Singles Match 3: Takashi Kawamura vs. Akutsu

“Due to the fact that Sugiyama from Seishun Academy is unable to continue and Kawai has chosen to forfeit, Evergreen is declared the winner!” The umpire announced after confirming that Sugiyama, having fainted, would not regain consciousness for some time.

“I’m really sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do that just now,” Kumakiri Shibayama said guiltily as he walked to the net to apologize to Kawai, while Sugiyama, still foaming at the mouth, was swiftly carried away on a stretcher by the medical team.

“It’s... not your fault...” Kawai, utterly dejected, waved his hand, while the other members of Seishun Academy shook their heads in regret. What could be more heartbreaking than having to forfeit a match?

“It’s just as I thought, every player from Evergreen is extraordinary. That kind of power in a shot rivals Aaron’s,” Oishi remarked, clicking his tongue.

“But now that we’ve lost all the doubles matches, if we lose just one more singles, we’re out...” Kikumaru sighed.

“Don’t worry, as long as it’s Aaron, there shouldn’t be any problem,” Oishi gave him a reassuring look and smiled.

“By the way, Saori, who’s playing third singles?” Mamoru Inoue asked.

“If I recall correctly, it’s Seishun’s Takashi Kawamura against Evergreen’s Jin Akutsu,” Saori Shiba said after a moment’s thought. “But whoever’s playing, Evergreen still has Kunimitsu Tezuka waiting in reserve. As long as they win one more match, they’ll advance to the finals!”

“That’s true, but Kawamura versus Akutsu, huh?” Mamoru Inoue repeated softly. He wasn’t particularly familiar with either player—the only one who truly caught his attention was Kunimitsu Tezuka. After all, a match between him and Yudai Yamato would be worth watching.

Kawai returned to Yamato’s side with a gloomy expression, and the latter offered a comforting smile. “It’s all right, these things are beyond our control. Let’s focus on the singles matches ahead. Get ready, Kawamura—you're up.”

“Yes...” Kawamura replied, a little shy and awkward, scratching the back of his head as he slowly walked onto the court. He looked at Akutsu, who was already waiting, arms crossed over his racket, and was taken aback. “Akutsu...?”

Akutsu glanced at Kawamura, then turned away with an indifferent air.

“Aaron! You forgot this—your source of energy!” Oishi’s voice suddenly called out. Turning, Kawamura saw him waving a yellow racket on the sidelines. Kawamura smiled apologetically, “Sorry, Oishi...” and reached out to take his racket.

Akutsu, however, sneered, “Hmph, coward. Scared so bad you forgot your racket?”

Though it wasn’t his first encounter with Takashi Kawamura, Akutsu had little patience for his timid nature. The thought of having to play such a weak opponent annoyed him. Damn that Sadaharu Inui.

“Achoo!”

While jotting down notes, Sadaharu Inui couldn’t help but sneeze. Renji Yanagi handed him a tissue.

“Thanks, Renji.”

Blowing his nose, Inui balled up the tissue and tossed it into the trash.

“Are you all right?” Yanagi asked, concerned.

“It’s nothing. There’s a 19.75% chance of sneezing when the human body is completely relaxed and not under any external stimulation. The probability is small, but not impossible,” Inui analyzed indifferently. No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud, exuberant shout echoed across the court.

“Ahhhhh! Great! Awesome! I’m burning up!”

Akutsu stared, dumbfounded, as Kawamura—having reclaimed his racket—transformed before his eyes. What was up with this guy?

“This Takashi Kawamura from Seishun looks... very spirited...” Saori Shiba admitted, a little startled.

“Some tennis players change drastically when they enter a certain state. These changes can give them a huge psychological and physical advantage on the court,” Mamoru Inoue commented. “I once heard from a friend at the news agency that there’s a fifth grader at Kanagawa Second Elementary who, whenever he sees himself or others injured in a match, his eyes turn red and his abilities surge. Kawamura’s transformation when he grabs his racket is probably something similar.”

“His eyes turn red... Are you sure that’s not just conjunctivitis?” Saori’s lips twitched at the thought of such a scene.

“So Seishun has its own weirdos...” Kawamura’s behavior reminded Ryo Shishido of Yushi Oshitari. Although the oddities were different, when he thought about people with such dual personalities, he couldn’t help but associate them.

“One set to determine the winner—Seishun’s Takashi Kawamura to serve!”

“Get ready to be crushed, Akutsu, baby!” Kawamura declared with exaggerated bravado, then unleashed a powerful serve. The tennis ball tore through the air as if wrapped in flames, hurtling toward Akutsu with explosive force.

“Here it comes—Aaron’s Burning Serve!” Oishi exclaimed, delighted.

“No one’s ever managed to return the Burning Serve without dodging its power!” Kikumaru was equally excited. In tennis, it’s not always about volleys or spin; a powerful serve can be decisive. If you can hold your serve, you’re already halfway to victory!

Akutsu’s eyes narrowed in focus. He returned the Burning Serve head-on with ease.

“What?!” The crowd looked on in astonishment. Kawamura, too, was caught off guard, standing rooted as the ball landed out of bounds behind him.

“15-0!”

“No way! Aaron’s Burning Serve was returned without any effort!” Kikumaru exclaimed, while Oishi stared in disbelief. Even the usually impassive Yamato’s expression changed.

“What kind of strength is this? He looks skinny, but can unleash such explosive power... This Jin Akutsu is no ordinary boy,” Mamoru Inoue marveled.

Saori, however, was unimpressed. “Senpai, I think Akutsu and Kawamura are about the same build. Akutsu might even be a bit taller.”

“They look similar at first glance, but on closer inspection, Kawamura’s frame is sturdier than Akutsu’s,” Inoue explained.

“Akutsu, you’re really strong. Why do you always act like tennis doesn’t interest you?” Kawamura wasn’t surprised that Akutsu returned his serve so easily. Ever since he’d seen Akutsu singlehandedly defeat over a dozen adults at the dojo, he knew Akutsu’s abilities were beyond those of his peers—and perhaps even greater than he realized.

Akutsu ignored him, waiting silently for the next serve.

“Great!” Kawamura sent another Burning Serve flying, and Akutsu returned it just as effortlessly. This time, though, Kawamura didn’t stand still; he dashed to the left, gripping the racket tightly for a powerful return.

Smack!

The ball entered Akutsu’s attack zone. With a sudden flex of his lean arm, the ball streaked through the air with a brilliant yellow-green tail. Kawamura charged forward, but as he made contact, his expression changed dramatically.

“So heavy!” His right hand trembled uncontrollably. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the bottom of the grip with his left hand as well, and with a roar, managed to return the ball.

Akutsu caught it one-handed. After locking in a brief stalemate, his eyes sharpened and he sent it flying into the open half of Kawamura’s court.

Smack!

“30-0!”

Watching the ball tumble down the chain-link fence, Kawamura wiped a bead of sweat from his cheek and, as if he’d expected this, managed a wry smile at Akutsu. “You’re as strong as I thought, Akutsu...”