Rain tapped gently against the metal roof of the half-sheltered pitch they were forced to use. The ghost squad gathered like stray cats beneath the flickering floodlights. Hibiki held a soggy clipboard, the ink nearly smeared clean off.
"Okay so listen up…we don't have tactics. We don't have a starting eleven. We don't even have matching shoes. But we do have...him"
He pointed at Amano, who was sitting cross-legged mid-pitch, staring at a leaf floating in a puddle.
One of the players leaned toward another and whispered, "Does he even like football?"
Amano stood without warning
And kicked the ball
No build-up
No glance
Just one motion
It zipped through four cones three feet apart and curved toward the far end of the pitch like it had a mind of its own
Everyone went quiet
Hibiki chuckled
"Yeah. He likes it"
The captain the girl with the track jacket—Aoi—stepped forward
"Formation?"
Amano looked up
"No formation. Just roles. You defend space. You cut passing lanes. You draw fouls. You bait traps"
"And me?" asked a tall lanky boy
"You fall"
"Huh?"
"You fall on purpose. It'll bait two defenders"
"…what?"
Amano turned
"It'll work. Just trust the fall"
The match began
The ghost squad versus a local youth team called the Osaka Blazers
First ten minutes?
A disaster
Players slipping
Losing the ball
Confusion everywhere
Even Amano tripped on a cone
Then minute eleven
The pass
Amano stole the ball near midfield but didn't run
He stood still
Waited for a moment no one understood
Then passed
Backwards
To the lanky boy
Who panicked and fell
Two defenders moved in instinctively
And the ball
Rolled past them without effort
Straight to Aoi
Who didn't hesitate
Volley
Top corner
Silence
The Blazers stared
A pass that shouldn't work
But did
Again and again
Unorthodox positioning
Backwards passes that turned into front-line weapons
Midfielders drawing fouls on purpose
Amano directing chaos like a quiet conductor
Final score
Ghost squad 3
Blazers 1
They didn't celebrate
They just walked off the pitch like nothing happened
One of the Blazers looked at their coach
"…Who were they?"
"No idea. But that number 7…he plays like he's not even on the field until he rips you apart"
The ghost had begun whispering louder in the world of football