Jin moved up to the next court and was greeted by yet another unfamiliar face. This guy looked like the complete opposite of his last opponent; tall, lanky, and built like someone who hadn't eaten carbs in a month. His limbs moved with a sort of awkward energy, like he hadn't fully figured out how to use them yet.
They both headed back to the baseline and waited for the coach's signal.
About thirty seconds later, the familiar voice rang out:
"You can begin now!"
Jin bounced the ball once, twice, and dropped a serve over the net to start the point.
What happened next was... uhh unexpected to say the least.
His opponent flinched like the ball was a bee, fumbled his racquet with both hands, and just barely avoided dropping it all in a few seconds. In a desperate attempt to recover, he flailed forward and smacked the ball with the edge of the frame.
The shot rocketed straight up, moving in a manner that would stump Newton, and sailed over the fence, interrupting the baseball team's fielding drills in the next lot.
Heads turned. A coach yelled something unintelligible. Jin stifled a laugh as his opponent ran off mumbling apologies, disappearing for a moment as he retrieved the rogue tennis ball from under the bleachers.
"Sorry! Sorry!" the tall kid said breathlessly, jogging back to the court with his cheeks flushed.
"No worries," Jin said, suppressing a grin. "I'll take that as a warm-up."
The rest of the match didn't go much differently. Jin didn't need to hit with any power, just placing the ball somewhere inside the lines was enough to cause chaos. His opponent tripped over his own feet twice, hit a return into the net post once, and even managed to slice a shot backward over his own head.
By point four, Jin wasn't sure whether he was playing tennis or watching a live comedy routine. Still, he kept his focus, mostly, and continued chipping away point by point.
At 7–0, the game was over, and Jin walked to the net, trying his best to keep a straight face.
"Good game," the tall kid said, offering a sheepish smile.
"You too," Jin replied politely. "You've got… unpredictable energy."
The kid nodded. "I've been working on my chaos factor."
Jin chuckled as he packed up his balls. Another win. Another court up.
And hopefully next time, someone who could keep the ball in the same zip code.
Jin cruised through a few more matches without breaking much of a sweat. Most of the players he faced looked like they'd just picked up a racquet last week. Their footwork was clumsy, swings inconsistent, and strategies nonexistent. For Jin, it was more about keeping the ball in play than doing anything fancy.
But now, the vibe was different.
The courts around him were louder, the rallies longer, and the points actually felt like points. Players grunted, slid, and hustled for every shot like something was at stake. Jin could feel it, things were gonna get tough.
He was two wins away from reaching the top court.
And that's when the real challenge began.
As he stepped up to his new court, Jin looked across and sized up his next opponent.
The guy was built decently solid for a middle schooler. He has short brown hair and his posture was calm and collected.
"Names Tyler," the opponent said with a quick nod.
"Hey nice to meet you I'm Jin" Jin replied with a nod of his own.
"You may begin!" Coach Ruplinger called out.
Jin inhaled slowly, bouncing the ball in rhythm.
He could feel his blood pumping harder, a surge of adrenaline sharpening his senses. Jin's excitement peaked as he locked in, fully present and fully focused.
He dropped the ball and sent it sailing into the middle of the court.
Tyler didn't flinch. He smoothly adjusted his position, letting the ball come to him. With calm precision, he opened up his body and whipped a forehand cleanly off the center of his strings.
The shot came in fast and deep. It wasn't flashy—no spin, no angle—but the sheer depth made it tough to deal with. Balls that land near the baseline are deceptively difficult. They cut down time and force you to react with less space and rhythm.
Jin's eyes narrowed. He shuffled back, well behind the baseline, tracking the ball like a hawk. But as he tried to set himself up for the return, his balance wobbled. His footwork just wasn't there yet, his coordination lagging behind the rhythm of the rally.
"Ah, shit."
The ball zipped toward him, bouncing right by his foot. Jin jerked his racquet downward in a last-ditch attempt to block it over and somehow, by sheer dumb luck or divine grace, the ball popped off his strings and cleared the net.
Tyler's eyes widened for a split second. But he recovered quickly and slapped another shot back to Jin.
Jin scrambled and blocked the ball back.
Again, Tyler hit it deep.
Again, Jin somehow returned it.
This bizarre little game of cat and mouse went on for several more shots Jin flailing, guessing, reacting purely on instinct until Tyler finally made a mistake. One of his strokes clipped the bottom of the strings, sending the ball higher and shorter than intended.
Jin pounced. He sprinted up to the net and flicked the ball away with an easy winner.
How the hell am I keeping up? Jin wondered.
"Resilience!" he suddenly shouted.
A few players on nearby courts turned to stare. Jin didn't care.
It hit him all at once. His high Resilience stat from the system it was doing something. Even if his body was clumsy and unfamiliar, his eyes tracked the ball perfectly. His reactions were just fast enough. It was like his brain refused to quit, adapting on the fly even when his body was two steps behind.
That meant his consistency, at least in terms of getting the ball back, was going to be excellent even without proper form.
And in tennis, that was everything.
If you could be consistent, you could win.
No matter how flashy your opponent was if you kept getting the ball back, eventually they'd miss.
A slow grin crept across Jin's face.