Facing Sengoku, Shibukawa didn’t dare let his guard down in the slightest.
Sengoku was a Kanto-level player, and Kohō was the signature move that had made him famous.
Even if he wasn’t using it at full power, there was no way the serve was anything to take lightly.
However—
When Sengoku actually struck the ball, Shibukawa realized that this serve was even more powerful than the previous ones.
‘Is he targeting me?’
The thought instinctively crossed Shibukawa’s mind.
But he immediately dismissed it.
He barely had any interaction with Sengoku, and whether in terms of talent, ability, or standing within Yamabuki, the two of them weren’t even on the same level.
‘So…
did he mess up?’
Shibukawa narrowed his eyes.
At that moment, his Mental became intensely focused.
Sengoku’s serve trajectory immediately emerged clearly before his eyes.
‘It really works.’
‘The principle behind Kohō is to strike a smash-like serve downward from a high contact point along the shortest possible path.
To make sure the serve goes in on the first try, Sengoku is bound to aim for the middle area.’
As he thought this, Shibukawa moved.
Under everyone’s astonished gaze, he quickly took a step forward and closed in on Kohō’s landing point.
Almost simultaneously, with a dull thud, the tennis ball slammed heavily into the court.
“That serve…!”
Outside the court, Muromachi’s expression changed slightly.
Despite being some distance away, he could also tell that Sengoku’s serve was more powerful this time.
Even if it still wasn’t a complete Kohō, it was definitely beyond anything he could handle.
‘That guy’s in trouble.’
At the thought, Muromachi couldn’t help looking at Shibukawa with pity.
He had also noticed the changes in Shibukawa recently.
Even someone as proud as Muromachi had to admit that Shibukawa’s dedication made his own efforts pale in comparison.
But in tennis, talent was what mattered most.
If you didn’t have talent, no amount of training would help.
A single flash of inspiration from a genius could be something an ordinary person would never catch up to in an entire lifetime.
And as luck would have it, he, Tōji Muromachi, happened to be one of those “geniuses”!
…
‘That ball speed?!’
On the court, Shibukawa had barely reached the spot when the ball had already bounced.
It was faster than he’d anticipated.
Even so, with his Swing already at Lv.
6, he could still make it in time.
But Shibukawa didn’t do that. Get faster updates on g.com.
He knew perfectly well that Sengoku’s Kohō wasn’t dangerous merely because of its speed.
A ball driven straight down from a high contact point along the shortest possible path was essentially no different from a smash.
And with Sengoku’s Power, there was no way Shibukawa could withstand a smash from him.
If he recklessly tried to intercept it with a normal swing, the only possible outcome would be humiliating himself in front of everyone.
That left only one option: return it with both hands.
But the serve had come too fast.
Even Muromachi and the others watching from outside the court wouldn’t have had enough time to switch to a two-handed grip and return it.
That was precisely why they were almost unanimous in believing that even if Shibukawa managed to catch up to the ball, his chances of successfully returning it were 0%.
Whoosh!
Yet—
In the brief instant everyone was thinking this, Shibukawa moved.
The racket in his hand swept through the air with a faint blue gleam, turning into a blurred afterimage.
At the same time, his left hand naturally came up to meet it.
Almost at the exact instant the racket in his right hand collided with the tennis ball, his left hand closed around the handle.
Bang!
A heavy impact rang out.
Sengoku’s incomplete Kohō collided squarely with the racket.
Yet the racket wasn’t blasted out of Shibukawa’s hands as everyone had expected.
Instead, Shibukawa lowered his center of gravity and tightened his core.
Then, gripping the racket with both hands, he drove forward with all his strength.
“Go…
back!!!”
With a roar, Shibukawa put everything he had into sending the ball flying back.
Bang!
With an explosive crack, the ball struck the court directly beneath Sengoku, who had yet to land, leaving a clear white mark behind.
Still carrying tremendous momentum, it slammed into the chain-link fence with a clang before dropping to the ground.
Rattle, rattle…
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the fence, which continued shaking violently from the impact.
“You’ve got to be kidding…”
“He…
he actually returned it?”
“Is that guy…
really Shibukawa?”
The ordinary club members were stunned.
The regulars were no exception.
Even Captain Uesugi and the others now looked at Shibukawa differently.
“That kid…
One of the third-year regulars spoke with an astonished expression.
They might be regulars, but even for them, returning Sengoku’s Kohō in an actual match would be extremely difficult.
The previous serve might not have been the complete version, but its power had still been remarkable.
The fact that Shibukawa had managed to return it meant that, if nothing else, he was undoubtedly the most outstanding of the ten players selected for this evaluation.
‘Damn it!’
Seeing everyone’s attention focused on Shibukawa, Muromachi clenched his fists in frustration.
Just moments earlier, he’d been completely confident that Shibukawa could never return Sengoku’s serve.
Having reality immediately prove him wrong left him thoroughly irritated.
Even worse, Shibukawa’s success had turned what Muromachi had just considered a pretty good performance of his own into a joke.
‘Just you wait, Shibukawa.’
Muromachi stared intently at the black-haired boy on the court and thought, ‘You’d better hope you don’t run into me during the intramural ranking matches.
Otherwise, I’ll show you just how different practice is from a real match.’
…
“That kid always manages to surprise people.”
Not far away, Banda watched with a smile.
Although he already knew there was more to Shibukawa than met the eye, even Banda had been extremely surprised when Shibukawa actually returned Sengoku’s Kohō.
That was Kohō!
Even if it hadn’t been the complete version, its power was definitely no weaker than a Metropolitan Tournament-level serve.
In other words, to a certain extent, Shibukawa was already capable of competing with players at that level.
If Banda remembered correctly, it hadn’t even been twenty full days since the boy had started training seriously, had it?
That kind of talent genuinely surprised him.
What he didn’t know was that Shibukawa wasn’t merely training hard—he also had the Proficiency System’s status panel as his cheat.
In a sense, it was like having an alternative kind of top-tier coach personally guiding him every step of the way.
How to apply force, what angle was most effective—Shibukawa trained to exceptionally high standards every single day.
On the surface, he’d been training for less than twenty days, but he’d effectively taken a shortcut, so it was only natural that his progress was fast.
Moreover, the Proficiency System’s panel wasn’t merely a cheat that visualized his stats.
It could also let him unlock special abilities like Rapid Backswing.
Without it, Shibukawa might not have been able to return Sengoku’s serve just now.
Regardless, from this day forward, it would no longer be possible for Shibukawa to keep a low profile.
Although he hadn’t been seriously involved with tennis for long, the talent he had just displayed, combined with the fact that he was only a second-year middle school student, meant he would still be eligible to compete next season.
For Yamabuki, whose singles lineup was currently lacking, Shibukawa’s emergence undoubtedly gave them tremendous hope.
‘This kid, Sengoku, and Akutsu…’
Banda silently began calculating.
‘Next year, singles won’t be Yamabuki’s weak point anymore.’
With their already formidable doubles lineup, those three handling singles, and Mikiya Banda himself directing the team, Yamabuki next year wouldn’t merely have a shot at the Kanto Tournament.
Even at the Nationals, they might just have a chance to make some waves!