The doors slid open, revealing Chris Prince, Agi and the rest of the Manshine City team
"Welcome, Blue Lockers." He raised his voice, "I'm your master, Chris Prince."
He moved down the line personally, handing each of them a pair of earbuds that translated his language in real time.
"For starters, I'll put every one of you through individual physical diagnostics, measuring musculoskeletal structure, muscle quality, fat percentage, biomechanical balance, and any physical blind spots specific to each player."
After the tests, he called them all in for a quick talk.
"A body revolution," he began, "means unlocking the potential already sitting inside you. But you can't train blindly. Every player uses their muscles differently, which means every single one of you needs a training routine built for you and you alone."
He turned, and his eyes landed on the first name on his list.
"Hayashi Murano." He called him out and asked, "What kind of player do you want to be?"
Murano opened his mouth but closed it. He had an idea but he didn't know how to put those into words.
"No, no." Chris Prince waved a hand, cutting him off before he could make up some PR answer. "Don't think too hard. This isn't about logic. I'm asking for 'your' opinion about what you want." He leaned in. "What would the ideal Hayashi Murano look like?"
Murano didn't hesitate.
"When people think of football," Murano said, "I want them to think of me."
The room went silent.
This shocked both Agi and Prince.
Then Chris Prince grinned, grabbing Murano by both shoulders like he'd just found something he'd been searching for.
"THERE it is!" he yelled, shaking him slightly. "That's the answer! Not 'I want to be good.' Not 'I want to help my team.' You said think of me. Spoken like a true egoist!"
"Will... will all of us have to declare something like that?" Hiiragi asked, visibly regretting choosing to be there.
"That's... kind of embarrassing," Saramadara muttered.
"Pfft! you said it!" Niou laughed, a little too loud.
Chris Prince's expression didn't so much change as his joyful expression became colder and serious.
"Why are you laughing?" He asked
Nobody answered.
"It's very important to define what your ideal is, loudly. That's how I've closed in on being the best striker in the world."
He let that sit for a second before continuing.
"No one stays positive every day. Not even me. There are mornings I wake up and I feel nothing. Empty. Some days I look fine on the outside and I am rotting on the inside. Everyone loses their footing eventually no matter how talented they are."
"Talent alone is a beautiful accident. It puts you at the starting line." He tapped his own chest. "It does not carry you to the finish line."
"So on the days I can't trust myself... I don't ask myself anything. I ask him." He spread his arms slightly, as if introducing someone standing beside him that only he could see.
"The Ideal Chris Prince. And I ask: 'Are you satisfied?' And he says, 'No. Keep going.' I ask, 'Can I rest now?' And he says, 'One more step.'"
He clenched his fists
"And because that ideal exists loud and clear, I become unable to forgive myself when I don't match up with that ideal."
"There are people who write me off as a narcissist. Those who think I'm crazy." He smiled and declared, "But I would rather die than betray the man I've decided I'm supposed to become."
He flexed, "Pursue your ideal! Fight your reality! If you want to be football itself, Murano, you need a body that can carry that ideal without breaking!"
Murano stared at him.
"You're insane," Murano said. "Defining your purpose and relentlessly chasing after your Ideal self..."
"THAT'S the spirit!" Chris Prince pumped a fist. "You are the protagonist of your own life, Hayashi Murano! Never forget that!"
He clapped...
"Time for the next step!" His eyes narrowed, focused entirely on Murano again. "Specifically, what does your ideal play look like? Right now, in your head."
"The best play I can imagine..." Murano responded, "...is Ronaldo Nazario X Andrea Pirlo."
"I want to be as complete of a striker as Ronaldo Nazario. But I also want the vision to see and deliver a pass no one else on the pitch could even imagine to set my own plays."
It would already be a blessing for a striker to have Ronaldo Nazario's finishing alone. But to also carry his elite dribbling, immense strength, and explosive speed.
You can say that the gods blessed him four times.
Chris Prince didn't say anything for a moment.
"I like you more with every second we talk," he finally said.
"Alright. That's the target, then. We'll run every scan, every dataset we have, and find exactly which muscles need to change to achieve such plays and get an individual curriculum just for you."
"U-um... ask me too!" Hiiragi blurted, suddenly desperate not to be left out.
"Me too," Saramadara also asked.
"Me next, me next!" Niou raised his hands.
Chris Prince laughed.
"Everyone gets their turn! Don't worry." His eyes looked across the room, landing on the next name on his list. "Mikage Reo. You're up."