Vin sat nervously on the bench. He shuffled uncomfortably, adjusting his hands inside his jacket pocket as coach Gath went over his unnecessarily long itinerary. "Darrow, Galen, Tan, and Yanen, you'll all be playing in the back. We're moving away from one center back for a change…" The coach coughed, fixing his gaze to Vin. "We're playing false nine with Vin tonight. I don't want any fuss or complaints about the formation. Damien, you'll play on the right, Charles on the left. Any questions?"
"The midfield, sir." It was Darrow that spoke, voice deep and repressive. "You want Ganny and Cron there? What about Rowan? Wouldn't Charles and I play better with Vin?"
Coach Gath nodded, the pen in his right-hand tapping against his clipboard. "That's right, but we've been asked to try new things out. Your head-master was approached by the countries board of ethics regarding scouts from clubs. Nothing to worry about, they're just routine with the provincial tournament coming up. Testing new things is natural, so get used to it. Alex, you're still in goal."
Alex muttered something unintelligible but made nothing more of it as his girthy figure strode passed the coach out onto the pitch. Tan was next, shortly followed Cron and the rest of the team as the sound of the crowd cheering replaced by the repressive, gloomy atmosphere of the changing rooms. "Have a good game boys! Make you sure you win!"
Despite the atmosphere and the bright, near blinding lights that illuminated the blanket of darkness that loomed over the pitch, Vin couldn't help but question his coach. Why had they left a meeting on the formation so late? He understood how a false nine played the game, but he'd never actively trained or participated in a game as one…but then, his words somehow made sense to him. It was less an understanding of logic and true comprehension, and more akin to the primal, almost feral desire he felt within to win.
"Darcrest! Ashrun! Are you ready?!"
Vin watched his opposition with unsettling disinterest as they strode out onto the pitch from the other side of the field. The Ashrun stadium was unsurprisingly large, filled with a max capacity of five-hundred; a large figure considering the size of the academy and who was playing. They weren't a small school, but the team was historically weak, and the same could be said Darcrest…though Vin couldn't help but focus his gaze on the slender figure of their ace, Juke Whilat.
"Damien, Charles," the blond-haired boy muttered. Sarcasm oozed from his thin-lips, visibly irritating Damien as he stormed forward. Juke stepped forward into him, hands placed on his hips. "Now, now. You wouldn't waste your spot at the provincials over a measly friendly, would you?"
Vin chuckled, eying the man carefully as he stepped back to his side of the pitch. Juke met his gaze and began looking him up and down, curiosity and dismay etched into his narrow visage. "I don't know you."
"You don't? We beat you last year at the Yellowcroff tournament. Four-three, I'm pretty sure. Ring any bells?"
"Oh," Juke mused, an irritation of his own shifting his previously lax demeanor into a tighter, more restrained stance. "Yes, I remember: you're that frustrating left-winger…you never could shoot with your left-foot, could you? Why are you playing center-forward? Change of heart?"
"Something like that."
Charles pat Vin on the back as he rushed off to the referee on the edge of the pitch; Juke followed shortly after, both ready for the coin-toss. Vin watched the lithe boy slog through the wet grounds alongside Charles' domineering height. There was an immediate pressure Charles exude, yet Juke seemed indifferent. Vin recognized the sensation, if only barely. It was a subtle, cheap imitation of that unwavering thirst for victory he felt within him…and he would rip it from him.
Victory is winning…but it's also destroying competition. I can't be the best and have a challenger.
Vin watched with the same infectious indifference as Charles and Damien immediately closed in on Juke as he first pass was made. He still understood nothing of the sensation, yet as Damien slid passed Juke and flicked the ball back towards him, the only present notion on his mind pried his boots forward. Flicking his foot out, Vin shot his right-foot forward and struck the ball. It immediately hit the air at an arc, curving around Juke and a number of Darcrest players as is swerved into the top-left corner of the goal.
Seconds must have passed…perhaps less, and Vin already felt the sweet, yet tantalizing taste of victory on his tongue—but it wasn't true victory. This was simply a friendly between academies before the large tournament…it was hardly even a game at all.
Vin could see it on everyone's faces: defeat and confusion. Even his teammates seemed uncertain, though the slightest glint of dismay shone in Charles' as he padded back to their half of the pitch. "You might want to tone it down a little, man. Save some for the rest of us!"
Time meshed together as the game went on. Ten minutes passed without another goal, though Vin had found himself within striking range numerous times. Despite that, he focused on passing and disrupting the Darcrest players as he moved in and out of position. It came to him with ease, not unlike the wing-beats of a bird as he jogged up and down the pitch.
"Pass!" Damien spat the words as they ran parallel to one another up the pitch. Vin took a quick glance at the large blackboard set into the north-end of their stadium - it read 1-0 and 13:32 - and then cast his back to his teammate.
Dashing forward, Vin slid the outer-part of his boot into the ball and tucked it through one of the Darcrest' open-legs, and then he did the same for two more with the inner-edge of his boot as he caught the ball. Within a matter of seconds, he effortlessly passed three players and moved to the front of the box. Four players stood in front of him, scattered throughout the box as the blocked his path to Damien. He continued shouting as Vin slid backwards, avoiding a flurry of tackles and dives.
Vin clicked his tongue and hit the ball at an angle. The sudden haste of his kick surprised him, but he watched with increasingly effective comfort as it arced pass the group of players and rolled up to Charles, who stood along the periphery of the keeper's box.
"Nice!" Charles roared. Vin watched with satisfaction as the mess of green bounced up and down, recoiling as Charles fell low; he lunged forward, right-leg snapping into the ball as motion pulsated through the sphere. The all familiar thud shuddered through the air as the ball struck the back of the net. "Yeah!"
Vin jogged back alongside his teammates in silence as they returned to their half of the pitch. The came went on again as it had for the first ten minutes. Utter, unceasing domination ruled the pitch as Darcrest struggled to steal the ball away. Vin weaved in and out of attacks and their brief defenses, sliding the ball between legs and around players with unconventional speed and power.
There was no fault in his technique, however the angle at which the ball arrived…he watched with intrigue as Damien struggled to receive the ball. He staggered forwards, slipping on the damp grass as the ball fell into the keepers hands.
I could have shot.
Vin followed the ball as it was shot down the pitch to their half of it. Unnatural speed guided each step as he followed after Charles and the Darcrest players. He continued watching as Ganny and Rowan contested the ball, though found his gaze was tracing the faint, almost invisible outline of the ball…no—another ball. It slid passed Ganny and Cron as the slid to intercept the pass, meeting the translucent figure of Juke, who stood at the edge of their box.
Another ball formed, and then another…Vin watched uncomfortably as hundreds of lines sprouted from where the ball was at any given moment, latching onto what he assumed only to be possible futures and variations of the game at play. Vin narrowed his gaze and focused on Juke…there were two passes going to him of the now countless possibilities.
Despite the mess of motion that filled his vision, Vin felt a tinge of panic settle in his mind as Juke met his gaze. His golden eyes bore into him, though they lingered only for a moment as he snatched the ball from his teammate and shot for goal.
He did not celebrate as the ball slammed into the back of the net. Instead, Vin watched him and the rest of his team sprint back up the pitch; the former stopped just before the line and glanced back. "You…you see it, don't you? The flow of the game. You're just like me."
Vin couldn't help but laugh as Charles passed the ball back to him. His team had just conceded, and yet he felt nothing but the exhilaration of certain victory as he struck the ball. He watched motion itself guide the ball straight passed the stunned visage of Juke as it slammed into the Darcrest keeper: his gloves caught it, however the sheer force of the strike forced him back into the goal.
"How can we be alike? You're just an academy player…I haven't decided what I am yet."
Ashrun Team Formation, for anyone curious:
Alex: GK
Tan: LB
Darrow: CB
Galen: CB
Yanen: RB
Cron: CM
Ganny: CM
Rowan: CM
Charles: LW
Vin: CF
Damien: RW