Leo kicks off with a soft touch backward. Takumi controls the ball with an elegance that seems rehearsed—his body relaxed, but his eyes sharp, scanning the court as if he could see the ga in invisible layers.
On the far side, Leo imdiately sprints down the left flank, accelerating with intense urgency. Ian, noticing the movent, steps forward to try and cut the passing lane, positioning himself between Takumi and the potential through ball.
"Looks like it’s just the two of us", says Kelvin, eyes fixed on Takumi, his muscles tense and ready to react to any move.
But Takumi doesn’t answer. No provocation, not even a glance. The number 11 from Yamu maintains his calm deanor, retreating with the ball toward the midfield line. Kelvin approaches cautiously, analyzing his opponent’s feet, trying to predict the next move.
Suddenly, Takumi makes a short feint to the right and spins to the left, creating a space so tight Kelvin thought it was impossible—but not for Takumi. With a fluid movent, he lifts his leg and kicks the ball with the instep, adding a spin that seems to distort the air around it.
Kelvin stretches, convinced he’ll intercept it.
"Now!" he thinks, lunging for the cut.
But the ball doesn’t follow a straight line.
It rises, spinning with exaggerated curve. It draws a high, almost supernatural arc, srizing part of the crowd. The ball flies just out of Kelvin’s reach and over Ian, who jumps a mont too late.
"Damn it!" Ian yells, watching the ball sail over his head.
Leo, already inside the box, jumps with perfect timing. His body aligns with the ball’s path, and he heads it with power, aiming for the bottom right corner.
The gym holds its breath.
But Alisson is there.
With a quick leap and a firm palm, he dives sideways and deflects the ball with his fingertips. It bounces once and goes out past the end line, drawing a roar from the crowd.
"WHAT A SAVE!" screams the livestream comntator, his voice blasting through phones. "ALISSON! The wall of Sanu!"
Alisson jumps to his feet instantly, pointing at Kelvin and Ian.
"Wake up! Pressure them! Don’t just stand there!"
Kelvin gives a half-smile, still stunned by the ball’s curve.
"His shot’s different. There’s sothing I’ve never seen."
"We can’t give him space, Kelvin", Ian warns, returning to his defensive line.
On the Yamu side, Takumi does nothing. He just watches.
Leo approaches, panting.
"That was close. Millitric."
"Not enough. He", Takumi nods toward Kelvin, "still hasn’t shown everything."
Leo blinks, surprised.
"What do you an?"
"He hasn’t tried a single dribble yet. He’s holding back. His instinct is still dormant."
Takumi walks calmly toward the corner flag, picking up the ball.
In the stands, Dante stands frozen, eyes wide.
"Makes sense that guy played for Japan’s youth team", Kazana comnts, serious.
Rafael, on the opposite end, crosses his arms and watches.
Takumi positions himself for the corner. He studies every player in the box like mapping pieces on a board. Leo moves with precision, dragging Ian with him. Kelvin marks in hybrid style, tracking both with his eyes.
The whistle blows.
Takumi crosses low and sharp, a fast ball slicing through the box like a blade. But Kelvin’s already in motion.
"Now it’s my turn", he whispers.
With a quick touch, he intercepts the pass and spins, shielding the ball with his body. Leo tries to recover but is left behind in two steps.
Kelvin accelerates.
The system flickers in his mind:
[Skill Activated – Precision Read]
He sees the space ahead and already notices Ian appearing to his right, ready to receive. Takumi rushes in to intercept.
"Co on, then", Kelvin mutters.
He feints left, cuts right with a subtle touch. Takumi follows, but Kelvin shifts his weight at the last mont. A dry, surgical dribble.
Takumi halts, surprised, and for a split second—just one—he loses the line of action.
Kelvin surges forward and delivers the pass with the outside of his foot.
Ian receives it on the diagonal.
"GO!" yells Kelvin.
Ian controls it just outside the box. Leo is right on him. Ian prepares to shoot, but Leo blocks with his body. So Ian lightly taps it back to Kelvin, who’s arriving at full speed.
But Takumi appears like lightning.
The mont Kelvin winds up for the shot, Takumi dives low, stabbing his foot into the ball with surgical precision. The impact is crisp. Kelvin misses the strike completely, swinging through air and twisting off-balance.
"Tch..." Kelvin grunts, spinning around to chase, but it’s already too late.
Takumi rises with the ball at his feet, his movent fluid, almost silent. Two short touches and he leaves Kelvin behind, launching the counterattack. Ian tries to block the lane, but Takumi lifts his head and sends the ball to Leo, quickly repositioning on the left.
"Go, Leo!" he calls.
Leo picks it up in stride and charges toward the corner of the box. Ian rushes back, but Leo shields the ball and passes it back to Takumi, who is already closing in.
Kelvin cos in from behind, panting, cutting off the path.
"Now we’ll see..." he mutters, facing Takumi head-on.
Takumi stops. The ball glued to his foot.
For a few seconds, ti slows. The crowd noise fades. The air between them seems to vibrate.
Kelvin lowers slightly, focused, waiting for the move.
Takumi moves his right foot—just a subtle touch. Kelvin reacts instinctively—but it’s a bluff.
Yamu’s number 11 spins, drags the ball with his sole, and changes direction at blinding speed, leaving Kelvin frozen, foot planted in empty space.
The crowd erupts.
"UOOOOOOHHHHH!" they roar as Takumi charges down the right wing, the ball stuck to his foot.
Kelvin turns, desperate to catch up, but he’s already three steps behind. Takumi enters the box.
Alisson braces in goal, body tense, knees bent.
Takumi raises his head. Leo is open at the far post.
Alisson hesitates, trying to guess.
Takumi doesn’t. His eyes stay cold, calculated, like every move had been decided hours ago.
Ian cos sprinting in, determined to intercept. He closes in, trying to predict Takumi’s direction.
"You’re not getting past this ti, Takumi!" Ian shouts, shifting right to block the lane.
But Takumi calmly slams on the brakes. His shoe squeaks softly on the court. Ian bites the bait, overcommitting.
"I still don’t understand why you keep playing", Takumi says, almost casually, not even looking at him. "Soone so bad at passing... shouldn’t be a midfielder."
The words hit like a bomb.
Ian loses focus—just for a second—but it’s one second too many.
Takumi slips the ball between Ian’s legs with a cheeky touch. Ian spins instantly, but Yamu’s number 11 is already gone, sprinting with the ball stuck to his foot.
Leo, who had repositioned on the left, sees the opening.
"Here, Taku!" he shouts, raising his arm.
Takumi passes with the outside of his foot, a curving touch that slips past Kelvin like it had eyes. The ball reaches Leo with surgical precision.
Leo controls it in one touch and lines up the shot. Alisson rushes out to close the angle.
But Leo doesn’t flinch.
With a light inside-foot shot, he sends the ball to the far corner, low and deadly.
GOOOOOOAL!
The ball hits the net with a clean, sharp sound.
The crowd around the court explodes—cheering, clapping, phones raised to capture the mont.
"IT’S IN! LEO SCORES!" the livestream comntator shouts. "TAKUMI WITH A LUXURY PASS BETWEEN THE DEFENDER’S LEGS! THIS IS FUTSAL, MY FRIENDS!"
Takumi doesn’t celebrate. He simply walks back calmly, while Leo pumps his fists in triumph.
"Dude! That pass was pure disrespect!" Leo says, laughing, breathless.
"It wasn’t disrespect", Takumi replies, finally stopping beside him. "Just do your job."
On the other side, Ian is on his knees, breathing heavily, face turned to the floor. Kelvin watches him for a mont, but stays silent, swallowing the frustration.
In the stands, Kazana watches on, serious. So around him are wide-eyed, others already recording and loudly comnting on the number 11’s dominance.
Takumi wasn’t just controlling the ball.
He was controlling ti.
Space.
His opponents’ nerves.
After all, he didn’t need to run faster.
He just needed to think ahead of everyone else.
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