The ball trickled across the white line.
It wasn't a powerful cannon shot. It wasn't a beautiful curl. It was a scuffed, ugly toe-poke delivered by a foot that had lost all sensation. The Yokohama goalkeeper, having dived the wrong way in anticipation of a blast, watched in silent horror as the slow-moving sphere rolled agonizingly past his glove and settled into the net.
GOAL!Yokohama F. Marinos [0] - [2] Tokyo Verdy
The referee brought the whistle to his lips and blew three sharp blasts. Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!
The game was over. The clean sheet was secured.
Rio didn't hear it.
The world had turned into a silent movie. The colors were washing out—the vibrant green grass turning a sickly gray, the blinding stadium lights blurring into hazy, indistinct halos. The roar of the Nissan Stadium crowd faded into a dull, rhythmic thumping, like blood rushing through underwater ears.
He tried to raise his arm to celebrate. He sent the signal from his brain: Lift arm. Clench fist.
He couldn't feel his arm.
Thump... pause... silence...
His heart gave one last, violent lurch, like a dying engine sputtering out its final rotation against a frozen piston. The System Bypass, pushed beyond its absolute limit, failed momentarily.
Rio's knees buckled. He fell face-forward into the turf, completely limp. He didn't break his fall. His face slammed into the grass with a wet thud.
"Rio!"
Hiroto Nakamura was the first to notice. He had been jogging over to high-five him, a rare, genuine smile on his face, but he stopped dead when he saw the unnatural, boneless way Rio crumpled.
"Medic! Get the medic!" Hiroto screamed, waving frantically at the bench. There was raw panic in his voice, overriding the boredom of the genius.
Coach Tanaka sprinted onto the field, followed by the team doctor carrying a medical bag.
Rio lay on the grass, staring sideways. His vision was tunneling into a pinprick of light. He saw individual blades of grass, magnified and sharp. He saw Hiroto's frantic boots. And he saw Specter, floating inches from his face. The ghost looked terrifyingly furious.
"You idiot," Specter hissed, his voice echoing in the cold void surrounding Rio. "I told you to stop. You pushed the engine to 100%. Your heart is in fibrillation. You are dying, Rio."
[SYSTEM ALERT]!!! CRITICAL FAILURE !!![HEART STATUS: CARDIAC ARREST IMMINENT]
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED][AUTO-PURCHASE: ADRENALINE SHOT (Rank E)]COST: -2 Days Lifespan
A jolt of invisible, high-voltage energy slammed into Rio's chest. It felt like being kicked by a horse directly in the sternum.
"Gahhh!"
He gasped, sucking in a jagged, painful breath that burned his lungs. His back arched off the grass involuntarily. The System Bypass engine sputtered, caught, and roared back to life with a chaotic, violent rhythm.
"He's breathing!" the team doctor shouted, checking Rio's erratic pulse. "Pulse is rapid. Irregular. We need oxygen and a stretcher, now!"
As they lifted him onto the stretcher, Rio's head lolled to the side. He saw Daigo Saito, the giant defender, standing nearby. The "Iron Fortress" looked pale, staring at his own massive shoulder as if wondering if he had accidentally killed the boy with that last collision.
Rio wanted to say, 'I won,' but darkness swallowed him before he could speak.
The White Room
2 Hours Later. Yokohama General Hospital.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The rhythmic, annoying sound pulled Rio out of the void. He was surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the hum of machines. He was entangled in tubes and IV lines.
"Déjà vu," he rasped, his throat dry as sandpaper.
"You're awake," a heavy voice said.
Coach Tanaka was sitting by the bed, his face grim and etched with exhaustion. Next to the window stood Hiroto, looking out at the city lights of Yokohama with his arms crossed, his silhouette sharp against the glass.
"The doctor says it was extreme exhaustion and dehydration," Tanaka said, his voice low. "They performed several tests, including an ECG. They didn't find any... structural damage. But your heart rate was 200 BPM when you came in. That is not normal, Valdes."
Rio's heart skipped a beat. They didn't find anything?
"I covered for you," Specter's voice whispered. The ghost was sitting on top of the IV drip stand, looking smug and blowing spectral smoke rings. "The adrenaline shock made the machine think your heart was restarting from a normal rhythm. But the full picture was messy."
Specter snapped his fingers.
"I had to use the [Data Glitch] on the ECG machine to scramble the final ten minutes of the readout. It cost you another 1 Day of life. You're welcome."
Rio let out a shaky breath of relief. -3 Days total for the crisis. The lie held.
"I'm sorry, Coach," Rio said, looking at Tanaka. "I just... I wanted to finish the match for the team."
Tanaka sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked exhausted.
"You have guts, kid. I'll give you that. You won the derby for us. But a player who collapses at the final whistle is a liability. Your body is weaker than your will."
Tanaka stood up, placing a hand on Rio's shoulder.
"Rest up. You're suspended from training for three days. If this happens again, Rio, I don't care how brilliant your vision is. I will cut you to save your life. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Coach," Rio managed.
Tanaka left the room, his footsteps heavy.
Hiroto immediately turned around. He walked to the bed and stared down at Rio. His eyes were sharp, calculating, stripped of all pretense.
"You're lying," Hiroto said bluntly.
Rio froze. "What?"
"Dehydration? Exhaustion?" Hiroto scoffed. "I've been in the game since I was five. I've seen players collapse from exhaustion. They cramp up. They vomit. They don't look like they're seeing the afterlife. You looked like a corpse out there, Rio."
Hiroto leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper.
"You're sick, aren't you? Seriously sick. Maybe a heart defect. Maybe a nervous system disorder. Something is wrong with your engine."
Rio met his gaze. He couldn't lie to Hiroto. The S-Rank genius had an intuition that bypassed normal human defenses.
"If I am," Rio whispered back, his own voice tight with pain, "are you going to tell the Coach?"
Hiroto stared at him for a long, intense second. The air in the room crackled with tension.
Then, Hiroto stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. He shrugged.
"I don't care if you're sick. I don't care if you're dying."
Hiroto looked at the ceiling, then back at Rio. The lack of emotion in his voice was chilling.
"As long as you pass the ball like you did today... as long as you help me win... I don't care. But if you die on the pitch, don't expect me to come to your funeral. It would be a waste of training time."
He walked to the door.
"Get well soon, Partner."
Hiroto left the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
Rio slumped back against the pillow. Partner, huh? It was a terrifying, pragmatic title.
The Balance Sheet
Specter floated down from the IV stand, hovering over Rio's chest.
"You survived," the ghost said. "Barely. Now let's check the damage."
Rio summoned the System.
[MATCH SUMMARY]
[QUEST COMPLETED: THE STARTING XI]Objective: Play 90 Minutes (Successful). Reward: +5 Days Lifespan.
[BONUS] Goal Scored: +2 Days Lifespan. [TOTAL GAIN (Before Expenses): +7 Days]
[EXPENSES]
Emergency Adrenaline Shot: -2 Days.
Data Glitch (ECG Hack): -1 Day.
[NET GAIN: +4 Days][CURRENT LIFESPAN: 72 Days, 10 Hours]
Rio stared at the number. He had risked death, suffered cardiac arrest, and terrified his coach... all for a net profit of four days. He was a high-risk, low-yield investment.
"Four days," Rio whispered. "I almost died for four days."
"Profit is profit," Specter said coldly. "And more importantly... you cleared the calendar."
Specter pointed to a new notification blinking in the corner.
[UPCOMING EVENT]National U-20 Training Camp (Jakarta)Requirement: Medical Clearance (Item Required: Masquerade Mask). Time Remaining: 25 Days.
Rio closed his eyes.
"I have 72 days," he muttered. "The Mask costs 30. That leaves me with 42 days to survive the camp."
He clenched his fist under the hospital sheets.
"I can do this. I have to."