Chapter 8:
The next match came fast.
Too fast.
Room 109 barely had time to process Coach Kiyoshi's words before they were thrown into the next stage.
This time — a mirror match.
Room 109 vs Room 110.
Players of equal rank.
Equal stats.
Equal failure.
The rules were simple:
"Only the team that wins advances. The worst two players from the losing team are eliminated."
No points. No safety net.
Just a duel.
---
The game began fast.
Too fast for Room 109.
Room 110 played with aggression.
Shouts. Tackles. Passes on the edge.
They were wild — but hungry.
Like wolves denied meat for weeks.
Room 109 struggled to keep up. Even Haru.
But he wasn't panicking.
He was thinking.
---
Haru kept remembering the coach's words.
"No admiration. No stories."
And Riku's words too.
"You'll need your own contract."
But what kind?
Who would he trust?
He looked around.
That's when he saw him — Kai.
A midfielder with sharp awareness and crisp passes. Not flashy. Not loud. But solid.
The kind of player who made things work without being noticed.
Haru called for the ball.
Passed it back.
Kai read him instantly and redirected it forward again.
Clean. Fast. Sharp.
They tried it again.
Then again.
And again.
Suddenly, Room 109 started to breathe.
They found rhythm.
And Haru… was starting to see.
"This is it," he thought.
"I don't need a contract. I need link-ups. A system. A network. One that works — with or without words."
---
The match reached its climax.
Score tied.
2–2.
Final five minutes.
That's when Room 110's wildest player broke loose — blond, loud, smiling like a demon. Like Shidou with red cleats.
He burst forward.
"Time to break this mirror," he screamed.
He smashed through two defenders.
Only Haru stood between him and the goal.
Haru braced himself.
He didn't go for the ball — not yet.
He read the foot. The balance. The angle.
Then he moved.
Clean tackle.
The stadium-like walls echoed with the thud.
The crowd of players watching from the screens let out a collective exhale.
---
Room 109 recovered the ball.
Kai passed.
Haru passed again.
One-two.
Slipped through.
Goal.
---
Final whistle.
Room 109: 3
Room 110: 2
They won.
Barely.
But they won.
Two players from Room 110 were eliminated immediately.
No words. No second chances.
Haru sat down outside the pitch, breathing heavily.
He looked over at Kai.
"We're not geniuses," Haru thought.
"But we're building something. Piece by piece."
And the formula…
Was slowly taking shape.