Bluelock x OC:The Oracle's game

Part 6:Tactical this,tactical that

"Three goals," Coach continued, his voice cutting through the room again. "One from Raito, one from Simo, one from Frances. Good variety, good execution." He glanced at me. "But none from you, Hikaru."

I blinked, leaning forward slightly. I knew where this was going.

"You played well," Coach admitted, his voice firm but fair. "You dictated the pace, and your pass to Frances was excellent. But I need you to do more. A false 9 isn't just a playmaker — they're a finisher too." He stared at me, eyes sharp. "I need you to score."

The room went silent. Every eye was on me.

I clenched my fists lightly, feeling the weight of those words. It wasn't criticism. It was a challenge.

"Understood, Coach," I replied, voice steady. "Next game, I'll get it done."

After dinner, I found myself on the rooftop of the dorms. The Milan skyline stretched out before me, lights glittering like stars. The cool breeze washed over me, carrying the distant hum of the city below.

"Mind if I join?" a voice asked.

I glanced back. Raito. He had his jacket zipped up halfway, hands in his pockets. He walked over and leaned against the rail next to me, gazing out at the view.

"Coach got in your head, huh?" he said, smirking.

"Nah," I said quickly, then sighed. "Maybe a little."

"He's right, you know," Raito continued, his eyes locked on the distant lights. "You're the heart of the attack, Hikaru. Playmaker, finisher — gotta be both."

"Yeah," I muttered, looking down at my hands. "I know."

Raito tilted his head. "You're thinking about it too much."

"Huh?"

"Bro, you're one of the smartest players here," Raito said, standing up straight and turning to face me. "You see things before they happen. Don't overthink it. Just do it."

His words hung in the air for a moment. I nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. Instinct. Trust it.

"Appreciate it, Raito," I said, looking at him with a small grin. "That almost sounded wise."

"Don't get used to it," he smirked, punching my arm lightly. "I'll go back to talking trash tomorrow."

The Next Day — Training Session

The sun was out, and the heat returned. We stood in two lines, awaiting instructions from Coach. The ball bag was on the ground, and Coach picked out one ball, spinning it in his hands as he paced.

"Today's focus is simple," he said, his voice carrying that weight of authority. "Finishing. One chance. One goal." He scanned the group and his eyes stopped on me.

"Hikaru, you're first."

I nodded, stepping forward as Sandro set up a defensive line. Pressure. Real pressure.

Raito was watching, arms folded. "This is you, Hikaru," he muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "Do it."

One chance. One goal.

I glanced at Shion on the wing. He nodded, his eyes sharp with focus. He sprinted forward, ball at his feet, then cut back, delivering a perfect pass toward the edge of the box.

I took one touch to control. I felt the defender closing in. Too slow. I glanced at the keeper — he shifted left. Too early.

No hesitation. I shifted my weight and fired low, far post, just as Sandro lunged in.