บท 33: Chapter 33 – Slow Day
Nagi sprinted down the left flank with every ounce of strength he had, his lungs burning as he chased the ball. Each breath felt like fire, but he knew he had to be there—he had to make a difference. He willed his legs to move faster, pushing his body to the limit.
The ball dropped exactly where he expected it to, just outside the final third on the left wing. With a desperate leap, Nagi extended his right leg, contorting his body in midair, attempting to trap the ball with the finesse he was known for. His posture twisted unnaturally, almost like a figure from the Bundesliga logo, as he reached for control.
But then came a subtle shove, a quick push against his right rib, just enough to throw him off balance. He missed the ball entirely. Before he could react, another player swooped in, stealing it from under his nose. Nagi hit the ground, frustration flaring as he scrambled back to his feet, heart pounding in his ears. He wouldn't let it end here. He had to win it back.
Without hesitation, he lunged into a sliding tackle from the side, leg extended, hoping to sweep the ball clean. But his opponent, quicker than he anticipated, flicked the ball into the air with the tip of his boot and leaped over Nagi's tackle effortlessly, leaving him sprawled on the pitch. The move was flawless. Nagi's tackle had been rendered completely useless.
His frustration boiled over. Nagi had never been pushed this far, never had to exert so much energy just to stay in the game. He had thought this would be just another routine match, a walk in the park against lesser players, but now, it felt like a nightmare. Every trick he knew, the play he had mastered, was nullified by this single, relentless player.
The player with white hair and piercing hazel eyes that burned with an intensity Nagi had never encountered before. Those eyes were like molten fire, threatening to scorch anyone who didn't face him at full strength. Nagi couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't looking at a normal human being. No, when he stared into those eyes, it felt like gazing into the abyss, as if an eldritch being was lurking inside, imprisoned within human flesh.
From the very start of the match, those eyes had been locked on him, suffocating him with cold, unrelenting hatred. A black aura seemed to seep from this player, radiating contempt so profound it was almost tangible. Nagi had never experienced anything like it before.
This wasn't the mild frustration he felt when losing a mobile game on his phone. This wasn't the fleeting excitement of trying something new, only to grow bored moments later.
No. This was something far deeper, far darker.
For the first time in his life, Nagi felt something he had never known before.
FEAR.
.
.
.
Three days before Team Z final match.
"Yeah, Mom, I'm eating well," Kira said, his voice carrying the same calm reassurance he always used in their calls. He was taking a break in the locker room after finishing his scheduled training to increase his stamina.
"No, I haven't gotten into any trouble," he added, listening patiently to his mother's stream of questions about his health and progress in the Blue Lock program. Her voice, full of concern, crackled through the phone. Kira smiled softly, enduring her familiar barrage with a sense of understanding. She had always been a bit of a worrywart, but he couldn't really blame her. He would have been just as anxious if the roles were reversed—he remembered the nights he would fret when she worked late for days on end.
"Yes, I'm enjoying myself," Kira said, his voice taking on a lighter tone, "More than I expected, honestly."
Their conversation continued, pleasant at first, until Kira's expression suddenly darkened. His face contorted into a frown as his mother brought up something from their past—something he would rather leave behind. He shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the thoughts that resurfaced.
"Don't worry, Mom. When I turn professional, you won't have to work so hard anymore," Kira said, his words meant to comfort her but feeling more like a vow to himself.
"I'll take care of you," he added softly before ending the call. As the line went silent, Kira took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, counting in his mind to push away the lingering negative thoughts. He slapped his cheeks lightly with both hands, snapping himself back to focus.
"Back to work," he muttered with newfound determination, slipping his phone into his locker and tightening the laces of his cleats.
Kira made his way toward Team Z's training field. The scene before him was bustling with activity: Bachira was weaving through cones, practicing his dribbling with laser focus; Kunigami was hammering powerful shots after receiving one-touch passes from Naruhaya; Isagi and Iemon were working on corner set pieces with Kuon and Imamura defending, while Raichi was taking charge of the corner kick drills, Gagamaru guarding the goal. Off to the side, Chigiri was running sprint drills down the right wing, his speed like a blur.
Kira clapped his hands to get their attention. "Alright, guys, let's run a scrimmage!" he called out.
The team immediately paused their individual drills and gathered, splitting into two groups for a 5v5 match. The atmosphere shifted as the scrimmage began, intensity rising with every touch of the ball. Everyone was giving their all, eager to hone their skills and score goals. Some players, like Isagi and Chigiri, seemed particularly driven.
Chigiri, in particular, was using his speed to its full potential, racing down the wing and turning defenders inside out, almost playing with them as he practiced traditional winger moves. He used his pace to stretch the field, forcing others to chase him as he toyed with the ball.
Isagi, on the other hand, was moving sharper than usual. He was constantly popping up in the right place at the right time, positioning himself in dangerous areas with annoying precision. He wasn't converting all his chances into goals yet, but the way he was pushing himself, constantly seeking openings, was catching everyone's attention.
'What's up with him?' Kira wondered, noticing Isagi's newfound drive.
Yet, amidst the energy and motivation, there was one player who seemed to be lagging behind—Kunigami. His shot-taking and positioning were off, far worse than usual. He failed to convert several promising chances, and while the opposing team was giving him extra attention, marking his left foot to neutralize his shots, some of his misses were simply poor decisions.
Instead of cutting inside and positioning himself for better opportunities, Kunigami lingered too far on the wing, taking shots from outside the box with little energy. He wasn't moving with the same intensity as the rest of the team, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by his teammates.
Whatever was holding Kunigami back, he would need to evolve if he wanted to remain effective as a striker and find the back of the net more consistently.
Team Z continued their training, running drills, practicing set plays, and sharpening their skills as they prepared for the upcoming match against Team V.
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