The second half began under heavy skies not in weather but pressure. Every breath felt tighter.
Keiji Arase stood with arms crossed at the center line. His eyes moved like blades.
He's too composed, Masaki thought from the opposite half. He's reading everything.
Masaki glanced at Taira. The childhood friend that he play football with.he give a smirk to Taira.
"We don't break walls with hammers," Taira muttered as they walked into position.
Masaki smiled faintly. "Time to knock this whole damn thing."
⸻
The restart kicked off, but something was different.
Masaki, instead of staying up front, dropped deep into midfield, acting like a false nine. Taira meanwhile is rotated higher and stay near the offside line. Aomori's defensive shape staggered slightly confuse with this thing.
Keiji noticed immediately. "He will do something" he shouted to his center backs. "Don't follow too deep! Stay focus everyone."
But they hesitated.
Midfield Misugi collected the ball and fed it to Masaki. One touch back. Aoi overlapped down the right. Nothing yet — just movement.
Then again: Misugi ➝ Masaki ➝ back to Misugi.
Suddenly Taira sprinted into the gap.
Keiji's eyes widened.
He sprinted trying to intercept but only to find Masaki already pass the ball behind him. Taira blast the shot.A narrow miss.
The pressure was mounting
⸻
Minutes ticked.
Masaki began to walk more. Jog slowly. Avoid the ball.
Keiji smirked. Tired already?
A ball came near Masaki but he let it pass and make the other take the ball. Another time, he signaled for Aoi to switch wide.
From the sideline, even the Seikan bench looked confused.
"He's… fading?" one of them whispered.
But Taira knew. He knew that look in Masaki's eyes. It is the eye same one he had before breaking the entire opponent team making them feel like just want to stop the game.
Masaki wasn't fading. He was setting the something.
And Keiji took the bait.
Higuchi got the ball deep in Seikan's half. Aomori had pushed high giving a pressure and Keiji slightly advanced.
Masaki was ten meters infront of Keiji. He is in motionless state. Waiting for right time.
Now.
Higuchi sent it. A long pass, curling ball cutting the sky.
Masaki exploded into motion like a predator.
Keiji trying to take the ball or intercept it but
with just one elegant touch of his left foot, Masaki lobbed the ball over Keiji's head.
The crowd gasped.
The second center back then rushed forward trying to press he is running faster and press masaki.
Masaki didn't slow.
He dropped a body feint — Messi-like — low center of gravity then doing a fake left and instant shift to right.
Gone. He past the last defender
Now just the keeper.
Masaki didn't blast. He didn't chip.
He curled.
A soft, rolling shot. Low. Elegant.
Far post.
Goal.
3–1.
The stadium erupted
Keiji stood still and now his chest feel heavy.
Masaki walked past him and muttered something.
"You study players like pieces on a board…" he said quietly. "But this isn't chess."
He looked over his shoulder.
"It's football."
Keiji didn't respond.
But in his mind—
Did I overcalculate… or did I underestimate him?
⸻
Something had cracked.
Keiji began shouting orders, but they sounded frantic now. "Tighter on Taira! Collapse the triangle! Watch the late runs!"
His voice was strained. Uncertain.
Aomori's fullbacks hesitated. Their midfielders delayed pressing. Doubt had seeped in like poison.
Misugi now controlled the rhythm with authority. Aoi's sprints became sharper. Hyuga's touches more daring.
In the 54th minute, another break came.
Masaki took the ball at midfield and threaded a vertical ball to Taira — who one-touched it back to Hyuga.
Keiji tried to recover but he is still confuse
He wasn't leading the flow anymore. He was chasing it.
And in his ears, the words echoed again:
This isn't chess.
⸻
With 15 minutes left, Seikan shifted to a compact diamond. Their pace increased, fueled by momentum.
From the sideline, Coach Himura shouted, "One more! Don't let them recover!"
Masaki's eyes were locked forward. Still calm. Still hunting.
Taira approached him during a throw-in.
"Next one," he whispered.
Masaki nodded.
"Make it beautiful."
⸻
Aomori North regained possession briefly, but their shape was messy. One loose touch and Misugi intercepted the ball.
He immediately launched a high pass to the left.
Masaki was already running.
Keiji sprinted to cover.
The crowd stood.
Then—
Keiji's voice, strained and low, echoed over the roar:
"If we lose the next goal…"
A pause.
"…we lose the game."
And this time, even he sounded afraid.