The System Makes Me a Player

One extra move. A minimal hesitation, almost imperceptible. His right foot landed poorly, the touch on the ball went slightly too far.

Takumi exploded.

In a single motion, his body advanced like a blade. His right leg stayed low, the left twisted his torso. His foot cut off Kelvin's contact with the ball like tearing a page from a book. It rolled three meters away.

Kelvin lost balance. He took two steps to the side and had to support himself with a hand on his knee to avoid falling. When he lifted his eyes, Takumi was already standing in front of him, ball under control. He hadn't even chased it. It came to him, as if it too recognized the hierarchy on the court.

Silence.

In the stands, the noise died completely. Even the wind seemed to respect that moment.

Takumi looked at him slowly. Eyes locked on Kelvin's, a cold, distant expression. But not arrogant. Something worse: silent contempt.

Then he spoke:

"I expected more from you, Kelvin"

It was like a knife through the chest. Not said in anger or superiority, but with genuine disappointment, like finding a beautiful book on the outside, but empty inside.

Kelvin didn't answer. He couldn't.

The words echoed in his mind, reverberating like a muffled thunder. He had been tested. He had been allowed to mark. He had believed. And now, he knew Takumi had let him through only to measure his reaction. From the start of this game, he was never ahead. Everything in this match had been calculated by Takumi. And Kelvin... was just a toy that had lost its purpose.

Ian, on the other side of the court, furrowed his brow.

"He got dispossessed...", Ian muttered, almost unintentionally

Leo approached Takumi.

"Why'd you pass him the ball? Did you know you'd take it back?"

Takumi just shrugged.

"I needed to confirm what I already knew"

Leo stared at Kelvin, still frozen in place.

"And now?"

Takumi didn't reply. He just turned his back and walked off with the ball, like closing a book you've read too many times.

In the stands, Dante murmured:

"What was that?"

But Kazana kept his eyes on Kelvin.

"That's the first time I've seen anyone steal the ball from him"

"That was unbelievable"

The game carried on in strange silence, as if the last play had knocked the air out of everyone watching.

Takumi stepped back a few paces, ball in control, then lifted his eyes. He wasn't looking for Leo. He wasn't chasing the spotlight. He was scanning the space, the details.

Ian, alert, positioned himself deeper, trying to anticipate any pass or infiltration. The marking was tight, but Takumi didn't hesitate.

Then he shifted lightly to the right — just one step, enough to deceive. Ian fell for it, leaning forward to cover the center. And that's exactly what Takumi wanted.

With a sharp left-foot touch, he hit the ball with the outside of his boot.

Low. Curved. Diagonal.

The ball seemed to bend out of its axis, carving a perfect arc across the court. It slid behind Ian, hugging the ground, as if it had eyes and knew exactly where to go.

"What the...?", Ian murmured, turning too late

Yamu's number 8 was already moving in with precision. No need to adjust. With a first-time strike, he hit it across goal, completely catching the keeper off guard.

The ball kissed the post and died in the back of the net.

GOAL FOR YAMU.

2–2.

Explosion in the stands. The visiting supporters roared in ecstasy. Flags waved, cheers echoed off the fences, even the bench players jumped to their feet, stunned by the play.

On the court, Takumi simply turned and walked away calmly. He didn't celebrate. He didn't need to.

Leo went over to him, smiling.

On the other side, Ian kicked the air, frustrated.

"Damn it, damn it… I read it too late!"

Kelvin was still silent. Sweat ran down his forehead, but it wasn't from exhaustion — it was restlessness. His mind was still spinning from the earlier dispossession, the words, Takumi's veiled contempt, and now... that pass that tore through his defense like paper.

In the stands, Kazana just crossed his arms.

And Dante, jaw dropped, could only say:

"Now I understand why he was called up to the Japanese youth national team"

Kelvin took a deep breath. Sweat slid down the side of his face, but his eyes were steady now. For the first time since the match began, he wasn't thinking about Takumi. He was thinking about himself.

At the restart, Ian passed to him with more force than necessary, maybe trying to vent his own frustration. The ball came in fast, but Kelvin trapped it like it was made of silk. A gentle touch, and it stuck to his foot.

Takumi was watching again. He didn't rush in. He was testing him — again.

[Skill Activation: Instinctive Dribble]

But Kelvin didn't look at him. He advanced on the left, body slightly leaning forward. Leo came over for cover, stretching a leg to cut off the move. Kelvin pretended to accelerate, then stopped the ball with a sharp cut, sending Leo spinning into empty space.

"Tch...", Leo stepped back, irritated

"Low to the ground, elegant...", Kazana commented, arms crossed "But it's not enough. Takumi's still there"

Kelvin knew that.

Takumi came forward. No rush. Just closing the space, narrowing the angle. That same calm, predator-like gaze, as if waiting for the inevitable mistake.

But Kelvin didn't falter.

With a quick pivot on his support foot, he shielded the ball with his body and escaped to the opposite side. Takumi stretched out his leg — and hit nothing. For a second, just a second, Kelvin had left him behind.

The crowd reacted with a mix of surprise and restrained excitement.

Dante leaned forward, stunned.

"He got past Takumi?"

But Kazana remained composed.

"It's not over yet..."

And it wasn't.

Takumi spun fast. He was there again, like a shadow that refuses to fade. Kelvin pushed forward again, dragging the ball with the sole of his foot and going for a shot. The ball hit Takumi's right leg — he was already there to block.

"You still don't get it?" Takumi said, panting

"Who do you think you are? You're just another nobody who thinks he can stop me... But YOU CAN'T!", Kelvin shouted at Takumi, who remained silent

As Kelvin said that, in the corner of his vision, a system message appeared:

[After several uses, your Dribble Instinct style has leveled up to Level 2!]

[Usage Rate: 1/2]

Then, Kelvin realized: the moment he almost got past Takumi — it had been thanks to the system. His skill had leveled up — and he hadn't noticed.

The whole stadium watched as Kelvin went toward the ball to take the throw-in, with the end of the second half approaching. And every second, every emotion, could be essential to change the game.

"Ian... This is going to be our last attack. We're going to win this game"