Chapter 42 : Unleashing the Impossible

The whistle blew, and the kickoff began with Shidou. With a sharp pass, he sent the ball directly to Reo, signaling the start of an aggressive play.

Team White seemed different this time—more coordinated, sharper. Their movements formed a precise triangle, with Reo, Bachira, and Shidou at its points. The structure pulsed with energy, each pass flowing seamlessly between them. Meanwhile, Barou lingered on the outskirts of the play, his isolation signaling his incompatibility with this kind of synchronized strategy. For now, he was a lone predator, watching and waiting.

On the opposing side, Nagi found himself boxed in. He moved to intercept, but the blistering speed of the triangle's passing left him a step behind. Frustration flickered across his usually composed face. Team White was pushing hard, committing more players forward to overwhelm their opponents. It was clear—they were going all in.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, Shidou broke out of the triangle. His explosive pace shattered the formation as he charged ahead. Rin immediately responded, chasing after him. Eyes sharp and calculating, Rin positioned himself to cut off Shidou's passing options, his presence like a shadow that clung tightly to the flamboyant striker.

Bachira, now with the ball at his feet, scanned the field with his trademark playful grin. He lobbed the ball high into the air, his pass perfectly timed to land in Shidou's path.

As the ball arced through the air, Shidou and Rin clashed. They ran shoulder to shoulder, their fierce rivalry evident in every stride. Shidou tried to throw Rin off balance, his body colliding with his opponent's in bursts of raw physicality. But Rin was unyielding. Step by step, he disrupted Shidou's rhythm, slowing him just enough to keep him from taking full control of the ball.

Shidou's eyes burned with determination. The goal was within reach, and he would stop at nothing to claim it. But just as he prepared to strike, an unexpected presence entered the fray.

"...The Hell?"

Out of nowhere, another leg shot up, cutting through the chaos with precision. It was Barou.

Barou had been biding his time, watching the play unfold with predatory patience. He understood that structured attacks like these often had a single breaking point. As Shidou and Rin battled for dominance, Barou made his move. He intercepted the ball with a thunderous strike, redirecting it toward the goal in a split-second decision.

The ball rocketed forward with incredible force, a cannonball unleashed toward the net. But before it could find its mark, another figure appeared—Isagi.

Isagi had been tracking the play from the beginning, his mind working at a blistering pace to decipher the ever-changing dynamics. Initially marking Shidou, he quickly shifted his focus the moment Barou entered the equation. Anticipating Barou's strike, Isagi positioned himself perfectly.

As Barou's shot tore through the air, Isagi leaped. His leg stretched out, intercepting the ball mid-flight. But this wasn't a mere block—it was control. With finesse and precision, Isagi redirected the ball forward, transforming Barou's cannonball into a deadly through pass aimed at Kurona.

Kurona, who had been tailing Shidou's run, instantly recognized the opportunity. He adjusted his stride, his eyes locking onto the ball as it spun toward him. Isagi's passes weren't random; they were surgical, each one carrying an unmistakable sense of purpose.

The ball bounced perfectly into Kurona's path, and he sprinted forward, unrelenting. Nearby, Bachira noticed Kurona's sudden acceleration. His instincts kicked in, urging him to chase after Kurona. He didn't understand Isagi's exact plan, but he trusted his gut—and his gut told him this was a moment he couldn't ignore.

Kurona, now locked in on the goal, pushed forward with everything he had. He knew Isagi's touch was more than just a deflection; it was a calculated move, a setup for the next phase of their attack.

Bachira and Reo reacted with lightning speed to the deflection, instinctively transitioning from offense to defense. Their movements were fluid yet deliberate, Bachira zeroed in on Kurona, matching his pace stride for stride, while Reo darted across the field, strategically positioning himself to block Nagi's passing routes.

It didn't take long for Bachira to close the gap between himself and Kurona. The chase was intense, a duel of agility and wit. Kurona, sensing the pressure, began a series of quick, unpredictable turns. Each turn was calculated to shake Bachira off, and for a moment, it seemed to work. But Bachira's reflexes were uncanny, his ability to recover from each misstep nothing short of remarkable. He stayed locked onto Kurona, his determination as sharp as the focus in his golden eyes.

As Kurona approached the penalty box, he made his move. Without breaking stride, he launched a quick, precise shot toward the goal. The ball flew off his foot with incredible velocity, curving toward the top corner. It was a shot meant to seal the moment.

But Bachira wasn't done yet. In a split second, he leaped into the air, his body stretching to its limit. His outstretched leg barely grazed the ball, but it was enough. The deflection, slight as it was, altered the ball's trajectory.

The ball's path shifted just enough to send it crashing into the crossbar with a resounding clang. The rebound was chaotic, the ball spinning unpredictably back into play. It arced high over Reo, who had chosen to go help Bachira stop Kurona's shot. The ball came down at Nagi's feet, landing perfectly for him to control.

Nagi, ever composed, took a delicate touch to settle the ball. His movements were precise, almost surgical, as he prepared to outmaneuver Reo and create space for a shot.

Reo, however, was already locked in. His mind was uncharacteristically calm, devoid of the usual swirl of thoughts—no desire to reclaim Nagi, no comparison to Isagi, no hunger for validation. All that remained was the purity of focus, an unwavering determination to win this duel.

As Nagi began his dribble, his feints were subtle but masterful. He shifted his weight expertly, his feet dancing around the ball with an elegance that few could match. Each touch was designed to pull Reo out of position.

Reo took a step back, his sharp mind momentarily revisiting Isagi's earlier tackle on Bachira. The image replayed vividly, igniting a spark of determination. He knew this duel with Nagi would demand nothing less than perfection.

Nagi, ever poised, began his assault with a series of subtle feints and delicate touches. Each movement seemed calculated to slip past Reo's defenses. But Reo's keen eyes stayed locked onto the ball, his instincts sharpening with every passing second. He saw the window—a fleeting moment where the ball drifted into his reach.

Without hesitation, Reo lunged. His leg shot out like a coiled spring, connecting with the ball in a perfectly timed tackle. The sudden ferocity of the move caught Nagi off guard, his usual composure momentarily faltering. The force of the tackle sent the ball sailing high into the air, but its trajectory was unintended—it arced backward, away from Nagi, and landed at the feet of Barou.

Barou exploded forward, his powerful legs propelling him with ferocious speed. The ball seemed glued to his feet as he barreled through the field, his dribbling sharp and aggressive, each touch brimming with intent. His crimson gaze burned like a predator fixated on its prey.

Then, like an impenetrable wall, Isagi appeared before him, his stance calm but commanding. The moment Barou craved—the clash of rivals—was here again.

Barou didn't hesitate. His body twisted with quick feints, slicing the air as he attempted to confuse Isagi with sharp cuts. When that failed, he leaned into his raw physicality, trying to bulldoze his way past. But Isagi didn't take the bait. He refused to engage in a head-on collision of strength.

Instead, Isagi shifted subtly, his movements precise and calculated. He left a small gap, an opening just tempting enough for Barou to lunge at. Barou took the chance, driving into the space with his usual dominating presence. But the moment his foot touched the ball, Isagi's leg darted out with surgical accuracy. His first touch deflected the ball just beyond Barou's reach, reclaiming possession effortlessly.

Barou froze for a fraction of a second, stunned. Isagi's eyes, devoid of emotion, locked on him with an unnerving stillness. His presence had shifted—no longer the reactive strategist Barou knew but something colder, sharper.

In one seamless motion, Isagi turned and launched forward. His speed was electrifying, each stride eating up the ground with surprising ferocity. His movements were stripped of any excess, a masterclass in efficiency.

Shidou, quick to react, sprinted ahead to intercept. But Isagi's focus was unshakable. As Shidou lunged, Isagi executed a deft flick, sending the ball soaring over Shidou's head in a graceful arc. Shidou jumped, muscles straining, but the ball was a beat too fast, slipping just beyond his fingertips.

Isagi surged onward, now faced with Bachira, who grinned wickedly, his feet already in motion to close the gap. Reo, watching from the side, angled himself to cut off any passing lanes to Nagi. Behind Isagi, Shidou recovered quickly, his eyes burning with intent, ready to collapse onto Isagi with Bachira for a double team.

But Isagi didn't falter. The aura around him seemed almost tangible, a storm gathering as he advanced. Every movement screamed control, precision, and inevitability.

Isagi moved fluidly, the ball at his feet, exuding an almost unnerving calm. The pressure around him was palpable, yet it didn't seem to reach him. His sharp eyes scanned the field, already mapping the possibilities. He veered slightly to the left, subtly baiting Bachira into committing. As Bachira shifted, Isagi struck.

With his left leg, he unleashed a Trivela—a sharp, curling pass. The ball spun beautifully, a testament to his precision and creativity.

Rin, stationed in a carefully chosen position, had already anticipated the possibility of a pass. His eyes tracked Isagi's movements intently, dissecting the play in real-time. 

Rin knew that Isagi had the ability to charge toward the goal and finish the game on his own—his individual brilliance unmatched—but this wasn't always his priority. For Isagi, the thrill of the game was rooted in crafting plays that were as complex as they were exhilarating, the kind that demanded ingenuity and near-impossible execution.

From his stance, Rin challenged Isagi silently: If you're going to pass, make it worth it.

And Isagi rose to the occasion.

The ball left Isagi's foot with a startling curve, low and grounded, slicing cleanly through the defense. It was a calculated risk—a pass threaded through the narrowest of margins, slipping unexpectedly between Bachira's legs.

Rin's sharp instincts had prepared him for this outcome, yet even he was momentarily surprised by the sheer audacity of the play.

'You're seriously passing the ball when Reo's right there?' 

Bachira watched the ball zip past between his legs, his muscles coiling like a spring. His instincts screamed at him to react, but something about the ball's movement rooted him in place.

Reo lunged with everything he had, his body stretching to its limit as he reached for the ball. For a moment, he was suspended in the air, leg mere inches from contact. Yet, the ball was a blur, spinning with a wicked curve that defied all sense of logic and physics. It slipped past him like a phantom, the sharp arc slicing through the defensive formation.

Rin stood poised, his keen eyes tracking the ball as it hurtled toward him. He adjusted his stance, muscles rippling with controlled precision, ready to unleash a lethal strike. Everything in his body screamed that this was his moment, his chance to seize control of the game.

But just as his foot began to shift, his breath hitched. His sharp gaze, so accustomed to reading the flow of play, faltered in disbelief.

The ball didn't come to him.

Instead, it twisted mid-flight, defying even his elite reflexes, and arced away in an impossible trajectory. The curve bypassed Rin completely, as though mocking his readiness, and veered toward the bottom-right of the goal.

Rin's heart sank.

'He fooled me!' 

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Isagi had never intended to pass. This wasn't a setup, not a decoy—this was a shot. Bold, reckless, and impossibly precise. From a distance where most wouldn't dare, Isagi had calculated and committed.

The goalie's reaction was instantaneous, his body launching into a desperate dive. The air was thick with tension as he stretched his arms wide, fingertips straining toward the ball as it grazed the ball. For a split second, hope flickered in the Team White's player's eyes.

But it was too late.

The ball kissed the net with a clean, resonant thwack, the sound cutting through the silence of the stadium like a blade. It was over. The scoreboard flickered, and the new score shone brightly: 3-1.

The field froze. Players and spectators(Ego and Anri) alike were locked in stunned silence, their minds grappling with what they had just witnessed.

"YES!"

Before the match, he had resolved to let his imagination run wild, to push the boundaries of his abilities. And now, in this electrifying moment, he could feel it—the limitless potential of his game.

Every player on the field stood still, their eyes glued to Isagi. Some were frozen in awe, others wrestled with disbelief. What they had confidently assumed was a pass to Rin had transformed into something extraordinary—a goal so audacious it left them questioning their own instincts. It wasn't just a strike; it was a display of unparalleled vision, precision, and creativity that no one else could replicate.

This was Isagi Yoichi—a player who wasn't just competing to win but was redefining the boundaries of possibility with every touch of the ball.

Nagi was the first to break the spell, striding toward Isagi with an expression that teetered between amazement and admiration. 

"That was nuts" 

He said, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief even as a grin spread across his face. Kurona followed close behind, his own excitement bubbling over as he clapped Isagi on the back. Together, they celebrated the outrageous goal, their energy infectious.

The scoreboard read 3-1, their lead extended once more, and Isagi was the catalyst.

But Rin Itoshi, standing at a distance, wasn't celebrating. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. The match was spiraling into chaos, and it felt as though he'd lost his grip on the flow of the game.

Shidou's raw talent had been the first surprise—a wild force Rin hadn't fully accounted for. Then came Barou's brazen move, stealing the ball from Shidou to score with unrelenting ferocity. And now, Isagi had delivered the most devastating blow of all. The goal wasn't just unexpected—it was something Rin couldn't predict, something that had slipped entirely outside his usually flawless calculations.

And yet, as he watched Isagi's triumphant expression, something stirred in Rin's chest—a pang of recognition. Isagi's approach, and his relentless ability to adapt and innovate, reminded Rin of someone. Someone whose skills had once felt just as untouchable.

His older brother, Sae Itoshi.

Rin's mind raced. Sae's talent was unparalleled, his control and creativity leagues above the rest. But even Sae, Rin thought, couldn't have pulled off a shot like that. That ball—it hadn't just curved; it had bent reality itself, slicing through the air with an impossible, razor-sharp arc that Rin didn't think was physically achievable.

For the first time in the match, Rin felt something unfamiliar—doubt. Not about his own ability, but about the game itself. How far could someone like Isagi Yoichi go, he wondered, if he kept evolving like this?

In the observation room where Ego Jinpachi and Anri Teieri were watching the match, the atmosphere was electric with disbelief and exhilaration. Anri, usually composed, had dropped the tablet she was holding, the device clattering to the floor as her wide eyes remained glued to the screen. For once, she didn't even try to pick it up. The shot she had just witnessed defied her understanding of the game.

Her voice, trembling with emotion, broke the silence. 

"This… this is it" 

She said, as though the words were pulled out of her by sheer awe.

"This is the hope I've been searching for. Isagi Yoichi… He's the striker Japanese football has been missing."

Her gaze sharpened as she leaned forward, her heart pounding with realization. Isagi wasn't just playing the game; he was reshaping it. That shot, that impossible goal, was proof of his overwhelming potential. His presence on the field was speaking for itself, louder than any declaration she could make.

Ego, on the other hand, reacted with unrestrained excitement. His usual calculating demeanor cracked, replaced by a wide grin that bordered on manic. 

"Heh. That shot…" 

He began, his tone brimming with fascination. 

"It's absurd. Unthinkable. Impossible. And yet, Isagi Yoichi did it."

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as his eyes flickered with analytical glee. 

"Still, let's not kid ourselves—it wasn't all skill. That shot required a healthy dose of luck" 

He added, his voice regaining its sharp, pragmatic edge. 

"The trajectory of the ball? It was a decoy within a decoy. Even I was momentarily fooled into believing it was headed for Rin. If the curve had been slightly off, that ball wouldn't have found the net."

But even as he dissected the play, Ego couldn't suppress the thrill coursing through him. 

"Luck or not, it doesn't change the fact that Isagi's overwhelming ability enabled that shot. His spatial awareness, his creativity, his adaptability—those are the tools that made the impossible possible."

Anri turned to Ego, her face still flushed with excitement. 

"You're right" 

She admitted, her voice steadying as determination overtook her awe. 

"Luck can't account for everything. Isagi's skill is undeniable."

Ego's grin widened, his eyes glinting with anticipation. 

'What excites me most isn't just this goal' 

Ego thought, his thoughts dropping to a quieter, more intense tone. 

'It's what he'll show us next. The World Five will be their next opponents. If this is what Isagi can do now, just imagine what he'll accomplish when he's pushed even further.'

The two sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the future hanging between them. Anri felt a spark of hope reignite in her chest—hope that Isagi Yoichi might truly be the one to lead Japanese football to heights it had never reached before.

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