The second round felt louder, brighter, heavier. The crowd was no longer just mocking; they were curious. Neon screens replayed clips of Ren's awkward rallies from the first match, slowed down and zoomed in until every misstep looked comical.
Ren tried to block it out as he stepped onto the court. His chest was tight, breath shallow. Don't choke. Not now. Not in front of her.
"Focus," Shizuka said sharply, tying her hair back. She didn't look at him, but her words cut like a command.
Ren nodded stiffly. "Right."
The match began. Their opponents were faster, sharper—rank ~430, a solid duo. They targeted Ren with relentless precision.
First serve at his body—he stumbled, late. Point lost.
Second rally—his volley floated high, easy smash for them.
The crowd roared with laughter.
Ren's hands trembled. I can't breathe. I'm just feeding them points.
"Exhale."
Ren blinked. Shizuka's voice was low, almost inaudible. "You're holding your breath like an amateur. Breathe when you swing."
The next serve came. Ren inhaled, then forced the air out as his strings met the ball. The contact was cleaner. His return skimmed over the net, forcing their opponents back.
Shizuka darted forward like a blade. Her volley cracked the glass and dropped dead. Point.
Ren's eyes widened. That worked...
The rallies stretched. For the first time, Ren called a shot out loud. "Crosscourt, now!"
Shizuka didn't argue—she pivoted instantly, slamming the ball to the empty lane. Winner.
The HUD pulsed:
[Rally +1]
[Team Sync: 15 → 16]
The crowd's jeers softened into murmurs. A commentator's voice cut above them—Ayaka, her drone hovering high.
"Watch closely, folks. That rookie isn't swinging blind. Look at his eyes—he's reading."
The match ended 6–3 in their favor. Shizuka barely broke a sweat, but Ren was bent double, gasping.
"Better," she muttered, sipping from her bottle. Then her gaze flicked to his trembling hands. "But don't get the idea you carried anything. I don't drag corpses around."
Ren wiped sweat from his brow, too breathless to argue. Still, the faint smile tugging his lips wouldn't fade.
I can breathe again. I can actually... play.