Dawn at the Kashima Antlers Training Center didn't arrive with birdsong or the rustling of leaves. It arrived with the electric hum of LED lights switching on, the metallic click of security gates opening, and the distant sound of machines being calibrated.
Kaito had been awake for two hours.
He hadn't slept.
None of them had really slept.
The first day of intense training under Nakahara's command had left marks not just on their bodies, but on their minds.
And now, on the second day, hell would truly begin.
⸻
05:17 AM –
The alarm didn't ring.
Instead, a blast of ice-cold water sprayed through all rooms simultaneously.
Kaito jumped out of bed before he even processed what had happened, reflexes sharpened by adrenaline.
— "Good morning, soldiers." — Nakahara's voice echoed through the speakers. — "You have three minutes to report to the biomechanics lab. Any delay will be punished with 10 laps around the field carrying 20kg weights."
Ren was already standing, his glasses fogged by the humidity, but his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his heart-rate monitor.
— "This isn't training. It's torture." — Kurota muttered, rubbing his eyes.
— "No." — Ren corrected, without looking up. — "Torture is random. This is methodical."
He was right.
Every drop of water, every second of delay, every word from the coach was calculated.
They weren't being broken.
They were being remade.
⸻
05:23 AM –
The lab looked more like a futuristic surgery room than a sports facility.
Each player was placed on a force platform, surrounded by motion-capture cameras and infrared sensors.
— "Shirogane. First." — Nakahara pointed to the treadmill.
Kaito stepped on, barefoot, feeling the cold metal beneath his feet.
— "Run."
He began accelerating, but immediately a mild electric shock surged through his legs.
— "Wrong." — Nakahara showed a screen with real-time data. — "Your left foot lands 7 milliseconds before your right. That robs power and increases injury risk."
A physiotherapist adjusted sensors on his ankles.
— "Again."
This time, Kaito focused on rhythm.
Step. Step. Breathe.
No shock.
— "Better. Now, with the ball."
A ball was launched toward him automatically — but it weighed twice as much as usual.
Kaito controlled it with his chest, but when he turned to shoot — another shock.
— "You rotate your hip 12 degrees less than ideal. That reduces shot power by 18%."
And so it went, player by player.
• Ren discovered his most accurate pass came from a slightly angled foot plant — something he had never noticed.
• Kurota had to recalibrate his running after learning he used 30% more energy than necessary.
• Ryoma saw his "phantom dribble" broken down into 12 micro-movements and rebuilt from scratch.
Nothing escaped.
No detail was too small.
⸻
07:45 AM
The dining room didn't smell like food.
It smelled like science.
Each player was led to an individual station, where a vacuum-sealed plate awaited.
— "Personalized nutrition." — Nakahara explained. — "Your body isn't the same as your teammate's. Your food won't be either."
Kaito opened his package.
• 3 raw eggs (mixed with fish oil and creatine)
• 200g shredded chicken (with insect powder for extra protein)
• Purple sweet potato (genetically modified for higher glycemic index)
• A green shake (spinach, avocado, and… something else he chose not to identify)
— "This tastes like death." — Kurota muttered, swallowing with difficulty.
— "Death is what you'll bring to your opponents." — Nakahara smiled. — "Eat."
Ren observed his plate — different from the others. Fewer carbs, more nuts, and a blue capsule.
— "What's this?"
— "Neural modulator. Helps with rapid decision-making." — Nakahara leaned in. — "You're the brain. Your fuel is different."
Kaito looked at his own plate.
Was it food?
Or fuel for a war machine?
⸻
09:30 AM –
The main field was empty.
Instead, the players were taken to a room with white walls and 12 virtual reality projectors.
— "Today we don't train the body. We train the mind."
VR goggles were handed out.
— "You'll play a match. But not a normal one."
When Kaito put on the goggles, the world around him vanished.
He was in a stadium.
But not just any stadium.
The Maracanã. World Cup Final.
The crowd roared. The pressure was real.
— "Your team is losing 1–0. Ten minutes left." — Nakahara's voice echoed. — "Show me what you'll do."
Kaito looked around.
His teammates were there — but something felt off.
They didn't move like they should.
— "The avatars are controlled by AI based on your real patterns." — Nakahara explained. — "But they'll only do what you command."
This was a test.
Kaito attempted a pass to Ren, but the virtual midfielder didn't respond.
— "You didn't speak."
— "But he should've known!"
— "Wrong." — Nakahara paused the simulation. — "No player reads minds. Communication is everything."
Ren, in his own VR, faced a different challenge.
His team was getting destroyed, and he had to reorganize the defense without speaking a word.
Only gestures.
Only glances.
And so it went, for hours.
Failing.
Learning.
Resetting.
Until, finally, something clicked.
⸻
14:00 PM
When the goggles were removed, reality felt colorless in comparison.
Kaito was drenched in sweat — though he hadn't run a meter.
Ren was pale, fingers tingling from commanding nonstop.
— "Now you understand." — Nakahara walked among them. — "Football isn't about kicking a ball. It's about controlling chaos."
He pressed a button.
A screen displayed statistics:
• Kaito made 47 wrong decisions before getting it right.
• Ren managed to synchronize the team after 12 tries.
• Kurota broke anger control 6 times.
— "That was a simulation. In a real game, you'd have lost 10–0."
No one answered.
The mental exhaustion was profound.
But Nakahara wasn't done.
— "Now, physical training."
There was a collective groan.
— "You thought you'd escape?" — He laughed. — "Hell's just beginning."
⸻
16:30 PM
The field had been transformed.
Military obstacles, heavy tires, climbing ropes, and — most terrifying — balls being launched at 80km/h.
— "Eight stations. Eight challenges. Fail one? Start over."
Kaito was first.
1. Station 1: Dribble through cones while water jets fired.
2. Station 2: Precise pass to a moving target under strobe lights.
3. Station 3: Finish under pressure from a virtual defender (via VR goggles).
He failed at station 4.
Back to the start.
Ren nearly completed it but missed a pass at the last station.
Back to the start.
Kurota?
He snapped at station 6, ripping off his heart monitor and throwing it to the ground.
— "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!"
Nakahara didn't react.
— "Then quit."
Kurota looked at the others.
At Kaito.
At Ren.
No one said a word.
Breathing heavily, he picked up the monitor and returned to the start.
They would continue.
Because quitting wasn't an option.
⸻
19:00 PM
As the sun set, the players staggered from exhaustion.
But Nakahara gathered them in the center of the field.
— "Today was easy."
There was a murmur of protest.
— "Tomorrow will be worse." — He walked among them. — "And the day after, even more. Until your bodies give out. Until your minds break. And then…" — He stopped. — "…then, we'll rebuild you from scratch."
He threw a ball to the ground.
— "This ball is your world now. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists."
Kaito looked at Ren.
The midfielder was exhausted, but his eyes…
His eyes still burned.
And Kaito understood.
They weren't being trained to play football.
They were being trained to rule it.
⸻