Miracle or Nightmare

Match:Kojiro fc vs Saitama fc

Score:3-2

Time Remaining :10 minutes

As the whistle blew to restart the game, Reo and Nagi exchanged a determined glance. "Park the bus," Reo said sharply, his tone resolute. The team shifted into a defensive stance, leaving only Reo and Nagi up front to orchestrate the counterattacks. They need to keep their one goal advantage.

The ball was passed out to Reo, who immediately began moving with calculated intent. His dribbling was precise, drawing defenders toward him as Nagi drifted into space. The two weaved through the midfield like a synchronized duo, exploiting gaps with sharp one-twos. As they neared the penalty box, Reo shaped his body as if to pass to Nagi, the defenders falling for the feint. Instead, Reo took a sudden shot—a powerful strike aimed at the top corner.

The ball rocketed through the air, but luck was not on Reo's side. It struck the crossbar with a loud clang, rebounding back into play. Before anyone could react, Shiro was there, the ball falling perfectly to his feet.

With space to work, Shiro immediately began his assault. He executed a roulette spin to evade Reo's tackle, the ball glued to his feet as he pivoted gracefully. Nagi moved to intercept, but Shiro's rapid stepovers left him flat-footed, his body twisting as if he couldn't predict the next move. With a flick, Shiro launched the ball into the air, executing a sombrero over an opponent as the midfielder scrambled to recover. The crowd gasped as Shiro followed up with a quick elastico, slipping past another player with finesse.

Shiro charged toward the 30-yard line, his control immaculate as he scanned the field for options. But just as he prepared to unleash another move, Nagi surged forward, a perfectly timed tackle cutting him down. The referee's whistle pierced the air as Shiro tumbled to the ground.

Nagi stood up slowly, his expression unreadable as the referee approached, pulling out a yellow card. Shiro picked himself up, dusting off his jersey as he placed the ball at the spot for the free kick. The crowd buzzed with anticipation—this was his moment once again.

As Shiro stood over the ball, the atmosphere was electric. The defensive wall loomed directly in front of the left corner. His eyes flickered to the goalkeeper, who was already shading toward the right, trying to anticipate his move. But Shiro wasn't thinking about the obvious. No, he was imagining something more.

What if I could do it differently? Something no one expects? His mind raced as he visualized the curve, the spin, the impossible path the ball would have to take. He could feel it in his gut—this wasn't just about scoring. This was about creating something extraordinary, something that would leave everyone speechless. A goal that bends reality itself, he thought, the idea igniting a fire in him.He closed his eyes,trying to visualise his goal.

As he reopened his eyes, clarity began to settle. He stepped back, aligning himself carefully at an angle, deciding on instinct. The idea wasn't fully formed—it was a gamble, a leap into the unknown. But if there was ever a moment to take a risk, this was it.

The crowd seemed to hold its breath as Shiro began his approach. Each step was deliberate, his focus unshakable. As he reached the ball, his left foot sliced across its surface with surgical precision. The spin he created was fierce and calculated.

The ball launched forward, its trajectory straight toward the right upper corner. Gasps echoed through the stadium as everyone believed they could predict its path. The goalkeeper read it, diving hard to his right, his hands stretching desperately for the ball. But just as it seemed destined for the right corner, the ball began to curve.

It swerved with impossible grace, bending sharply back across the goal. The curve carried it over the defenders and beyond the reach of the keeper, who was left stranded mid-air as the ball soared smoothly into the left upper corner. It was a finish so precise, so elegant, that it felt almost otherworldly

Shiro stood still, watching the net ripple as the ball settled into the goal. His chest heaved, his mind racing with exhilaration. That wasn't just a shot. That was art. The thought lingered as his teammates rushed toward him. He allowed himself a brief smile, not of pride, but of realization. This is the kind of football I want to play—something beyond power, beyond instinct. Something beautiful.

The roar of the crowd echoed around him, but Shiro's thoughts were already turning forward. Three goals... but this is only the start. I'll push the limits of what's possible again.

Ego Pov:

As the ball curled into the net, Ego leaned forward, his sharp eyes dissecting every detail of the play. The precision, the creativity, the sheer audacity of the shot—it wasn't just a goal. It was a statement. A moment that demanded attention.

He adjusted his glasses, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "That free kick," he murmured, his tone carrying a rare mix of admiration and intrigue, "wasn't just about scoring. It was about crafting something extraordinary. Not to destroy, not to humiliate, but to create. To take the impossible and make it real."

His gaze remained fixed on the player, standing amidst the celebration on the pitch. "This… this is your originality. Your football. Unique, transformative, and unforgettable."

Ego leaned back slightly, his smirk widening. "This is the type of scorer I want. Someone who can make the impossible possible. He's perfect for the project."

Anri could only nod in silence,deeply moved by the goal she just saw.

Nagi pov:

Nagi stood frozen, eyes wide as he watched Shiro's free kick sail into the top corner. The way the ball curved with such precision, defying logic—it was beyond anything he had expected. His mouth went dry as the reality of what he had just witnessed began to settle in.

This guy... Nagi thought, his heart pounding. His skill... it's on a different level. It's not just talent. It's pure originality, something I can't even imagine right now. His gaze stayed locked on Shiro, the player who had just shattered his expectations.

A part of him wanted to feel frustration, even anger, but all he felt was awe. I've always thought I was the best, Nagi reflected, the edge of competition creeping into his thoughts. But this... this is a whole new realm. A kind of football I've never seen before.

Nagi clenched his fists. No way... I'm not just going to let this happen. I have to get better. I have to push beyond everything I've known, beyond my own limits. I won't let him outclass me like this. Not today.

He turned his focus back to Shiro, determination burning in his chest. One day, I'll defeat him. I'll surpass this level. But right now... right now, I have to beat him in this match.

The final minutes of the match were intense, with the score still tied at 3-3. Every moment, every pass, felt heavier as the game neared its conclusion. Reo and the midfielder worked in sync, sending a precise cross toward Nagi, who controlled the ball effortlessly. But in that instant, Nagi's thoughts were clouded with one thing—Shiro.

Shiro... Nagi thought, his focus sharpening. He remembered the block Shiro had made earlier—quick and calculated, preventing him from scoring. Then there was the goal Shiro had scored, faking Nagi out with such ease, leaving him stranded. Nagi hadn't been able to stop him, no matter how many times they'd faced off. No matter how many attempts he made, Shiro always found a way to outclass him.

He's better than me, Nagi admitted to himself, the thought making him grit his teeth. But not this time. I'm not going to let him humiliate me again.

As Shiho charged at him, Nagi felt the pressure mounting. He couldn't afford to be tricked again. He had to adapt, just like Shiro did. In that split second, Nagi remembered the fake shot Shiro had used on him earlier. I'll use it against him now.

With a swift, fluid motion, Nagi faked the shot, just as Shiro had done. Shiro, expecting the strike, lunged forward, leaving himself vulnerable. Nagi's feet moved with lightning speed as he unleashed a powerful volley, sending the ball rocketing toward the goal.

The ball soared, unstoppable, hitting the back of the net with devastating precision. The crowd erupted as the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match. The score was now 4-3, but as Nagi stood there, watching the net ripple, a heavy weight pressed down on him.

I beat him this time, Nagi thought, but there was no triumph in it. He had scored, yes—but he still hadn't beaten Shiro. He hadn't proven he was the strongest. I've never beaten him. No matter how many times we play, no matter how hard I try, he's always one step ahead. But I won't give up.

This victory felt small, insignificant compared to the mountain he still had to climb. A nightmare turned into a fleeting victory, but I'm not done yet. The true battle starts now.

Shiro Pov:

Shiro stood motionless at the edge of the field, the final whistle echoing in his ears as the score settled at 4-3 in favor of the opposing team. Despite the loss, the crowd's cheers were deafening, chanting his name over and over—Shiro! Shiro! It was surreal, the energy around him buzzing with admiration even though his team had been defeated. He glanced up at the fans, who were still celebrating his every move, but it didn't make the defeat sting any less.

I lost... His thoughts felt heavy, almost like they didn't belong. This wasn't just any loss—it was his first football match in this world, the first time he had stepped onto the field here. Everything had been new. His body, his mind, the pressure—it was all so different from the life he'd lived before.

The feeling of defeat was foreign to him. Back in his old life, he'd never lost—not like this. But now, standing there, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut. His first match. His first taste of failure in this world.

How... He tried to shake off the frustration, his mind racing back to the moments that led to this loss. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't keep them from scoring. And that last goal...

His gaze shifted to Nagi, who had scored the decisive goal, and a feeling of frustration gnawed at him. I should've known. I should've been better. But I couldn't outsmart them. I couldn't stop that shot.

But despite the disappointment, something flickered deep within him—a fire, a drive that he hadn't expected. The crowd, still chanting his name, made him feel something stronger than just frustration. They still believe in me, even after this loss...

He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. This is only the beginning. I'll learn from this. I'll adapt. I've only just started playing in this world, and it's clear—there's so much more to discover, to perfect.

He turned his gaze to the fans, their cheers ringing in his ears. The defeat stung, but it didn't break him. If anything, it ignited a desire to push forward, to rise above. This loss won't define me. I'll come back stronger. I'll make sure of it. The real challenge starts now.