Nagi... 235

The loose ball bobbled erratically within Barcha's territory, a momentary respite in the whirlwind of the counter-attack. Nagi, ever the opportunist, materialized like a phantom, trapping the ball at his feet with a single, deft touch.

Unlike the explosive play of Chigiri, Nagi's control was almost unnerving. The ball seemed to surrender to his will, becoming an extension of himself, utterly still yet charged with a hidden potential.

For a moment, the stadium held its breath. Nagi, usually a silent figure, was radiating a quiet intensity. His eyes, devoid of their usual stoicism, burned with a cold fire. He wasn't just aiming to score; he was aiming to answer Nakada's challenge, to prove that he wouldn't be cowed by Nakada provocation.

With a sudden, almost casual movement, Nagi unleashed a shot. It wasn't a powerful blast, nor did it boast impossible curves or angles. Instead, it was a deceptively simple shot, aimed towards the opposite corner of the goal from where he stood.

The ball left his foot like a silent arrow, carrying the weight of his defiance.

Across the field, Nakada watched, his eyes narrowed in focus. He recognized the quiet threat in Nagi's shot, the deceptive simplicity masking a calculated precision.

With a predatory grace, he leapt, his body rising to meet the ball in mid-air. His touch was light but firm, trapping the ball with his chest before bringing it under control with a deft flick of his head.

The loose ball sputtered to a stop at Barcha's feet, and Nakada, a predator ever-aware of opportunity, seized the moment. His pass, a diagonal laser, zipped across the field, finding the feet of Bachira, the enigmatic playmaker.

Bachira, a dancer on the pitch, pirouetted past a defender with a flick of his heel, leaving the bewildered player clutching at thin air. The crowd gasped in awe as he continued his mesmerizing display, slipping the ball through the legs of another defender with a nutmeg so smooth, it seemed to defy physics.

The ball, now on track to find Nishioka, Barcha's powerful forward, seemed destined for the net. Nishioka, already anticipating the pass, prepared to unleash a thunderous shot.

Nagi, a lone wolf amidst the chaos, materialized near the ball like a phantom.

Unlike the explosive Chigiri, Nagi's movement was almost languid, a single touch trapping the ball at his feet with effortless grace.

For a split second, the stadium fell silent. Nagi, usually stoic and silent, exuded an aura of quiet intensity. His eyes, devoid of their usual apathy, flickered with a calculating fire. This wasn't about Manchine proving a point; this was about Nagi asserting his dominance.

With a nonchalant flick of his foot, Nagi unleashed the ball forward. It wasn't a powerful blast, nor did it boast impossible curves or angles.

Instead, it was a deceptively simple pass, aimed diagonally towards the empty space beyond Barcha's backline. His own goal, a distant memory in an egocentric world.

Across the field, Nakada watched, his eyes narrowed in amusement. He recognized the quiet threat in Nagi's play, the deceptive simplicity masking a calculated selfishness. With a predatory grace, Barcha's defenders shifted, their movements dictated by the trajectory of the ball.

As Barcha's defenders, momentarily perplexed, glanced around searching for the intended target of Nagi's unexpected pass, a blue blur streaked across the field. Nagi, a lone wolf on the hunt, had unleashed himself, pushing his body to its limits in a breathtaking display of speed.

The Barcha team, their initial confusion replaced by sudden realization, scrambled to react, but it was too late.

Nagi, with the deceptive pass morphing into a calculated run, had exploited the gap in their defense with ruthless efficiency. He wasn't just fast;

he was a whirlwind of controlled chaos, weaving through the Barcha backline like a phantom. His eyes, devoid of any unnecessary emotion, held a glint of predatory determination.

As he reached the edge of the penalty area, the Barcha goalkeeper, his initial surprise evaporating, charged out to meet the threat. But Nagi, anticipating the move, took a sharp turn, leaving the goalkeeper flailing in his wake.

Now, only one obstacle remained between him and the goal: Nakada.

The prodigy, ever the predator, had mirrored Nagi's run, his own bursts of speed keeping him neck-and-neck with the blue blur. As Nagi prepared to unleash a shot, he felt Nakada's hot breath on his neck, a tangible reminder of the challenge he faced.

"You didn't think I would make this easy, did you?" Nakada's voice, laced with a hint of playful challenge, echoed in Nagi's ears.

Nagi, however, wasn't fazed. A slight smile played upon his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge before him. "I was counting on it," he replied, his voice devoid of any bravado, yet brimming with quiet confidence.