Chapter 12: The Architecture of the Void
The strategy room was bathed in the dim, blue glow of the digital whiteboard. After Jinpachi Ego's "0 to 1" speech, the atmosphere in Team Z had shifted from nervous to desperate. The "fairness" of high school soccer had been replaced by the cold reality of the "Goal Formula."
"Everyone... look at the board," Kuon said, his voice straining to sound like a leader. He was tapping a digital pen against the screen. "We face Team X tomorrow. If we don't have a plan, we're just eleven individuals getting slaughtered."
The "Weapon Meeting" was a disaster of egos. Raichi was shouting about his "sexy football," Kunigami was flexing his left leg, and Gagamaru was just staring at the ceiling, seemingly in his own world.
Eshan sat on a bench in the back, his back against the wall. He wasn't contributing to the noise. He was watching the "Architecture" of the room. He saw how Isagi was looking at everyone's weapons, trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't have all its parts yet.
"What about you, Eshan?" Isagi asked, turning the room's attention to the back. "You're Rank 290. You're the highest among us. What's your weapon?"
The room went quiet. Even Raichi stopped mid-sentence to listen.
Eshan didn't stand up. He just looked at his hands. "I don't have a 'move' like a power shot or a dribble. I just... understand the ball. My weapon is Absolute Ball Feel. If the ball is in my zone, it does what I tell it to do. That's all."
"That's vague as hell!" Raichi barked. "What does that even mean in a game?"
"It means I don't miss traps, and I don't lose my balance," Eshan said coolly. He looked at Kuon's 'All-Hands Strike' plan—the ten-minute rotation. "Your plan is fine, Kuon. It keeps everyone happy for now. I'll take my ten minutes on the wing and provide service. But don't expect Team X to wait for us to finish our turns."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kuon asked, his brow furrowing.
"It means a real game is chaos," Eshan said, standing up and stretching. "Plans are just things we tell ourselves to feel safe before we get hit. Just don't get so caught up in the 'rotation' that you forget there's a ball on the pitch."
The Midnight Calibration
At 2:00 AM, the training hall was a cavern of shadows. Eshan was alone in the center circle, a single ball at his feet.
Tap. Slide. Roll.
He was practicing the Ghost Touch. He wanted the contact to be so light, so perfectly timed with the ball's rotation, that there was no sound of leather hitting leather. To an observer, it would look like the ball was an extension of his thoughts.
"You're obsessed, aren't you?"
Eshan didn't look up. He knew Bachira's light, bouncy footsteps anywhere. "Just making sure the connection is clean, Bachira."
Bachira dropped his own ball and began a frantic, erratic dribble around Eshan, like a moth circling a flame. "The others are all dreaming about being heroes. But you... you look like you're preparing for a job. It's a bit scary, Rank 290."
Eshan stopped the ball with a Zero-Spin trap, killing its momentum instantly. "Team X has Barou. He doesn't play 'football.' He plays 'Dominance.' While the rest of our team is fighting over who gets to be the star, Barou is going to walk right through us."
"And you?" Bachira tilted his head, a predatory grin on his face. "Are you going to stop him?"
Eshan kicked the ball up, caught it on his chest, and let it roll down his arm before catching it in his hand. He gave Bachira a small, confident smirk—the look of a man who had already seen the future.
"I'm going to wait for the noise to die down," Eshan said. "When everyone is exhausted and panicking... that's when the ball finally speaks clearly. Go to sleep, Bachira. Tomorrow is going to be loud."