The crowd was unusually quiet
Not from boredom or fatigue
But something deeper
A tension so thick it clung to the skin
This wasn't just a match
It was a test site for myths
Keisuke stood near the halfway line
His figure swallowed by shadows under the stadium lights
The ball rested at his feet like a sleeping beast
The club had invited retired legends from the national team
Some of them World Cup veterans
Others once captains of title-winning sides
But it didn't feel like a celebration
It felt like judgment day
They sat in the VIP section
Sunglasses off
Not smiling
Just watching
Waiting
Keisuke could feel their gaze
Like spotlights made of memory and expectation
But instead of fear
He smirked
"Do ghosts clap?" he whispered
Then he moved
His first touch spun the ball backward behind him
He pivoted past the striker pressuring him
He danced through midfield like it was water
No urgency
No panic
Just rhythm
He didn't pass
He didn't shoot
He played
Through legs and silence
Across wide-eyed teammates and stuttering opponents
He played like he didn't care about the score
But when he reached the edge of the box
He stopped
Stone still
The entire stadium held its breath
Even the legends leaned forward
Keisuke backheeled
Not to the nearest winger
Not to the striker running past
But all the way outside the penalty box
To the defender who hadn't moved the whole match
That defender blinked
Panic in his eyes
Trapped the ball
Then realized
There was nobody near him
The space in front of him opened like a cracked sky
He took a step forward
Another
He struck
And scored
The crowd didn't erupt
Not yet
They were still trying to process it
Then
A slow clap echoed from the stands
Followed by another
Then more
From the legends
From the ghosts
They saw it
Not just the assist
Not just the vision
But the message
Keisuke jogged back to his half
Grinning like a kid who just drew on a priceless painting with a marker
The announcer couldn't describe it
"That… was not human"
The coach didn't shout
The teammates didn't cheer
They just stared
Then nodded
That night the press didn't call him a genius
They called him something else
A riddle in cleats