114. Daily Life: The Badminton Match

The coin toss decided that Mei Matsubara would serve first. Facing her was Norbi Taylor, a young man lightly gripping the feathers of the shuttlecock, his right hand moving upward with force.

Thwack!

“What a heavy, dull sound. Matsubara’s racket must have a high string tension, right?” Ryo Shishido’s expression shifted.

“Judging by the sound and the fact that the practice shuttlecock is school-issued, the racket’s tension is probably around 26 to 27 pounds,” Sadaharu Inui said calmly, stroking his chin.

“Really? The string tension is that low?” Shishido asked in surprise.

“Even professional badminton players use tensions between 30 and 35 pounds. Considering the strength Matsubara uses from tennis, this tension must feel like child's play. For beginners, it’s typically 20 to 22 pounds; amateurs usually string between 23 and 25 pounds. Above 25 pounds, it’s no longer just casual play,” Inui explained, flipping open his notebook.

“Wow, Matsubara is impressive. Besides tennis, badminton doesn’t seem easy for her either,” Fuyuka Oda murmured, her rosy lips parting slightly.

“But wouldn’t serving from so far back risk the shuttlecock going out of bounds?” Yuna Iwamura voiced her concern.

“It’s probably intentional. That way, even if Norbi Taylor responds with a powerful smash or similar aggressive shot, Matsubara will have enough time to react,” Akazawa said, watching the shuttlecock trace a beautiful arc.

“That move?!” Mei Matsubara noticed Norbi Taylor’s wrist bending inward before slicing the shuttlecock outward with a powerful downward smash.

“She’s picking it up quickly, even though she said she didn’t like badminton,” Norbi’s friend praised, recognizing the subtlety of the shot.

“One to zero!” shouted the badminton coach with reflective glasses.

“Tch, not bad, Aruga,” Mei said with a slight smile, though she failed to return that smash near the left sideline.

“Hey, Aki, doesn’t that smash look a bit like the stroke used in an external rotation serve?” Shishido asked hurriedly.

“This type of smash is called a forehand sliding smash in badminton. The wrist is a very flexible joint, making the movement look light and smooth—like a skateboard trick. Because the shuttlecock and racket weigh so little, players can often deliver sharply angled smashes by adjusting their wrist angle slightly,” Inui explained, flipping open his notebook.

“It’s a forehand, yet the shuttlecock travels along two diagonal paths that are completely opposite to a tennis forehand...” Shishido pictured two beams of light shooting out: the tennis trajectory veering to the upper left, while the badminton path darted right. To him, hitting that shot to the left would have felt more natural.

“Tennis thrives on power and speed, aiming to overwhelm opponents with heavy shots they can’t reach. Badminton, on the other hand, emphasizes speed to outmaneuver opponents with razor-sharp angles. A quick wrist flick produces fast drives, and if the receiver’s footwork is off, they quickly lose the shuttlecock,” Renji Yanagi explained, highlighting the difference between the two sports.

“Exactly. This sliding smash also confuses opponents. It seems like a forehand, but actually mimics a backhand smash. Unless you’re a lefty or well-prepared, it’s tough to return. And since badminton doesn’t allow the shuttlecock to touch the ground before returning, Matsubara faces layer upon layer of challenges,” Inui added.

“Matsubara...” Shishido’s worry grew despite having braced himself for her playing badminton. She had already missed the first shot.

“Come on, Matsubara!” Fuyuka called softly, cheering her on.

Mei served again, sending the shuttlecock deep into the court. Norbi smashed it once more, but this time, Matsubara seemed to anticipate the shot perfectly. She suddenly shifted to the left, flicked her wrist outward, and sent the shuttlecock slicing straight from left to right, landing gracefully across the net.

“One all!” the coach shouted, adjusting his gleaming glasses, seemingly impressed.

“So... cool,” Fuyuka thought, her heart fluttering.

“Always showing off, huh,” Shishido chuckled, seeing Matsubara’s half-volley stance.

“That shot was amazing. It’s like she knew where Norbi was going to hit and placed the shuttlecock in the empty space before the service line with a diagonal stroke,” Fuji smiled slightly.

“Yes, hitting at such a low point must mean she used Norbi’s own power against him. And to have that diagonal shot not go out of bounds—that’s precise control,” Inui nodded.

“No way... That guy can really play such a clever diagonal shot? Incredible control...” Norbi’s friend watched in disbelief.

“Young talent is truly formidable. Even I couldn’t hit such a beautiful diagonal shot. And those footwork skills—wow,” Kōji Gōda, sitting on the sidelines with one eye bandaged, clicked his tongue admiringly.

“Damn it... don’t think you can win just by being arrogant, kid!” Norbi glared coldly at Matsubara.

“Is that so? How will you know unless you try?” Matsubara lifted the shuttlecock lightly with her racket, bouncing it gently as she smiled over her shoulder.

“Matsubara... I’m going to crush you completely!” Norbi vowed silently.

The two clashed again. No matter how hard Norbi smashed, Matsubara returned every shot effortlessly. With light steps and outstretched arms, she no longer made the mistake she had on the first shot.

“Amazing, Matsubara. When she moves, the court seems so small...” Shishido’s eyes widened.

“It must be her footwork. From the moment she hit that diagonal shot, she’s been using a kind of T-step,” Inui observed the boy’s movements closely.

“What’s a T-step? It looks so fast...” Shinya Yanagisawa exclaimed.

“There are many fundamental footwork techniques in badminton. The two most common are the shuffle step and the jump step. Players use these to reach tricky shots from all directions within a limited court. They either shuffle lightly or jump forward quickly. You guys tennis players probably have something called the basic split step, right? The preparatory and stepping movements in that resemble a perfect blend of shuffle and jump steps,” Gōda explained with a smile.

“You really know a lot, senpai,” Fuyuka said, bewildered.

“Ha, don’t be fooled by the fact I’m in the badminton club. I really enjoy tennis too. I even heard Matsubara’s performance in the Kanto tournament on the radio. Who would have thought that someone so skilled in tennis would be just as formidable in badminton?” Gōda laughed heartily, watching the boy’s back.