Perfect. This time, Ryo's taking the corner.
Ren's thoughts were clear even after their missed goal. If anyone had overheard him, they might've thought he was rooting against Tomoya's earlier shot. Even though Ren had no aversion to any of the other players, coordinating with Ryo felt natural. So Ren always preferred playing alongside him.
Gradually, Ren began piecing together a plan for the corner kick. For it to work, he'd need the others in the box to follow his lead.
"Ken," he said in a low voice as he approached the striker, "I have a plan. Start a bit closer to Ryo. When he kicks, run toward the goal and pressure the keeper. Pull as many defenders with you as you can. They'll block the goalie's line of sight." Ken nodded at his explanation. The plan seemed simple enough.
"However, be ready for a rebound in case anything goes wrong."
Ken opened his mouth to ask something, but Ren cut him off before he could speak, preemptively. "Don't worry about that, Ryo knows what to do."
Their eyes had met across the field, and that was all the confirmation Ren needed.
"Alright," Ken said, moving toward his new position.
The other one to talk to was Tomoya. His role mirrored Ken's; his job was to also draw attention, but instead of crowding the keeper, he'd hover near the penalty spot. Once Ren finished explaining, he drifted to the far edge of the box, glancing one last time at Ryo.
The referee's whistle pierced through the air.
Just then, Ryo lifted his hand, signaling the shot, and the entire play came alive.
Ken and Tomoya both ran forward, dragging defenders with them. The other attackers were moving around in the middle of the box, hoping to get a head on the ball. From the outside, it looked chaotic, but to Ren, it was perfect. His plan was unfolding as he expected.
Half the defenders were tangled near the front post around Ken, while the rest chased after Ryusei's attackers in the middle. However, no one noticed the one player who lurked on the outside.
Ren had started outside the box before the kick. Now he slipped in quietly, timing his run as Ryo's foot struck the ball, trying to delay his approach as much as possible.
The players, the spectators, and the coaches all watched as the ball flew above the fray. It stayed out of reach, floating higher than anyone expected, before dropping right toward the center—exactly where Ren was running in.
If Ren wasted any time shooting the ball, the opponents would recover quickly, likely stopping any chance of a goal.
All of the defenders are on the left, he told himself. The right side's open. Now or never.
He locked his eyes on the ball, preparing to hit it out of the air. A volley like this left no room for error. One mistimed swing, one wrong angle, and the ball would completely miss.
Everyone watched as the ball seemed to move in slow motion. The players' heads turned to follow the ball, and the goalie's eyes widened. They all watched as Ren brought his leg up and hit the ball.
The strike was clean, slicing through the space on the right. It moved past all the defenders who scrambled to block the shot and whizzed by the goalie as he desperately extended his hands.
The entire action barely took ten seconds, but by the end of it, the ball screeched to a stop in the back of the net, dropping to the ground as it lost all of its momentum.
For a moment, the field froze. Then the stands erupted.
Cheers thundered across the field, high-pitched voices from the students echoing over the pitch. Ren's teammates surged toward him, shouting his name, arms raised as they ran to celebrate his goal. To most watching, it was a goal out of nowhere. It was too smooth, too sharp, and too fast—a pure testament to Ren's skill. But to anyone closely paying attention, it was pure coordination.
On the other hand, Takayama's players all dropped their heads in disbelief, trying to process the goal that had just taken place.
—————————————————————————————————
Meanwhile, on the sidelines, both Coach Matsumoto and Assistant Coach Takigawa stood frozen. They'd expected Ryo and Ren to perform well—but this? This was something else. After all, they had just coordinated a corner kick without even talking to each other. To say that the two coaches were excited was a massive understatement.
"They didn't even need to talk," Matsumoto muttered, still watching the replay unfold in his mind. "Their coordination is unreal. If this keeps up, they'll be unstoppable."
"I agree," Takigawa said after a moment, though his voice carried a hint of hesitation. "But… don't you think they depend on each other too much? They seem to forget there's a whole team with them." He turned his head to face the coach, "Do you not think it could be a problem, Matsumoto?"
Matsumoto tore his gaze from the pitch at Takigawa's sudden remark. He mulled over his remark, then smiled faintly as he turned back to watch the ongoing celebration.
"Not really, but I see why you might think so. What do you think would happen if we pulled them aside and told them, 'From now on, you can't pass to each other'?" He asked rhetorically, clearly not expecting an answer.
"Remember," Matsumoto continued, "this is the first team. Our goals are simple: have fun and win. Those two understand both better than anyone what it takes to win. The moment we start controlling how they play, we take away their freedom—the very thing that makes them dangerous."
He folded his arms, watching the brothers celebrate together among the cheering players. "Their coordination is what makes the two of them brilliant. As coaches, it is our job to refine their strengths so that they can commit themselves with confidence, not restrain them."
A small smile crossed his face as his expression softened. "Besides… they look like they're having fun, don't they?"
Takigawa sighed softly. "They do. But what if they can't always play together? What happens then?"
Matsumoto chuckled, eyes narrowing with amusement. "You're asking if they're still good individually?"
Takigawa nodded.
"Did you not just see that shot? You know…" Matsumoto said, pausing for a moment. "They both train harder than anyone else here. Every day after practice, they stay behind, just to keep practicing by themselves."
"After first-team practice?" Takigawa's eyes widened.
"Every day," Matsumoto said simply. "So even if they aren't together, they'll still find a way to shine."
Takigawa leaned back, still stunned. First-team practice already pushes the players' limits. I see many of them completely wiped out by the end… but they train even after that? He couldn't help but admire them, even if it defied logic.
I do have to admit Matsumoto is right. They are both so insanely talented that they can probably score without relying on each other.
Matsumoto's tone softened. "With both of them on this roster, maybe we have a shot at winning Regionals."
—————————————————————————————————
Ryo waited patiently as a few adjustments were made before the game started again. The reason was simple—Takayama was switching out players, using two of their substitutions. Ren scored in the 59th minute, so logically, substitutions at this point in the game weren't unusual.
Still, it was hard to miss the slump in Takayama's shoulders. Some seemed barely able to run again after such intense play. Even some of Ryo's teammates started getting worn out. More surprisingly, however, Ryo was starting to feel the pace of the game weighing him down.
After he had finished celebrating the goal, Ryo had gotten two notifications.
{Notification!}
—(Situational Quest – Football Debut)
——[Contribute A Total Of 3 Goals Or Assists To The Team: 2/3]
{Alert!}
—(Exhaustion: 52)
——[The Player Is Now Exhausted. The Player Should Consider Intaking More Fluids And Resting.]
I didn't think I'd be exhausted already…But I guess it makes sense since I've been running around quite a bit.
Ryo examined himself as he thought over his condition. He was already sweating quite a bit, with the jersey sticking to his back. The synthetic fabric helped, but the heat was still pressing down on him.
Good thing this material is of good quality. It'd be embarrassing if it turned see-through after it became wet, Ryo mused. Obviously, he could have worn an undershirt, but the April sun was no joke, so he didn't want to wear more layers than necessary.
On top of that, grass stains ran along the left side of his jersey, still damp from his slide earlier. Ryo sighed, half amused. Mom's definitely going to comment on this later. But then his grin returned. Still, it's not a bad look. It's proof I've been working hard.
A grin spread on Ryo's face as he laughed at the idea of having 'battle scars' that showed proof of his self-proclaimed heroic defense.
As the whistle blew and the game resumed, Ryo burned with renewed vigor. The System's quest was still in his mind, pushing him to cash in his last contribution and finally gain a new skill.
He smirked. Let's finish this.