THE PAIN - Inazuma Eleven Go Fanfic

CHAPTER 65: TURNING POINT

The silence after Arion's challenge wasn't just quiet—it was weighty, like fog before a storm, settling heavy in the lungs. Raimon stood frozen near the sideline, all eyes locked on the lone figure at midfield. Arion stood calm, the ball at his feet, as if the field belonged to him.

Kurama squinted, tension threading his brow. "He's gotta be kidding..." His voice was low, but the irritation was impossible to miss. "One guy. Against all of us?"

Shindou didn't speak immediately. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight as he stared ahead. He wasn't angry—but something about this challenge stung. Was this what they'd fallen to? That they needed to be tested just to be helped?

Kirino stepped up beside him, his voice soft but steady. "Maybe... that's the point."

Shinsuke shifted his weight uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know... it feels like we're walking into a trap or something." He glanced at the others, hoping someone would back him up.

"Trap or not, I say we go for it," Hamano said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth—though it lacked its usual cheer. "How hard could it be to beat one guy, right?"

He chuckled, trying to lift the mood. "He's probably just cocky. All talk."

But no one laughed with him.

Amagi muttered, arms crossed. "It feels off. This guy—he doesn't even look like he cares. He just said we're not good enough and expects us to play along?"

Kuramada clenched his fists, eyes fixed on Arion. "I don't like it either... but if he wants a fight, let's give him one."

"I don't think that's what he wants," Ichino said quietly, watching Arion's still form. "It's more like... he's measuring us."

Aoyama nodded faintly beside him, though his fingers curled slightly at his sides. "But... what if we come up short again?" he murmured, voice almost lost beneath the weight of the moment.

The silence that followed didn't feel like hesitation—it felt like the stillness right before a storm breaks.

Shindou's eyes turned toward the one person who hadn't said a word since the challenge was issued.

"Tsurugi," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "What do you think?"

All eyes followed.

Tsurugi stood, unmoving. His sharp gaze locked on Arion, unreadable. There was something off—not arrogance, but something colder. Focused. Measured.

"He's not underestimating us," Tsurugi said at last. "That's not either confidence."

His voice was calm, but there was tension coiled just beneath it. "He's not here to impress anyone. He's here to prove himself."

No one replied right away. The weight of Tsurugi's words hung in the air. One by one, the players shifted—some uncertain, some doubtful, but none of them moved to back down.

Shindou exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Then we prove ourselves too."

On the field, Arion hadn't moved. He stood like a shadow cast by the sun—composed, unshakable, like he already knew how this moment would play out.

Raimon took their positions, quietly spreading out in a loose formation. No cheering. No rallying words. Just the crunch of cleats on field and the thrum of nerves behind their ribs.

Kurama rolled his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. "One guy against all of us. Let's just see what he's made of."

Sangoku stood firm between the posts, eyes sharp, shoulders squared. "Protect the team," he muttered under his breath, grounding himself in that single purpose.