The tension on the practice field was unmistakable.
Barou Shoei stood apart from the rest of the team as they huddled together. His arms were crossed, and his face bore that usual scowl of contempt. Even after joining the school soccer club, he hadn't changed his philosophy: pass to no one, trust no one.
Ryuu Ichijou, standing among his teammates, had his eyes locked on Barou.
"That guy... he's unbelievably skilled. But he's too selfish. Soccer isn't a solo sport."
Ryuu had never played with someone so unwilling to cooperate. He respected Barou's raw talent— that was undeniable. The power in his shots, the speed in his dribbling, the way he read the defense like a predator tracking prey— it all screamed world-class. But soccer wasn't just about personal brilliance. It was about unity. About trust.
Coach Mirko Kovac, a sharp-eyed foreigner who had brought new life to the team, blew the whistle.
"We're going for another practice match! Team A versus Team B. Barou, you're on Team A with Ryuu. I want to see some real chemistry this time."
Barou's gaze flicked to Ryuu and then away.
"Tch. This again. The 'teamwork' lecture. Like passing the ball makes me better. I don't need anyone slowing me down."
But even he couldn't deny it: yesterday's match had exposed flaws in his play. His shots, while lethal, weren't always enough to win. And Ryuu's calm coordination had been surprisingly effective.
The match began.
Barou didn't waste time. He stormed forward the moment the whistle blew, pressing defenders with terrifying force.
He executed the Elastico, a quick outside-inside flick that confused the first defender, making them lunge the wrong way. Then came a sharp feint, tricking the second opponent into freezing. As the third came to close him down, Barou performed a sudden chop—a lateral cut of the ball with his dominant foot—sending him bursting into open space.
The crowd of students watching began to murmur.
"Is he going all the way?" one whispered.
He took the shot—a rocket, low and fast. The keeper dived, barely managing to deflect it.
"Damn it!" Barou hissed under his breath.
Ryuu sprinted to recover the rebound, flicking the ball back toward Barou.
"Here! Shoot again!"
Barou instinctively turned and struck—a clean, curved volley. This time, the ball slammed into the back of the net.
Cheers erupted. But Ryuu wasn't smiling.
He walked up beside Barou.
"You would've missed that goal if no one followed up. You know that, right?"
Barou glanced at him.
"So what? I still scored."
Ryuu's expression didn't change.
"And I still passed. That's what makes a team. You want to win the World Cup, right? You won't get there playing like this."
Barou didn't reply. Instead, he returned to his position.
"World Cup... of course I want it. But I want it my way. Not by relying on others."
The match resumed. This time, the opponents were ready. They doubled Barou every time he touched the ball. His dribbles still dazzled—step-overs, where his legs blurred in circular motion to fake direction, and La Croqueta, where he slid the ball sideways with his foot to bypass a defender in one fluid move—but the space was gone.
Ryuu read the pattern quickly.
"They know Barou won't pass. So they're collapsing on him. If he doesn't change..."
Barou charged forward again, only to be boxed in. A defender poked the ball loose. Counterattack.
They scored.
Coach Kovac shook his head.
"Barou! You're being read like a book! You need to adapt!"
Barou clenched his fists. His pride burned. But so did his mind.
"They think I'm predictable... That I can't change... But I can evolve. I'm not just a beast—I'm a king."
On the next possession, Barou faked a run to the center using a clever drag-back, pulling the ball behind him and changing direction to bait the defenders into closing in. Two players bit the bait. Then, with a twist, he slid the ball to Ryuu on the wing.
Ryuu blinked in surprise—Barou passed?
But he recovered fast and sent a curling cross into the box. Another player volleyed it in.
Goal.
Everyone turned to look at Barou.
He didn't react.
Ryuu jogged up beside him.
"I thought you didn't pass."
Barou smirked.
"I don't. I just wanted to shut them up."
But inside, something stirred.
"That felt... different. Useful. Maybe... maybe it's not weakness. Maybe it's another weapon."
After practice, Coach Kovac called them in.
"Barou. You adapted today. That's what I want to see. You don't have to change who you are—but understand when to strike alone and when to trust. Ryuu, good support."
Ryuu nodded. Barou simply turned away.
As they packed up, Ryuu walked beside him.
"You still thinking about the World Cup?"
Barou didn't stop walking.
"I'm not just thinking about it. I'm going to win it."
Ryuu smiled.
"Then let's both get there. Together."
Barou paused.
"Together... huh?"
He didn't reply. But he didn't walk away either.
And that, for now, was enough.