"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦... 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘵."
⤷ Tensions run high and bonds form in the most unexpected ways, as 300 players fight for their dreams. But when a wildcard ente...
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Louis's POV:
"My greatest weapon is... my dribble," Bachira murmured, his eyes already closed as he rested. I sat leaning against the wall, my legs stretched out, with him lying comfortably across them, his hands tucked under his head.
It's a bit uncomfortable for me, but I don't want to disturb his nap. He looks too cozy, and it's not like I can escape anyway.
"My best weapon? Ha! My awesome shooting technique. I call it 'Sexy football,'" Raichi boasted, striking a pose like he was auditioning for a cheesy sports magazine. It was so over-the-top, I almost laughed.
"Mine... close-quarters play," Gagamaru muttered, looking like he was trying to remember if that was true.
Kuon was diligently scribbled everything down. "Okay, next. Louis," he said, looking at me.
"My weapon...? Dunno, never really thought about it," I said doing my best expression of someone who actually cared.
"Weren't you the one who scored our first goal?" Kunigami asked, giving me that serious stare, like he expected me to have some big revelation.
"Yeah. The ball just kinda rolled to my feet, so I kicked it...?" I shrugged, as if that was some groundbreaking revelation.
"You're hopeless, Louis," Kuon sighed, shaking his head. Yeah, well, if the guy had to spend five minutes in my shoes, he'd understand. I didn't care enough to take any of this seriously.
"Isagi?" Kuon asked next, glancing at him with that same intense look.
Isagi scratched his head for a solid ten seconds before shrugging. "I'm still figuring it out" he admitted.
I mean, if he couldn't even come up with a decent answer, then I'm not the only one in this group who's completely winging it. So, of course, they skipped him, just like they did to me.
"Okay, last one, Chigiri?" Kuon asked, looking over at him, clearly hoping for a miracle.
"Don't wanna say it," Chigiri grumbled. Honestly, at this point, I was just enjoying watching the chaos unfold. Another hopeless guy, which made the three of us a pretty solid team.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, the last game ended with a Team X's win, 2-1. Barou finished the game with the last shot. Not really a nice start.
We spent the next few minutes discussing the game—or, more accurately, they did—while I zoned out completely.
Somehow, the conversation ended up with this brilliant strategy they called the "I'm the Next 9!" tactic. What a lame name.
Over the next few days, we trained. Turning a bunch of strangers into a team wasn't exactly a walk in the park.
I stuck to what I do best—expanding my shooting range. At least I could aim for something more worthwhile than that wannabe King's inflated ego.
