"He's fast! He's charging—stop him!"
On Team Z's left flank, a defender pushed forward to join the striker in intercepting Ryūma.
Ryūma didn't flinch. With a sharp left-right feint, he slipped past the first man.
As he surged ahead, the second defender closed in.
"Out of my way, small fry!"
With those words, Ryūma spun into a Marseille Turn, breezing past the second defender and driving straight toward Team Z's backfield.
"He's too strong! I couldn't even hold him for a second!"
"Sorry, Iron Walls! We couldn't even slow his dribble!"
By then, one of the four-man line guarding the penalty area had already stepped up from the left side to meet him, while the other three each slid one spot over to cover.
The shape never broke—always three players across, the fourth rotating forward to reinforce.
This completely sealed Ryūma's shooting angle from the left edge of the box. And even if he tried to pass, Team Z's markers had already pressed up from behind.
Hiori, the triplets—every teammate was either locked down or blocked out.
"Huh? Looks like I'm trapped, huh?"
But instead of panicking, Ryūma's grin only widened.
"Of course you're trapped, kid! Hand the ball over!"
The one speaking was Murakami Haiichi, second only to Yukio Ishikari in size and strength among the four.
(Hm? He's pushing the ball left with his right foot… Is this that triple-change move from the replays?)
Before Murakami could finish the thought, Ryūma exploded into motion. As expected, he faked acceleration left—then suddenly burst right!
(Damn—watching replays is nothing like facing him! He's so fast!)
Murakami swung out a leg to block, but he kept his eyes locked on Ryūma, knowing another change of direction was coming.
And sure enough—Ryūma slammed to a halt mid-sprint, then instantly burst left!
(What? That's nothing like the footage! I thought he'd need time to recover after stopping!)
(But he switched directions the very instant he halted!)
(He's too fast—my eyes can follow him, but my body can't react in time. He's already slipping past me!)
Murakami desperately threw out his other leg, but his balance was gone—he had barely pulled back from the first block before lunging again.
"Hmph. What good is reacting too late?"
This time, Ryūma didn't power through. Instead, he flicked the ball up with the tip of his foot, sailing it right over Murakami's extended leg.
Blazing past him, Ryūma surged toward the box.
But Team Z closed ranks immediately. The two defenders he had just beaten rushed back in front, while Akemi Inoue—one of the four-man wall who had stolen from him earlier—trailed close behind, ready to cut him off.
(What now? Even if I beat these two, that guy behind them will snatch it!)
(Pass? No. That would mean backing down. I'll fight through!)
Dropping his shoulder, Ryūma feinted left—then burst right to leave the first man behind.
At the second, he whipped out an Okocha feint, shaking him off with ease. Without losing a step, he charged straight at Akemi Inoue.
(Huh? He's not slowing? He plans to beat me with speed?)
As they closed, Ryūma suddenly spun backward to his right.
(A spin move? Too naive!)
Inoue lunged to intercept—but just as he thought he had him, Ryūma rocketed left instead!
(Huh? Wait—where's the ball?)
Spinning around, Inoue realized the ball had already slipped behind him.
(What? When did it get past me? That spin… it was a feint! The moment he turned right, he kicked the ball left. I focused on him and completely forgot to track the ball!)
Grinding his teeth, Inoue turned and chased, shouting furiously:
"You dare trick me? I'll steal it back!"
But Ryūma had no time to spare him—he had finally reached the edge of the penalty area!
Two more stood in his way: Yukio Ishikari and Shūhō Aoki.
(Don't rush. Read the angles. If I make even a small mistake here, the shot gets blocked. Stay calm. I've practiced this countless times—I won't fail!)
Steadying his breath, he whispered to himself—
"Now!"
[Thud]
Seeing him pull the trigger, Ishikari and Aoki instantly dove to block in their own ways.
But just when they thought they had it sealed, the ball bent. A sharp curve arced it past both of them toward the goal!
(Hah! This is the secret I forged through endless training—my "Shift Shot"!)
Ryūma's eyes gleamed with pride.
By altering angle, timing, strike point, and power, a straight shot could morph into countless paths. This was his unique technique—the Shift Shot.
But just two meters from goal, Murakami Haiichi came sliding back in. Using his height, he leapt sideways and blocked the ball with his body, deflecting it away.
Team Z's iron defense had revealed itself in full.
Akemi Inoue, lurking in the shadows for interceptions.
Yukio Ishikari, the tallest player in high school.
Murakami Haiichi, master of positioning.
And Shūhō Aoki, the all-rounder.
(Hah? When did he get back? Damn, that height is unfair! These guys—all they do is defend! It's infuriating!)
(Individually they're weaklings, but ten of them throwing everything into defense—it's a nightmare to break through!)
Grinding his teeth, Ryūma muttered,
"A defense on this scale..."
Then he lifted his head, eyes blazing purple, and grinned wildly.
"My moment has come! If you stand in the way of my path to becoming the world's number one striker… I'll crush you and move forward!"