The stadium was still trembling with cheers when Isagi lifted his gaze and saw his teammates running toward him.
Tada was the first to reach him, a huge grin plastered across his face, arms wide open.
“YOU MANIAC!
HOW THE HELL DO YOU COME UP WITH A GOAL LIKE THAT?!” He grabbed Isagi by the shoulders and shook him so hard that Isagi almost lost his balance.
Isagi let out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck.
“Ah, I dunno… it just happened.” “‘It just happened’?!” Haruto shouted, arriving right behind him, still trying to catch his breath.
“You went through their entire team, nutmegged two guys, and pulled off a bicycle kick using the defender like a trampoline!
That doesn’t ‘just happen,’ you damn genius!” The group burst into laughter.
Takeshi came next, lightly punching Isagi on the shoulder.
“Man… I was about to yell at you for not passing the ball, but after that…” He took a deep breath and flashed a satisfied smile.
“I really don’t have the right to complain.” “You better not,” Tada commented with a laugh.
“If he wants to dribble past even the goalkeeper, let him!
If it means seeing another goal like that, I’ll personally help carry the other team’s defenders to their graves.” The explosion of laughter made the group feel lighter, more united.
The tension from the beginning of the match had vanished, replaced by pure euphoria.
Even Ryoga, the most reserved member of the team, let out a faint smile as he gave Isagi a light pat on the back.
“Nice.
Keep playing like that…” Isagi raised his eyes for a moment, observing the stands.
The sound of the crowd was still deafening—shouts, laughter, flashing cameras.
He had never felt so exhilarated before.
Being the center of attention really was incredible!
While he immersed himself in that feeling and his team basked in excitement, the atmosphere on the other side was completely different.
Aizawa stood motionless at midfield, his gaze fixed on the ground.
His breathing remained controlled, but his clenched jaw revealed the effort it took to keep his frustration from showing.
Tsubaki kicked the grass in anger, scattering blades of turf into the air.
“He got past all of us… like none of it even mattered.” “Calm down…” Aizawa replied, his voice low, almost a whisper.
“He’s good.
Really good.
But nobody is invincible!” Mizoguchi ran a hand across his face, breathing heavily.
“Then how are we supposed to stop him?
That wasn’t football.
That was witchcraft.” Aizawa lifted his gaze again, his voice firm once more.
“We don’t stop him alone.
Regroup.
Close the spaces.
Force him to pass.
Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake.” The rest of the team nodded.
The match quickly resumed!
The referee blew the whistle, and the sharp sound echoed across the field, signaling the restart of play.
The ball rolled once more at Minamida’s feet, but this time, the atmosphere felt different.
The confidence that had once guided their passes had turned into caution.
Instead of advancing, after receiving a pass, Aizawa played it long to the center-back, who passed it to the goalkeeper, who then sent it wide to the fullback.
The dry sound of the ball being played backward drew murmurs from the stands.
Isagi watched from afar, standing in position, body relaxed, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
From midfield, Aizawa raised his hand and shouted quick instructions: “No rush!
Hold possession!
Don’t give them space!” But the nervousness was obvious.
The passes had become shorter, more hesitant.
An extra touch before releasing the ball, an extra glance before making a decision.
The choreographed harmony that had dazzled the crowd minutes earlier now seemed broken.
“Press them, let’s go!” Ryoga shouted, his voice trembling with excitement.
And as if Isagi’s energy had infected everyone, the team charged forward with everything they had.
Tada sprinted like lightning toward the opposing right-back.
Shiba advanced alongside him, cutting off the center, while Haruto anticipated the passing lane.
The sound of footsteps echoed across the field, the studs digging into the turf, the rhythm of hunters closing in on prey.
Minamida’s fullback tried to play out from the back, but Tada arrived far too quickly.
“You thought you’d have time to think, huh?” he shouted with a mischievous grin.
The pressured pass came out crooked, and Takeshi intercepted it with his chest, cushioning the ball before instantly passing it to Shiba.
“Go, Isagi!” Shiba’s voice cut across the field, but Isagi didn’t even need to respond.
He was already moving.
The two defenders assigned to mark him closed in immediately, one from the front and one from behind.
But Isagi’s movement was so subtle it almost looked like a mistake—a slight sidestep, the smallest tilt of his shoulder—and the first defender bit the bait.
In the next instant, Isagi spun his body, receiving Shiba’s pass with a backheel touch.
The ball slipped between the two markers, and he escaped straight through the middle, as though space itself had opened up just for him.
“Not again!” Mizoguchi shouted, rushing in from the left flank.
Isagi lifted his gaze and saw Tada making a diagonal run, asking for the ball.
For a moment, it seemed like he considered the pass… but the smirk at the corner of his lips gave everything away.
“You never learn, do you, Tada?” Isagi’s foot touched the ball, and it spun sharply to the right, fooling the defender.
He surged forward, body flowing naturally, light touches keeping the ball glued to his feet.
The noise from the stands began to rise again, that familiar murmur of expectation that only appeared whenever Isagi had the ball.
“STOP HIM!” Aizawa roared, retreating quickly.
But Isagi had been waiting for him.
Minamida’s captain came at him with everything he had, trying to cut off the attack before it reached the penalty area.
Isagi suddenly stopped.
His body leaned backward, and the sole of his cleat rolled the ball back between Aizawa’s legs for the second time.
“You really don’t learn, captain…” he murmured with a grin.
Isagi advanced a few more meters and sent a perfect low pass toward the right side, where Tada had broken free behind the defensive line.
“It’s yours!” Tada controlled it first touch and fired.
The goalkeeper dove, stretching his entire body, and the ball smashed against the post with a metallic clang.
“AAAAAH, SO CLOSE!!” the fans screamed in unison.
The rebound dropped back onto the grass, and the first person to reach it was Isagi.
He didn’t even look.
A quick chest touch, then a short half-turn, and the shot came off clean, flying straight into the left corner.
The goalkeeper was still on the ground.
GOOOOOOOOOAL!
The stadium erupted once again, even louder than before.
Twice.
In less than five minutes.
For a moment, the stadium fell silent.
And then, as though the world had started breathing again, a tidal wave of screams exploded through the stands, mixed with whistles, applause, drums, and flags waving high in the air.
The crowd was split between shock and pure euphoria.
Tada ran toward Isagi and wrapped him in a hug, nearly knocking him to the ground.
“I KNEW IT!
I KNEW YOU’D GET THE REBOUND!” “It was obvious,” Isagi replied with a calm smile, taking a deep breath.
“The ball was begging to go in.” Haruto arrived right after, shouting louder than necessary.
“YOU’RE A DEMON, ISAGI!
A DEMON WEARING NUMBER 11!” The entire group piled around him, pushing, laughing, celebrating.
Coach Saito, standing on the sidelines, merely crossed his arms and laughed quietly—the kind of laugh from someone who knew the impossible had just become routine.
But on the other side of the field, the atmosphere within Minamida was completely different.
The team’s morale had plummeted brutally within just a few minutes.
First, the opposing striker had simply run through their entire defense alone and scored a ridiculous goal, one far too beautiful to ignore.
Before they could even recover from the shock, the enemy team—completely fired up by the momentum of that play—pressed immediately after kickoff, stole possession, and launched a rapid team attack that ended in yet another goal.
All of that had happened in less than five minutes.
How could anyone possibly keep their spirits up after a sequence like that?
The Minamida players exchanged tense glances as they tried to reorganize their formation.
The referee blew the whistle again, and the ball rolled.
Minamida charged forward with everything they had.
It was obvious—the quicker passing, the aggressive advance, the desperate urgency to strike back.
Mizoguchi carried the ball through the middle, Tsubaki spread wide to the left, and Aizawa pushed forward as well, forcing the pace.
It was desperation disguised as courage.
But Isagi was already moving.
He observed the passes, the positioning, and used his speed to move freely across the field.
The next pass came in diagonally, attempting to break through Ichinan’s defensive line.
But before it could reach its target, Isagi appeared between the two opposing defensive midfielders like a ghost.
The sharp sound of impact echoed when he intercepted the ball with the tip of his foot and, in one fluid motion, spun his body, leaving both players completely behind.
“ISAGI, AGAIN?!” Tada shouted from somewhere behind him, sounding more shocked than excited.
He didn’t answer.
With every touch, the ball seemed to obey him without resistance, flowing alongside the movement of his body.
One short dribble, then another.
The first defender came straight at him, and Isagi slipped past with a perfect roulette.
The second tried to intercept him, but Isagi flicked the ball upward and executed a flawless sombrero flick, leaving the opponent rooted to the ground.
Aizawa charged in with everything he had, face twisted with determination, ready to stop this no matter what.
But the moment he stretched his leg out for the tackle, Isagi gave a slight lateral touch and accelerated, blowing past the captain like a black-and-white lightning bolt.
“You’re still trying to catch up to me, captain?” he said, his tone calm, almost amused.
The goalkeeper, desperate, rushed out from the six-yard box with his arms spread wide.
Isagi slowed down.
For an instant, it looked like he was about to shoot.
But instead, he literally stopped the ball beneath the sole of his foot and, with a light spin, chipped it over the goalkeeper.
The ball rose in a perfect arc.
Absolute silence.
It dropped gently into the goal, brushing against the net with delicate softness.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!
The stadium exploded.
The noise was deafening.
Ichinan’s black-and-white flags waved frantically through the stands, while the drums echoed in a pulsating rhythm, as though the crowd’s very heartbeat had synchronized with the match itself.
The screams, whistles, and applause merged into a vibrant cacophony, and Ichinan’s students seemed completely incapable of containing themselves… “ISAGI YOICHI, YOU DEMON!” a student roared from the middle of the crowd, waving an improvised banner with the number 11 painted in black ink.
“YOU’RE HUMILIATING THEM!” “Three goals in less than ten minutes?!” another shouted, eyes wide as he held up his phone to record every second.
“This is cheating!
He’s from another planet!” “I swear I saw the goalkeeper give up on that last shot!” a girl laughed, pointing toward the field where Minamida’s goalkeeper still lay sprawled on the grass, staring at the sky as though questioning his own existence.
“That guy’s thinking about changing careers now!” The match resumed once more.
Minamida moved the ball around with forced discipline, desperately trying to maintain possession at all costs.
Isagi read every pass before it was even made.
His movement was subtle, almost lazy at first glance, yet with every Minamida advance, he was already standing exactly where the ball would end up.
The opponent’s first attack was dismantled near midfield when Isagi anticipated the lateral pass and stole the ball without even needing to accelerate.
The second, a quick penetration attempt, was stopped before the midfielder even realized the danger—Isagi was already behind him, intercepting the pass with a slight backheel deflection.
There was no rush, no need for effort.
Little by little, the match ceased to be a contest and transformed into an exhibition of the overwhelming talent of a single player… Isagi Yoichi!
_____________________ (A/N: First of all, thank you for reading this story.
Your support there also helps a lot in keeping the story updated consistently.
I hope you continue enjoying Isagi’s completely cursed new life in this crossover world.)