39. World-Class (Part 2)

The third play of the game began with Luna, pushing the ball forwards with swift, sharp motions. His green eyes stared forwards at Y/N, completely ignoring everyone else as he ran forwards.

Instead of letting his teammates take the fight, Y/N was the first one to attack Luna. He darted right in front, eyes flickering all over the man's position. Luna was doing the same right back, eyebrows furrowing as he attempted to read Y/N.

"You think you're so good, just because you scored one goal." In accented English, Luna smiled dramatically. "You're a kid. There's no room for you on the big stage."

He began to move fast, feet sweeping over the top of the ball. Y/N was used to normal players' scissor moves, but Luna just kept speeding up, his feet ghosting over the ball. He could move it either way, and Y/N would just have to react to it.

Y/N waited. Luna didn't stop. Y/N stared hard at the movements, ready to react off the slightest change. Luna just smiled.

When his body shifted, Y/N immediately shifted with it. Both of them ducked to Y/N's right, Y/N completely blocking off Luna. But instead of trying to go through him, Luna spun on his heel, kicking the ball in the opposite direction. "And your teammates will always hold you back."

It was a pass. Luna had never intended to break through himself, but to draw Y/N's attention away so a different player could go. Y/N gritted his teeth with frustration. Fight me fair, coward.

Pablo Cavazos was there to receive. He had plenty of space, back in the centre of his own half with none of the Bluelock team near him. He stopped the ball slowly, and backed up a few steps.

Y/N hesitated. There was no way he could get over there, and even if he did, Cavazos would likely just pass it on. In that moment, the baby-faced pro glanced across at him, winking cheekily. He took two steps forward.

The resulting shot was more akin to an explosion than a kick. The ball was a bullet, a laser guided missile that sliced the air in half as it travelled. Y/N could do absolutely nothing as it flew right over his team's heads, past the goalkeeper, and speared into the back of the net.

What the hell...? Y/N breathed. That wasn't your average shot. In fact, he hadn't seen a shot like that ever. Throughout his entire soccer life, he'd never seen someone shoot better. Maybe Noel Noa?

He remembered. Pablo Cavazos, the best in the world at taking free kicks and penalties. He could've punched himself. The reason why he'd had such a good shot was because Y/N had given him all the time and space he'd needed.

This time, Rin restarted the game.

He placed the ball down while Y/N was thinking of a game plan, and began. A pass to Isagi, who sent it back. Then, a pass to Bachira, who dribbled forwards a little before sending it back again. They'd formed a small triangle in the middle of the field, passing it between themselves as they worked upfield.

Y/N held back. The three players were drawing attention to themselves. "Rin, to Bachira!" Isagi shouted.

Two of the World Five closed in. Dada Silva went straight for the ball, and as Bachira passed it to Isagi, just followed. He barreled forwards like a truck, displaying crazy speed.

Isagi panicked. "Aryu!" He passed the ball backwards to Aryu, who nodded solemnly.

Silva didn't stop. In fact, he sped up, laughing as he ran straight for Aryu. Aryu couldn't even pass away - Luna had positioned himself in the perfect place to block any passes to Isagi, Bachira and Rin, and Blake was cutting off Y/N.

Y/N darted around Blake, forcing the larger man to follow as he grumbled under his breath. He moved back and forth, forcing Blake to also follow him. But, the older, more heavyset man was slowly losing ground.

"Aryu!" Y/N yelled. "Pass to wherever the space is!"

If Aryu heard, he didn't give any indication. Y/N tensed, continuing to move erratically from side to side. His heart was pounding, his entire body filled with energy.

Blake made a mistake. He slowed down, just a tad, and that was all Y/N needed to fully shake him off. It has to be now!

He met Aryu's eyes, before looking away to stare a hole into a free area of the field. Do it!

Aryu kicked the ball. Straight past Silva, who actually nearly managed to stop it with a crazy powerful jump. It went far down the pitch, and like a cheetah, Y/N sprinted after it.

He was there before anyone else. One foot stopped the ball. The sound of footsteps behind him, heavy breathing. Two players to his right, the sideline to the left. Two players in front of him.

Without even looking, Y/N instinctively stepped sideways. His foot shot out to curl the ball in front of his other foot. He leant sideways, barely getting out of the way in time as Silva barreled past, a juggernaut of flesh and muscle.

Before he could breathe, Blake was on him. One of his longer arms stretched out, pressing against Y/N's chest and forcing him back as he went for the ball. Y/N coughed, surprised by the aggression. He managed to pull the ball back, but he was slowly being pushed towards the sideline. Blake didn't even look like he was trying, even as Y/N struggled furiously.

He kicked the ball out. It was a risky play. Anybody could've gone for it. He nudged it right past Blake's feet, taking a step back to get out of the man's press. Then, he stooped low, speeding past him and scooping up the ball on the other side.

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. His head rang with a silent alarm. He stepped forwards, flicking the ball into the air. The ball had barely risen, before-

Loki came by like a freight train, his two-footed slide tackle barely missing where the ball had been milliseconds ago. Y/N's eyes widened with shock, and he leapt forwards.

Three of them were behind him. In a few seconds, they would come after him again. He had to shoot.

"Is dribbling the only thing you're good at?" Luna appeared, smiling mockingly down at Y/N. "Limited skill set there, masochist."

"Masochist?" Y/N sped towards the goal, forcing Luna to fall in step with him. Both of them were breathing heavily.

"Wasting your life on a dream that'll never come true..." He grinned. "You think you're gonna be a pro? Don't make me laugh. I think you just like the pain of failure."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. Stuck-up captain.

He stopped the ball dead in its tracks, just like he'd done so many times before. It was one of his most simple, yet effective moves. A stop that completely killed his own momentum.

Luna overshot, his speed carrying him way past Y/N. Y/N risked a glance behind him.

Loki was sprinting for him. Y/N had to shoot, now. And he did, a lightning fast swing of his right foot that hit the ball dead centre.

It was a short distance to the goal, but it was a terrifying shot. The ball was in the back of the net before Y/N's leg touched the floor again. Across the field, his teammates gaped, and his enemies scowled.

The whistle blew overhead. 3-2, to Team Red.

🥕🥕🥕

Y/N was tired beyond belief.

After years of holding back, after years of boredom, he was finally being challenged. He was finally going all out, and just from those minutes of gameplay, it was clear how lacking in stamina he was.

Sure, compared to other players, he might be decent stamina-wise, but when he was sprinting everywhere at top speed, analysing the field constantly, and reacting to every little thing every person did? It was pretty taxing.

He wouldn't let up, though. He wasn't giving up this opportunity here. He knew he was better than them. He just had to finish proving it, one against five.

Blake started with the ball. He looked well pissed off, staring Y/N down across the field. Both Isagi and Bachira were faced off against him though, so perhaps it would be okay. Aryu stood on the right, Rin on the left. Y/N was all the way back in defence again, waiting to see what they would do.

He kicked off.

From the get go, it was clear what his plan was. Blake ran straight forwards. Literally, in a straight line, a death glare boring into Y/N's skull the entire time.

Isagi and Bachira had no chance. They were metaphorically run over by Blake, as he used his arms to hold them easily back while still running forwards. He didn't slow down one bit, even sandwiched between them.

Eventually, he completely broke through, shaking Isagi and Bachira off like they were ants. Bachira tripped and face-planted hard, mumbling an 'ouch'. Blake only sped up.

The thing was, he wasn't slowing down. Nor was he trying to be evasive. He was running straight as Y/N, trusting his brute strength to beat him.

He was probably right to do that. Y/N launched himself forwards, way too late. Blake was already decently close to the goal, and it wouldn't be difficult for him to shake Y/N off and shoot.

Y/N went for Blake's left side. The man did exactly as expected - his arm came out to shove Y/N backwards, and he pushed Y/N away while simultaneously opening up his own right side. He had enough room to shoot, in that small moment, and he did.

His right foot was a cannon. He blasted the ball forwards, straight for the top right of the goal. The goalie leapt forwards, but it was too late to stop it.

Y/N was, though.

The small boy flew out of nowhere, springing into the air. He tucked his hands behind his back midair, using his shoulder to knock the ball aside. Nobody knew how he'd gotten there. Somehow, in the time it had taken Blake to shoot, he'd slipped under the arm, predicted where the shot was going, and stopped it.

His entire body jarred painfully, but he'd cleared the ball. He was ready to chase it as soon as he hit the ground, zipping off and easily catching it before any of the World Five could.

With that, he was speeding down the flank. Blake let out a frustrated sigh, and Y/N laughed. Only one person stood in his way. Cavasoz was ready, legs wide and body low to defend.

Somehow, Y/N's movements changed. He didn't lose any speed, but his dribbling style completely changed. His feet shifted independently to his body, flicking the ball every which way. His eyes changed, staring straight into Cavazos's own eyes.

In a moment, he'd changed from taking long, straight strides, to a compact, close-quarters dribble style. His entire body was shifting, his body, arms, head and legs all moving in a way that was coordinated, but impossible to read.

He was past Cavazos in a flash, the rainbow-haired man barely able to react. He'd attempted a tackle, and a chase when that failed, but Y/N had swept past him with all the ease of an assassin.

Or perhaps he was more of a marksman.

Y/N stopped the ball. He was still a huge distance away from the goal. Half the pitch separated him and the nearest goalpost. It would be insane to shoot.

Luckily, that was right up his alley.

Y/N shot.

He put all of his strength into it. There was a reason he was this good. Everything that had been done to him had been for the sole purpose of making him stronger, making him better. Making him the best striker in the world.

Y/N exhaled as he shot, a sharp rush of air not unlike the swoosh of his foot slicing through the air. He wasn't a normal player. He wasn't a teenager at that moment. He wasn't even a pro.

No, he was a god.

The shot was beautiful. It curved sideways and down, spinning smoothly through the air. It was way too good for even someone on a pro level. It was almost divinely blessed.

And of course, it hit.

The ball was headed for the top left of the goal. The goalie leapt across, holographic arm stretching out. It might've saved it - maybe - but before anything could happen, the ball hit the inside of the goalpost.

It ricocheted all the way to the other side of the goal, bouncing twice off the posts before it went into the goal. The keeper was left completely lost.

And the score was 4-2, in Y/N's favour.