But just as Ryūma was about to reach the ball that Kudo Tōya had flicked toward his groin,
Tōya used a Marseille Turn to take the ball even farther to the right—Ryūma cutting in the same direction at the same moment.
The two plunged once again into their extreme offense–defense duel. Ryūma frowned inwardly:
(What’s going on? Wasn’t his stamina crashing? How is he suddenly this sharp again?)
(Well, whatever. Even if he’s back at peak form, it just makes things a bit more troublesome.)
Then Ryūma deliberately exposed a small opening. Sure enough, Tōya took the bait and lunged to his right.
Ryūma grinned and burst forward toward that side.
Tōya’s expression didn’t change at all. As he dragged the ball back with his right foot, he flicked it to the left.
(I don’t know what’s gotten into him—but in my Slow-Motion World, there’s no way he can escape.)
Ryūma shifted left almost in perfect sync…
but in the very next instant, he froze.
The moment Tōya pushed the ball left—he kicked it right again.
That sudden reversal was so deeply preloaded into Tōya’s initial motion that even the Slow-Motion World couldn’t read it.
In other words, the moment Tōya feinted left, he had already predicted the path Ryūma would take.
(Tch… fine then. You stay right here!)
But to Ryūma’s shock, Tōya didn’t chase after the ball he had knocked right.
Instead, he sprinted full speed to the left.
When Ryūma swept his gaze to the right, he saw someone already standing in front of the ball—
(What?! Kairu Saramadara? Impossible! My Slow-Motion World didn’t pick him up at all. When did he get here?)
(All those exchanges Tōya and I had—every extreme back-and-forth—was all part of his calculation… no! His anticipation!)
(Yes… that’s it. While fighting me, he was guiding me toward Kairu Saramadara.)
*(Which means—Tōya predicted this whole sequence from the start?!) *
(In my Slow-Motion World, Saramadara just stood there—motionless, invisible, irrelevant.)
(I only glanced at him a few times; he wasn’t participating in anything all match, and he didn’t move toward us.)
(So after a few glances, seeing him planted there like a statue, I simply stopped registering him.)
(And I didn’t have time to pay attention to a background extra anyway.)
(Yet Tōya activated that unnoticed piece…!)
Saramadara immediately kicked the ball toward the center of Team B’s half.
There, Kyohei Shiguma received it and returned a clean one-touch pass toward the right side of their attacking front.
The entire sequence was smooth and seamless. The ball flew straight toward Kudo Tōya, who had already sprinted into position.
Fortunately, Ryūma was also closing in on that spot. Watching Tōya’s back, he thought:
(No doubt now… this guy can see even farther into the future.)
(Trouble. Even doubling my Slow-Motion World isn’t suppressing him anymore…) Google seaʀᴄh Nov3lFɪre.ɴet
Before that thought finished, Ryūma had already reached Tōya’s back.
“Let’s see how much you’ve changed, Tōya!”
“Hmph. Don’t get arrogant. I’m already in a different dimension from you.”
Ryūma erupted forward, circling around Tōya to intercept him head-on.
Tōya didn’t panic. His footwork shifted rapidly, slipping past Ryūma with ease.
The moment Tōya feinted right to bypass him, Ryūma burst forward again to block—
—but the instant he moved, his pupils tightened.
Tōya’s motion didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat. As Ryūma cut in, Tōya executed a perfect V-pull, dodging him again.
(Just as I thought… but how far ahead can he actually see? He’s predicting even my spur-of-the-moment reactions?!)
(But don’t think you’ll get past me so easily!)
(Huh? Damn—Ryusei’s charging this way. Rin’s behind him, but if anything unexpected happens…)
Before Ryūma could finish the thought, Tōya—after the V-pull—changed his movement again.
A twist of the ankle, and he flicked the ball with his heel.
Ryūma gritted his teeth and forcibly halted his previous interception attempt, redirecting himself to block Tōya directly.
“Stop overdoing it. Move!”
As he spoke, Tōya stepped on the ball with his right foot, dragged it back, spun, and burst off toward the opposite side.
“Hah. Then I’ll follow you to the very end, Tōya!”
Ryūma charged again. The two plunged back into their extreme duel—but this time, Ryūma was clearly losing ground.
He could no longer keep up.
(Damn it—his movements flow too smoothly! No matter how I react, it’s like he doesn’t even need to think about what I’ll do.)
(It’s as if he’s predicting every single one of my next actions.)
(『Even the defensive shifts I make based on his attacks』—he’s reading all of them!)
(How far into the future can this guy see? He’s suppressing my Slow-Motion World one-on-one!)
(Tch—how are we playing normally and suddenly he turns on cheat mode?)
Lost in his spiraling thoughts, Ryūma slipped—Tōya nutmegged him cleanly, tapping the ball through his legs.
Ryūma knew he had no chance of catching the ball now, so he chose to block Tōya instead, preventing him from chasing his own pass.
But the next instant, Ryūma froze.
He was just standing there.
(Wait… don’t tell me—)
Ryūma whipped his head around.
And the recipient was—
Shōei Barō, the starving lion waiting all match for a prey to pounce on.
(Tōya actually passed to Barō?!)
Barō himself was stunned. He had not expected the Kudo Tōya who ignored him all game to pass to him at this moment.
But Barō still shouted toward Tōya:
“That’s it! Perfect pass!”
“This is how it should’ve been—let me lead you to victory!”
With that, Barō burst forward at full speed toward the center of Team A’s midfield.
“Nagi—your left, my right!”
Yoichi Isagi and Nijiro Nanase sprinted in to intercept as Shōei Barō charged ahead.