Kiwami Kazuya stood in the service area, his gaze fixed on Nanao Asami, a seriousness permeating the air.
He tossed the ball into the air, preparing to strike it with his racquet.
The ball landed… at Kazuya's feet.
His serve, a fault.
“Hee hee~,” Nanao Asami's cheerful laughter echoed in his ear.
“Haha,” Asami laughed, then her gaze softened as she looked at Kazuya. “Kazuya, don't be nervous. Just serve again.”
Kazuya remained expressionless, his heart devoid of nervousness or apology. Not really.
He did feel a pang of shyness, though.
But Kazuya always believed in this adage: If you don't feel awkward, the awkwardness falls upon others.
Besides, in tennis, there was a second chance if you missed your first serve.
To miss at the very beginning… truly, this was the Kazuya way.
After reassuring himself, Kazuya bounced the tennis ball on the ground, catching it in his palm. He repeated this a few times, feeling his grip on the ball solidify.
He tossed the ball into the air once again, swung his racquet, … and it went over. The ball landed on Nanao Asami's side of the court.
“Plop!”
The crisp sound of racquet hitting ball resonated through the air.
Kazuya saw Nanao Asami already poised to return the serve.
Not to be outdone, Kazuya began running back and forth in the service area.
After a few rallies, Kazuya grew accustomed to the feel of hitting the ball. It wasn't so different from badminton, he realized.
His gaze fell upon Nanao Asami's smiling figure, her athletic grace on full display. Kazuya's mind wandered.
“Opportunity! Kazuya, look out!”
The yellow tennis ball whizzed past him, landing behind him.
“That's 1-0, Kazuya.”
Losing one point wasn't a big deal. In tennis, the first player to win four points won the game.
But the unpleasant feeling of defeat lingered in Kazuya's heart.
He wanted to take this seriously, to treat it not as a game, but as a competition.
But… to be serious with a girl who treated this tennis match as a mere game? He couldn't do it.
“It's okay, let's continue, Asami.”
Nanao Asami tilted her head, perplexed by Kazuya's sudden downcast mood.
“Plop!”
“Plop!”
…The ball flew back and forth between them for several rallies.
The monotonous feeling gave Kazuya the illusion of practicing his technique.
Seeing Nanao Asami playing with a nonchalant attitude, Kazuya abandoned any attempts to win with powerful shots.
But this wasn't just a game. Victory couldn't be granted by the opponent.
Suddenly, Nanao Asami changed the direction of her return, the ball landing on the opposite side of Kazuya's position.
Was it a mistake, or…?
“Plop!”
Kazuya thought to himself: Asami-san, you underestimate me. Kazuya is now somewhat serious.
“Plop!”
Kazuya returned the shot with no mercy.
Nanao Asami was employing a tiring tactic now, aiming her returns in different directions with every shot.
The tennis ball flew back and forth.
But victory often hinged on a single lapse in concentration.
Kazuya hesitated for a moment, the ball whizzing past him.
“2-0.”
“Kazuya, now I've won two points,” Nanao Asami said, her face beaming.
“Hm!” Kazuya gritted his teeth slightly, stung by his consecutive losses.
He wanted to win, he didn't want to lose.
Kazuya looked at Asami with sharp eyes: “It's okay, I haven't lost yet.”
The atmosphere of their tennis match shifted. It was no longer a game.
Kazuya, forgetting his gentlemanly manners, also employed the tiring tactic.
“2-1.”
“Kazuya, keep going.” Asami smiled, though her smile held no genuine amusement.
Kazuya capitalized on his strength, unleashing a powerful smash!
“2-2.”
“Continue,” Nanao Asami said, her smile fading, her expression now neutral.
Tennis was not about having invincible techniques. It was about fundamental skills like endurance, speed, and explosive power, like bullets, and the intellect and finesse that made up the gun.
What followed was a battle of fundamentals. Though Nanao Asami had the edge in terms of her skillful technique, Kazuya, as a male, possessed the advantage in physical strength.
“3-2.”
“3-3.”
…
“6-7.”
Kazuya had won.
After the match, the first thing Kazuya saw was Nanao Asami's empty gaze.
There was a side to Asami that seemed to show her unwillingness to lose.
But then, she turned her head and broke into her usual warm smile.
“Kazuya, you're really amazing. Congratulations on your win.”
For a moment, Kazuya thought he might have been mistaken. But no, that was the true color of Nanao Asami's heart, one of its facets.
Reality wasn't a novel, there were no invincible superheroes. And Nanao Asami wasn't a girl raised on sugary snacks.
“Thanks, Asami-san.”
Kazuya didn't comfort Asami by saying she was close to winning. After all, winning was winning, losing was losing. Reality was a world that judged solely on victory and defeat.
Instead of comfort, she should focus on how to win next time.
Kazuya noticed that Coach Koki and Oguri had arrived.
He felt a little awkward with Asami now, so he excused himself. “Asami-san, I saw Coach Koki and the others just now, so I'll be going.”
Nanao Asami waved nonchalantly. “Alright, Kazuya. Let's play again sometime.”
…
After club activities ended, at the school gate.
“Asami, the guy who played tennis with you today, is he your ex-boyfriend?” said the freckled girl.
“He doesn't seem very gentlemanly at all,” commented the other girl, the one with a tear mole.
“Really?” Asami's voice was devoid of any emotion.
“He looks alright overall, even though his clothes are a bit outdated,” said the freckled girl.
“Really.” Asami was even colder, uninterested in the topic.
“So, Asami, are you still interested in him? He seems like fun!” The freckled girl casually assessed Kazuya as if he were a toy.
“Yes, …, really!” Asami stared back at her companions with a gloomy expression, her gaze putting immense pressure on them.
“Don't, … don't worry, I won't make a move on him, As, … Asami.” The usual smile that Asami wore was gone, replaced by a low-pressure atmosphere that made everyone around her uncomfortable.