Chương 24: [24] Team X vs. Team V
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Kobe sneered, motioning at Haizaki with his fingers to come closer. "Come on, let's wrap this up. Don't waste my time."
"Oh, I'm so scared," Haizaki laughed mockingly, spreading his arms wide as he stopped just a step away from Kobe. "Show me what you've got. Let me take even more from you!"
"Still haven't learned, huh?" Kobe shook his head, his voice laced with disdain. "Staying a step back won't help, not that stepping closer would either."
Without hesitation, Kobe repeated the same move from before—a lightning-fast crossover.
This time, he performed it even more effortlessly, not even needing to shift his body to breeze past Haizaki's supposed defense.
But then… he stopped.
For a moment, Kobe froze, staring at his empty hand. The ball was gone.
He glanced back, bewildered. Haizaki hadn't made any defensive moves, yet the ball had somehow slipped away during his crossover.
"I told you, didn't I?" Haizaki smirked, picking up the ball as he laughed triumphantly. "I've already stolen that move from you. You can't use it anymore. Now, how about showing me something new?"
...
Remembering the chaos that followed, Shinichi sighed.
After losing his signature move to Haizaki's Devour ability, Kobe's temper flared.
Refusing to back down, Kobe insisted on challenging Haizaki head-on.
Even with the debuff in place, Kobe used nothing but crossover attempts to go one-on-one against him.
Each time he lost the ball, Kobe would shove Haizaki aside to reclaim it and start over.
It got to the point where Haizaki, utterly exhausted, tried to forfeit, only for Kobe to force him to keep playing.
For six straight hours, they dueled.
By the end, Haizaki collapsed from sheer exhaustion, and the summoning spell forcibly deactivated as he was sent back.
The strangest part came the next night.
When Shinichi reentered the training space, he found Kobe casually shooting hoops—and Haizaki, acting as his ball boy, obediently retrieving every rebound.
From there, the situation spiraled even further.
Somehow, the two had formed an odd alliance, and their combined efforts turned into a shared vendetta against Shinichi.
Both of them insisted on running brutal two-on-one drills, targeting Shinichi relentlessly.
Kobe forbade him from using his hands for defense, while Haizaki was encouraged to "play dirty."
Kobe even laughed as he urged Haizaki to use every underhanded trick he could think of.
It was hell.
Absolute hell.
"Trip him, poke his eyes, hit him below the belt—whatever you can think of," Kobe had said with a malicious grin as he encouraged Haizaki to unleash every dirty trick imaginable.
"He won't get hurt here anyway. Better he learns the hard way now than getting blindsided on the field and ending up sidelined for good."
Recalling Kobe's not-so-subtle menace, Shinichi couldn't help but shiver. Sure, he appreciated Kobe's tough-love approach to training, but…
"How am I supposed to defend against a damn fadeaway jumper with just my feet? Jump and do a split mid-air or something?" Shinichi muttered in frustration.
Sighing, he shook his head and forced himself to refocus. "Forget it. No point worrying about that now. Today's opponent is the real problem."
He took a swig of water and pulled out his phone to review the opposing team's roster.
"Team V… They've got Jyubei Aryu, Tabito Karasu, and Otoya Eita—three players who originally cleared the second selection stage. Their team has been averaging a goal differential of +4 per game."
Shinichi let out a dry laugh. "And of course, we have to face them now."
He couldn't deny it—his condition had been off lately.
The legendary training camp didn't directly affect his physical state, but the muscle memory from the intense sessions lingered.
"What I thought was a harmless feature, aside from the time restrictions, turned out to be a trap," he thought grimly, regretting his decision to ignore the system's cautious suggestions when selecting training modules.
Because now, his turning ability had been stolen by Haizaki.
That's right.
During a basketball drill, Haizaki had managed to copy and devour his spin move—something Shinichi had casually used during a behind-the-back dribble.
He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but to his shock, the effect carried over to football.
Now, whenever he attempted a turning maneuver while dribbling, he would almost always lose control of the ball.
It could be said that moves like the Marseille Turn and other directional techniques were now completely unusable for Shinichi.
Yet, curiously enough, despite using crossovers during training, Haizaki hadn't managed to steal that skill—or at least Shinichi didn't feel any noticeable impact on his ability in that area.
Could it be that the crossover is less connected to football, making it less significant even if stolen?
That seems unlikely.
In fact, the relationship between crossovers and directional feints in football is far more direct than the link between spin moves and the Marseille Turn.
'There's definitely something… something I've overlooked, something crucial that I've forgotten. I remember Kobe's fadeaway wasn't stolen either. If my crossover wasn't stolen without affecting me, but rather something Haizaki couldn't steal at all… then what could it mean?'
'Could the key lie in some hidden mechanism behind Haizaki's ability to steal?'
Shinichi pondered deeply, recalling the original explanation of Haizaki's Devour—how he would deliberately alter the rhythm of copied skills to throw off opponents.
But there seemed to be an underlying factor, something more fundamental that hadn't yet been explained.
Lowering his head in thought, Shinichi felt an instinctive sense that understanding this detail could unlock something critical.
If he could grasp this concept, it might lead to his first self-learned trait, achieved through pure insight.
"Shinichi? Time to go," Hiori called out, poking his head through the door.
"Coming, coming," Shinichi replied, quickly pulling on the Team X jersey.
"Hey, Shinichi, your form hasn't been great lately. The other team isn't going to be a walk in the park. You sure you're good to go?"
"What kind of question is that, Hiori?" Shinichi shot back nonchalantly as he walked through the player tunnel, the lights casting long shadows behind him.
His expression was unreadable, obscured by the backlighting.
"A little debuff like this? If I fall here, it just means I'm only capable of playing at this level, nothing more."
He turned toward the lit-up court, his tone calm but firm. "Let's go. Let's win this and get through this boring selection round already."
"...Are you waiting for me to say something like 'Yes, sir' or 'as you command'? Shinichi, you're surprisingly dramatic sometimes," Hiori teased.
"Shut up! Don't act like you're so clever now!" Shinichi snapped, though a faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
...
"Well, well, the main character has finally arrived," Tabito Karasu sneered, his mischievous grin fixed on Hiori. "What's the deal, Hiori? You're looking more and more like the sidekick in the hero's party."
"But let's be real—you're probably the guy who dies right before the final battle just to set up the hero's awakening, aren't you?"
"At least I'm still part of the main cast," Hiori replied coolly as he adjusted his gloves. "If my death saves the world, then I'll gladly take one for the team."
"But you," he shot back, his tone sharp, "what's your plan? Still standing there on the sidelines? Or are you hoping to be one of the random monsters we crush along the way?"
"Been a while, Hiori. You've gotten pretty bold," Karasu teased, his grin widening.
"Got a problem with that?" Hiori shot back.
"Not at all. In fact, I've been waiting for this, you idiot," Karasu laughed, clapping his hands. "But let me correct one thing, Hiori."
"What's that?"
Karasu spread his arms theatrically as he joined Aryu and Otoya. "If you think we're just some low-level mobs for you to crush, you're in for a rude awakening. If anything, we're the kind of 'trash mobs' in a game that make the hero die over and over again—so frustrating they might rage-quit entirely."
"Don't drag me into your banter," Otoya Eita interrupted irritably, swatting Karasu's hand away.
Aryu Jyubei nodded in agreement, his expression one of mild disdain.
"Exactly. And let me just say, the term 'trash mob' is so not stylish. I absolutely refuse to be associated with something so uncool." Aryu dramatically flipped his jet-black, glossy hair and gazed up at the sky, lost in his own world.
"You've got your hands full with this crew," Hiori quipped, patting Karasu sympathetically on the back.
Karasu simply shrugged.
"Don't let his attitude fool you," Karasu said, jerking a thumb toward Aryu. "He's surprisingly reliable when it counts."
Before he could continue, a sharp whistle cut through the air. Karasu grinned and began stepping backward.
"Well, enough chit-chat. It's time."
"The match starts now!"
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