Chapter 31: The Sabotage of Logic
The air on the pitch had turned sour. It wasn't just the heat or the humidity of the facility; it was the heavy, stagnant feeling of a plan rotting from the inside out.
Isagi took Eshan's pass, but before he could even settle the ball for a shot, Keisuke Wanima was already there, his shoulder digging into Isagi's ribs with calculated force. Usually, a pass of that quality would have given Isagi a three-yard cushion—a "safety zone" that Eshan's Absolute Ball Feel specialized in creating. But the Wanima twins weren't guessing anymore. They were moving to spots before the ball even left Eshan's foot.
"How...?" Isagi muttered, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he was dispossessed. "They're reading us like they're inside our heads."
Eshan watched from the center circle, his chest rising and falling in a steady, controlled rhythm. His Absolute Awareness allowed him to see the "invisible" game. He saw the way Kuon was "late" on every defensive slide. He saw the way Kuon was occupying the same physical space as Kunigami, effectively acting as a barricade for his own teammates.
It was a masterpiece of subtle destruction. For a 27-year-old soul, it was like watching a corrupt foreman sabotage a construction site.
"Hey, Kuon! Watch your positioning!" Raichi's voice tore through the stadium, his face turning a bright shade of crimson. "You're getting in my way! Every time I try to press, you're right behind me!"
"Sorry, Raichi! I'm just trying to cover the gap!" Kuon shouted back, his voice full of a high-pitched, fake urgency. He wiped "sweat" from his brow, looking like a man working twice as hard as everyone else. But Eshan knew the truth—Kuon wasn't sweating from effort; he was sweating from the thrill of the deal.
The Wanima twins were loving it. They moved the ball between them with a rhythmic, mocking clicking of their cleats, their eyes darting toward Kuon with a shared secret.
"Hey, King," Junichi sneered as he approached Eshan. He didn't even look at the ball; he kept his eyes locked on Eshan's face, his tongue clicking against his teeth. "Your 'Absolute' touch doesn't mean much when your own castle is made of sand, does it? The data says you're the engine... but what happens when the engine is filled with sugar?"
Eshan didn't take the bait. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, his balance allowing him to mirror Junichi's micro-movements with effortless fluidity. "A castle is just stone, Junichi. I'm the one you should be worried about, not the building. Data can tell you how I move, but it can't tell you how I'll react to a rat in the walls."
With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, Eshan lunged. He didn't go for the ball—he went for the space Junichi was about to move into. Using his awareness, he saw the slight, almost invisible tilt in Junichi's hips.
Clack.
Eshan's boot met the ball cleanly, stripping it away. But as he prepared to pivot and ignite the counter-attack, a heavy shadow loomed over his shoulder.
It was Kuon.
Kuon "accidentally" collided with Eshan from behind, his knee catching Eshan's calf and sending them both sprawling into the synthetic turf. The ball rolled free, directly into the path of the elder Wanima twin.
"Gah! Sorry, Eshan! I thought he was going to cut inside!" Kuon gasped, sitting on the turf and reaching out a hand as if to help Eshan up.
Eshan didn't take the hand. He stayed on the ground for a heartbeat, feeling the cold, rubbery texture of the turf against his palms. He looked up at Kuon. The "leader" was wearing a mask of deep concern, but in the depth of his pupils, there was a flicker of cold triumph.
"You're getting bolder, Kuon," Eshan said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper beneath the roar of the crowd. "But remember... I don't need a team to find the net. I just need a ball. And eventually, you're going to run out of 'accidents'."
Eshan stood up, brushing the rubber pellets from his knees. He looked over at the sideline. Chigiri was watching, his hand clutching his jersey over his heart, his feet rooted to the spot. He looked like a man watching a ghost story unfold.
"Isagi! Bachira!" Eshan called out. It wasn't a shout of panic; it was a professional command that cut through the noise of the match.
The two of them looked at him, their faces pale, eyes wide with the realization that their formation was a lie.
"Stop playing the game Kuon is calling," Eshan said, his gaze hard. "Forget the 3-4-3. Forget the 'roles.' If you want to survive this building, start playing like your lives are on the line, not like you're following a whiteboard. Because right now, that whiteboard is a tombstone."
Bachira's eyes widened, a manic, jagged smile slowly spreading across his face. He was the first to realize that the "rules" were gone. "Ooh, Eshan... you mean we can finally play 'monsters'?"
"Play whatever you want," Eshan replied, his silver-gray eyes turning toward the Wanima twins. "Just stay out of my line of sight."
The Breaking Point
The next ten minutes were a descent into chaos. Team Z tried to fight back, but with Kuon actively leaking their positions through his "misplaced" passes and "poor" defensive positioning, they were drowning.
The Wanima twins played a high-speed game of keep-away, taunting Kunigami and Raichi. Finally, Keisuke spotted the opening. He didn't even have to look for Kuon; he knew Kuon would move to create the lane. Kuon "tripped" over his own feet, dragging Igarashi down with him.
Junichi Wanima blasted a shot into the top corner.
TEAM Z 0 - 2 TEAM W
The scoreline felt like a death sentence. Raichi exploded, grabbing Kuon by the collar. "What the hell is wrong with you?! That's the third time you've tripped in the box!"
"I'm sorry! I'm exhausted!" Kuon cried, tears of frustration—fake tears—welling in his eyes. "I'm trying, Raichi! I really am!"
Eshan stood in the center circle, watching the drama unfold. He didn't intervene. He was looking at the bigger picture. He looked at the stadium monitors, then back at the Wanima twins. His Absolute Awareness was processing the "rhythm" of the twins' arrogance. They thought they had won. They thought they had bought the King's crown.
He felt a presence beside him. It was Isagi. The boy was shaking, his eyes darting between the scoreboard and the brawling teammates.
"Eshan... we're falling apart," Isagi whispered. "Even with your eyes, even with your touch... how do we fight twelve people?"
Eshan looked at Isagi. For the first time, he didn't see a "kid." He saw a player looking for an answer.
"You don't fight twelve people by following the math, Isagi," Eshan said. "You fight them by introducing a variable they haven't accounted for. They think they know my 'Absolute' limits because Kuon gave them my stats. They think I'm a machine that can be predicted."
Eshan stepped toward the ball.
"Watch closely," Eshan said, his voice dropping to that cold, weary tone of a man who was done with the games. "I'm about to show them why data can't capture a soul."
The whistle blew for the restart.
Eshan didn't pass. He didn't wait for the team to organize. He drove directly into the heart of Team W.
The twins closed in, moving with their "perfect" synchronization. But Eshan's awareness was now shifted into a higher gear. He wasn't just looking at them; he was feeling the pressure of the air as they moved.
He executed a Pulse-Stop mid-stride, causing Junichi to lunge at nothing. Then, without losing a beat of his balance, he performed a Zero-Point Pivot, spinning into the narrow gap between the brothers.
Kuon saw the breakthrough and scrambled to "help" by running into Eshan's path. But Eshan didn't try to avoid him. At the last micro-second, Eshan used his Absolute Ball Feel to flick the ball over Kuon's head while simultaneously sliding underneath Kuon's desperate lunge.
It was a "Rainbow Flick" performed with the cold efficiency of a surgical strike.
He re-collected the ball on the other side of his own traitorous teammate. The path to the goal was open. The Wanima twins were behind him, tangled in their own legs. Kuon was on the grass, his mask of "accident" finally slipping into a look of pure, unadulterated shock.
Eshan didn't celebrate. He didn't even look back. He just drove the ball into the back of the net with a strike so clean it sounded like a whip cracking in the silent stadium.
TEAM Z 1 - 2 TEAM W
Eshan walked back to his half, passing the stunned Wanima twins.
"You bought a map of the world," Eshan said, his silver eyes landing on the brothers. "But I've already changed the landscape. Get ready. The second half belongs to me."