Unexpected?!
After hearing this, Sakaki Tarō couldn't help but frown.
He didn't understand—what could possibly be so "unexpected"?
According to the application form, the boy had only picked up tennis a month ago.
And yet, he carried himself with such quiet confidence.
Could it be… a natural genius with rare physical and tennis talent?
Otherwise, all of Sakaki's earlier calculations would seem like a joke.
Just as he turned to speak, something strange happened.
Behind him—nothing.
But he was sure the voice had come from there.
"Coach, I'm over here," came the calm reply.
Sakaki's gaze shifted to the right, where Ryohei Rin stood, giving him a helpless look.
Sakaki swallowed.
"You… your presence… has it always been this faint?"
One time might have been coincidence. But twice?
When had his perception grown this dull?
Ryohei Rin gave a small nod.
"I guess so…"
There was no helping it. After all, he only had half of Kuroko's template. He hadn't yet learned to control his presence at will.
Sakaki, however, dismissed the thought. Even for a well-traveled coach like him, the idea that "low presence" had anything to do with tennis was absurd.
"We're here," Sakaki said at last, pushing open the door. "This is Hyotei's equipment room. Let's start the test."
Ryohei exhaled softly. All right, this is it.
He followed Sakaki's instructions onto the treadmill.
The sport of tennis demanded incredible physical fitness.
Foundation was everything. Without it, no matter how talented a player might be, the first strong wind would topple them like a building without pillars.
"Ding—"
The machine beeped. Sakaki glanced at his timer, and his expression soured.
"That's all?"
For a player of 172 cm, the data was… painfully average.
"Your speed isn't your strength. Barely a 2. Do you at least train in power?" he muttered, rubbing his chin.
Speed was crucial, yes, but Sakaki had seen players who weren't fast yet compensated with strength, strategy, or defense. Some used sheer arm power to crush through defenses; others, with clever counterplay, could turn games around from losing positions.
But as the endurance, grip strength, arm power, and explosiveness results came in… his face grew darker.
Endurance: 2.
Strength: 2.
Even his basic skills were unremarkable.
Sakaki had no choice but to conclude:
Ryohei Rin wasn't confident—he was arrogant.
He didn't mind personality. He didn't even mind arrogance, like Atobe's. But Atobe's pride was backed by absolute strength.
Ryohei, on the other hand… he was a beginner, a freshman with no foundation, and yet he believed in himself blindly.
To Sakaki, this kind of ignorance—failing to recognize one's true level—was the most dangerous thing of all.
"Enough. That's it," Sakaki said curtly, clapping his hands.
He explained the basics of the tennis club to Rin, then turned and left without a second glance.
With over 200 reserve players, he didn't have the time to waste on someone like Ryohei Rin—someone with low presence and seemingly no talent. Chances were, Rin would spend three years here and graduate without anyone even remembering his name.
"Phew…"
Ryohei nearly collapsed after the physical exam, completely unaware of Sakaki's disappointment.
The only thing that mattered to him was—he passed.
He had officially joined the Hyotei Tennis Club.
Hyotei was a club that believed in the supremacy of strength. By joining, he had earned the right to challenge the school team's regulars.
Now came the real question: from whom would he take a starter's seat?
Hyotei's current lineup: Atobe Keigo, along with Akutagawa Jirō, Kabaji Munehiro, Oshitari Yūshi, Mukahi Gakuto, Shishido Ryō, Ōtori Chōtarō, and Hiyoshi Wakashi.
"Other than Atobe Keigo, there's no one untouchable," Rin thought.
"All I have to do is pick the weakest… and replace him."
His lips curved faintly. A plan had already formed in his mind.
If he was to join Hyotei, then he would do so by raising their strength to new heights.