Chapter 20: Frictionless
The morning after the victory over Team X brought a strange, heavy quiet to Building 5. Usually, the facility was a cacophony of shouting and heavy footfalls, but today, Team Z moved with a different kind of focus. The "Internal Ranking" had done its work. The hierarchy was no longer a theory; it was a reality that sat on their plates and glared at them from the digital monitors.
Eshan was the first one on the pitch. While the others were still finishing their meager breakfasts, he was already in the center of the artificial turf. He didn't start with sprints or tactical drills. He started with the ball. To Eshan, the ball wasn't just a piece of equipment; it was an extension of his own equilibrium.
He began his individual drills, a series of touches designed to sharpen his Absolute Ball Feel. He flicked the ball into the air, a high, spinning arc that caught the fluorescent lights of the ceiling. As it descended, he didn't just stop it—he absorbed it. Using the top of his foot, he cushioned the impact so perfectly that the ball didn't even bounce; it simply died on his boot. He repeated this hundreds of times, using his chest, his thighs, and the outside of his heels. Every touch was an exploration of texture and weight. He wasn't thinking about the next game; he was simply sinking into the sensation of the leather.
"Look at him," Igarashi whispered, standing by the entrance to the field. "He's been at it for over an hour. It's like he's in a trance."
"It's not a trance," Isagi said, his eyes fixed on Eshan's feet. "He's removing all the friction from his movement. He's making sure that when the ball hits him, it does exactly what he wants, no matter how fast it's coming."
Isagi felt a twinge of envy. He had spent the morning trying to analyze the footage of Team Y, but seeing Eshan train made him realize that all the "logic" in the world didn't matter if your body couldn't execute. Eshan's weapon was the fact that his body didn't fight the ball; they moved as one.
The Strategy of the Siege
As the rest of the team filtered onto the field, Kuon called for a meeting around the tactical board. The 72-hour countdown was ticking away, and the shadow of Team Y's "Total Defense" loomed large.
"Alright, listen up," Kuon said, tapping the board where eleven blue magnets were arranged in a tight, impenetrable block. "Team Y isn't like Team X. They don't have a Barou. They play a system called the 'One-Counter.' They sit back, let you tire yourselves out, and then they strike once. They haven't conceded a single goal yet."
"So we just have to hit them harder, right?" Raichi barked, his face red. "If we just overwhelm them—"
"That's exactly what they want, Raichi," Kunigami interrupted. "If we commit too many men forward, we leave our backline exposed. One long ball from their Rank 1, Niko Ikki, and we're dead."
The team fell into a heated argument. Everyone wanted to be the one to break the wall. Everyone wanted the steak. Eshan walked over, the ball still balanced effortlessly on his shoulder. He stood at the edge of the huddle, his relaxed presence acting like a cooling agent on the group's temper.
"Eshan, what do you think?" Isagi asked, turning to him.
Eshan let the ball roll down his arm and caught it in his hand. "You're all talking about how to break the wall," he said smoothly. "But a wall is only a problem if you try to run through it. Team Y is a team of 'calculators.' They want to predict our movements so they can intercept them."
He moved a few magnets on the board, creating a lopsided shape.
"I'll play as the pivot in the center," Eshan explained, his voice calm. "I'll move into their 'kill zone' and invite the pressure. My Ball Feel allows me to hold the ball even when I'm surrounded. If I stand in the heart of their defense, they won't be able to ignore me. They'll be forced to send two or even three defenders to strip me."
"And then you pass to us?" Igarashi asked, his eyes brightening.
Eshan looked at him, his silver-gray eyes cold and focused. "No. If I pass while being triple-teamed, the ball is at risk. I'm going to use my Awareness to find the exact moment their 'Total Defense' stretches too thin. By pulling three of them toward me, I'm not making space for you—I'm making a hole in their wall for myself."
The room went silent. It was an incredibly greedy plan.
"You're saying you're going to take on their entire defense by yourself?" Raichi sneered. "That's suicidal."
"It's only suicidal if you lose the ball," Eshan replied, his voice carrying an undeniable weight. "If I pull their defenders out of position, the 'Total Defense' collapses. Once I break that first layer of pressure, I'll have a clear line to the goal. You guys aren't there to score; you're there to support the perimeter and make sure they can't clear the ball if it spills. I'm the one who's going to break the shutout."
It was the statement of a true egoist. He wasn't offering to help them; he was telling them that he was the only one capable of killing the game.
The next two days were a grueling cycle of specialized drills. Under Eshan's quiet influence, the training shifted. Instead of just "shooting practice," the team had to learn how to feed him the ball in high-pressure situations.
Bachira was the only one who seemed to truly enjoy it. He would constantly try to sneak up on Eshan during his individual drills, attempting to steal the ball with erratic movements. But no matter how fast Bachira's approach was, Eshan's Absolute Ball Feel allowed him to spin away at the last second, the ball never leaving the three-inch radius of his boots.
"Aww, no fair!" Bachira laughed, flopping onto the turf. "It's like you have eyes in your ankles, Eshan! How do you know exactly where I'm reaching?"
"I don't 'know' it, Bachira," Eshan replied, offering a hand to pull him up. "I just feel the change in the air when you move. It's like the ball and the ground are telling me where the open space is. It's a physical sensation, not a thought."
Isagi, watching from the sidelines, felt a cold shiver. He isn't calculating like I am, Isagi thought. I'm trying to solve the puzzle with my brain. Eshan is solving it with his skin. He's inviting the pressure because he knows he's the only one who can survive it.
By the final night before the match, the exhaustion was set in, but so was the resolve. Team Z had spent 72 hours under the shadow of Rank 1. They had seen the steak, they had felt the gap in skill, and they had finally begun to understand that if they wanted to survive Blue Lock, they had to trust the "Monster" in their midst.
As the lights in the training hall dimmed for the final time before the match, Eshan stood alone in the dark for a moment. He could feel his heartbeat, steady and slow. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't excited. He was simply ready. Team Y was a wall, but a wall was just a stationary target waiting to be shattered.
"They think their defense is perfect," Eshan whispered to the empty room, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the exit sign. "I'm going to show them that perfection is just a lack of imagination."