The crowd hushed as Toru Minase stepped onto the court. He didn't wave, didn't smirk—he simply adjusted his grip and spun his racket once, calm and precise. His aura wasn't fire or fury. It was a blade sheathed in silence.
Ren's legs felt heavier than usual as he took his spot at the baseline. Shizuka glanced at him briefly. "Don't freeze now."
"I... I won't," Ren muttered, though his chest was already tight. I can't choke. Not now.
From the very first rally, Toru's intent was clear.
His shots weren't powerful, but they bent the pace of the rally. A lazy lob that forced Ren to backpedal. A soft slice that died just before the glass. A volley aimed not for winners, but for awkward half-swings.
Ren lunged, frame-hit, ball spraying wide.
The crowd murmured.
Again. Another rally. Toru guided the tempo like a puppeteer pulling strings. Every time Ren thought he had adjusted, the next shot punished his correction.
"Pattern-reading won't save you here," Toru said calmly after the third game. "I build traps out of your answers."
Ren's jaw clenched. He knows. He knows my vision.
The scoreboard turned cruel: 2–5. Ren's lungs burned, sweat soaking his shirt.
He caught his reflection in the glass—frantic, desperate, flailing. I'm just running into his web. Every read I make, he already prepared for.
Shizuka's voice cut sharp from the net. "Stop chasing him! You're playing his game!"
"I don't know how else to—"
"Then make him chase you!"
The next rally began. Toru floated another slice, expecting Ren to overcompensate.
Ren's HUD flickered, showing the faint cone, the angle he was supposed to answer with. His fingers twitched—then froze.
What if... I misread on purpose?
He let the ball drop, swung in the "wrong" direction. Toru's eyes flickered—just a fraction—caught off guard.
Ren's shot clipped the sideline. Winner.
The crowd gasped.
Toru's calm mask didn't break, but his eyes sharpened. "Interesting."
Ren's chest heaved. Did... did that work?
The HUD pulsed faintly:
[Mental +1]
The set still ended 4–6. Toru was too solid, too many layers ahead. But for the first time, Ren had cracked the rhythm of his traps.
As they switched sides, Toru's voice drifted across the net. "You don't just read patterns... you forecast. Next rally, show me if it was luck."
Ren's grip tightened. His body trembled, but his heart thudded with stubborn fire. If he wants me to forecast... then I'll make him pay for underestimating a substitute.