Chapter 39: The Friction
The collision at the edge of the box was sudden and heavy.
Nagi leaned his frame into Eshan, his long leg reaching out to hook the ball away in one fluid motion. It was a reach that would have caught anyone else off guard, but Eshan had already planted his lead foot. When their shoulders met, there was no give.
Eshan anchored himself, his center of gravity undisturbed as Nagi's weight pressed against him. He didn't wait for the stalemate to break. He used a sharp, internal twist of his hips, his forearm creating a sliver of space against Nagi's chest—just enough to pivot.
The ball stayed glued to Eshan's boot, moving in a tight arc that bypassed Nagi's lunging foot. With a sudden, explosive drive, Eshan accelerated into the gap.
Reo Mikage's face tightened. He scrambled to cover the lane, but the timing was already gone. Eshan wasn't looking at him; he was looking at the sliver of green grass between the two retreating center-backs.
Eshan struck the ball. It wasn't a lob or a delicate chip; it was a stinging, low-trajectory pass that hissed as it cut through the defense.
Bachira met it without breaking his stride. He didn't stop to think. He let the ball roll across his instep, using the sheer velocity of the pass to whip himself into a spinning turn. The final defender reached out, but he was grasping at the air Bachira had occupied a second ago.
Bachira drove the ball into the far corner.
TEAM Z 1 - 0 TEAM V
The sound of the ball hitting the net was the only noise in the stadium.
Eshan didn't look at the scoreboard. He didn't wait for the celebration. He turned and walked back toward the center circle, his breath steady and controlled. He passed Reo, who was standing frozen, his eyes fixed on the spot where the play had broken down.
"Reset," Eshan said. It wasn't a shout, just a cold instruction to his team. "They're going to be faster now. Don't get comfortable."
He took his position. Across the line, Nagi was standing still, watching Eshan with a focused, narrowed gaze. The slackness in his posture was gone.
The whistle blew for the restart.
Reo didn't hesitate this time. He tapped the ball to Nagi and sprinted forward. The two moved in a tight, rapid sequence of one-touch passes, cutting through the midfield with a jagged, aggressive rhythm. They weren't playing for the cameras anymore.
As Reo received the return pass, he drove straight at Eshan. He didn't try to go around; he drove his shoulder in, trying to force a breakthrough by sheer will. Eshan met him again, the sound of their jerseys snapping under the tension of the drive.
Reo gritted his teeth, his face inches from Eshan's as they wrestled for the line. The shock of being down a goal had burned away his arrogance, leaving behind a cold, frantic desperation. He realized he couldn't just shove Eshan aside.
Still locked against Eshan's frame, Reo didn't look back at his teammates. He didn't need to. He knew where Nagi would be. He used the physical friction with Eshan as a screen, shielding the ball until the last possible second before slipping a reverse pass through Eshan's legs toward the box.
It was a blind nutmeg pass executed while under total physical pressure.
Nagi was there. He didn't even settle the ball. He let it hop once and prepared a volley to level the game.
But the ball didn't reach him.
Eshan had anticipated the release the moment Reo's weight shifted to compensate for the lean. Instead of tracking Reo's torso, Eshan had dropped his back foot. As the ball hissed between his legs, Eshan's trailing heel intercepted the path, deadening the ball's momentum instantly.
"What—?" Reo's eyes went wide as he lost the resistance he was leaning on.
Eshan didn't give him a second to recover. He collected the ball and drove his shoulder into Reo's chest, a firm, calculated check that sent the "Prince" stumbling back. With one clean motion, Eshan turned and cleared the ball deep toward the halfway line, where Isagi was already starting his run.
The danger was gone. But the heat stayed.
Nagi stood in the box, his leg still cocked for the volley that never came. He looked at Eshan, his chest heaving for the first time. The boredom was dead.
"You're not letting anything through," Nagi said, his voice dropping an octave.
Eshan didn't look at him. He was already shouting instructions to the backline.
"Raichi! Stay on Zantetsu's inside shoulder! Don't let him turn! Isagi, drop five yards!"
The match was twenty minutes in. The score was 1-0. But to everyone watching, it felt like the final seconds of a war.
Zantetsu finally broke his silence on the wing. He had been neutralized by Chigiri and the defensive structure Eshan had dictated. His glasses were fogged, and his expression was one of pure, unadulterated frustration.
"Reo," Zantetsu called out, his voice sharp. "Stop playing with the ball in the middle. Give it to me. I'll break them."
Reo wiped sweat from his eyes and nodded. The next time Team V got the ball, they didn't look for the "Genius" duo's internal rhythm. They went wide.
The ball was zipped to Zantetsu. He didn't wait. He ignited his sprint, the 10-meter explosion forcing Chigiri to retreat at full speed. This time, Zantetsu didn't try to turn inside. He used his shoulder to wedge Chigiri out of the way and fired a cross into the box—not a soaring one, but a driven, waist-high ball meant to cause chaos.
The ball pinged off Gagamaru's knee and bobbled toward the six-yard box.
Iemon lunged, but the ball was slippery. It spilled from his hands.
Nagi was there, looming over the loose ball. He didn't look for a highlight-reel finish. He just stuck his toe out.
Clang.
The ball hit the post and stayed in play.
Eshan was there a split-second later, his boot meeting the ball before Nagi could get a second touch. He didn't just clear it; he struck it against Nagi's shins, forcing a goal kick for Team Z.
Eshan stood up, his face covered in streaks of sweat and turf. He looked at his teammates, who were all panting, their faces pale from the near-miss.
"Hold the line," Eshan said. His voice was low, but it commanded every ear on the pitch. "They're cracking. Don't let them find their rhythm again."