In the next instant, Ryūma snapped his head up, his eyes blazing purple.
(No! Ryūma, stop thinking about what you don't have. Rin's ability is Rin's—not yours! Focus on what you can do right now!)
(My limit isn't here! If I watch closely, I'll find a way. As long as I keep pushing my speed in dribbles, I can carve out a shooting lane!)
"Inoue, stay right behind me—we'll drag Ishikari back on defense!"
Aoki Shūhō knew by now that after so many duels, it was almost impossible to stop Ryūma directly.
The only tactic left for Team Z was to stall him—have the un-beaten players drag time until the beaten ones could recover and defend again.
That way, there would always be someone in the penalty area to help the goalkeeper block his shots.
"Come on, Ryūma—we'll stop you again!"
"Idiots. How many times are you going to say that?"
With that, Ryūma pushed the ball right with his right foot. When he saw Aoki react, he snapped the ball left with an Elastico.
(Damn, that trick again! I was trying to keep my balance ready for his next move...)
(No choice—I'll lunge anyway! Even if I get fooled, Inoue is right behind me!)
Aoki charged to Ryūma's left.
"Sorry—tricked you again."
Feigning regret, Ryūma spun right and popped the ball upward with his left heel.
As the ball cleared Aoki, Akemi Inoue shouted,
"Got you this time! I'll take the ball!"
Just as Inoue stretched to intercept, Ryūma caught the ball in mid-air with his right foot, cushioning it perfectly.
Without pause, he launched it forward and burst past Inoue in the same motion, chasing down his own touch into Team Z's penalty area.
(That look on Inoue's face—seriously? Getting shocked over a basic trap like that?)
(If he saw Nagi's first touch, he'd probably drop dead on the spot...)
Before Ryūma could scoff further, the last of the penalty box quartet, Murakami Haiichi, appeared with three more Team Z players closing in.
(I'll hold him here. Ishikari will be back soon, and Shūhō and Inoue aren't far from the box. Together, we can stop his shot!)
Ryūma saw Murakami and the others rushing at him, catching Ishikari in his peripheral vision sprinting back. His chest tightened.
(Tch! Shūhō and Inoue are nearly back too. If I don't get past now, all those dribbles earlier will mean nothing!)
(Should I pass? No! That would just be a repeat of the goal I scored with Rin!)
(I need the quickest, most efficient dribble—just one move to open a shooting lane!)
"Stay behind me on both sides! If he gets past me, take the ball at once!" Murakami ordered.
By the time the words left his mouth, Ryūma was already upon him.
He feinted a stepover with his right, carrying the ball to his left. Murakami shifted, losing balance as he lunged left.
But Ryūma didn't hesitate for a second. He cut sharper left with the inside of his foot and exploded to full speed, leaving Murakami behind instantly.
(Damn it—he's relying entirely on raw physicality now!)
(Even if I read it, my body just can't keep up!)
(Good thing I've still got two teammates behind me...)
As Murakami thought this and glanced back, shock struck him—Ryūma had already burned past them too, charging into the box.
(Perfect! Ishikari, Shūhō, and Inoue are still too far from the goal. Only that fat goalkeeper is left—this is the chance!)
Ryūma steadied himself. His heart calmed. He adjusted his body and unleashed his signature Weapon—the Shift Shot!
[Thud!]
The ball streaked low and diagonal toward the right post. Yushu Furukawa launched himself to meet it—
but that's the terror of the Shift Shot!
Just before reaching the post, the ball swerved violently, redirecting toward the left side of the goal.
(Yes! Nailed it!)
"Goal—!!"
But before he could finish celebrating, a figure came crashing in front of the net, blocking the ball with his body!
The rebound fell to Murakami, who had recovered and immediately cleared it down the left sideline.
"Damn it! Forgot about their Flying Man trick!"
Ryūma cursed, glaring at Aoki Shūhō—his nose pouring blood from the reckless dive.
Indeed, Team Z's penalty box unit had pulled off their infamous flying tactic again. With no time to cover, they literally threw one of their own into the goalmouth.
"I'll take the kick this time. Your attacks just can't break their defense."
Rin Itoshi stepped forward, ready to take the throw-in at the left sideline.
But Ryūma's voice stopped him—flat, almost emotionless.
"Wait, Rin. Let me take it. If I get stopped again, then you'll be the main attacker—not just for this match, but from now on. I'll support you."
"Oh? Fine. Go ahead. But don't forget what you said."
The purple gleam in Ryūma's eyes deepened. As he brushed past Rin, he muttered on his way to the sideline,
"I won't forget. And this time, I won't lose."
Team V possession. Left sideline, Team Z's half.
Ryūma looked at their wall of defenders, a twinge of regret flashing in his mind.
(So close just now... This time, I'll shoot before even their Flying Man can reach me!)
This time, Ryūma didn't pass. He carried the ball himself, surging straight into Team Z's frontcourt.
He was determined to reach the penalty area without slowing, moving so fast that even their Flying Man couldn't react in time.
"All at once! Stop him!"
Team Z's striker and three midfielders rushed in, while the two on the flanks cut off his passing options.
"Too slow!"
Before their press could close, Ryūma stabbed the ball forward into the gap.
The Z forward froze.
"He's lost control! Kick it out!"
But as he turned, Ryūma had already blitzed past him, sprinting onto his own ball.
The other three defenders chased desperately—only to find Ryūma already ahead of them.
"What the—what kind of speed is this?!"
"No way! Foul him if you have to!"
One defender lunged, hands outstretched to grab him.
But Ryūma kicked into another burst, vanishing from reach and driving the ball straight into Team Z's backline.
At the back, Aoki Shūhō and Akemi Inoue closed in to intercept.
(I'll use that same trick again—they'll never keep up with me!)
He dropped his shoulder right—Aoki bit instantly. Ryūma cut back left, sprinting past his flank.
But just as he prepared for Inoue's challenge—he realized Inoue hadn't even moved to intercept. Instead, he was sprinting straight into the box.
The outplayed Aoki spun to chase, while Ishikari surged forward from the front.
(Damn it! Of course—that's why Shūhō went down so easily. It's a trap!)
(Shūhō shadows me from behind, cutting off my passes and any dribble that needs a turn.)
(Inoue lurks behind Ishikari, becoming deadliest when he's hidden there!)
(And inside the box, Murakami and the others are still waiting. Even a forced shot will get shut down.)
(No way out, huh...)
Ryūma's face darkened. He knew he'd walked right into their scheme.
Breaking past Ishikari and Inoue would cost too much time. Shūhō loomed behind, smothering any chance to pivot.
An aerial flick wouldn't work either—not in front of Ishikari. The ball would probably smash right into his face.
Even if Ryūma somehow slipped past the triple-team into the box, Murakami and two more defenders plus the keeper were still waiting.
Unless he could shoot like Rin—threading a near-impossible dead corner—
his shot would be blocked again, just like before.
Gritting his teeth at the sight before him, Ryūma muttered,
"Hah... so this is a dead end?"
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
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