After the match, Wakashi walks alone towards his home, his mind consumed by the old man's challenge.
He replays the match in his head, trying to understand how to beat the old man's precise control.
"His skill is definitely not ordinary," Wakashi thinks.
"The ball always stays glued to his foot. How can I snatch it from him? Whenever I use force, he uses it right back against me. I have to find a way."
Lost in thought, he reaches home without realizing it.
During dinner with his mom, Wakashi's mind is still focused on the old man. His intense expression catches his mother's eye.
"Wakashi, what are you thinking about?" she asks, concerned.
"Nothing, Mom," he says, quickly looking away.
Seeing his worried face, his mother, Akari, feels a familiar pang of anxiety. Wakashi notices her expression.
"It's really nothing, Mom. Don't worry," he reassures her.
Akari stops worrying, but a thought crosses her mind.
"If you have a problem, or don't know what to do, why don't you ask for help?" she suggests gently.
Wakashi doesn't reply. His mother knows that because of his reserved and solitary nature, he has no friends to turn to.
The next day after practice, Wakashi walked along his usual path, his mind still consumed by the old man's challenge.
He had run the failed match through his head a hundred times, replaying every feint, every effortless sidestep.
The old man's skill wasn't just physical; it was intellectual. His passes weren't magic; they were calculated, precise. Wakashi knew he had to find a way to make the old man predictable.
Suddenly, a loud voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up to see two figures on a small, empty patch of grass near the school grounds.
It was Ryota, a solid, quick defender from the Regular team, challenging their main star midfielder, Yusuke.
"Alright, one-on-one!"
Ryota called out,
a determined look on his face.
"Let's see if your fancy footwork is as good as you think it is."
"Bring it on," Yusuke said with a grin,
a confident air around him as he began to dribble.
The challenge began.
Yusuke's ball control was excellent, the sphere staying close to his feet.
But to Wakashi's keen eye, it wasn't the same. The ball didn't have the unnatural, glued-on quality that the old man's did.
Yusuke moved side to side, trying to shake Ryota, but the defender was disciplined.
He didn't rush. He maintained a perfect distance, waiting for an opportunity.
As Yusuke moved right, Ryota shifted with him, anticipating his next move.
Suddenly, Yusuke faked left and in the same motion, kicked the ball through Ryota's legs. A perfect nutmeg.
"I win!"
Yusuke said with a cocky laugh as he collected the ball.
"Again!"
Ryota demanded, his jaw set in a grim line.
This time, Ryota was more cautious.
He gave a little more space, trying to deny the nutmeg.
Yusuke tried to dribble left and right, but the space between them was just wide enough to make his moves ineffective.
He didn't lose the ball, but he was unable to create a clean opening.
Then, as Ryota moved right to try and dispossess him, he left a small opening on his left side.
Wakashi, watching from a distance, saw the gap and knew Yusuke was about to win.
The midfielder was about to pass the ball into the open space.
But just as Yusuke made his move, Ryota, as if knowing where the ball would go, suddenly shifted his body and interfered, cutting off the pass with a clean tackle.
Wakashi's mind went blank.
A spark, a flash of insight, ignited in his head.
Ryota's first attempt had been about reacting.
His second attempt had been about anticipating.
The midfielder, skilled as he was, was still a human with predictable movements.
He could be read. The old man, on the other hand, was on a completely different level. But the key principle was the same
A single word entered Wakashi's mind, a quiet revelation that made everything click.
He didn't need to chase the ball. He needed to make the old man come to him. He needed to create an opening and then exploit it. He needed to...
...Lure.