The sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue over the field as the second day of Kobayashi's training reached its peak. The air was thick with tension — every player pushed to their limits, sweat dripping down their faces as they tried to keep up with the relentless pace.
But Eiji Kobayashi [old legend] remained unfazed, his calm, predatory aura making it clear that this was still his game.
"Again!" Kobayashi's voice cut through the air like a whip.
The ball fired toward Renji Kurogami, fast and unpredictable. He reacted instinctively — his vision expanded, his mind calculated angles and movements in an instant. He struck the ball without hesitation, sending it screaming toward a moving target. The ball clipped the edge, just missing the perfect hit.
"Tch," Renji clicked his tongue, frustration boiling up.
"You're overthinking," Kobayashi said, his sharp eyes never leaving Renji. "You're trying to control everything. Football isn't about controlling every detail — it's about feeling the flow and bending it to your will."
Before Renji could respond, Kobayashi launched his own shot — a devastating, long-range strike. The ball curved impossibly, slamming into a distant target with pinpoint accuracy.
"See? Instinct and precision. Master both, and you'll stop playing catch-up."
The drill continued, and the gap between them became more obvious. Mori and Yuto were keeping up in their own way — Mori's tactical mind allowed him to predict patterns, while Yuto's calm efficiency kept his shots consistent.
But Shindo struggled. His speed was unmatched, but his shots lacked finesse. His frustration grew with every miss, his movements becoming more reckless.
Aikawa, meanwhile, had fallen silent. His misses were frequent, but his eyes stayed locked on Kobayashi — analyzing, learning.
Renji felt the pressure mounting. He had evolved — his vision had sharpened, his modified skills were stronger than ever. But he still couldn't keep up. The frustration gnawed at him, a weight threatening to drag him down.
"Enough," Kobayashi finally called. "We move to the next stage."
The players stood in a rough circle, catching their breath as Kobayashi paced in front of them. "We'll finish with a one-on-one rotation. One of you will face me — the others will act as obstacles, trying to intercept or block shots. Your job? Break through and score. My job? To crush you."
The first match was Mori against Kobayashi — a clash of tactical brilliance and seasoned precision. Mori's movements were calculated, his passes sharp — but Kobayashi was faster. Smarter. Every opening Mori tried to create was shut down with terrifying ease.
Next was Yuto — his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm of movement around him. But even his control wasn't enough to break through Kobayashi's defenses.
When Shindo's turn came, his frustration exploded. He attacked with speed, his relentless aggression pushing Kobayashi back for the first time — but it wasn't enough. A single, perfectly timed counter from Kobayashi ended the match in seconds.
Aikawa fared no better. His careful observation hadn't yet translated into action — and Kobayashi tore through his defenses without mercy.
Finally, it was Renji's turn.
The ball rolled toward him, and time seemed to slow. His vision expanded — the field stretched out in his mind, every player's position burned into his awareness. He moved with purpose, the modified version of his skill flaring to life.
But Kobayashi was waiting.
Their clash was intense — Renji's improved Specter Drive allowed him to slip past defenders with ghost-like agility, but Kobayashi anticipated every step. Their battle became a blur of feints and counters, each move faster than the last.
Then, in a flash, Renji saw his chance.
Using Mori as a decoy, he shifted his weight and drove forward — his shot lined up perfectly. He struck — and the ball sailed through the air, heading straight for the target.
But at the last second, Kobayashi moved.
With a single, devastating kick, he intercepted the ball — sending it rocketing back with twice the force. The target shattered on impact.
The field fell silent.
"Close," Kobayashi said, his voice low and dangerous. "But not enough."
Renji's fists clenched at his sides, but his frustration was tempered by something else — determination.
He wasn't there yet.
But he was getting closer.