Chapter 387: I Know All Your Weaknesses

While Mika stood there groaning at the impossible dilemma he was in—Nuri suddenly pointed an accusatory finger at Astrid.

"This is cheating, Astrid! This is absolutely, completely, one hundred percent cheating!"

Nuri shouted, her small wings flapping indignantly.

"You don’t have to be so shameless about this! I mean, sure, Mika can be a little—okay, quite stuck-up sometimes, and sure, he probably deserves to be taken down a peg or two, but this?"

She shook her head.

"You’re bullying him way too much right now!"

"Not to mention, that this isn’t something that an older sister would do at all!"

"A real older sister would be fair! A real older sister would give him a chance!"

"A real older sister wouldn’t turn herself into a living fortress just to win a stupid penalty shootout!"

Hearing this, Astrid’s eyes shifted toward Nuri.

And suddenly, those eyes became a little scary.

"U-Um." Nuri stammered, taking an involuntary step backward.

"I-I mean—that is to say—perhaps I spoke out of turn—maybe I was a little hasty in my assessment—"

Astrid didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. That look was enough.

Nuri practically teleported to Mika’s side, grabbing his sleeve and hiding behind him like a child seeking protection from a monster under the bed.

She pressed herself against his back, peeking out with wide, terrified eyes.

"Mika." She whispered urgently, her voice barely audible. "Mika, what are we going to do?! It’s all over right now! You can’t do anything at all! The game is over!"

"And now I’m going to die because I opened my big mouth and she’s going to remember this and she’s going to hunt me down and—"

"Nuri." Mika’s voice was tired. "Calm down."

"Calm down?! How can I calm down?! Did you see the way she looked at me?! That was a ’I’m going to skin you alive and turn you into a handbag’ look, Mika! A handbag!"

"I’m too young to become a accessory! I have my whole life ahead of me! I haven’t even—"

"NURI."

She stopped, breathing heavily.

Mika turned his head slightly, looking at her with an expression that was equal parts exasperated and defeated.

And then, in a flat, monotone voice, he said,

"What if you went over there and used that mouth of yours to blow some fire and burn down Astrid’s tails?"

Nuri blinked.

"What?"

"Think about it." Mika continued, his tone disturbingly casual. "Sure, they can all become puffy and bushy and block entire goals."

"But just like any tree that has many branches all over the place, if it catches on fire, it will be reduced to nothingness. Poof. Gone. Ashes. And then the goal is wide open."

"What about this idea?"

For a moment, Nuri just stared at him.

Then her eyes trembled in absolute horror.

"No!" She said immediately, shaking her head so fast her whole body vibrated. "No way! Not at all. Absolutely not. Never in a million years. Not happening."

"Nuri—"

"I don’t have a death wish, Mika! Do you understand what you’re asking?! Astrid would chase me to the END OF THE EARTH to avenge her tails if I did something like that!"

"Do you want that for me?! Do you want my blood on your hands?!"

She was genuinely afraid. Mika could see it in her eyes—the raw, primal terror of someone who had just been asked to commit suicide.

He sighed, long and deep, and shook his head.

"Fine. Forget I asked."

He turned back to face Astrid, studying her massive tail-barricade with new eyes.

He was thinking. Calculating. Searching for something, anything that could give him an opening.

And noticing her gaze, she spoke in a calm and utterly self-satisfied tone.

"Give up, Mika. It’s absolutely useless. There’s no point in struggling anymore."

"Just accept defeat like a good boy and let Big Sister here cuddle you already."

"That’s the best thing you could do right now and trust me, I give excellent cuddles. My tails are very soft. You’ll enjoy it."

From the crowd, voices began to join in.

"Yeah, Mika, just give up already!"

"It’s a hopeless situation! You can’t win this!"

"Don’t embarrass yourself further! Accept defeat with dignity!"

"Otherwise you’ll become a laughingstock! Everyone will remember this as the time you tried to beat Lady Astrid and FAILED MISERABLY!"

Mika didn’t respond.

He didn’t even acknowledge them.

He just stood there, staring at the tails, his mind racing through possibilities, scenarios, strategies.

There had to be something. There was always something.

He hadn’t survived this long, hadn’t maneuvered through countless impossible situations, by giving up at the first sign of trouble.

Regan watched him from the side, and despite himself, he felt a pang of sympathy for the boy.

Just moments ago, Mika had played a game that no one in this crowd would ever forget. He had single-handedly demolished a professional team.

And now he was caught in this—this absurd, impossible position.

Regan found himself wishing he could help.

Maybe as a referee, he could ask Astrid to at least leave some openings.

To show some sportsmanship, to make this a real competition instead of a shutout.

Maybe he could—

But before he could finish the thought, something happened.

Mika’s eyes lit up.

It was subtle at first—just a flicker, a glimmer—but then it grew, spreading across his face like dawn breaking over the horizon.

His lips curved into a smile and his entire demeanor shifted from defeated defeat to something else entirely.

"...I’ve got it." Mika said softly.

Then louder, clearer, so everyone could hear:

"I got it. I know exactly how to score a goal past you!"

A ripple of murmurs ran through the crowd. Was he serious? Could he actually have found a way?

"If it was anyone else..."

Mika began to walk slowly in circles with his hands behind his back.

"...this would be an impossible scenario."

"I mean, look at what you’ve done here. You literally created a wall. A solid, impenetrable, completely coverage wall of fluff."

"Anyone else would look at this and go home sulking. They’d admit defeat. They’d accept that there’s no way through."

He stopped walking, turning to face her directly.

"But unfortunately for you, Astrid, I know you. I know you very, very well. Probably a little too well, honestly. And because I know you, I know every single one of your weaknesses."

Astrid’s eyes narrowed behind her tails. She didn’t like where this was going.

"So I know exactly how to score a goal against you. Exactly. Down to the last detail."

For a moment,.just a moment Astrid felt a flicker of unease.

Mika didn’t joke in situations like this.

When he was bluffing, she could tell. But right now, he looked calm. Certain. Almost amused.

That was dangerous.

But she wasn’t about to back down.

Without a word, she made her tails even bushier than before.

They puffed out further, expanding to cover every possible millimeter of the goal with even more layers of fluffy protection.

If Mika thought he could find a weakness, he was welcome to try.

Mika watched her do it, and his smile only grew.

Then, without any further warning, he took a few steps away from the ball.

The crowd leaned forward.

In their eyes, this was impossible.

No matter how hard Mika kicked the ball, no matter what angle he chose, no matter how much curve or spin he put on it, there was simply nowhere for it to go.

Astrid’s tails covered everything. Every inch. Every crack. Every possible opening.

And even if he tried brute force—even if he kicked it with the same incredible speed he’d used earlier to blast through the goalpost—they doubted it would be enough.

Astrid’s tails weren’t just for show.

They’d seen her use them as shields before, in training exercises and actual combat.

They’d seen them block attacks from S-Class blessed without so much as a singed hair.

There was no way a football could penetrate that.

So what was he planning?

A trick? Some kind of manipulation? A curve shot that would somehow find an opening that didn’t exist?

They watched, waiting, wondering as Mika took one final look at Astrid.

Then he ran forward.

And then he struck the ball.

Thump!

The ball soared through the air.

And it was...nothing special.

No curve. No trick. No impossible angle.

Just a straight shot, directly toward Astrid’s tails.

The crowd stared in disbelief.

"What—"

"That’s it?!"

"He just kicked it straight at her?!"

"Is he insane?! That’s never going to work!"

"He just gave up! He kicked it without any hope at all!"

"This is so disappointing! After all that build-up, after all that confidence, he just—he just kicks it directly at her?!"

Nuri’s face fell. Even she, who believed in Mika more than almost anyone, couldn’t see how this would work.

The ball was heading straight for the fluff.

It would hit, it would stop, it would fall to the ground, and that would be it.

Regan sighed heavily, shaking his bald head. He’d really hoped for something more. Some incredible display that would make this whole situation worthwhile.

But no.

Just a straight kick into an immovable object.

The match was going to end in the most boring way possible after everything that had happened today.

What a letdown.

The crowd began to murmur their disappointment.

But then—

Thump!

The ball hit Astrid’s tail.

But not just any tail.

The one on top. At the very tip. The furthest extremity of her fluffy fortress.

And the moment it made contact—

Astrid’s face changed.

In an instant, faster than anyone could process her expression shifted from calm confidence to something else entirely.

Her cheeks flushed crimson.

Her eyes became limpid.

Her mouth opened slightly, and a sound escaped her lips—a sound that was half gasp, half squeak, and entirely involuntary.

And then, almost immediately, the tail that had been hit—the one at the very top—shrank.

It didn’t just become smaller. It retracted, pulling back, losing all its puffiness in the span of a heartbeat.

From massive, bushy, goal-covering fluff to its normal size in seconds.

And then another tail shrank.

And another.

And another.

One by one, Astrid’s magnificent seven-tailed barrier collapsed, each tail retreating to its normal size as if someone had flipped a switch.

The goal, which had been completely blocked moments ago, suddenly stood wide open.

And Astrid herself—bent over double, breathing heavily, her face still flushed a deep, unmistakable red.

She looked like she’d just been struck by something far more devastating than a football.

Seeing this shocking change, the crowd erupted.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"

"HE MADE HER TAILS GO AWAY! HOW?! HOW DID HE DO THAT?!"

But then, another voice cut through the chaos.

"Wait—wait, everyone! What are we celebrating for?! He already took his shot! The ball hit her tail and fell down! The shot is over! He can’t take another one!"

A wave of realization crashed over the crowd.

"Oh no..."

"He’s right! The first shot is already done!"

"The ball fell! It’s over! He wasted his chance!"

"He opened up the defense, but he can’t do anything with it now!"

"The next shot, she’ll just cover up again and this time avoid whatever that was!"

"We’re doomed! We’re actually doomed!"

But then—

Another miracle happened.

The ball that had hit Astrid’s tail—the ball that everyone assumed had fallen harmlessly to the ground—didn’t fall.

It bounced upward into the sky.

And as it rose, everyone could see it clearly now: the ball was spinning.

Spinning and spinning and spinning, rotating on its axis with incredible speed, the kind of spin that could only come from a kick delivered with impossible precision.

It soared upward, reached its apex, and then began to descend.

Straight down.

Right toward the goal.

Astrid, still bent over, still flushed, still overwhelmed by whatever sensation had shot through her body when that ball made contact with her most sensitive spot, couldn’t move.

Couldn’t react. Couldn’t do anything but watch through half-lidded eyes as the ball descended.

Bounce!

It hit the ground just in front of the goal line.

And then, with a slow, almost lazy roll, it continued forward.

Past the line.

Into the net.

Thump!

Silence.

Absolute, complete, total silence.

And then—

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!"

"HE SCORED! HE ACTUALLY SCORED!"

"HOW?! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!"

"THE BALL BOUNCED! IT BOUNCED RIGHT INTO THE NET!"

"MIKA! MIKA! MIKA!"

The crowd lost its collective mind.

Students jumped up and down, screaming at the top of their lungs.

They hugged each other, grabbed each other’s shoulders, pointed frantically at the ball resting innocently in the net.

Nuri stared with her mouth hanging open.

Then she burst into laughter.

"HE DID IT! HE ACTUALLY DID IT! OH MY GOD, MIKA, YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN! YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"

Regan stood frozen for a moment, his referee’s whistle dangling forgotten from his lips.

Then, slowly, a grin spread across his weathered face.

"Well I’ll be damned." He muttered. "The kid actually pulled it off."

Astrid, still bent over, still breathing heavily, still flushed from the tip of her ears to the base of her neck, slowly straightened up.

Her eyes found Mika.

He was looking back at her, that same calm smile on his face, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"One-zero." He said quietly. "One more goal, Astrid. That’s all I need."