Swing practice came to an end.
The first-years split into groups to collect balls, while the second-years were given the chance to participate in practice matches.
Although none of the regulars besides Vice-Captain Minami were there, facing their third-year seniors still put plenty of pressure on the second-years.
There was, however, one exception.
Wearing white-framed sunglasses, Muromachi casually strode toward the court.
As Yamabuki’s resident prodigy, he naturally enjoyed privileges the others didn’t.
And everyone had long since gotten used to it.
Even the third-years looked at Muromachi with increasingly serious expressions.
Sure enough, once the match began, Muromachi fought one of the third-year players to a standstill.
Eventually, after the two had battled fiercely for a while, Muromachi suddenly darted forward like a surprise attack.
Tap, tap!!
Seeing the figure rapidly closing in, the third-year player immediately panicked.
But Muromachi gave him no time to react.
The moment he reached the net, he swung his racket through.
Thwack!
The ball shot down close to the sideline, then bounced away before the third-year’s disbelieving eyes.
“Whoa!”
“As expected of Muromachi!”
“Yeah.
With an attacking tempo like that, you’d probably have to be a regular to stop him, right?”
The surrounding players immediately began talking among themselves.
Muromachi pressed his advantage, overwhelming his opponent with a relentless fast attack and ultimately taking the match.
“Heh.”
Victorious, Muromachi smugly brushed a finger beneath his nose and walked confidently toward the net.
“Don’t get discouraged, Senpai.
It’s not that you’re weak.
I’m just too strong!”
“You…”
The third-year on the other side of the net stood nearly six feet tall, and his face immediately flushed red at Muromachi’s smug expression.
He wanted to say something, but the ferocity of Muromachi’s earlier attack flashed through his mind, and he swallowed the words again.
“Tsk, tsk.”
Seeing his opponent’s reaction only made Muromachi’s grin widen.
He clasped his hands behind his back, resting his racket across his shoulder, then turned and sauntered away, leaving countless envious gazes behind him.
‘He really does look strong.
If that were me out there, I probably wouldn’t even score a single point.’
Among the crowd, Shibukawa watched with a grave expression.
Even with a cheat like the Proficiency System, he knew perfectly well that, at his current level, he wasn’t remotely in Muromachi’s league.
Forget Muromachi—even that third-year senior was beyond him.
But Shibukawa wasn’t discouraged.
Instead, he turned that pressure into motivation to train.
He immediately resumed his swing practice, increasing the number of repetitions as much as possible while making sure every swing maintained proper form.
Shibukawa divided his swings into sets of twenty, resting for ten minutes after every two sets to ease the fatigue in his arm and reduce the risk of injury.
He had no intention of ending up with all the injuries of an expert before he’d even become one.
…
Drip!
Drip!
Off in a corner, Shibukawa watched the Proficiency notification before him gradually turn transparent and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.
By now, the bangs covering his eyes were soaked with sweat.
Droplets ran down his hair and continuously fell to the ground.
“What’s gotten into Shibukawa?
Why’s he suddenly training so hard?”
“Muromachi probably fired him up.”
“Too bad the gap between an ordinary person and a genius isn’t that easy to close.”
“Yeah.
Besides, just practicing swings like that isn’t going to do much in an actual match.”
No matter how little presence Shibukawa usually had, even he eventually drew the attention of the people around him.
But when it came to someone who had always been at the very bottom, they merely spared him another glance before turning their attention elsewhere.
Minami noticed as well, and his thoughts were much the same.
In his view, Shibukawa had probably just been spurred on in the moment and suddenly decided to ramp up the intensity of his training.
Once his body couldn’t take it anymore—or perhaps as soon as tomorrow—he would go right back to how he had been before.
So Minami didn’t pay him much attention.
Besides, as a regular himself, he also needed to spend time on his own training.
Even though Yamabuki had missed out on this year’s Nationals, as vice-captain, Minami still had ambitions of his own: to lead the team to next year’s National Tournament.
And just like that, Shibukawa faded into the background once again.
Which suited him perfectly.
He focused entirely on his training.
…
[Completed one basic swing]
[Swing Experience +1]
[Current Swing Level: Lv.
3 (244/500)]
Finally, before the sun went down, Shibukawa used the last of his strength to complete one final swing while keeping his form steady.
‘I’ve hit my limit.’
Feeling the intense soreness in his arm and the pain growing increasingly pronounced, Shibukawa stopped training.
Too much of anything could be harmful.
As his practice session dragged on, the efficiency of his swings had steadily declined.
Continuing would accomplish next to nothing and only place an even greater burden on his body.
Looking around, he realized that everyone else had already left.
Shibukawa returned to the locker room, changed his clothes, and packed them into his bag along with his racket.
He then shut the door and, on his way out of the tennis club, locked the main gate behind him before heading toward the school exit.
“Hm?”
However, as he passed through the area between the school building and the tennis club, he spotted several boys in Yamabuki uniforms blocking his path, their hair dyed in all sorts of colors.
“Yo.
Finally showed up.”
The one in front, a blond boy with a face covered in acne and sharp, ratlike features, looked over and grinned.
“Same as always.
Hand over whatever money you’ve got left today.”
‘This is trouble.’
Shibukawa’s heart sank as he looked at the group of delinquents in front of him.
According to his memories, the original Shibukawa had been timid by nature and, despite joining the tennis club, hadn’t really made any friends.
On several occasions when he’d been alone, these guys had stopped him and demanded money.
The original Shibukawa had learned his lesson after that.
From then on, he had almost always left together with the other members of the tennis club.
But Shibukawa had been so absorbed in training today that he’d completely forgotten about this problem.
His mind immediately began racing.
‘These guys are basically the type who bully the weak and fear the strong.’
‘If I bow my head today, sure, I might buy myself a few quiet, safe days.
But they’ll definitely decide I’m an easy target, and it’ll only get worse from there.’
‘I might as well teach them a lesson—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!’
Having made up his mind, Shibukawa deliberately put a frightened expression on his face and stepped forward, pretending to tremble.
At the same time, he opened his tennis bag and made it look as though he were reaching inside for money.
In reality, his hand closed around his racket.
The instant he gripped it, the same sense of familiarity he’d felt during his afternoon training returned, giving Shibukawa a little more confidence.
“Hehe.
See?
Told you this kid was the biggest coward around.
Scare him a little and he caves immediately.”
Seeing Shibukawa’s reaction, the blond boy couldn’t help laughing smugly.
The others exchanged knowing grins, and some were already planning what they would do with the money once they got it.
“Hey!
You guys!”
But just then, a cold voice rang out.
Whoosh!
The group, just moments away from getting what they wanted, immediately looked up in annoyance.
But the moment they saw who was approaching, all of their earlier arrogance vanished.
The blond boy swallowed hard, his voice trembling.
“A-Akutsu…
Why the hell does it have to be that monster…?”