Indeed.
Rin Matsuoka was earnestly teaching Ryo Shishido how to master the Zero-Shiki Drop Shot.
"First, when you swing, you need to lower your arm by exactly 3.2 centimeters," Rin instructed.
Shishido nodded, thinking it sounded straightforward enough.
But when he actually tried it, a sharp, searing pain shot through his wrist and arm.
It felt like pushing any further could cause irreversible damage—serious damage. His arm might even give out completely!
Pale-faced, Shishido stopped the motion abruptly.
Seeing Shishido's struggle with the 3.2-centimeter adjustment, Rin moved on to explain how to mitigate the pain and avoid injury.
But at this point, Shishido was completely lost.
"It's at this step," Rin said, "where you find the position that feels right for you. Lower your arm just a bit more, and it'll reduce the strain from the Zero-Shiki Drop Shot."
He glanced at the perplexed Shishido. "Got it?"
Got what?
Rin was serious, and Shishido was listening just as intently.
But no matter how focused he was, Shishido couldn't translate Rin's words into action.
The problem wasn't Rin—it was him.
"I'm sorry… Vice-Captain!"
Shishido apologized, his face pale after yet another failed attempt.
He still couldn't execute the Zero-Shiki Drop Shot.
Forget about reducing the strain—he couldn't even manage the initial downward press.
Every time he tried, his nerves screamed in protest, warning him of dire consequences.
"It's fine. It's not your fault,"
Rin said, looking at Shishido with a sigh in his heart.
It's such a simple thing, Rin thought.
But apparently, it wasn't so simple for others.
"I wonder if Tezuka got it…"
For a moment, Rin found himself reminiscing about his time at Seigaku.
He had taught Kunimitsu Tezuka how to handle the strain of the move, and Tezuka had understood.
But how far Tezuka had progressed with it, Rin didn't know, having left Seigaku behind.
In that moment, Rin realized something.
For anyone other than himself or Tezuka, mastering the Zero-Shiki Drop Shot at this stage was incredibly difficult.
It wasn't just a matter of comprehension—it was a matter of talent.
Talent wasn't just about learning quickly. It was also about controlling one's body.
Some people could effortlessly move their neck to dance fluidly, while others felt stiff, like their neck had been frozen for centuries, awkward with every turn.
Some found it easy to control their breathing, but ask them to sync it with movement, and they'd practically choke themselves.
That was talent.
"Ryo… keep at it. But man, the Vice-Captain's a freak!"
Yushi Oshitari said, clapping Shishido on the shoulder.
Since Rin had joined Hyotei, their training efficiency and results had skyrocketed—by a staggering fifty percent!
Yes, fifty percent.
It was a terrifying number.
Rin could spot every flaw, every misstep, instantly.
This allowed the team to identify and fix their issues immediately, leading to rapid improvement.
Following Rin's corrections, every player saw progress.
It gave them a new appreciation for Rin's uncanny perception of tennis—and a touch of fear.
It also fueled their excitement for the upcoming matches.
Though their time with Rin was short, every player had gained something. They were confident they could perform more consistently at the National Tournament.
-----------------
Time ticked by, second by second.
Another week passed.
It was now August 12th.
Only one week remained until the National Tournament's opening ceremony!
April: Tokyo Regional Preliminaries
May: Tokyo Regional Tournament
June: Tokyo Metropolitan Tournament
July: Kanto Tournament
August: National Tournament
August 17th—the National Tournament's opening ceremony!
In this tennis-obsessed world, everyone was eagerly awaiting this moment.
It was the climax of the season, the grand finale.
Every match before this was merely a stepping stone to qualify for the Nationals, to compete for the ultimate prize.
Every team was scrambling to improve, all for a shot at the championship.
-----------------
At Seigaku.
Smack!
Sumire Ryuzaki slammed her hand on the desk, her face twisted with frustration.
The past two weeks had been torture.
After her argument with Rin Matsuoka, she had expelled him from Seigaku, even knowing he was already planning to quit the team and the school. It was a matter of pride, but it had backfired spectacularly.
Somehow, the news had spread, sparking outrage among the Seigaku students. Some even followed Rin's lead and left the school.
Those who stayed looked at her with disdain, their glares piercing.
Every time she felt those eyes on her, Ryuzaki's irritation flared.
She hadn't expected a single argument with Rin to cause such a backlash.
Nor had she anticipated Rin's popularity—especially among the girls at Seigaku—to be so intense.
But those were minor issues.
What truly gnawed at her was the looming National Tournament.
"There's a sixty percent chance we'll face Hyotei,"
Ryuzaki muttered, taking a deep breath to quell her anxiety.
If they faced Hyotei—and Rin—and Seigaku lost, her reputation as a coach would be in tatters.
She felt like a duck forced onto a shelf, cornered.
The more talented and formidable Rin proved to be, the more she'd be mocked.
It left her restless, confused, and lost.
All this because of one argument with a player!
"I hope we don't face Hyotei,"
Ryuzaki sighed, feeling a pang of regret for the first time. She shouldn't have acted so impulsively.
Since Rin's departure, the atmosphere in Seigaku's tennis club had shifted. She could feel it.
But she quickly pushed those thoughts aside.
"He's just a first-year!"
---------
Support my work and advanced chapters at - https://www.patreon.com/c/neltharion255