Muromachi had seen geniuses before.
Rikkai’s Akaya Kirihara, for example, and Hyotei’s Wakashi Hiyoshi.
Both had delivered outstanding performances at this year’s Junior Invitational, to the point that even Muromachi had to admit he couldn’t compare.
But Muromachi was certain that even those two couldn’t possibly overcome one of their weaknesses this quickly in the middle of an actual match.
He remembered it clearly.
Just moments ago, Shibukawa’s backhand swing had been incredibly raw, no different from a beginner’s.
Yet in such a short span of time, he’d already gained a solid command of it and could even hit threatening returns.
That kind of talent was terrifying!
‘Wait.
There’s another possibility.’
As something suddenly occurred to him, Muromachi froze for a moment before furrowing his brow and staring at his opponent.
Overcoming a weakness in such a short time really was absurd.
But if Shibukawa had already been good at backhands to begin with—or rather, if his backhand had never been a weakness at all—then everything made sense.
‘The question is, why would he do that?’
‘What does he gain by putting on an act for me?’
Suddenly, Muromachi’s eyes widened, and his gaze toward Shibukawa immediately sharpened.
‘This guy really knows how to put on a show.’
Muromachi cursed inwardly, a trace of disdain creeping into his eyes.
If his guess was right, Shibukawa really had been putting on an act for him.
The reason was simple.
First, he could build himself up as a ‘genius.’ Second, he could throw Muromachi off by shocking him with his supposed talent and making him panic.
‘That’s right.
That has to be it.’
The more Muromachi thought about it, the more convinced he became.
“Hmph!”
His gaze immediately turned cold.
With a flick of his hand, he tossed the tennis ball into the air.
‘You want everyone to think you’re a genius, but I’m not going to let you have your way.
Shibukawa, if you’ve got what it takes, then beat me head-on.
My tennis isn’t that easy to overcome!’
Bang!
Muromachi struck the ball.
Then he rushed toward the net, looking like a hyena whose ferocity had been unleashed.
“Hm?”
Shibukawa was a little surprised.
Naturally, he had no idea what was going through his opponent’s head and couldn’t possibly imagine that Muromachi had concocted such an elaborate theory.
But when he saw his opponent resort to the same tactic again, a smile appeared on his face.
‘Thanks to you, I’ve already overcome my weakness on the backhand.
Now it’s time to end this match.’
Bang!
Shibukawa turned sideways and swung, driving the ball straight behind Muromachi.
But Shibukawa’s next return was even more aggressive, pinning the second ball to his backhand side.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
On the court, Muromachi was clearly using serve-and-volley, advancing step by step as he tried to secure a favorable position.
In reality, however, Shibukawa kept moving him from side to side.
After several exchanges, Muromachi hadn’t managed to advance even half a step.
“Muromachi’s being contained?”
“How is that possible?!”
“But that’s exactly what’s happening!
He’s still hovering around the service line.
It’s…
it’s almost like Shibukawa is controlling him!”
Controlling him?
Several of the regulars raised their eyebrows at that.
After thinking for a moment, one of them asked in confusion, “Shibukawa isn’t moving particularly fast, his shots don’t look that powerful, and they don’t have that much spin either.
So why…?”
“Because Shibukawa has seen through him.”
Captain Uesugi raised his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Shibukawa on the court.
“Shibukawa has excellent insight.
He’s probably already figured out all the characteristics of Muromachi’s playing style.
Under these circumstances, every move his opponent makes can be anticipated in advance.”
“Exactly.”
At that moment, Banda, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke.
“Everyone has a different physical condition and personality.
Even if they undergo the exact same training, they’ll still develop different playing styles.”
“Some people excel at offense, while others prefer defensive tennis.”
“Over time, differences in personal preference and physical talent lead to different habits.”
“Some players lean forward before they swing, some prefer to turn sideways when they hit, while others tend to drive the ball straight ahead…”
“As long as you can pick up on those details, you can judge what kind of shot your opponent is going to hit from their movements before they even make it.”
“Clearly, Shibukawa is that kind of player.”
As he finished speaking, Banda gave the black-haired boy a long, searching look.
Everyone else, meanwhile, was deeply shaken by what they’d heard.
Bang!
Just then, Shibukawa spotted an opening in Muromachi’s game and struck a winner.
“Deuce!
40-40.”
Several people sucked in a breath.
That drive seemed to confirm Banda’s explanation, sending another jolt through everyone watching.
“Sir, are you saying…”
Captain Uesugi drew a quiet breath, suppressing his excitement as he turned toward Banda.
“Is Shibukawa a data tennis player?” Find the original chapter at g.com.
“I don’t know.”
Banda shook his head.
Shibukawa’s playing style certainly resembled that of a data tennis player.
But his instincts told him there was more to this boy than that.
Uesugi, however, drew in a sharp breath, no longer able to conceal the excitement in his eyes.
He knew perfectly well just how important a data tennis player could be in a team competition like middle school tennis.
Often, simply having enough information to make slight adjustments to the match lineup could change the outcome of an entire tie.
More importantly, data tennis players could analyze their opponents’ playing styles through data.
They could then conduct specialized training aimed at exploiting those weaknesses before leaving their opponents completely helpless when they finally faced them on the court.
If a genius like Sengoku was Yamabuki’s ace, capable of changing the outcome of a particular singles match, then a data tennis player could influence the outcome of the entire tie.
In many cases, their importance was no less than that of the advisor leading the team.
Bang!
Just then, Shibukawa scored again, taking the lead.
Then, under Muromachi’s disbelieving gaze, he scored the next point even faster, successfully taking the first game.
“Impossible!
That’s impossible!!”
His serve had been broken, and his opponent had completely suppressed him.
Muromachi finally lost his composure.
But unwilling to accept defeat, he tried to go on the offensive during Shibukawa’s service game and turn the match around.
However, Shibukawa seemed to have anticipated exactly that.
By constantly changing the direction of his shots, he disrupted Muromachi’s rhythm before seizing the opportunity to counterattack and score.
One setback led to another for Muromachi.
After losing his cool, he was like a crazed beast being led around by the nose.
He charged and swung wildly, wasting his stamina for nothing.
Bang!
Finally, Shibukawa found his opportunity and drove a backhand past Muromachi’s side.
As Muromachi stared at the spot where the ball had landed—deeper than before—he froze completely.
Gulp.
Muromachi swallowed unconsciously as a thought surfaced in his mind.
‘He wasn’t putting on an act.
He really did break through in the middle of the match and overcome his weakness under the pressure I put on him?’
Thinking back on all the theories he’d come up with earlier, the corner of his mouth twitched.
He couldn’t help feeling like a complete clown.
Then, already on the verge of exhausting his stamina, he seemed to have all the strength drained out of him at once and dropped unceremoniously onto the court.
His face was filled with dejection and bitterness.
There wasn’t a trace left of the supremely confident genius he’d been before.
“Game, set, and match.”
“Shibukawa Shin wins, 6-0!”