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All my players need to be able to do the minimum depending on the situation on the pitch. It’s a style of play that requires intelligence, discipline and, above all, experience."

She paused, studying Lucas’ reaction. He was attentive, but there was a certain rigidity in his posture, as if he was prepared for an attack.

"When I say you lack finesse, I’m not referring to your ability with the ball or your ability to deal with opponents. I’m talking about the way you behave on the pitch. You play as if you’re in a race against time, always accelerating, always on the verge of desperation. That can be useful in some situations, but it’s not what a number 10 does."

Lucas felt the blood rise to his face. He had always been praised for his energy, his ability to move quickly from one position to another, to appear in every corner of the pitch. And now here she was, a 17-year-old coach, criticizing precisely those qualities.

"So you think I should play slower?"

Seiya shook his head negatively with an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. "No, Lucas. It’s not a question of speed. It’s a question of control. You need to learn to dominate the game, to impose your own pace rather than be carried away by it. That’s what differentiates the great players from the average ones."

She approached the tactical board and picked up a marker. With quick, precise movements, she began to draw a formation, highlighting the positions and routes of movement that her players followed.

"You see, in my team, the players are constantly on the move. There are no fixed positions, because modern soccer requires constant adaptation. Each player needs to be able to operate in different areas of the pitch, depending on what the game requires at that moment. This means that, for example, a defender can become a midfielder in a given situation, or a striker can drop back to set up play.

But for this to work, you need a deep understanding of the game and, more importantly, the ability to remain calm in any situation."

She turned to Lucas and continued:

"You have energy, you have speed, and yes, you have a good pass. But you still play scared, Lucas. You’re afraid of making mistakes. And fear makes you lose control."

The comment hit Lucas like a punch in the gut.

"Fear?" Lucas repeated, almost in disbelief. "I’m not afraid. I play with intensity because that’s how I can give my best."

"Intensity isn’t the problem. The problem is the lack of control over that intensity. You get carried away by the adrenaline, and that makes you lose sight of the big picture. You see the game as a series of individual battles, but you can’t see the war as a whole."

Her words were harsh, but somehow Lucas knew there was truth in them. He had always been an instinctive player, relying on his natural ability to try and stand out. However, as he ended up as an office worker, all that effort was for nothing.

"You have to learn to master time. Great players don’t run all the time; they know when to speed up and when to slow down. They know when to wait and when to attack. That’s what I mean by finesse. You know Messi, don’t you?"

"Of course I know him. Who doesn’t?"

"Messi is the best example of what I’m trying to say. He’s not just fast or skillful. He controls the game. He dictates the pace, decides when to accelerate, when to hold the ball up, when to look for the killer move. And he does all this with a calmness that disarms his opponents. It’s this finesse that sets him apart.

He’s not just a player; he’s a conductor, leading the orchestra around him. At times he seems listless, but suddenly, when he picks up the ball, everything catches fire."

"I understand what you’re saying." Lucas finally admitted. "But how do I change that? How can I become the player you’re describing?"

"The first thing is to learn to breathe. Literally. When you feel the game getting out of control, stop for a second. Take a deep breath, analyze the situation, and then decide what to do. Don’t let the adrenaline take over. Experienced players know that often the best move is to wait, observe, and then act.

You have potential, Lucas," said Seiya, his voice softer now. "But you need to learn to control your game, to not let the game control you."

If Lucas wanted to become the player he had always dreamed of, he would need to change his approach. And, strangely, he felt a growing gratitude for Seiya. Few coaches or teachers had been so direct with him, and none had cared enough to try to shape him in this way.

"Why did you tell me all this? I mean, we’re from different schools. We could end up facing each other in a possible final. Why did you agree to help me and then reveal so much about your team’s style of play?"

Hasumi put the marker away and crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she considered Lucas’ question.

"You’re right. We could face each other in a final. But that’s just a detail. The truth is that I believe my team can beat any opponent, regardless of how much they know about our tactics. I’m not worried about that."

Lucas frowned, trying to understand what she was implying.

"Besides..." she said, raising a finger as if she was about to make an important revelation. "I don’t think you’ll even make it to the semi-finals."

"What do you mean?"

"The team that won the Nationals at the start of the year is on your side of the bracket. I’m talking about Nishikawa College. You might win your next match, but I doubt you’ll get past them in the quarter-finals. They have an extremely strong and experienced team, with players who understand the game on a much deeper level than most. Some of them will go on to become professionals."