Kicked Out of the Bottom Soccer Team, I Found My Strength Thanks to My Beautiful Junior Manager. What Began as a Simple Act of Kindness Turned into Her Coming Over Every Day.

Chapter 15: Toying with the Third-String Captain.

“Everyone gather up! That includes the managers! Players, line up by position!”

Takeoka, the third-string captain, bellowed the order, his voice ringing across the pitch like a roar.

Both club members and managers hurried over at a quick jog.

Takeoka casually positioned himself right beside Takumi. It wasn’t because he wanted to talk to him—of course not. By standing here, he ensured that, due to the numbers, he and Takumi would inevitably end up on opposing teams.

In the upcoming practice match that would feel every bit like a real game, Takeoka had already decided he would thoroughly crush Takumi.

(Just because you’ve gotten a little lucky lately, don’t get cocky, you bastard.)

Lately, Takumi had been playing with a vitality that was incomparable to before, earning more and more praise from his teammates. That fact had been steadily building Takeoka’s irritation. Today, that irritation had finally reached its peak. Because—

(He’s been hitting on Kana…! She’s only being nice and not rejecting him because she’s kind. Don’t get the wrong idea, Kisaragi…!)

In reality, it was almost always Kana who initiated conversation, but in Takeoka’s heavily biased mind, Takumi had become the one aggressively bothering her.

(But if I call her, Kana will come running right away. Her reactions are much better than before. She’s probably seen my plays and leadership and felt my charm. It’s obvious she wants to talk to me more than to Kisaragi. From now on, if she’s talking to him, I can just call her over earlier and free her.)

Takeoka was savoring the feeling of a prince about to rescue a princess held captive by a demon lord. He genuinely hadn’t noticed that Kana had been shooting him glances filled with hatred.

On the contrary, he was even thinking of inviting Kana out somewhere after today’s practice.

“A.”

“B.”

“C.”

“A.”

“B.”

The last one was Takumi.

He was placed on Team B, while Takeoka was on Team A. Just as he had planned.

“Alright, we’ll start with A versus B. Team B, put on the bibs!”

(Heh heh heh… I’m gonna beat you to a pulp right in front of Kana, Kisaragi.)

Takeoka’s spirits had never been higher.

“Managers, take records for your respective teams! Let’s see… Kana on A, Reiko on B, and Akari on C.”

Disgruntled glances flew from some of the club members. They were probably unhappy that Takeoka had assigned Kana to his own team.

(Hah. As if Kana would ever pay attention to some third-string nobody like you or Kisaragi. I’m only in the third string because the second-string coach has it out for me, but my physique and technique are both better than those second-string guys. Kana must be thrilled to be on the same team as me… Huh?)

When Takeoka turned his gaze, he saw Kana and Takumi chatting with smiles on their faces.

(That bastard… he’s bothering my Kana again…! Sure, she’s smiling at you, but that’s just basic politeness. Don’t get any weird ideas!)

Irritation flared up inside Takeoka, and he almost called Kana over immediately, but he stopped himself.

(Whatever. After this, he’s going to get humiliated anyway when I destroy him. I’ll let him enjoy himself for now.)

Takeoka pictured the despair that would color Takumi’s face when he ordered him to quit the club, and a wave of dark pleasure washed over him.

“Hey, hey. You scared, Kisaragi?”

Takeoka threw a provocative remark at Takumi after he passed the ball directly to a teammate with one touch. Takumi didn’t respond.

(Hah, of course you can’t talk back. I hit the nail on the head.)

From the start of the match, Takumi had consistently released the ball within one or two touches—three at most.

(Kisaragi’s just safely passing the ball around without doing anything. He must be terrified of facing me. Well, since I’m marking him, just not losing the ball is already praiseworthy for someone at his level.)

Takeoka was convinced that Takumi was playing passively out of fear of confronting him directly. And that Kana must have grown tired of such a spineless guy.

However, Takeoka was far from being in a good mood.

The reason was simple: his team was losing 0–2.

For someone who prided himself on being head and shoulders above the rest of the third string, this was an utterly unpleasant situation.

What Takeoka failed to notice was that the player he should have been marking with highest priority wasn’t Takumi.

The resulting dissonance across the entire team had led to those two goals.

Naturally, Takumi understood this perfectly.

That was why he deliberately refrained from joining the attack aggressively. Instead, he was luring out Takeoka—the cornerstone of Team A’s defense—to create an easier attacking environment for his teammates.

At the same time, however, he had also noticed that the other opposing players were gradually correcting that misalignment as time passed.

(In an official match, I might try to hold on for the win like this, but this is just practice. I should take a bit of risk if it means showing what I can do.)

“Pass! To my feet!”

Takumi deliberately called for the ball in a position much closer to Takeoka than before.

He thought he heard Takeoka laugh behind him.

(He probably thinks he can finally crush me now.)

—Takumi’s prediction was spot on.

(Trying to receive the ball from practically zero distance? You idiot!)

Takeoka’s confidence wasn’t mere arrogance. He possessed the skill to back it up.

Naturally, he had perfectly predicted Takumi’s next pass course as well.

Because Takumi had only made simple passes so far, and because Takeoka had underestimated him as someone without any individual technique, he had narrowed down Takumi’s next move to nothing more than a pass to a teammate.

—Everything was going exactly as Takumi had calculated.

Takeoka stretched out his leg to intercept the pass.

The moment his extended leg and planted foot created a wide opening between them—

Takumi feinted a pass, then threaded the ball straight through Takeoka’s open legs, slipping behind him in one smooth motion.

“Wha—…!”

He could feel Takeoka gasp from behind.

The difference in their physical abilities was significant. If Takeoka had been even slightly wary of a nutmeg, such a clean exchange would never have happened.

Takeoka’s teammates had never imagined he would be so easily toyed with by Takumi. Naturally, their help came too late.

Now one-on-one with the goalkeeper, Takumi calmly rolled the ball into the right corner of the goal, as casually as if he were making a simple pass.

“Nice one, Takumi!”

Momose Masaru was the first to rush over, exchanging a high-five with him.

“That nutmeg was insane!”

“His composure is crazy! Like Minamino or something!”

His teammates showered him with praise one after another. Some even compared his calm finishing in front of goal to that of the Japanese national team player Takumi Minamino.

That was just how impressive the play had been.

“You should change your name from Takumi to Takumi for real, hahaha!”

Kongou Daisuke, a second-year who often formed a center-back partnership with Takeoka, laughed heartily as he roughly ruffled Takumi’s hair.

“Daisuke, didn’t you say earlier that the name ‘Takumi’ really suits him?”

“Did I? Don’t remember! Then he should change it to Takumi-Takumi.”

“I’ll pass. Sounds like it might turn into Gorilla-Gorilla-Gorilla eventually.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there! Gahaha!”

When Takumi brought up the scientific name for the western lowland gorilla, Daisuke burst into loud laughter again.

(He really is a cheerful guy.)

Takumi found himself smiling naturally.