Between them stood the ball, white and clean against the dew of the morning. The conditions of their combat were one minute on the clock, two small goals, and twenty yards of space. Studying the guy who would become the most expensive teenage transfer in Japan, Kai turned to face Yuto. In his previous life, he had memorized every one of Yuto's tells: the slight shift of weight before a tackle, the quick glance left before going right.
But this Yuto didn't know that. This Yuto still thought he was facing a nobody from the countryside.
"First to score wins," Coach Kirihara announced. "Lose the ball outside the marked area, you lose the match. One minute limit." He raised his whistle. "Ready?"
Kai settled into a familiar stance, muscle memory from a future that hadn't happened yet taking over. Yuto mirrored him, bouncing lightly on his toes with the cockiness of youth.
The whistle pierced the morning air.
Yuto burst forward, exactly as Kai remembered. In his previous life, Kai had tried to reach the ball first, resulting in a collision that had left him off-balance and vulnerable. This time, he took half a step back.
"Too scared to challenge?" Yuto taunted, grabbing for the ball first. His initial touch was flawless, and the ball stuck to his foot like it was magnetic. This was the quality that drew Ajax scouts' attention: flawless control of the ball at high speeds.
But Kai had faced the world's top defenders. He understood how to transform complete control into a weakness.
Instead of backing away, Kai moved forward, into Yuto's space but without challenging for the ball. He'd acquired a defensive technique from Paolo Maldini during a charity match: apply pressure without commitment, forcing the attacker to make a decision under stress.
Yuto hesitated for a fraction of a second, disrupting his rhythm. Kai knew what was about to happen: a step-over to the right, followed by a quick cut left—Yuto's go-to move against aggressive defenders.
The step-over happened just on cue. But as Yuto shifted his weight for the cut left, he found Kai already there, sliding into the space before it opened. The ball popped loose, and Kai was moving before Yuto could react.
A gasp went through the watching students. Nobody had ever read Yuto's moves so perfectly.
Now it was Kai's turn to attack. He had the ball and fifteen yards to goal, with Yuto scrambling to recover. In his teenage body, some of his more advanced techniques would be risky—his muscles weren't conditioned for them yet.But he had something better: ten years of experience reading defenders.
Kai accelerated, but not to full speed. He could hear Yuto's footsteps approaching him quickly. Three yards from goal, he felt Yuto's presence behind him, preparing to make a last-ditch tackle. In his previous life, this exact moment had ended with Kai on the ground, his pride bruised worse than his body.
Not this time.
Instead of shooting, Kai let the ball roll slightly ahead, baiting the tackle. Yuto took the bait, launching into a slide that would have won him the ball against any normal high school player. But Kai wasn't normal—not anymore.
With a delicacy that belied his teenage frame, Kai lifted the ball with the outside of his right foot, just inches above Yuto's outstretched leg. As Yuto slid past, Kai pivoted on his left foot, letting his body rotate naturally with the ball's arc. It was a move he'd perfected in the Champions League, a signature that had earned him countless highlights.
The ball landed softly in front of him, and the goal was open.
Time seemed to slow as Kai looked at the empty net. He could easily score now—a simple tap-in would win the match. That is what everyone expected. That is exactly what his teenage self would have done.
But this wasn't about winning a single match. This was about conveying a message.
Instead of shooting, Kai caught the ball with his right foot, instantly stopping its movement. Then, without looking, he back-heeled it between his own legs, letting it roll slowly, mockingly, into the goal.
The whistle blew, and silence fell over the pitch.
With a look of shock mixed with something darker, Yuto lay on the ground where his slide had ended, looking at Kai. Yuto's flaw in his previous life had been pride, which had motivated him to eliminate everyone he perceived as a danger.
Kai walked over and offered his hand. "Good match."
Yuto ignored the hand and stood up on his own, dirt staining his pristine white practice uniform. "That was just luck," he spat, but his voice trembled slightly. Everyone had seen the truth: he had been completely outclassed.
"Luck?" Coach Kirihara's voice cut through the tension. "That, Shimizu, was anything but luck." He turned to address the whole group. "What you just witnessed was the difference between talent and technique. Shimizu, you have incredible talent—natural ability that most players would kill for. But Hasegawa..." He paused, studying Kai with newfound interest. "Hasegawa showed technique that takes years to develop. The question is, where did you learn to play like that?"
All eyes turned to Kai. He had prepared for this question, knowing it would come. In his previous life, he'd been too honest, too eager to share his training methods. That honesty had made him targets, both from jealous teammates and rival schools looking to poach Hoshiyama's secrets.
"My father," Kai said simply, the lie tasting bitter but necessary. "Before he died, he taught me that football isn't about being the fastest or strongest. It's about reading the game, understanding your opponent, and making the right choice at the right moment."
It wasn't entirely false. His father had taught him the basics before passing away. The rest—a decade of professional experience, innumerable matches against the world's best, and painful lessons gained through betrayal and pain—would stay a secret.
Coach Kirihara gently nodded, acknowledging the explanation. He yelled out, "Next pair," but his gaze remained on Kai for a minute longer.
As Kai returned to the group, he heard bits of whispered conversations:
"Did you see how he read that move?"
"That back-heel was insane..."
"Who is this guy?"
Shun gave him a thumbs up and smiled broadly. But it was Ryo's attitude that piqued Kai's interest—the quiet midfielder was looking at him with calculating eyes, obviously assessing and planning.Ryo, Kai's fiercest rival and most reliable teammate in his former life, had been the first to see Kai's potential.
Until the scandal that had ruined them both.
Sensing the little change in the mood, Kai placed himself amid the other participants. He had shifted Hoshiyama's freshman class's hierarchy in just one minute. It was part of the plan, but the target on his back was now larger than ever.
As the following pair took their places, he thought, "Let them come." I'm prepared for it all this time.
As additional games were played, the morning sun rose higher, creating lengthy shadows on the field. But Kai barely watched them. His mind was already racing ahead, planning his next moves in this deadly game of soccer and survival.
This was just the beginning.