As soon as the referee finished speaking, two figures entered the court from opposite sides.
“Shibukawa…”
Looking at the classmate who now seemed almost unfamiliar to him, a complicated look flashed through Minami’s eyes.
Who would have thought that someone who had once been practically invisible would make it this far?
Minami was confident in his own strength, but he clearly remembered yesterday’s match.
Shibukawa had defeated Muromachi by the overwhelming score of 6–0.
In a sense, Shibukawa had already reached the same level as him.
The only difference between them might be match experience.
“Minami, I look forward to playing you.”
Shibukawa greeted him politely.
He had no particular dislike for this Yamabuki captain from the original series, who had never had much of a presence.
Although the two were classmates, aside from both belonging to the tennis club, they had barely interacted.
To Shibukawa, the opponent before him was simply someone against whom he could test his current strength.
His Five Stats might only total 10 at the moment, but even Minami during the U-17 stage a year later only had 14 points.
Right now, Minami’s Five Stats could at most be around the same as his.
Because of that, Shibukawa was very confident about this match.
Without exchanging many more words, the two determined who would serve first, then each retreated toward their respective baseline.
“This match will be decided by one set.”
The second-year player serving as referee announced loudly from the umpire’s chair, “Minami to serve.
One-set match!”
Tap!
Tap!
Tap!
At the baseline, Minami bent slightly and bounced the tennis ball while raising his head to carefully observe his opponent.
Unlike Muromachi, Minami Kentarō had a calm and steady personality.
Unless he was completely confident, he wouldn’t take risks lightly.
Although he had been observing Shibukawa’s training and matches during this period, now that they were actually facing each other on the court, his naturally steady playing style led him to choose the safer option of testing his opponent first.
Bang!
Minami sent the ball across.
He neither rushed the net nor moved forward to apply pressure.
Instead, he remained near the baseline, waiting to see how his opponent responded.
Seeing this, Shibukawa didn’t attack either.
Minami’s intention to test him suited him perfectly.
He also wanted to get a clearer grasp of the characteristics of Minami’s playing style.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The spectators soon saw the two of them holding their respective baselines, repeatedly trading shots from side to side in a drawn-out rally.
Their overall style was steady, to the point that it even seemed dull.
The regulars, however, watched with great interest.
“Shibukawa’s pretty good.
He’s actually keeping up with Kentarō’s movements.”
“They’re both testing each other.
Kentarō hasn’t shown what he can really do yet, either.
At this rate, it’ll probably continue for a while.”
Several of them murmured among themselves.
Sure enough, the two players on the court continued to operate within a fixed rhythm.
Both sides scored points, but overall, Minami held the advantage thanks to having the serve.
After several minutes of back-and-forth play, Minami held serve with a high-quality groundstroke from the baseline.
“Game!”
“Minami, 1–0!
Change ends!”
After announcing the score, the second-year referee in the umpire’s chair instinctively wiped his forehead.
His hand came away covered in sweat.
If he hadn’t had the advantage of watching from above, he might not even have been able to keep up with their movements.
Soon, the second game began.
Unlike in his previous matches, Shibukawa didn’t launch an attack right away.
He played just as steadily, familiarizing himself with his opponent’s style while also honing his own Technique.
He likewise held his serve, bringing the score to 1–1.
“That kid really knows what he’s doing!”
Seeing Shibukawa take the game, some of the regulars could no longer sit still.
When he’d beaten Muromachi, they could still comfort themselves with the fact that Muromachi wasn’t a regular.
But now, even vice-captain Minami had dropped a game to him.
At that moment, someone couldn’t help asking, “Don’t tell me…
he’s already reached Minami’s level?”
As soon as those words were spoken, the expressions of quite a few people changed.
“How long has he even been training?”
“Exactly.
If I’m remembering right, from around the time the Nationals started until now, it hasn’t even been two months, has it?”
“Hiss!”
They hadn’t realized it until they actually did the math.
Shibukawa’s rate of improvement was simply too outrageous.
“I underestimated him.”
Uesugi gave Shibukawa a long, searching look.
He had originally thought he was already rating Shibukawa highly enough, but now it seemed the boy’s talent was even greater than he’d imagined.
He might not even be inferior to Sengoku.
…
“So you’re not planning to keep hiding your strength?”
Banda watched with a smile.
He had been observing Shibukawa all along and had seen every step of his progress.
In his view, if Minami didn’t start showing what he was truly capable of, this match might genuinely end in an upset.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
On the court, the two continued their back-and-forth battle.
The gap in the score repeatedly widened, only to be tied again.
Minami, who specialized in coded-signal tactics, played an extremely steady game and gave his opponent virtually no openings to exploit.
But because of that, his defense was stronger than his offense.
Against Shibukawa, who was playing just as steadily, he also found it difficult to break through his defenses.
…
Before long, the score reached 3–2, with Minami in the lead.
‘It’s about time.’
After gauging his condition and glancing at the time, Minami saw that twenty minutes had already passed.
His gaze suddenly sharpened.
‘I’ll widen the gap now and crush him completely!’
In an evenly matched game, the timing of when to pull ahead was crucial.
Do it too early, and the opponent would sense the danger and fight with everything they had to keep the gap from widening.
Do it too late, however, and the match could easily turn into a genuine war of attrition.
Once it dragged into a tiebreak, the situation could spiral completely out of control.
That was why, in matches like this, the best time to open up a lead was generally at 3–2 or 4–3.
A sudden burst that widened the score would not only catch the opponent off guard, but also put psychological pressure on them through the scoreboard.
Whoosh!
Minami spread his feet, leaned forward, and lowered his center of gravity.
It was as though he’d become a different person, his sharp gaze locked onto his opponent.
“Kentarō’s getting serious!”
The regulars immediately perked up.
In their view, once Minami entered the state he used in official matches, Shibukawa would no longer be able to compete with him.
However, once play actually resumed, they all frowned deeply.
“He actually stopped Kentarō’s attack?”
“How does Shibukawa look like he already knows how he’s going to play?
He’s returning every one of those shots!”
“Wait, don’t tell me this guy is…”
Several of them exchanged glances as the same thought surfaced in their minds.
Data Tennis!
Shibukawa had clearly grasped the characteristics of Minami’s playing style.
He even seemed intimately familiar with Minami’s smallest habits, allowing him to anticipate his attacks in advance.
…
‘His defense…
is incredibly strong!’
The longer Minami played, the more alarmed he became.
Not only were his attacks being completely shut down, but Shibukawa was even formulating counterattacks based on his shots, sending each subsequent ball into positions that left him extremely uncomfortable.
However, Minami’s defense was also formidable, making it difficult for Shibukawa to break through and score.
As a result, the match turned into a contest of experience and willpower.
Only the player who could remain patient longer and avoid exposing an opening would emerge victorious.
And as far as Minami was concerned, he currently held the lead.
Even losing this game wouldn’t affect him much.
His opponent, on the other hand, was under the pressure of having to win it.
Sooner or later, Shibukawa would expose an opening.
And when that happened…
that would be his chance!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
But as the ensuing rally dragged on, Minami’s brow furrowed slightly.
‘What’s going on?
He’s been hitting nothing but backspin shots for a while now.’
His opponent’s actions put Minami on guard.
He responded with topspin, once again settling into a battle of patience with Shibukawa.
Tap!
But suddenly, the ball Shibukawa struck clipped the white tape at the top of the net and popped slightly upward.
“A net cord?”
Everyone outside the court widened their eyes.
At the baseline, Minami was startled, but immediately realized what was happening.
‘He’s been using backspin this whole time just to produce a net cord?
But I’m not giving up that easily!’
Even as the realization hit him, he immediately took off and sprinted toward the net.
Under the astonished gazes of the spectators, he actually reached the ball before its second bounce.
Tap!
Minami lifted the ball high and sent it back.
“Hiss!
Now the tables have turned again!”
“Yeah!
Kentarō made it to the net.
From that position, this point is his!”
“Forget just this point.
Shibukawa went through all that trouble and still couldn’t put the ball away, only for Kentarō to turn it around on him.
That kid’s definitely going to lose heart…
Huh?!”
But before the last speaker could finish, his eyes suddenly widened as though he’d witnessed something astonishing.
Above the court, a figure had somehow already launched into the air.
It was Shibukawa, leaping high with his body pitched forward, poised to smash the ball.
“Wait, that motion…”
At the same time, Sengoku seemed to recognize something from outside the court, and a flash of intense surprise crossed his eyes.