Chapter 38: The Dragster and the Panther
The stadium was a vast, silent cathedral of synthetic grass and steel.
Team V took their positions with the casual arrogance of kings. Reo Mikage stood over the ball at the center circle, his purple hair vibrant under the floodlights. He glanced at Eshan and offered a small, mocking wave. Nagi stood beside him, hands in his pockets, staring at a loose thread on his jersey as if the match were a secondary thought.
The whistle shrieked.
Reo didn't go for a safe pass. He immediately sent a long, soaring ball toward the wing. It was a "statement" pass—perfectly weighted, intended to let Zantetsu Tsurugi showcase the gap between their "Genius" and Team Z's "Mediocrity."
Zantetsu ignited. He was a blur of explosive muscle, his 10-meter acceleration kicking up rubber pellets from the turf like a gunshot. To the rest of Team Z, he looked like a teleporting glitch.
"He's too fast!" Igarashi's voice cracked, his eyes barely tracking the movement.
But Chigiri Hyoma wasn't looking at Zantetsu's feet. He was looking at the space Eshan had pointed out during the quiet of their training session.
Eshan stood at the center, his Absolute Awareness mapping the vector of the ball. He caught Chigiri's eye for a fraction of a second—a single, sharp nod was the only command needed.
Zantetsu was a dragster—he only knew how to go straight. As the ball began its descent, Zantetsu didn't slow down; he prepared to collect it at full tilt. But Chigiri had already positioned himself three yards "inside" the expected lane.
Just as the ball hit the turf, Chigiri didn't race him. He used his first step to wedge himself into the space where Zantetsu needed to turn.
Thud.
The impact was heavy, the sound of shoulder hitting shoulder echoing in the silent rafters. Zantetsu, moving at peak velocity, couldn't adjust his straight-line momentum. He collided with Chigiri's frame, his balance shattering. For a dragster, a single degree of deviation is a crash. Zantetsu stumbled, his cleats skidding uselessly against the grass as the ball rolled free.
"Wh—?!" Zantetsu's glasses slipped down his nose, his eyes wide with shock.
Chigiri didn't waste a heartbeat. He scooped the ball with his instep, using the momentum of the collision to ignite his own sprint.
"The center," Eshan said. His voice wasn't loud, but in the hollow silence of the stadium, it carried like a gunshot. "Bachira. Claim it."
Bachira didn't respond with words; he responded with a jagged, manic laugh. He sprinted toward the middle, his movements fluid and chaotic, sensing the "vacuum" created by Zantetsu's failure.
Reo Mikage's smile didn't just fade; it evaporated. He looked at Chigiri, then at Eshan, his mind frantically trying to recalibrate his "perfect" simulation. This wasn't supposed to happen. Team Z was supposed to be paralyzed by the fear of their 3-0 record.
"Nagi!" Reo's voice cracked. "Get back! They're coming through the gut!"
Nagi Seishiro finally stopped looking at the ceiling. He looked at Eshan, who was gliding into the final third of the pitch with a terrifying, zero-waste stride.
"Ugh," Nagi droned, though his pupils were beginning to contract. "This is starting to feel like work."
Chigiri whipped a low, stinging pass toward the center circle. Eshan met it. He didn't stop the ball; he used The Orbit. He let the ball's momentum carry it around his hip in a tight, centripetal arc, shielding it perfectly from the retreating Reo.
Eshan felt the friction of the turf, the weight of the air, and the panicked rhythm of Team V's recovery. He could see the "veins" of the pitch—the passing lanes that were opening and closing like lungs.
"You play like you're reading a book, Reo," Eshan said, his voice cold and conversational as he faced down the Team V captain. "But I've already finished the story. You're just a chapter I'm skipping."
Reo lunged, a desperate, reaching tackle. Eshan didn't use a flashy step-over. He performed a microscopic Pulse-Stop—killing the ball's movement for a tenth of a second, just long enough for Reo's foot to pass by. Then, he exploded forward.
He was past the midfield. The three-man defense of Team V converged. They moved with the frantic energy of people who realized their "data" was currently being rewritten in real-time.
"Bachira," Eshan muttered, his eyes fixed on the goal.
"I'm here, I'm here!" Bachira appeared like a ghost on Eshan's left, his presence adding a layer of unpredictable static to Eshan's logical drive.
The stadium felt pressurized. The rest of Team Z—Isagi, Kunigami, Raichi—were moving like parts of a machine that had finally been oiled. They weren't just playing; they were hunting.
Eshan reached the edge of the box. He saw Nagi approaching from his peripheral vision. The "Genius" was finally moving, his long limbs covering ground with a strange, lazy speed.
"I'm going to take that," Nagi said, his voice devoid of emotion as he reached out for the ball.
Eshan didn't flinch. He felt the silver-gray fire in his eyes sharpen. He didn't see Nagi as a genius; he saw him as a obstacle.
"Try," Eshan replied.
He shifted his weight, locking his core as Nagi's shoulder made contact. It was the collision of the century: the bored genius versus the absolute.
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A/N: I hope you all like the chapters. See ya👋