Gen placed cones for the first set.
The players stepped in — nerves tight, movement sharper now.
Takeda stood at half distance, arms at his side, clipboard resting against one hand.
---
Match 1
Rio / Kawabe / 1st-year MF
vs
2nd-year MF / 2nd-year Winger / substitute GK
The ball rolled in.
Rio didn't rush.
He let the other team press first — one glance, shift of weight, body opened, passing lane formed.
Simple. Clean.
Kawabe received under light pressure — heavy touch, but he shielded with his frame and returned it safely. For a first-year GK, it was composed.
The two 2nd-years tried to combine down the wing, but Rio intercepted the angle early, cutting space instead of the ball.
They hesitated — enough to lose rhythm.
Takeda marked something.
The sequence played out less like a fight, more like Rio dictating tempo without words.
When Gen called time, it was obvious who controlled the match.
The players rotated out.
---
Match 2
Yuki / Domon / 1st-year FW
vs
Hayato / DF / MF
The energy changed — sharper, heavier footwork.
Yuki pressed first touch immediately — reckless speed, but purposeful.
Domon stayed deeper, reading the play not like a tryout, but like he was already protecting a back line.
Hayato tried to slow the tempo, but the younger FW created a passing lane with raw instinct — Domon fed him once, quickly, then Yuki cut in and reset the sequence cleanly.
No goals.
But dominance was clear.
When Gen ended it, the Hayato side looked frustrated — not beaten by talent alone, but by clarity of decisions.
Takeda wrote again.
---
Match 3
Borderline candidates stepped in — technique rough, spacing uncertain.
The ball died at feet too often, decisions late by a full second or more.
Someone tripped over their own recovery turn.
Another passed into empty grass.
Takeda didn't react — just closed the page on his clipboard.
That silence weighed heavier on them than any comment would have.
When the third set ended, Gen gathered the balls.
The sun was low now, shadows long across the field.
Takeda finally spoke — not to the players, but to Gen.
> "That's enough for today. Keep the list."
No emotion.
Just conclusion.
The tryout wasn't over — but the evaluation was already decided.
Takeda closes the clipboard and hands a single sheet to Gen.
> "Final list."
Gen scanned it — no hesitation, no "shortlist."
It was already decided.
He turned to the remaining players.
> "Those called will join the team starting tomorrow. The rest — thank you for coming."
Names were read, one by one.
Rio.
Yuki.
Domon.
Kawabe.
Haruki.
Keita.
Hayato.
Asada.
Natori.
Some disappointment behind them — but no objections.
The gap had been obvious.
When Gen finished, Takeda stepped forward only long enough to speak a single sentence.
> "Tomorrow. Morning practice. Don't be late."
No speech.
No welcome.
He turned and walked off the field.
The selected nine stood there a moment in silence — processing.
Some relieved. Some fired up. Some still unsure what they had just walked into.
Akira clicked his tongue lightly.
> "...Morning practice, huh."
Sera gave a small tired exhale.
Hina already started writing tomorrow's notice on her clipboard.
Morning practice
The field was mostly empty. Dew still clung to the grass.
Yuki and Domon were already out there, passing between themselves and taking slow shots at the empty goal. No coach yet.
Tenma walked along the veranda, heading toward the building.
Yuki spotted him first.
"Ah— Tenma-senpai!" he waved. "We got selected!"
Tenma stopped. "I see. Congratulations."
Domon jogged up a few steps behind, slightly out of breath.
"Th… thank you… senpai," he said, bowing his head. "Also… um… that blocking tip you gave me… thank you. It helped a lot."
Tenma shook his head lightly.
"I only told you what to do. You're the one who practiced it."
Domon smiled shyly.
Tenma turned, ready to leave.
"Ah— wait!" Yuki called again. "Also… we wanted to tell you. Because of you, we did well against Kasugano. So—"
Tenma answered without thinking.
"I know. I watched."
Silence.
Yuki blinked. Domon froze.
Tenma realized too late.
"I mean— I didn't. I just—"
Yuki leaned in, teasing but casual.
"Oh, of course. You didn't watch."
"I didn't," Tenma insisted.
"Yeah yeah. You didn't," Yuki nodded, deadpan.
A small, awkward pause.
Tenma looked away, scratched his cheek once, then gave a small nod of farewell.
"Just… keep training."
He started walking again.
Yuki tapped the ball under his foot, then called out again.
"Senpai— wait. I still have trouble with my shooting form. Can you check it again?"
Tenma paused mid-step.
"…You have a new coach now," he said without turning fully. "Ask him. He knows more than I do."
"But he's not here yet," Yuki grinned. "And besides, you explain better. Just a little. At least practice with us."
Tenma hesitated.
His hand tightened slightly around the strap of his bag.
"It's been a long time since I played. I'm not sure I can."
Yuki laughed softly.
"If that's true, then why didn't you join the team?"
Tenma didn't answer.
"With you, this team would be the strongest," Yuki continued. "You'd definitely be the main starter… probably the star too."
Domon nodded quietly beside him.
Tenma's eyes lowered for a moment.
The praise didn't land — it only made the air heavier.
"…I can't join the team," he said finally. The tone was flat. Final.
Yuki blinked. That came out colder than he expected.
Tenma took one quiet breath.
"But…"
He glanced toward the grass, then back to them.
"…we can practice. That much is fine."
Yuki gave a small grin of victory, like he had pulled one rope loose from a tied gate.
"Alright then, senpai."
Domon hurried to fetch another ball.
Tenma stepped off the veranda and onto the edge of the field, shoes brushing dew.
They moved a little further toward the free space near the corner of the field.
The morning air was still quiet; only crows and distant bicycle chains.
Tenma set his bag down.
Yuki passed him the ball lightly.
Tenma stopped it with a calm first touch — controlled, ordinary. Nothing flashy.
"Stop killing the momentum with your heel," he said to Yuki. "Just meet it. Cushion it. Don't fight the ball."
Yuki tried again. The first one popped away awkwardly.
"Relax your ankle."
The second touch — smoother.
Tenma gave a small nod.
Domon waited patiently. Tenma turned to him.
"You're blocking your own passing lane with your stance. Open your body before the ball arrives."
Domon tried. The ball still trapped underfoot.
"Earlier. Read it a beat ahead."
The second attempt — clean.
Domon's eyes widened a little, quietly happy.
Yuki grinned. "See? Told you he explains better."
Tenma ignored the comment and continued feeding them passes — steady rhythm, repetition. He didn't break a sweat. He didn't even move much, just guided.
When Yuki's first touch finally settled clean twice in a row, Tenma gave a short, simple:
"Good."
It landed heavier than long praise. Yuki straightened up like he'd just passed a test.
Domon followed, learning quickly.
Their touches weren't perfect, but now consistent — controlled.
Yuki was already bouncing lightly, excited.
"Senpai, next— shooting?"
Tenma paused a moment.
"…Fine. Just basic mechanics."
Yuki set the ball down eagerly, but Tenma raised a hand.
"Before you think about shooting," he said, "you fix the base. Angle of approach. Plant foot. Strike through the center, don't slice."
He demonstrated without shooting — just stepping beside the still ball, body posture, calm and minimal.
No follow-through. No power. Only the concept.
"Contact point changes everything. If you rush, the ball decides, not you."
Yuki nodded, absorbing it.
Domon leaned forward slightly, listening.
Tenma stepped back.
"Work on that rhythm first. Shooting comes after."
He glanced toward the clock tower. Then:
"…I need to go. I have things to do before class."
Yuki looked a little disappointed. Domon gave a small bow.
Before leaving, Tenma tilted his head slightly toward the gate.
"And… it looks like your coach is here."
Yuki and Domon turned.
Takeda was standing a short distance away — not approaching, just observing quietly with his hands in his coat pockets, unreadable expression.
Judging by his posture, he had been there for a while.
Yuki straightened up instinctively. Domon tensed.
Tenma adjusted his bag strap.
"Keep practicing the base mechanics," he said flatly, voice back to neutral. "If you can't control the ball, nothing else matters."
He turned toward the walkway.
Yuki, almost on reflex, called out again, trying one last time:
"Then… tomorrow too?"
Tenma paused mid-step.
Not looking back.
"…We'll see."
And he walked off toward the school building.
Behind him, Takeda finally started moving toward the two first-years.