“Nice shot, Kobayashi! And Hisakawa’s assist was perfect—we completely fooled them!”
“D-don’t say that. I only scored because of Hisakawa.”
“Ha! Stop being so modest, Kobayashi. Your shooting is top-class!”
Ryūma Banjō watched the three of them—or rather, the whole of Team Y—with growing unease.
(Do these guys really pass without even looking or thinking?)
(Especially that last play between Hisakawa and Kobayashi Shima... does that Kobayashi have the same foresight as Rin?)
(No—that shot didn’t feel like foresight. It was more like trust. He trusted Hisakawa to deliver the ball exactly there.)
(Hmph, no... it’s more like they weren’t even coordinating at all. Each of them just moved on their own, completely certain they wouldn’t mess it up.)
(Ah, this is driving me nuts. I can’t figure out what they’re doing. Wait a second... isn’t this the kind of thing Rin’s supposed to be analyzing?)
Glancing at Rin Itoshi walking back to his position, Ryūma called out,
“Hey Rin, what’s up with them? You’re the one who’s supposed to read this stuff, right?”
“Quit yapping. Just keep running.”
Rin Itoshi dismissed him with a cold remark and returned to his spot, clearly leaving the kickoff to Ryūma while keeping his focus on observation.
“Hah? You didn’t figure it out, so what’s with the attitude?”
Ryūma walked to the center circle with open disdain, more determined than ever to unravel Team Y’s style.
Meanwhile, Yo Hiori positioned himself on the right side of the circle, psyching himself up.
(Come on, Yo Hiori! You’ve got to assist Ryūma. No—multiple assists!)
Team V possession! Ryūma Banjō kicks off from center!
Ryūma immediately surged forward with the ball, while Yo Hiori sprinted down the right flank.
The triplet brothers spread out across Team Y’s front and midfield, marking players to ease Ryūma’s advance.
Rin Itoshi moved forward at his own steady pace, eyes locked on Team Y, dissecting their movements.
This time, Team Y sent Matsutani Kageaki to intercept Ryūma, flanked by two teammates on either side, with another trailing close behind. Their setup was clear: even if Ryūma beat the front three, the rear player would stall him long enough for the others to recover and try again.
Reaching the wall of defenders, Ryūma feinted sharply right. As Matsutani and the right-side defender moved to block, he snapped the ball left with an Elastico!
But when the defenders instantly shifted to cover the left, Ryūma smirked—his suspicion confirmed.
(Just as I thought. They’re not reading my mind or predicting my moves...)
(They’re reacting to my tells—the moment I start the move. Like that Elastico just now: the instant my right foot pulled inward.)
(No, maybe even earlier. The moment I pushed outward, they already knew it was coming.)
(So that’s it... they’re dissecting my opening motion. If that’s the case...)
(Then I’ll beat you with a move that has almost no telegraphing at all!)
As the defenders shifted left, Ryūma sneered,
“Whatever trick you’re using, I don’t buy for a second that you’ve got that kind of observational skill.”
He killed the ball with his right foot, flicked it up, and spun sharply to the right. With his left heel, he lofted it clean over the three defenders still lunging left!
The rear guard, caught leaning, could only watch as Ryūma tore past into Team Y’s midfield.
(Damn it! He baited us with the Elastico, then lured us into his Rainbow Flick!)
Matsutani cursed as he scrambled back into position.
When Kobayashi Shima and Hisakawa Mii rushed to intercept, Ryūma suddenly wound up for a shot!
“What? That same sudden drop shot?!”
“It’s too late to pull back now, Kobayashi! Let’s cut it before it climbs too high!”
Hisakawa sprinted first, Kobayashi following close behind—
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—but both froze after only a few steps. To their shock, Ryūma’s shot was actually a pass!
On the right wing, Yo Hiori’s eyes widened as the ball rocketed toward him—and beyond it, Ryūma, already sprinting forward without hesitation.
At that moment, Hiori’s chest swelled with emotions he’d never known before. Raised under strict, cold parents, he had never felt this: unconditional trust. For the first time, he was someone’s chosen partner.
He knew—no matter how many years passed—that image of Ryūma charging ahead would never fade from his memory.
Blue light flared in Hiori’s eyes as his focus sharpened. One thought consumed him: Deliver the perfect ball to Ryūma!
(Ryūma... thank you. You made me love this game, made me realize what I truly want. Take this pass!)
He adjusted his body and struck decisively, lofting the ball with perfect precision toward the edge of the box.
Ryūma’s gaze locked on the pass—its speed, height, and placement flawless.
(So... Hiori’s awakened too, huh? Hah. I never once doubted you, Hiori!)
“Stop him! Even if it’s a foul—don’t let Ryūma touch it!”
Matsutani shouted, sprinting back. Hisakawa and Kobayashi rushed too, while the left and right defenders in the box locked in, ready to block.
Ryūma’s eyes gleamed violet, his body wrapped in purple flames as his legs coiled like springs. He exploded toward the falling ball.
“Hiori... let this shot be our first memory together!”
He launched upward, arms swinging wide, left leg lifting as his right foot whipped toward the descending ball three meters above the ground.
Ryūma executed the bicycle kick—the same move he and Yo Hiori had first linked up with in their childhood game of tag—rocketing the ball into Team Y’s net!
The shot’s angle was perfect. Team Y’s defenders could only watch in helpless disbelief.
Their goalkeeper dove with everything he had, but his fingertips never even brushed the ball.
GOAL!! Team V 3:3 Team Y