143. A Subtle Twist

“Things aren't looking good for Matsubara now—he hasn't scored a single point this game, and on top of that, his serve has been broken...” Ryō Shishido voiced his concern.

“Hey, is Matsubara alright?” someone asked anxiously.

“It doesn’t seem so. After all, his opponent is mimicking a basketball player’s skills. Without understanding basketball, there's no way to counter that,” came the grim reply.

“After that thrilling doubles match win, is he really going to go one loss, one win in singles too...?” another voice lamented.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Our singles players have never lost before!” came the confident retort.

Among the spectators from Evergreen Academy, many noticed Matsubara Mei’s somewhat downcast expression, prompting a flurry of murmurs.

“How could this happen... Matsubara...” Fuyuka Oda clenched her small fists tightly.

“If the opponent is Michael Jordan, translating basketball techniques into tennis, Matsubara’s chances of winning are slim,” said Mamoru Inoue.

“But Senpai Inoue, even if Jordan’s basketball skills are impressive and the mimicry is spot on, can tennis really be played like that? Won’t there be issues during the match?” Saori Shiba still found the blend of basketball and tennis a bit absurd, feeling it was too discordant to watch.

“As an excellent imitator, Wakaoto understands better than us which techniques can be mimicked and which cannot. Jordan's footwork and fadeaway moves have their tennis equivalents. Plus, Matsubara might not have much basketball experience, making it extremely difficult to counter,” Inoue disagreed with Saori.

“I wonder how Matsubara will respond in the upcoming games,” Fuji remarked, not with the same sense of doom as the others, but with genuine anticipation for how Mei would adapt.

“That kid’s not the type to be shaken easily. We just need to watch his performance quietly,” Akutsu said with a slight sneer.

“Wakaoto has truly turned basketball techniques into tennis tactics. Even many skilled tennis players would struggle against that,” Takahisa Kajimoto praised generously.

“The flexible mimicry tactics—Coach Hanamura really has cultivated some fascinating players,” Kiryu mused. It was the first time he’d seen a player adapt another’s playstyle so completely as to make it their own; no wonder he was placed as the third singles player.

“You can’t become a top player on talent alone. It requires personal cultivation. Including Wakaoto, they’re all my most outstanding creations,” Aoi Hanamura said proudly. Although the doubles match loss was somewhat embarrassing, the third singles match would not be lost. “Come on, Wakaoto, show them what you’re made of!”

“Wakaoto... Hiro!” “Go... go!” “Wakaoto!” Outside the court, female fans had somehow gotten hold of round fans printed with Wakaoto Hiro’s name in Roman letters. Dozens shouted in unison, dancing wildly, which made many boys blush and groan in frustration.

Wakaoto Hiro was unfazed by the scene, giving a casual wave to the fans before leisurely pulling out a tennis ball from his pocket.

*Pop! Pop! Pop!*

As Wakaoto and Matsubara exchanged shots, each hit was decisive and swift, leaving no room for the other to breathe. Seeing no special trick up Wakaoto’s sleeve, Matsubara, accustomed to his pivoting footwork, responded by applying excessive spin to the ball.

*Whoosh!*

The ball barely cleared the net before dropping swiftly, spinning rapidly on the ground. Just as Wakaoto prepared to return it after the bounce, he was stunned to see the ball veering toward his left hand in a semicircular arc. Despite speeding up his footwork, he couldn’t reach it.

“Fifteen-love!” the umpire shouted, awarding the point to Matsubara.

“That’s it! Matsubara’s extraordinary spin shot!” Ryō Shishido was the first to shout excitedly. Masaharu Inui nodded, “Though Matsubara doesn’t often use spin shots, it’s clear he’s taken his control of tricky spins to the next level.”

“Ah... what kind of shot was that?” someone asked.

“It spun on the ground and then flew off in a half-circle...” “Incredible...” The cheers for Wakaoto fell silent in amazement at Matsubara’s shot.

“Awesome, Matsubara!” “Only Matsubara can pull off that kind of spin!”

“Come on, little guy!” Many Evergreen students, encouraged by that shot, reignited the previously subdued atmosphere.

Facing the boy, Wakaoto’s expression remained composed as he delicately adjusted his racket strings like a tuner, then smiled faintly. “Not bad—that shot targeted my weak backhand. But don’t think I’m praising you; it’s still not completely unreturnable.”

“Is that so? I can talk as much as I want, maybe even more than you,” Matsubara replied calmly, smiling. Wakaoto’s footwork was indeed dazzling, but against a ball with such excessive spin and traction, no matter how skilled his steps, it was impossible to predict the bounce except by the person who hit it.

The two resumed rapid rallies near the baseline. Mamoru Inoue sighed in admiration, “As expected of Matsubara—he quickly adapted to Wakaoto’s footwork and no longer falls for his feints.”

*Clack-clack-clack!* Saori Shiba fired a flurry of shots before nodding. “Yes, and more than that, Matsubara has pressured Wakaoto so much he can’t even use his signature fadeaway smash!”

“Impressive, Matsubara. It’s as if you knew exactly how his footwork would change, always arriving just in time,” Fuji praised.

“That’s the result of his diligent training,” said Masaharu Inui, prompting some surprise from Fuji and Shishido, who seemed unaware of what he meant.

“A long time ago, he was the first in our tennis club to seek me and Renji to devise a training regimen focusing on rigorous fitness drills. This indirectly built Matsubara’s formidable mental strength and willpower, allowing him to quickly adapt to different rhythms and tactics during matches. As long as his stamina holds, even a tiebreak won’t be a problem,” Inui explained.

“I didn’t expect Matsubara was secretly training like this behind our backs...” Shishido admitted. He had always thought Matsubara’s daily training was limited to school sessions, not realizing he practiced so diligently on his own.

“Well, where else would he keep it but in his pockets?” Fuji smiled knowingly.