawing defenders out—then circling back for the kill.
It was clean. Too clean.
Sosei lobbed the ball—perfect arc, like Sai's pass from before.
But something was wrong.
Yugen's eyes scanned the field.
Wait. That's not the real play…
And then he saw it.
Jin. Unmarked. Positioned for the strike.
Yugen lunged—but Sosei turned slightly, his voice calm.
"Too late."
Jin stepped forward—only for Kou to cut in, mid-air, spinning.
An overhead left kick. Precise. Ruthless.
[SCOREBOARD: 1–0]
The ball hit the back of the net like a gunshot.
Silence.
Then, laughter—from the sidelines.
Mikaila.
"Haha! That kid is good. As expected," he said, arms crossed, grin sharp. "You all thought he was copying someone? Nah. He just made you think that. He made the whole field his chessboard—and you all, his pieces."
His voice dropped.
"He'll use teammates, opponents, anyone. Manipulate them to his will—just to get what he wants."
---
Yugen stood frozen, his chest rising and falling.
Kou… What are you?
Akane exhaled in disbelief. "Did he just… Did he even need Jin? It's like he tricked even his own team into setting him up."
Iori's voice cut through the daze.
"Let's win."
Yugen blinked, then nodded.
"Yeah."
The game wasn't over.
It had only just begun.
[Chapter End]