Matchday arrived, and the stadium buzzed with anticipation. Aston Villa fans filled their side, but a strong Luton presence made their voices heard, chanting in support of their team. The media had labeled the City match as a fluke, calling it a "miracle debut." Rahmat knew they had to prove it wasn't just a lucky day.
The whistle blew, and the game began. Aston Villa immediately showed their physicality, pressing high and challenging Luton's midfield. They knew Aoyama was the key to Luton's structure, so Villa's players closed in on him, forcing him to navigate through relentless pressure.
But Aoyama's composure held firm. With smooth movements, he weaved through Villa's players, making clean passes and creating space, keeping Villa's midfield on their toes. His precision was surgical, every move carefully calculated.
Barou, meanwhile, battled Villa's defenders, his aggressive style wearing them down. Despite Villa's attempts to lock him down, he found openings, narrowly missing several shots but leaving the defenders rattled.
Aston Villa retaliated with an aggressive counterattack, and their star forward launched a powerful strike towards Luton's goal. The ball sliced through the air, destined for the top corner—but Wakabayashi was ready. With a dramatic dive, he tipped the ball over the bar, the crowd roaring in shock and awe.
"Another incredible save by Wakabayashi!" the commentator shouted, astonished. "This guy's reactions are off the charts!"
Villa kept pressing, determined to find a weakness, but Wakabayashi stood tall, denying them again and again. His command of the goal was flawless, and each save fueled Luton's resolve.
Finally, with minutes left in the match and the score locked at 0-0, Rahmat made a daring decision. He signaled to Barou and Aoyama, urging them forward. They were going for the win.
Aoyama took possession near the halfway line, his vision sharp as he scanned the field. He spotted Barou making a run and launched a perfectly timed through ball. Barou received it with precision, barreling toward the goal with only Villa's last defender in his way.
In the stands, the tension was electric. The Luton fans held their breath as Barou squared up, his eyes blazing with determination. He faked left, then powered to the right, leaving the defender off-balance. With one powerful strike, he sent the ball soaring past the keeper, straight into the back of the net.
"GOAL!" the commentator screamed. "Barou Shoei has done it again! Luton takes the lead in the dying minutes!"
The Luton fans erupted, their cheers echoing through the stadium. Rahmat clenched his fists, feeling a surge of triumph. They'd done it—they'd broken Villa's defense, and with only minutes to spare.
As the final whistle blew, Luton's players celebrated on the field, embracing each other with relief and joy. Two games, two wins, and they'd silenced the doubters once more.
---
In the post-match interview, Rahmat and Barou faced the press. The reporters, previously skeptical, now regarded them with newfound respect.
"Rahmat," a reporter began, "once again, you and your team have defied the odds. How do you keep this momentum going?"
Rahmat smiled, his confidence growing. "We believe in each other, and we're here to play our game. Every match, we learn, we adapt, and we push ourselves harder. This team has the heart and the hunger to keep going."
Turning to Barou, another reporter asked, "Barou, two goals in two games against Premier League teams. How are you finding the league?"
Barou smirked, his eyes filled with determination. "The Premier League is just another place for me to show what I can do. We're not here to be anybody's underdog. We're here to take what's ours."
The room buzzed with excitement. Rahmat's players weren't just surprising people—they were changing the narrative. No longer were they seen as relegation favorites; they were becoming a team to watch.
As they left the stadium that night, Rahmat felt the weight of the journey ahead. The System was still out of reach, and there would be countless challenges, but he knew they were building something special. This wasn't just a team—it was a revolution.
And as they prepared for the next match, Rahmat and his players knew that they were on the brink of something extraordinary. The world was watching, and they were ready to make history, one game at a time.
The next morning, Luton Town was the talk of the football world. Analysts debated whether their winning streak could continue, pundits questioned the strength of their roster, and fans across England were captivated by the underdog story unfolding right before their eyes. Rahmat's name began to circulate as the "rookie manager with a mystery squad," and the players—especially Wakabayashi, Barou, and Aoyama—were already garnering their own fan followings.
But Rahmat knew there was no time to bask in the attention. The Premier League season was long and grueling, and they had only begun to scratch the surface. Their next opponent was Liverpool, a well-oiled machine of a team known for their relentless high-press strategy and fearsome attacking trio. Under the watchful eye of Arne Slot, a manager celebrated for his meticulous tactics, Liverpool was not a team to be taken lightly. Slot's analytical mind brought an added edge to Liverpool's playstyle; every match, he adapted his strategy to counter his opponents' strengths and exploit their weaknesses.
---
In the lead-up to the match, Rahmat poured over Liverpool's tactics, watching endless footage of their players, their formations, and their patterns. Liverpool's star forward, Mohamed Salah, was a major threat, with his pace and goal-scoring ability capable of dismantling any defense. Their midfield, orchestrated by the seasoned Jordan Henderson, was equally dangerous, with creativity, power, and control that often overwhelmed opponents.
In the locker room, Rahmat gathered the team, the atmosphere tense but charged with determination.
"Alright, everyone," Rahmat began, looking around at his players. "We've had two great matches, but Liverpool will be an entirely different challenge. They're fast, they press hard, and they'll exploit any gaps we leave open. This won't be easy, but I believe we can do it."
He looked over at Wakabayashi. "You'll need to be at your best. Salah and their forward line are deadly, and they'll be coming for you."
Wakabayashi gave a confident nod. "Let them try. I'll be ready."
Rahmat then turned to Aoyama. "Their midfield is strong, but they're also aggressive in pressing. You'll have to control the pace, keeping calm under pressure and finding those pockets of space. We need you to set the tempo."
Aoyama nodded, his calm demeanor as unwavering as ever. "I'll maintain control."
Finally, Rahmat looked at Barou, who was listening intently, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Barou, Liverpool's defense is solid, but they play high up the field. If you can time your runs right, you'll find opportunities to break through."
Barou smirked, cracking his knuckles. "I'll tear them apart."
Rahmat chuckled, feeling a surge of confidence himself. "Good. Remember, this game is about patience and precision. If we keep our structure, take our chances, and support each other, we can go toe-to-toe with anyone."
---
Matchday arrived, and Anfield was packed with roaring Liverpool supporters. The atmosphere was intense, with red flags waving and chants filling the air. Luton's players stood in a tight huddle on the pitch, absorbing the energy of the crowd. This was one of the most hostile environments in the league, and the pressure was on.
In Liverpool's dugout, Arne Slot surveyed the field, his expression calm but intense. His mind raced with tactical adjustments, ready to adapt at the slightest hint of weakness.
The referee's whistle pierced the air, and the game was on.
Liverpool attacked immediately, pressing high with a ferocity that tested Luton's defense from the outset. Salah darted forward, weaving past defenders with lightning-quick movements, while Núñez lurked in the box, ready to pounce on any loose ball. Henderson and Fabinho controlled the midfield, pushing Luton back with relentless pressure.
Slot observed, eyes narrowed. "Push higher, close the spaces," he instructed his players from the sideline. "Force them into errors. Their midfield anchor is calm, but their defense has cracks. Find them."
Liverpool's players responded to Slot's commands, increasing the intensity of their press. The relentless waves of attack kept Luton pinned in their half, testing every aspect of their defense.
In the commentary box, Jim and Derek observed the intensity.
"Liverpool is wasting no time," Jim noted. "They're throwing everything forward, pinning Luton back. This is Arne Slot's high-press system at its finest—fast, ruthless, and unyielding."
"But look at Wakabayashi," Derek added, watching as the Luton goalkeeper made save after save. "He's a wall. Salah and Núñez have both tested him, but he's met every shot with incredible focus. This guy is no ordinary keeper."
Slot clenched his fists, murmuring to himself. "That goalkeeper is remarkable… but their defense can't hold this forever."
On the pitch, Wakabayashi's leadership shone through. He commanded his defense, shouting instructions, organizing their lines, and diving fearlessly to block every attempt Liverpool made. His hands seemed magnetic, snatching the ball out of the air with unshakeable precision.
Midway through the first half, Luton saw their chance. Aoyama, under pressure from Fabinho and Henderson, kept his composure, using subtle movements to evade Liverpool's midfield. With a quick glance upfield, he spotted Barou making a run and threaded a perfectly timed pass through Liverpool's defense.