The free kick from the offside call gave Southside a moment to breathe.
A short moment.
Nothing more.
Tsubasa rolled the ball out from the back, and Hiroto immediately took control, slowing the tempo. The last thing they needed was another chaotic exchange where Aka could turn a single mistake into a goal.
"Keep possession," Hiroto called. "Make them run."
For once, everyone listened.
The ball moved cleanly between Hiroto, Takumi, and Daichi. Nothing flashy. Just simple passes designed to settle nerves and pull Nocturne out of shape. The crowd quieted slightly as the frantic pace disappeared.
For the first few minutes, it worked.
Southside finally started looking like a team again.
Yuma checked back for the ball instead of sprinting ahead. Ren overlapped carefully on the right side. Even Sora tracked back when possession was lost.
The game slowed into a battle of patience.
And Nocturne didn't seem bothered at all.
In fact, Réservoir almost looked bored.
The French midfielder jogged casually through the center circle, hands loose at his sides, watching Southside move the ball around.
Then he smiled.
"Count them."
Hiroto frowned.
"What?"
"Count your passes."
The comment made no sense.
At first.
Then Hiroto realized something.
Every attack Southside started was ending after roughly the same number of passes.
Seven.
Sometimes eight.
Never much more.
Like they were unconsciously following a pattern.
A rhythm.
A script.
And Nocturne had already noticed.
"Damn it," Hiroto muttered.
Too late.
Réservoir stepped forward.
Not aggressively.
Not recklessly.
Just perfectly.
His interception came from nowhere.
One second Southside had control.
The next they didn't.
The stadium erupted.
Theo was already moving.
Marc was already pushing forward.
The entire black-shirted team transitioned like a machine.
One mistake.
Instant punishment.
"BACK!" Daichi shouted.
Southside sprinted into recovery.
The ball reached Theo on the wing.
Ren met him immediately.
The two collided shoulder-to-shoulder before Theo chopped the ball backward instead of forcing the attack.
Again.
Patient.
Controlled.
Nocturne didn't rush.
They simply recycled possession.
Over and over.
Waiting.
Watching.
Hunting.
Pambara felt it first.
The pressure.
Not physical pressure.
Mental pressure.
The kind that built slowly.
The kind that made mistakes happen.
His eyes moved across the field.
Theo.
Marc.
Lucien.
Réservoir.
Aka.
Each one occupied space differently.
Each one seemed to know exactly where everyone else would be.
Then something caught his attention.
Aka wasn't looking at the ball.
Not once.
While Nocturne passed around the midfield, Aka's eyes stayed elsewhere.
Studying Southside.
Studying reactions.
Studying habits.
Like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
Pambara's stomach tightened.
"...Hiroto."
No response.
The match noise drowned him out.
"Hiroto!"
This time Hiroto looked over.
"What?"
"Aka's waiting."
"...For what?"
Pambara swallowed.
"...I don't know."
That was the problem.
He genuinely didn't know.
But he could feel it.
Something was coming.
The warning arrived seconds too late.
Réservoir suddenly received possession near midfield and spun away from pressure.
One touch.
Then another.
Smooth.
Effortless.
Southside shifted toward him immediately.
Exactly as planned.
The pass came next.
Fast.
Sharp.
Directly between Daichi and Ren.
A gap that hadn't existed a second earlier.
Aka was already there.
The crowd exploded.
He received cleanly.
Turned.
Accelerated.
Gone.
One defender beaten.
Then another.
The stadium noise doubled.
Yuma chased desperately.
Kaito lunged.
Missed.
Everything happened too fast.
Aka surged toward the box.
Tsubasa stepped forward.
Daichi recovered from behind.
For the first time all match, Nocturne's attack looked unstoppable.
Then—
"PUSH LEFT!"
Pambara's voice cut across the field.
Everyone reacted instinctively.
Even Aka looked surprised.
For half a second.
Just half.
But it mattered.
Daichi shifted.
The shooting angle narrowed.
Aka adjusted.
And that tiny adjustment was enough.
His shot flew wide.
The ball crashed into the side netting.
Gasps echoed through the stadium.
Then relief.
Massive relief.
Southside survived.
For now.
Aka stopped near the edge of the box.
Breathing steadily.
No frustration.
No anger.
Nothing.
He simply turned.
Looked directly at Pambara.
And smiled.
Not the playful smile from before.
Not the amused smile.
Something different.
Something dangerous.
Like he had finally found a puzzle worth solving.
Réservoir jogged past him.
"Well?"
Aka's eyes never left Pambara.
"...He's annoying."
Réservoir laughed quietly.
"That's the nicest thing you've said about an opponent all year."
The crowd settled again as players returned to position.
But Pambara couldn't shake the feeling growing in his chest.
Because now Aka wasn't ignoring him anymore.
Now—
Aka was paying attention.
And somehow, that felt much worse.