Chapter 67: Two Bridges in a Row
U-20 Training Base – 5-a-side Training Ground
The sun beat down on the artificial turf. Two squads stood ready: the Red Team and the White Team.
The Red Team—Yūshin Zeya, Itoshi Sae, three U-20 substitutes, and second-choice goalkeeper.
The White Team—the U-20 regulars, including the core defenders: Oliver Aiku, Niō Kazuma, Hayate Haru, Darai Miroku, and ace striker Sendō.
"Don't think we're bullying you," Sendō sneered, crossing his arms. "You're the ones who challenged us."
"What an ignorant clown," Zeya muttered under his breath, rotating his ankle at the center line, his expression unreadable.
WHISTLE!
The match began. First to five goals wins.
Sae casually nudged the ball toward Zeya.
Without pause, Zeya rolled it forward, stepped into space, and shifted his posture into a perfect shooting angle—45 degrees. His calf snapped forward like a whip.
"Watch out! No angle—stay alert!" Aiku shouted from the backline.
The U-20 goalkeeper, Gen Fukaku, narrowed his eyes, reading the strike.
"I've got it—leave it to me!"
Bang!
The sound echoed like thunder. The ball rocketed toward the upper right corner like a missile—then suddenly dipped mid-air.
"What the hell?!" Gen's pupils shrank. "A knuckleball?!"
He twisted mid-leap, swinging his left hand downward desperately.
But—too late.
SWISH.
The net rippled.
Red Team 1 – White Team 0
A stunned silence washed over the field.
"A knuckleball… on his first touch?" Sendō muttered, jaw slack.
"Insane…" Darai Miroku whispered.
"He didn't just strike it clean. He aimed for that unpredictable drop," Hayate added, sweat on his brow.
Aiku's eyes narrowed.
That wasn't just power. That was calculated confidence.
So this is Yūshin Zeya…
The kind of striker worth protecting. Worth betting the future on.
"Don't let them shake you," Aiku barked, rallying his team. "You've seen what he can do. Now match it!"
WHISTLE! Play resumed.
"Let's go!" Aiku shouted, passing to Sendō and sprinting alongside him.
With a 1-2-2-1 formation, they pushed forward. Aiku, Hayate, and Sendō made a tight triangle while Niō and Snake held the back.
After dodging a tackle, Sendō neared the box and opened his stride.
"Got the ball!" he shouted.
TAP.
But in a blink, Zeya cut across him.
SWOOSH! The ball vanished under his foot.
"What?!"
Sendō spun, stunned.
"He just—picked my pocket?"
Zeya didn't stop.
He surged upfield, slaloming between two defenders with ruthless precision.
"I've got him!" Aiku declared, positioning himself defensively.
But Zeya just smirked.
"You're good… but not enough."
DING! Step!
He ghosted past Aiku with a feint and acceleration burst.
"What the—?! Is he a speed forward too?!"
Aiku turned—but Zeya was already gone.
Niō and Hayate Haru converged from the sides.
"He can't dribble at this pace—it'll go out," Niō muttered.
But Zeya wasn't just fast—he was surgical.
He crossed his legs in a blur, pedaling rapidly.
"Unreal footwork…"
Niō watched closely, tracking the ball.
Then—Zeya leaned left.
"That's it!" Niō cut left—
Too late.
Zeya's left foot hooked back with a bull's tail flick.
One step, and Niō was gone.
Seiichi 's trick really does work. Thanks, brother.
Hayate lunged to trap him from the side.
Zeya dropped his shoulder, spun his body—
Marseille Turn.
Hayate staggered back, off balance.
He was through.
One-on-one.
Bang!
The ball shot off the turf, kicking grass and dirt into the air. No spin. Pure force.
Top left corner.
Goal.
Red Team 2 – White Team 0
Zeya turned calmly to Sae. "So?
How do I compare to RE・AL's forwards?"
Sae gave a lazy shrug, but his gaze was sharp. "Barely comparable."
Zeya smiled."One day… I'll make them bow."
…
Across the field, the U-20 regulars were shaken.
Aiku clenched his jaw. "This is no fluke. Zeya's the real deal."
"Dribbling, explosiveness, composure—he's better than all of us ," Darai Miroku said, wiping sweat.
"And we haven't even seen Sae move yet," Hayate added grimly.
Oriva stepped forward.
"Prepare yourselves.The real match just started."