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09.STRATEGISE
*⋆｡˚𖦹࣪˖ ִֶָ⋆｡°✩
RIGHT
now, your team is devising a plan to deal with the next team, W. Kuon, who usually directs the team meetings, is nowhere to be found, so, the next in line for that role seems to be Iemon. Projected on the whiteboard, there is a chart of each game that has happened so far. In the far lead, is Team V, and in order, is Team X, Team W, Team Z, and Team Y.
"Here's where the teams stand, including our next opponent, Team W." He points to the board, where they clearly stand in third place.
"They have one loss against Team V," Isagi states, towel hanging around his shoulders. "If they lose, they're done. Same goes for us."
"Looks like they got the better of Team X and Barou, and they had no problem beating us."
"We should consider them stronger then," Iemon states, which makes Bachira let out a long, dreary sigh and lean back in his chair—nearly toppling it over.
"Well, we are Team Z. Lowest of the low," Naruhaya pressed his cheek into his palm and gazed at the projection. "No telling what their playstyle is like."
Iemon pauses, eyes closed in focus as he seems to consider something. He pressed a button on the remote that controls the projection—which changes the picture on the screen, "We can't be sure. But we do know one thing about Team W."
The picture shows two boys, almost identical if not for the fact they seemed to be on completely opposite sides of the emotion spectrum, "Their key players are this dynamic duo, the Wanima brothers."
In the seat beside Chigiri, you see his face visibly tense, and he swallows thickly. You tilt your head towards him, brows furrowing as you meet his eyes. He turns his head away.
Iemon keeps talking, "As you can see from the footage, their forte is combination play. When they defeated Barou and the rest of Team X, these two scored four of the goals. Distance perception. The timing of their moves, their given go's. Suffice to say, they have an assortment of formidable weapons between them."
A clip of them playing shows up on screen, where they're passing the ball between each other—ignoring everyone else on the field. You rest your cheek in your hand and bring your knees up to your chest, squinting, I would hate to play with those two.
"But only if they're working as a pair. Not individually."
You look back up at the rest of them, "So, split them up. Keep one or the other from getting the ball, and you'll be fine."
