Chapter 2: The World Cup Concludes
In Japan, countless young people—much like the caramel–haired boy—chose to stay up late in front of their screens to watch the World Cup. Most of them had prepared tasty snacks in advance to help pass the long hours.
There was the bob-cut boy who painted using his nose to hold the brush, the boy with a sprout-like ahoge, the undefeated genius duo, the younger brother of the New Generation World Eleven midfielder, as well as all members of the U-20 national team—they were all watching the match.
Of course, those staying up late weren't only soccer-loving teenagers. Many others came from various corners of Japan's football world to engage in heated discussions, and even more were ordinary citizens simply fascinated by the World Cup.
Almost everyone's eyes were fixed on Daigo Otoshi.
And for no reason other than this:
that super-genius had betrayed his homeland—Japan.
When Daigo Otoshi made his first appearance, his figure instantly stabbed at the hearts of countless Japanese viewers watching the World Cup.
After all, this proud son of the aristocratic Otoshi family—an elite lineage of Japan—had become the media's focus ever since he stepped onto the field at age six.
Backed by his prestigious noble bloodline, newspapers fought to report on his talent, praising him as a once-in-a-century genius in free kicks and an undeniable hope for the midfield.
At the time, the Japanese public firmly believed that with careful nurturing, he would one day become a dazzling superstar of Japanese football.
Yet fate is ever theatrical.
When Daigo Otoshi was eight, he threw down the explosive line in a media interview:
"Japanese football is absolute trash!"
Then demanded his parents change his nationality to the U.S. and boarded a plane bound for America.
From that moment on, he severed all ties with his homeland.
After that, news of Daigo Otoshi vanished completely, like a stone dropped into the sea.
From then on, whenever a football match aired in Japan, he was never seen again.
And those who were already dissatisfied with the government and media seized the opportunity to mock.
They ridiculed him as arrogant, ignorant, and delusional—and even the media that once praised him as a star among stars became a target of laughter.
Under such an environment, many young beginners truly believed Daigo Otoshi was nothing more than a football clown.
The next time the former Japanese prodigy appeared on Japanese TV…
was during this very World Cup.
When the American team announced its starting lineup, Japan's internet erupted.
Netizens flooded the World Cup live chat, furiously berating the U.S. coach's terrible judgment.
Their anger overflowed as they typed harsh criticism, claiming that putting such a useless person on the field was utterly ridiculous.
But the surprising thing was—
not a single foreign viewer agreed with the Japanese chatter.
Instead, they questioned why Japanese people thought the American team captain, Daigo Otoshi, was some worthless bum—especially considering he was born in Japan.
Faced with foreign doubts, Japanese netizens gave their reasoning:
He hadn't been on the field in ages, and even if he had, he'd never appeared on Japanese TV or any social media platform. So clearly, he must only be playing in irrelevant, low-tier matches.
Upon hearing this, many Americans couldn't hold back their anger. They spammed countless reaction images—most of them sarcastic smirks carrying obvious implications, as if mocking Japan's ignorance.
Some even went as far as to say:
"No wonder the U.S. captain once said Japanese football is garbage—looks like he had good reason."
Stung by such sarcasm, Japanese netizens grew furious and rushed to type long rants, determined to tell the world that Daigo Otoshi was nothing but a traitorous trash-clown.
But before they could send their messages—
Daigo Otoshi scored the first goal: 1–0.
All the Japanese viewers froze mid-insult.
This fourteen-year-old super-genius displayed breathtaking offensive skill. Agile and efficient, he weaved across the pitch with neat, decisive movements.
He chose the shortest route and cooperated flawlessly with two wingers, sending the ball straight into France's goal area.
This was no lucky shot. Facing players like the world's No.1 striker, Noël Noah, the American team had carefully prepared defensive plans.
As the game progressed, both teams clashed fiercely. The Americans guarded tightly, refusing to give an inch.
In this explosive tension—
the boy Japan had mocked as a clown shone brilliantly, scoring a goal of pure technical mastery.
It utterly shattered the Japanese internet's ridicule.
"Daigo Otoshi is a super-genius of football"—
the phrase resurfaced as if resurrected after six long years, burned back into Japan's collective memory.
Time passed—
from his first killer shot to his historic hat trick in the World Cup finals. His performance left Japanese viewers stunned beyond belief.
They watched him glide across the field like a phantom, every touch and shot brimming with unmatched power and precision. As the goal trembled before him as if about to collapse, Japanese hearts filled with confusion.
Why had someone so brilliant abandoned Japanese football?
Was Japanese football truly so hopeless that it couldn't keep such a prodigy?
They could not figure it out.
Americans didn't need to.
"ARTHAS! ARTHAS! ARTHASSSSSSSSS!"
Pong!!!!!! Pong!!!!!!
All the American fans who adored Daigo Otoshi rose to their feet. Their chant lacked rhythm at first, but minutes later, their voices synchronized.
The stadium roared.
Seeing the crowd sync up, the drummer began pounding along with the rhythm.
Americans not watching live were packed into bars or their homes. After the captain's shot, some grabbed boxes of fireworks, hoping the moment the referee declared "America wins," they could ignite them in the streets to celebrate America's first World Cup victory.
On the French side, their cheers were overwhelmed at first, but with guidance from their cheer squad, their volume surged.
"Noah! Noah! You're the world's No.1 striker!
Loki! Loki! You're France's hope!"
Bang!! Bang!!
French fans in jerseys banged bats and various objects in rhythm, refusing to lose to America's momentum.
Inside the stadium, both cheering sections grew louder and louder, terrified the players might not hear them.
On the field, it was as if two giant beasts appeared on the green—America's Ghost Spider and France's Gallic Rooster.
They clashed violently. Two minutes flew by in a blink.
With the whistle, the 90 minutes of the finals concluded in a tie.
Extra time began.
30 minutes remaining.
France's speed demon Loki took the ball first.
Still shaken by the captain's killer shot, he feared that if Daigo Otoshi touched the ball again, another lethal strike would follow.
That pressure pushed Loki to break through to a new level of speed.
Thump thump thump—
Four American midfielders and a forward chased him. Their "spiders" were only slightly slower than Loki—just enough of a gap to terrify.
Thankfully, America's "web" of defenders cut him off, and the ball returned to the U.S. side, where another forward began a new offensive route.
Meanwhile, the U.S. ace, Daigo Otoshi, was blocked by France's ace, Noel Noah.
King vs. King.
Neither moved.
Perhaps trying to distract Daigo or settle unfinished business, Noah asked:
"As Japan's former prodigy… why did you abandon Japanese football?"
Daigo's expression remained unchanged.
"Can you imagine Japan winning the World Cup?"
Noah sincerely shook his head.
Daigo chuckled.
"As my opponent, it makes sense you can't."
"But why can't those old fossils in the Japanese Football Association imagine it either? Forget the kids actually playing—how can coaches, staff, and lifelong football idiots fail to see their own future, yet still dare to preach empty words and expect young players to waste their youth on a fantasy, as if winning the Cup is some kind of lottery ticket?"
"If they can't even see the future—
is Japanese football not rotten?"
As he spoke, the five-pointed stars in his eyes shone even brighter, while the darkness around them deepened.
"If I'd been born in the last century, maybe I'd still stick with Japanese football. But in this new era with refined rules, techniques, training, and tactics—
lone heroes will die on the field."
"Good thing I was never that patriotic. If I'm going to grow in football, I might as well join another world Top-16 country—America—and become their football messiah. Feels way better!"
Pong!
With that, Daigo—already accustomed to bone-shattering pain—suddenly sprinted and caught a long pass.
Noah tried to steal it while Daigo was slowed by pain.
But Daigo immediately readied a shot—
with his left foot, not his usual right.
Bang!!!!
The booming blast shook the entire stadium.
A French veteran defender had been watching him closely. He readied himself, using his decades of experience to predict Daigo's movement.
But he never expected the ball to exceed all prediction.
In just 0.1 seconds, the ball—like lightning—rocketed past him and into the net.
He hadn't even reached the spot he intended to block.
Fortunately, the goalposts had been reinforced beforehand; otherwise, the force would have toppled the entire goal.
Even so, one more shot like that might destroy it completely.
At that moment, the score on the massive screen flipped from 4–4 to 5–4.
17 minutes remaining.
Thunderous cheers erupted. Americans went wild.
The energetic blonde American commentator shouted rapidly:
"Just now, the French team—like an awakened lion—launched a fierce counterattack! Noah and Loki worked flawlessly together, breaking through our American defense and scoring TWO points! But our boys refused to yield! Our captain, Arthas—our pride!—used his Killer Shot and scored a point with a devilish angle! That's TWO points back for America!"
"Now let's cheer for our adorable treasure—Arthas!"
As if in response, American fans roared again.
"ARTHAS! ARTHAS! ARTHASSSSS!"
Pong!!!! Pong!!!!
Many Americans felt their hearts pounding dangerously—because of that one Asian captain on the field.
The big screen replayed Daigo's unbelievable performance: his dual-dominant feet switching freely.
Dual-dominant feet + Killer Shot
shook the entire world of football.
Teams worldwide began rethinking their training systems. Fans grew even more excited for future matches.
Seventeen-year-old Loki stared at the fourteen-year-old Japanese-American prodigy. His own heart thumped like the Americans'.
"Does winning the Cup require destroying your body like that?"
Beside him, Noah looked at Daigo struggling to move, breathing carefully just to keep balance—then glanced at the American medical team waiting at the sidelines, surrounded by equipment worth tens or hundreds of millions.
On the vast field, all twenty offensive players—from Noah to Daigo—were running desperately under pressure. The two goalkeepers were vomiting or suffering minor fractures.
Everyone's actions carried one message:
It's worth it.
America's Ghost Spider had lost two massive forelegs.
Daigo Otoshi's legs were both fractured; he could only return to his own half, acting as a defender.
America hurried to reassemble their offensive line with another forward.
But after Daigo's monstrous pressure, France felt almost no threat. They intercepted the ball and pushed toward the American goal.
The American forward didn't give up—he sprinted back to defend.
If America could hold on for a few more minutes, they would all become part of American football history.
But reality was cruel.
9 minutes remaining.
The score tied again: 5–5.
The Gallic Rooster raised its beak proudly over the broken Ghost Spider.
Dual-dominant Noah struck a shot past the exhausted American defenders for one point, then attacked again.
Because of Noah's two-footed abilities, his route was unpredictable—even Daigo couldn't read him. All he could do was drag his broken body to the position he feared most.
He guessed correctly.
The world's No.1 striker smashed the ball straight into Daigo's face.
The fourteen-year-old prodigy crumpled like a ragdoll—but rose again, using adrenaline, to remain a defender.
Loki received the rebound. He felt like the center of the World Cup. One goal, and France would take the Cup.
He tried imitating the captain's Killer Shot—
letting the world cheer for him.
His genetically gifted leg swung—
Failure.
Daigo saw the ball fly toward Loki and twisted his body, using his arms for support. He blocked the Killer Shot copy with his abdomen.
The ball hit the ground. Daigo fought the urge to vomit.
"Boy," he told Loki calmly, "who do you think invented the Killer Shot in the first place?"
The Ghost Spider pierced the Rooster's beak with its mandibles, blocking two deadly attacks.
American fans went insane:
"ARTHAS, YOU'RE THE BEST CAPTAIN EVER!"
Beep beep! Time's up!
Extra time ended.
Penalty shootout began.
Daigo steadied himself. The black eyes with glowing stars stared at his greatest enemy—Noël Noah.
Noah stared back.
Both knew the Cup was about to be decided.
But as Noah turned to warm up, a heavy thud echoed behind him. American players screamed. The referee called the medical team.
Noah turned, expecting to see some weak rookie collapsing under pressure.
Instead, he saw red liquid spreading across the grass.
Daigo Otoshi had lost consciousness and collapsed, narrowly missing the penalty shootout.
When he awoke in an American hospital, the 21st World Cup was already over.
Nearly three-quarters of the players had collapsed from exhaustion afterward. Many were placed in rooms next to Daigo's.
The final result:
France lifted the Cup, winners of the 21st World Cup.
---
November, same year — Japan
A caramel–haired boy looked at the recruitment-designation letter from the Japan Football Union and the personal number card he pulled from his pocket.
"Naruhaya Asahi—this is my name, right? But how do I get to this Japan Football Union place again?"
Asahi scratched his head. Luckily, a black-haired boy in a white training uniform passed by pushing a bicycle. He seemed mentally unwell, muttering, "All for one, one for all."
But Asahi didn't mind—since he'd lost his memory, nothing scared him.
He approached him to ask for directions—
but the boy suddenly yelled loudly and began crying.
"OK! OK! Fine."
Seeing this, Asahi acted on pure instinct, moonwalked backward, and quickly fled the scene.