3.2. Flexibility

"I figured it out."

Loki stood up straight, panting hard. His face was slick with sweat. Bringing a bottle of water to his lips, he drank in huge gulps. "I know what you need."

"What?" Y/N was in a similar state. He wore shorts and a jersey, leaning against the wall of the training room as he sucked in breaths.

"You need to be more flexible."

"Huh? I'm plenty flexible." By way of example, Y/N put one arm behind his back, and one over his shoulder, connecting his hands behind his back.

Loki laughed. "No, I meant in playstyle."

"How so?"

"Right now, you're like a child. You play whatever you want to, running wherever you want and shooting whenever you want."

"Not really...?" Y/N hummed. "I stop myself shooting sometimes."

"But again, that's only because you want to. Not because it's a good idea. Usually, when you don't shoot, you're giving defenders time to catch up."

"But I still score."

"Not as much as you could be." Loki creased his brow, thinking for a second. "It's... an immature way of playing. If you, for example, only shot when you know the goalkeeper wouldn't be ready for it, then you'd be able to produce goals much faster."

"Well, that kind of goes against the whole 'be as free as possible' thing I like."

"You can't have everything you want, you know." If it were other people saying it, Y/N would probably get defensive. But since it was a friend, he understood it was just because Loki was genuinely trying to help him. "If you want to score, you have to give up playing with your opponents."

"I get that."

"Obviously, you don't need to tryhard all the time." Loki conceded. "But sometimes, you'll need to change your playing style in order to win."

"Like..."

"Like playing off your teammates more. Delaying your runs. Taking slightly more rational shots. And instead of straight up challenging every single person, as badass as it looks, you can just run around them. And try analysing your opponents a little more. Different skills work better against different people."

"Right..." Y/N sighed. "But why do I need to do that to win? The way I play has worked so far."

"Really?" Loki stood up straighter. "What about against me?"

"Jules, I always beat you."

"Before, yeah. Not anymore."

"Huh?!"

"You heard me." Giving Y/N an innocent smile, Julian tossed his water to the floor. "You won't get a goal."

"Let's go, then." Y/N pushed himself off the wall, shaking out his legs and arms. "For real. No more basic training."

Julian jogged over to the centre of the pitch. Y/N followed, grabbing a ball with both hands. Butterflies began to take off in his stomach. A fair one on one... with one of the best strikers in the world. I'll finally know where I stand. "Remember, Jules, go all out."

"I know."

They faced off against each other. The goals in the training room were much smaller, and a lot closer together, making for an essentially scaled down version of a normal field. For a duel, it was perfect. Julian gestured for Y/N to begin with the ball.

He dropped it at his feet, resting one boot on the top of the ball. "Wait, what are you ranked?"

"Huh?"

"Like..." Y/N stared at him. "Are you in the top ten players in the world?"

"Maybe..." Julian hesitated. "Not sure. There's a lot of good players. Top ten strikers, probably."

"What about U-20 players?"

"Then I might be one of the best."

Y/N's eyes brightened. "Remember, try as hard as possible."

"Yeah. You already asked that."

Rolling the ball under his foot slightly, Y/N grinned. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling his muscles tense, heart thump louder, and a light feeling rise to his head.

One...

Two...

Three...

He shot off. One foot scooped the ball up, immediately kicking the ball forwards. Both eyes locked onto Julian, watching the other striker.

Julian darted forwards at a pace Y/N had never seen from him before, catching him completely off guard. He was way faster than Y/N had realised in the World Five game, just a few steps taking him directly into Y/N's face.

Y/N twisted, flicking the ball to the right as his entire body turned to the side to barely avoid his opponent. Adrenaline flooded his system, a torrent of pure energy filling his muscles. Both eyes flickered to Julian, who had turned mid-stride to block him.

Y/N's feet were a blur, moving the ball away from Julian. His body tilted backwards, hips twisting as he spun to put his body between Julian and the ball. Glancing over his shoulder, he leant backwards, extending an arm to push the other man back.

The goal was a good distance away. Y/N blinked. I can shoot from here. Just need space. He lifted the ball into the air, tapping it backwards past Julian. Then he went for it, leaving Julian behind him. There was no time to trap, no time to breathe. He just fired it, foot colliding with the midair ball in less than a second.

Julian's leg outstretched, intercepting the shot. The fuck?! Y/N's eyes widened with shock. He blocked it?! The ball spiralled into the air, Julian darting past Y/N in a flash to receive it. "Too slow, too greedy."

Y/N followed him, body instinctively speeding up. He darted around Julian, eyes tracking the ball as he threw himself in the other man's way. Julian kept up the pace, simply moving to the side. Y/N was faster though, changing directions in the blink of an eye and lunging forwards much faster than Julian had expected.

Again, the ball switched owners. Y/N made a beeline straight for the goal, legs moving furiously. I just need to wait... he'll cut in front of me. As soon as Julian did that, Y/N stopped. It was the classic move he'd used so many times before - an instant stop that cut all of his momentum.

He expected Julian to shoot past him. What he didn't expect was the man to easily slow, turning and stealing the ball in the brief moment when Y/N was caught off guard. The two of them went running back along the field. Come on...

Julian stopped for a split second. His leg drew back. Y/N recognised the movement instantly. A shot?! Now? With a burst of energy, he surged forwards, getting in front of the ball. Julian didn't shoot, though. He tapped the ball lightly, moving further to the side.

For any other player, the fake shot would've worked. But even though Y/N had been caught off guard again, he had the reflexes and sheer speed to follow the French prodigy's movements. He blocked the shot, the ball bouncing off his leg and into the air.

They both leapt up. But as high as Y/N could jump, the height difference was very apparent. Loki used his chest, trapping the ball easily. In a swift motion, he darted around Y/N, speed incredible as he took another shot. Y/N attempted to block again, but barely missed as the ball barreled into the back of the goal.

Y/N sighed frustratedly. Shit. He jogged over to the goal, scooping the ball out of the back. Julian was breathing heavily, which was good to Y/N. It showed he was trying his hardest. They locked eyes for a moment. Y/N held the ball up. "Let's go again."

"Sure." Julian grinned. "Don't expect any difference, though."

🥕🥕🥕

"He ain't bad."

Ego Jinpachi sat quietly in the corner of the room, watching as Chris Prince marvelled over the camera feed from the training room. He looked fully invested in the match, cheering when Y/N got the ball, and groaning when Loki scored yet again. "But he relies way too much on his talents. Relies way too much on his unpredictableness and speed."

"Hm."

"I think Loki's idea of getting him to change is wrong." Prince mused. "If Y/N used his eyes properly, to analyse each player's habits and exploit them, or if he had the body to give him more options, it would make him so much more unpredictable, while still allowing him to do what he wants."

"Hm." Ego just made a small noise of acknowledgement. "What's the score?"

"Loki has three, Y/N has zero."

"Does he look upset about it?"

"Not particularly..." Prince hesitated. "That's strange."

"Yeah. I need to look more into it."

"Anyway..." Prince trailed off, eyes widening as he watched the monitor. "Whoa. That's cool."

"What?"

"Y/N kicked it up a gear. He's a monster... playing just off natural reflexes. His body won't be able to handle the strain he's putting on it for long."

"Has he scored?"

There was a short pause as Prince watched the screen. Eventually, he nodded. "Yeah. It looks like they're gonna stop now. I might go down there." He searched the deck, scrambling to find something. "Where is it..."

Papers fell onto the floor, being strewn all over. Ego sighed, Prince's face lighting up as he grasped a sheath of papers. "Aha! This is the meal plan I made for him yesterday, as well as a training regimen. It would be good if he came to Manshine, so I could monitor him..."

"Just go ask him. Get out of my room."

"So cold, Ego." Prince shivered, rubbing at his biceps. "How are you gonna get a wife with that attitude?"

Ego just stared blankly at him.

"Okay, sorry." He laughed, prancing out of the room with the papers held proudly in his hands. "Y/N! Let a real master striker teach you!"

It took him a whole five seconds before he was back in the room, grabbing a bottle of Prince water from the desk, as well as glancing across at Ego. "Can you show me the way to that training room?"

Ego sighed again, rising reluctantly from his spot in the corner. "Sure."