The morning air was crisp, but Blackhaven's players were already drenched in sweat.
Training had barely started, and they were struggling.
Daisuke stood on the sideline, arms crossed, watching as the team gasped for breath. This was beyond bad.
Their stamina was nonexistent. Their movements were sluggish. Even basic drills were filled with mistakes.
Aaron Vance wiped his brow, glancing at the exhausted players around him. "What kind of training is this?" he growled. "We've never done this much running before."
Daisuke didn't even look at him. "That's the problem."
Aaron's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Daisuke gestured toward the struggling team. "You lot can't even last twenty minutes without looking like you're about to collapse." His voice was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. "No wonder this club is dead last."
The players stiffened. Annoyance flashed across Aaron's face.
Lewis Carter, the midfielder from earlier, took a step forward. "Hey, we're not that bad! We just—"
"—Just need time? Just need a better strategy?" Daisuke cut in. "Shut up."
Lewis flinched.
Daisuke stepped onto the field, his gaze piercing. "You want to complain? Then answer this."
His voice turned cold.
"How many goals have you conceded this season?"
The team went silent.
Daisuke didn't wait. "Thirty-six goals in seventeen matches. The worst defensive record in the league." He turned to Marcus Hill, the center-back. "You're too slow on the turn. You get beaten one-on-one 80% of the time."
Marcus clenched his fists, looking away.
Daisuke's gaze swept across the rest. "Midfield? Nonexistent. You're all too slow to transition. The attack? Weak. You've scored only nine goals in seventeen games."
Aaron's jaw tightened. "You're saying it like it's all our fault."
Daisuke smirked. "Who else should I blame? The fans? The grass? The goalposts?"
Aaron stepped forward, frustration evident. "You think you can fix all this in one day?"
Daisuke tilted his head. "I don't need a day. I just need you to listen."
A heavy pause.
Daisuke turned away and walked toward the whiteboard set up near the sideline. He picked up a marker.
"I'll tell you how we're going to win."
The players watched as he sketched a new formation on the board.
4-1-2-3. A shift from their usual outdated setup.
Aaron frowned. "That's… an attacking system?"
Daisuke nodded. "Controlled aggression. High pressing. You don't sit back and wait for the opponent. You take the fight to them."
Some of the players exchanged glances.
"But," Daisuke continued, pointing at the board, "to play this way, you need stamina. You need intensity. You need to be able to run and press for 90 minutes without slowing down."
His sharp eyes locked onto the team.
"And right now? You can't do it."
The players looked away, but none of them argued.
Daisuke let the silence settle before speaking again.
"That's why, starting now, we fix it. You're running double the usual drills. You're training with weights. You're going to suffer, but when we step on the pitch, you'll be able to outrun and outfight any team in the league."
Aaron exhaled slowly. The way Daisuke spoke… it was different.
He wasn't talking about surviving. He was talking about winning.
Aaron folded his arms. "And if we can't keep up?"
Daisuke's expression was unreadable. "Then you leave."
A long pause.
Then Aaron smirked. "Fine. Show us what you've got, Coach."