09. STRATEGISE

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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."

They all turn to you—like they've never heard you talk before—and you shrug, cocking a brow, "What?" After they turn away, you lean back in your seat and stare up at the ceiling, purposefully ignoring Chigiri's eyes watching you.

"Right," Iemon nods, glancing your way before back to the screen, "Our best strategy will be to divide and conquer."

Raichi snarls (like he always does) and, slumped in his chair, he looks at Iemon, "Question: why is Iemon handling the briefing? Doesn't Kuon usually handle this?"

Iemon rubs the back of his neck bashfully, avoiding eye contact with the scary boy. "Uh—usually. But he hasn't finished taking his bath yet. I did okay, right?"

"Yeah, sure! He may be gone, but our strategy's pretty clear!" Naruhaya says with a bright grin, swinging back and forth on his chair. He rests his hands behind his head, before turning to Gagamaru—sitting behind him—and gives him an evil grin, "Right Gagamar—!!!" 

Promptly, without a change in expression, Gagamaru takes Naruhaya's face in his big hand and squeezes.

The door slides open, and there stands a red-faced, sweating Kuon who's panting like he ran a mile. A towel hangs under his wet hair, and he leans on the doorway for support. Bachira—little sleepy Bachira—yawns and smiles lazily, "Welcome to the meeting... coach..."

Kuon pants, steam escaping his lips, "Sorry... how much did I miss? I was thinking about what to call tomorrow's operation, and I lost track of time..."

You raise your hand and wave it around to catch his attention, "It's all in my notebook." He nods at you, sparing you a smile, before he stumbles over, and plops himself in the chair beside you, chest heaving up and down.

"We were just analyzing past game footage," Isagi smiles at him, turning around so he's now facing him. Kuon slumps down on the metal table, resting his head in his arms. 

"Is that right...?" He says—sounding more drunk than anything—voice slurring with each word.

"So you nearly did pass out!"

"Don't go dying on us, otherwise we'll be down to only ten players!" Igaguri shivers, imagining the possible reality of that. 

Imamura laughs, slapping the back of the monk boy, "That'd be the end of us for sure." You can't help but nod in agreement. Eleven versus ten is unfair—unless it's something like eleven elderly people versus ten young adults. Those elderly are going down.

Isagi passes Kuon a cup of cold water, and he thanks him before gulping it all down. Kuon wipes his lip, before speaking, "This upcoming match... will put into practice what we've learned from the last game. Operation Next Up It's Me Nine was a success, but it only utilised one player for ten minutes. The coordination was low. We wasted time when the weapon wasn't viable. But in this game, we'll utilise three up top with compatible weapons, and we'll rotate the formation three times in thirty-minute intervals. Using this three-shift, front three pattern, we'll all be able to take turns getting a chance to shine."

Kuon raises his head, and his fist by extension, a proud smile on his face. "Because of that—I call it Operation Seven All Stars!"

Igaguri points at him, cackling wildly, "So lame! That's the best you could come up with?!"

Naruhaya agrees, nodding his head with his nose pointed up, "You've got the worst taste in names ever!"

Gagamaru comes from behind him (and you, which makes you scream and shrink into your chair), and places a hand on his shoulder with big, beady eyes baring into him, "They're one of my favourite bands. You ever heard of Erotica 7? It's a masterpiece." You think this is the most emotion you've ever seen Gagamaru express before, a flame of wonder flickering in his large eyes.

"Thanks, man, at least you get it..."

Iemon points at himself, a nervous smile on his face, "And what about me? I mean, am I going to be stuck playing goalie again this game?"

Raichi grins, coming up behind him and slapping him on the back. Iemon looks at him nervously—despite his bigger stature, he's clearly afraid of the shark-toothed boy, "Why switch things up? It's worked out so far."

"Just to let you know, I'm grateful for your sacrifice," Isagi bows his head with his hand raised, and you deadpan, raising a brow, You're wording it like he's going to die. Isagi turns his head and looks at Chigiri—who is slumped down in his seat with his eyes closed. "What about you? Are you okay with staying on defence, Chigiri?"

Chigiri's eyes open, only to direct themselves into a glare at the floor. Clearly—those harsh eyes were meant for Isagi. "Maybe you should stop worrying about others, and keep your focus on scoring goals instead."

His tone is harsh and straight-up rude, and you give the redhead another confused look—which he, once again, ignores. You look back at Isagi, who's looking away from him almost shamefully, and you do the math in your head. 

Isagi keeps looking over at Chigiri. Chigiri's been in a bad mood ever since two nights ago. Chigiri is being openly rude to Isagi—something he only did to me when I pried too much.

You lower your brows and pursed your lips. "Uh, sure," Isagi swallows thickly, before tearing his eyes away from Chigiri. He looks down at the ground, with a troubled expression. 

"Alright! We've done the research on our opponent, and we're playing like a unit! Team Z, let's win this thing!" Kuon raised his fist, hyping up everyone in the room. They all cheer and holler in response, pumped for the upcoming match. 

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You can't help but dread the upcoming game. The thought of your team facing off against a team full of blue-haired chicks fills you with a sense of doom, and you feel sweat bead at the back of your neck.

Your expression must have been showing your fearful thoughts, because you're quickly snapped out of your trance with a hand on your head, belonging to Kuon. You look up at him with a confused expression, and he just smiles. "You look troubled."

You decide to tell him about your worries, sliding your bag over to his arm when he offers and staring down at the ground, fingers trembling, "The manager for their team... she's totally nuts... and if her team is anything like her... I'm not sure if this will be an easy game...."

Kuon removes his hand from your head, and places it on his chin, seeming to be deep in thought. His neutral expression turns into a grin, and he slings the hand carrying your bag over his shoulder, "You don't have to worry. I know that I'll win. I'm confident in it."

Your nerves are calmed, and you meet his closed eyes, peering up through your lashes and smiling, "Just you?"

He pauses, then shakes his head and looks forward, hair brushing just past his shoulder. A smile passes over his lips. "No. All of us, together."

When you walk onto the grassy field, he sets your bag down, and you thank him, not only for carrying your stuff but for easing your nerves. He pauses once more before he turns away and tells you that it was really nothing. You don't get to see his face as he walks onto the field.

The kick-off starts with the blow of a familiar whistle, and there you see the two creepy brothers passing to ball to each other already—starting strong. They easily dribble past Igaguri with their combined teamwork, then dribble past the rest of the team easily, finally meeting with the defence for this rotation—Chigiri and Isagi.

You see them look at Chigiri and start speaking—although you can't really hear what they're saying—you can tell that they're digging jabs at him if his expression is anything to go off. Isagi steals the ball from the silent brother, causing his face to fly into the dirt and his body to collapse. 

You don't realise how you're grinding your teeth together, or how you're digging your nails into the bare skin on your legs, until you hear cackling from beside you, coming from a person that you hoped you would never have the pleasure of dealing with again. The blue-haired chick leans closer to you—ignoring how you scoot to the edge of the seat as soon as she tries to get closer—while grinning ear-to-ear. You realise now that your initial thoughts were right and that her smile—that wide, toothy smile—is so similar to the brother's.

They are like her.

"You look so mad, frowny," she giggles, now sitting directly next to you and leaning into your personal bubble. Frowny. She must have a nickname for you—as you do for her, because you realise that you don't know her name, and she does not know yours. "Why the long face?"

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, refusing to look at her and keeping your eyes on the game. Isagi steals a pass to Kuon, who utilises his height and athletic ability to jump up and slam his head forward, hitting the ball into the goal with his head. He jumps up in excitement, and the others cheer him on.

Your expression melts into a relieved smile, and the blue-haired girl beside you frowns at that, sitting up straight and normally from beside you. "Hey. Heyyyy," she says in a sing-song voice, "Frowny. Stop ignoring meeeee..."

The whistle blows after everyone gets back into their positions, and the brothers pass to each other to start, as always. Kunigami comes running in when the sad brother seems to be just standing still with the ball, getting in a low kick to Bachira. The dribbling specialist looks over to Kuon—the centre forward—and kicks the ball up high. Kuon catches it with his chest and with a heavy kick, he slams the ball into the net so fast that the goalkeeper doesn't have time to react.

You narrow your eyes at the goalie and mutter something, more to yourself than her. "Your goalie is slow."

"Nah, that kick was slow," she either doesn't notice your expression, or doesn't care, but it doesn't matter, because you cock your head at her anyway and squint. "I mean like—nobody here has a great goalie, but our one isn't that bad."

"What?" You ask, confusion written all over your expression. She looks at you, examining your face so much you refuse to believe she doesn't know what you're thinking. And yet, she says nothing, a coy smile still plastered on her lips as she watches the game, now uncharacteristically silent.

You find yourself left pondering what her words really mean.

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