Chapter 20: "Our Weapon?"
"Start from Scratch, and A Hero Among Us."
Jinpachi Ego began.
His voice commanding attention as the monitor in the room lit up with his image.
"I see you've been reflecting on my words, but…"
His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing everyone in the room.
"It seems you haven't yet found the core of what's needed to create something from nothing."
The players exchanged uncertain glances.
Confusion spreading through the team.
"To accomplish that,"
Jinpachi declared.
"Let us talk about… football."
He paused, the silence amplifying the weight of his words.
"In football, offense and defense intertwine continuously on the field. It's a game played in close quarters, where the lines between roles blur. It's a game that can't be won by perfectly fulfilling just one role."
His gaze swept over the room.
His intensity forcing every player to sit up straighter.
"Thus, what we need… is Individual Power."
Jinpachi extended his hand, a ball materializing in his grasp.
He clenched it tightly, the veins in his hand visible.
And then, with a sharp motion, the ball shattered into fragments.
"As Japan stands now, do you know which positions we can truly be proud of?"
He asked, his tone mocking but deliberate.
"Midfielders and side-backs!"
Jinpachi gestured with disdain.
"Those who tirelessly work for the team's sake, following established patterns, leaving it to the strikers to bear the weight of their team's success."
He smirked.
"It only makes sense for us to excel in such positions. After all, Japan's football culture thrives on selfless sacrifice and cooperation."
His voice turned grave.
"And yet… because of that very selflessness, Japan's football has stagnated. It has failed to evolve."
The weight of his words struck everyone like a hammer.
"Like this,"
He concluded.
"There can be no revolution."
The room went deathly silent.
Jinpachi's words hanging in the air like a verdict.
"Strikers!"
Jinpachi's voice thundered, jolting the team.
"Don't confine yourselves within the boundaries of a role!"
He spread his arms wide.
A fierce grin on his face.
"A striker carries a weapon! Something to disrupt the enemy's organization! To make them yield! To destroy them!"
The monitor zoomed in on Jinpachi's eyes.
Burning with intensity.
"Reflect on it! Deliberate on it! What are your bodies and brains capable of?! It is only with your weapons that a revolution can be made!"
Murmurs broke out among the players as they wrestled with the implications.
Each tried to piece together what their "weapon" could be.
"And only then,"
Jinpachi said with finality.
"Will you continue to find victory."
The monitor powered down with a final.
"Zom!"
Leaving the room in stunned silence.
…
Amid the silence, Isagi stood apart from the rest.
A calm expression settled over his face.
He understood Jinpachi's words better than anyone else.
"Weapon, huh?"
Isagi thought, his eyes narrowing.
Unlike the others, he had already begun to grasp what his weapon was.
Spatial awareness, his ability to see the field like no one else, and his adaptability.
But that wasn't all.
The system at his disposal gave him an edge.
Allowing him to gather data and understand his opponents on a deeper level.
Sometimes even better than they understood themselves.
…
Team Z's Room.
The players of Team Z gathered in their shared room.
Sprawled across the sleeping mats on the floor.
Raichi broke the silence.
Puffing out his chest dramatically.
"Alright, listen up, losers!"
He declared.
Standing up and pointing at himself.
"My best weapon is my awesome shooting technique!"
He grinned smugly.
Pausing for dramatic effect.
"I like to call it… Sexy Football!"
The room fell silent, faces blank with disbelief.
"Sexy Football?"
Naruhaya repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Dude, what even is that supposed to mean?"
Imamura asked, holding back laughter.
Bachira, sitting cross-legged on a bed.
Couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.
"Sexy Football?! Hah! That's the funniest thing I've heard all day!"
Raichi's face turned red with frustration.
"Oi! You wanna say that to my face, string bean?! I'll show you sexy football!"
He lunged toward Bachira.
Who nimbly dodged and scrambled away, still laughing.
"Calm down, Raichi,"
Kuon said, holding up a hand.
"Let's talk about something productive."
Bachira, still chuckling.
Suddenly remembered something.
"Hey, remember when Isagi assigned everyone's positions before the match against Team X?"
The room quieted down as everyone nodded.
Their expressions thoughtful.
"Now that I think about it,"
Imamura said.
"That's when things really started to click."
"You grouped us based on what we're good at, right?"
Kuon turned to Isagi.
Curiosity in his eyes.
"Hey, Isagi. Could you go over everyone's weapon in more detail? It might help us all understand ourselves better."
Isagi hesitated for a moment.
Scratching the back of his head, but then nodded.
"Alright, I'll do my best."
The scene shifted.
Skipping over Isagi's detailed explanation of each player's unique weapon.
When he finished.
The team sat in reflective silence, digesting his insights.
It was Chigiri who finally broke the silence.
His voice quieter than usual.
"You know… I haven't talked about this before, but I tore my ACL a while back,"
Chigiri began, his tone heavy.
"My right leg. It wasn't just an injury—it was a nightmare. I had to sit out for months, and even after recovering, I couldn't trust my body anymore."
The room's atmosphere shifted.
Everyone listening intently.
"That kind of injury messes with your head. My greatest weapon, my explosive speed, became my biggest fear. Every time I tried to push myself, I could feel it. That split-second hesitation. The 'what if.'"
He looked down at his hands.
Clenching them into fists.
"I let that fear define me. I stopped running the way I used to because I couldn't handle the thought of tearing it again."
Chigiri took a deep breath.
His voice softening.
"But during the match against Team X… when Isagi put me in a role that fit my strength, I… I forgot about my fear."
He looked up, his voice filled with emotion.
"I didn't even realize it at the time, but I played my best. I didn't hold back."
His gaze locked onto Isagi.
"I don't know how you did it, but… you just freed me from that fear. Like it was nothing."
Isagi rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
"I just… figured that was the best way to use your talents,"
He muttered.
"It wasn't anything special."
"Not special?"
Chigiri repeated, his voice incredulous.
"You don't understand. That fear was holding me back for so long, and you shattered it like it was nothing."
The team murmured in agreement.
Clearing his throat.
Isagi pushed down his embarrassment and stood up.
"Alright,"
He said, his tone firm and focused.
"If we're going to keep winning, we need to sharpen our weapons. I've been thinking… we need a special training plan tailored to each of our strengths."
Everyone straightened up, their interest piqued.
"I'll come up with a regimen for each of you,"
Isagi continued, pacing as he spoke.
"Something that'll push you to refine your weapon, to make it even deadlier on the field. We don't just need to win—we need to dominate."
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
-- Power
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