The moment the whistle blew, Fujisato High switched gears. No longer charging down the field with explosive energy, they settled into a defensive rhythm, passing the ball back and forth in short, controlled bursts. Each pass was crisp, sharp, and calculated. They weren't looking to make any risky plays—just wear Seiryuu High down, force them to chase the ball. They wanted to tire them out, sap their energy, and set themselves up for a stronger second half.
Sota could see the tactic unfolding right in front of him. Fujisato was playing the long game now, content to bide their time while Seiryuu wasted precious stamina. Sweat trickled down his brow as his eyes darted from one Fujisato player to the next. It was frustrating—he could feel the pressure of the clock ticking down, yet there was no immediate way to break through this slow, suffocating strategy.
But not everyone on Seiryuu was willing to let Fujisato dictate the pace.
