"Who's taking the free kick?"
"It's far, we should just pass it instead of shooting."
"Yeah, a pass gives us a better chance."
"I can do it. I'm a midfielder, so the ball's near me anyway."
"Then a forward should receive the pass. They're the ones with the best chances of scoring."
"But what about their defense? They'll pack the box."
"Their keeper is a problem, too. He was with the first-team reserves last year. He won't get caught off guard."
"Then should we feint it? We can trick them into overcommitting."
"Or play it to the edge of the box, then strike from there."
"I'm tall enough to win any header against them. Just lob it to me."
"I think the defenders need to stay back, though. We can't risk a counterattack."
"Yes, that's a good idea. But instead… should we draw another foul closer to the goal?"
"Yeah."
"That's a good idea."
Ryo stood outside of their huddle, listening as they tossed around ideas, each one trying to make themselves important to the play. But they seemed to forget that Ryo had scored their one and only goal, and they didn't even look for his input on the free kick.
And now they were seriously talking about drawing another foul instead of making the most of their chance? Pathetic. If they truly want to make the team, they need to learn how to convert the positions they are given through their hard work and determination.
"How about I take the free kick?" His unwavering voice cut through their chatter. Every head snapped toward him, looking at him as though he had uttered complete nonsense. Before any of them could get a snide comment out, Ryo continued,
"I was the one fouled. Shouldn't I be the one to take it?"
The midfielder sneered. "Can you even reach the goal from here?"
"Yeah, without a problem. I'll get a shot on goal, so you just need to be ready to get the rebound if needed."
I don't want to be too confrontational with them, but we are running out of time to decide, so I need a way to convince them.
Fweeet
The referee's whistle reverberated in the air, signaling them to hurry.
"Look," Ryo said sternly, "We don't have time to argue about how to approach this. You all know that I was the one who was fouled, so I get to choose. I will take the free kick directly and shoot on goal; all you guys need to do is be ready to follow up if the keeper deflects it."
"What if you miss, though? They'll counter before we reset."
"I am not going to waste my time here debating my skill," Ryo shot back. "But if I miss, or if they form a strong counterattack, I'll personally ask the coach to switch me out for the rest of the game."
After a few seconds of silence, the striker agreed, "Alright."
The others reluctantly gave in, so while they all got into position, Ryo stepped forward, placing the ball carefully, and began taking steps backwards, setting up his run.
On the sidelines, Ren watched quietly as the match unfolded, silently observing his younger brother's every move. His own scrimmage had ended earlier, and with two goals to his name, his spot on the first team was already locked in.
Ryo's team, however, seemed to have a much different atmosphere than his. Ren frowned slightly, noticing the hostility in the air. It's a lot easier to score when your teammates actually work with you. Not that it mattered much to Ryo, though. He could probably turn around any situation, no matter how unfavorable it is for him.
The match dragged forward. It was chaotic and lacked any proper strategy, but Ren didn't worry—at least not until he saw the heavy tackle that sent Ryo to the ground. Slightly worried for his well-being, Ren went over to where the coaches stood, concern rising beneath his usually calm expression.
As one of the team's standout players, Ren's opinion carried a lot of weight among players, so the coaches usually respected his input. Using his good standing, he wanted to make sure everything was alright with Ryo, and eventually, he came face-to-face with the coaches.
Right in front of him stood Coach Matsumoto. He was a rather good-looking and fit middle-aged man who had a very strong work ethic, and this sharp work ethic made him an efficient, demanding coach. In his youth, he had played in the J-League, but aside from a few memorable matches, his career hadn't reached the heights he had dreamed of. With a passion for nurturing young players, after his retirement, he eventually settled in Nagano to build a team.
Coach Takigawa, on the other hand, had never played in the J-League. He was always interested in football, but he preferred teaching others over being a player, though he could still play reasonably well. After graduating from high school, he began training under Coach Matsumoto, and within two years, his natural coaching ability earned him a place as an assistant. Now, in his third year with Ryusei Elementary, Takigawa still had a lot to learn, but Matsumoto had a lot of faith in the 22-year-old.
Ren held both of his coaches in high regard. They were strict at times, but their passion for the game, and especially for teaching it, was genuine.
"Coach," Ren said, addressing Matsumoto directly, "are you not going to check on Ryo? That slide tackle looked quite painful."
"No," Matsumoto replied without even glancing at him. "Unless the referee signals that he's in trouble, I don't plan on interfering."
Ren's eyes followed the referee, who crouched briefly beside Ryo before standing back up and giving a quick thumbs up to the bench, signaling he was alright.
"Besides," he added, a hint of interest in his tone, "I think your brother still has something he wants to show us. If he's fine, it wouldn't be right to pull him out now."
Ryo still has something to show? As much as he believed in his brother, Ren doubted he could do much in this situation. After this free kick, there won't be much action left in the game. And there's no way those guys, who take pride in being second-team starters and reserves, would ever pass him the ball. They'd keep it for themselves.
But then the referee's whistle rang out, and to Ren's surprise, it was Ryo setting up the shot, not anyone else. How in the world did he convince them to let him take it?
Ryo rooted himself in place, his gaze passing over the entire field. Apart from the defenders holding their line behind him, his teammates crowded just outside the box, shuffling to get an opening, trying to lose their marks.
As the referee indicated the spot for the wall, Ryo closed his eyes. A calm feeling washed over him, steadying his breathing and slowing his heartbeat. The voices of teammates, the noise from the sidelines, and the chatter of the audience were all being drowned out.
(One Who Lacked Vision)
[The Player, Who Was Once Blind, Now Experiences A State Of Focus And Calm When Closing Their Eyes.]
Is this the power of a title? The thought came to him as his senses calmed. The instant I closed my eyes, I felt anchored, at peace—like when I used to play blind—feeling almost nostalgic. These titles aren't just slight bonuses… their powers are no joke.