The moment the ball landed on the opponent's side of the court, Jin was immediately on guard.
Ren's warning echoed in his mind, don't get complacent. Focus 100% from the get-go.
That decision paid off instantly.
Moments later, a ball came flying toward him at a decent height and pace.
Jin thought, This is slower than Tyler's shots. I've got this.
He shuffled over efficiently, ready to fire back a clean forehand.
But just as he was getting into position, the ball dropped and then shot forward at an unnatural speed.
"Aww man, topspin!" Jin exclaimed, eyes widening.
By the time he reacted to the jump-scare of a tennis ball lunging at him, it was already too close to his body. He stuck his racquet out in front of him in a panic, but he was way too late.
The ball clipped the frame of his racquet and veered wildly to the right, sailing far beyond the court.
0–1.
Looks like I'm going to have to readjust, Jin thought, sighing internally.
Topspin was no joke.
By swinging up and brushing against the ball (A/N: holy this sounds sus af lmao), the player imparts a forward spin, like a ball rolling in mid-air.
This causes the ball to drop faster and arc downward, giving it more control, more consistency, and allowing players to hit with way more power without sending it long.
In the past, or the future, depending on how you looked at it, these kinds of shots were nothing new for Jin. He saw them often. Hit them even more.
But right now, with his current limitations, he couldn't react to or execute those shots properly just yet.
As much as he hated to admit it, the system's assessment had been spot on:
F-rated groundstrokes.
Yikers.
He looked to be of average height, maybe even slightly on the shorter side. His skin was a warm brown tone, and his hair was neatly styled into tight cornrows, giving him a look that was both rugged and sharp. There was a calm confidence in the way he moved, each gesture deliberate and controlled.
The opponent bounced the ball a few times, then stepped up to the baseline.
And the next point began.
Jin returned the serve cleanly but the moment the ball came back with that sharp topspin, it happened again.
The ball kicked up fast and got too close to his body.
His racquet angle was off. The ball veered right.
Out.
Man, I miscalculated again, Jin thought, clenching his jaw.
0–2
Now it was Jin's serve. He bounced the ball, swung with clean contact.
But once again, he struggled with the return.
0–3
Back to his opponent's serve. This time, Jin managed to read the spin slightly better. He reacted early and managed to get the ball back into the doubles alley.
Still, his opponent easily took control of the point from there and finished it off.
0–4
But it was getting closer.
Finally, on the fifth point, Jin managed to properly read the topspin.
He stepped in back this time, and met the ball well after it was finished kicking up, and returned it with a flatter shot of his own.
Twack. Twack. Twack.
The rally continued.
Jin was pushed wide, then forward, then back again, his footwork barely holding together.
He was hanging on, just keeping the ball in play, gritting his teeth and refusing to give up the point.
A few shots later Jin's opponent hit a ball that went short and landed right in front of the net.
Jin sprinted after it and got his racquet under the ball, but the return floated too high.
The opponent didn't hesitate, smashing the ball to the open court.
0–5
Jin took a deep breath.
Okay. Hang in there. One point at a time.
Next serve.
Jin returned it deep. His opponent rallied it back with heavy topspin again but Jin was ready.
He backed up slightly and absorbed the spin with a controlled forehand.
Twack. Twack.
This time, Jin kept the ball deep.
The opponent moved in for a more aggressive shot and finally, he mistimed it.
His racquet face opened just a little too much, and the ball sailed long past the baseline.
Out.
Jin blinked.
Even if it was just one point, Jin felt his confidence resurge.
It was a foothold, a sign that he wasn't completely outclassed.
He had a fighting chance.
He took a few deep breaths as he bounced the ball, letting the rhythm ground him like a personal ritual.
Once he felt centered enough, Jin dropped the ball and hit the ball over.
Thwack.
His opponent returned it with a medium-paced topspin shot to the center.
Jin moved into position, maybe a little too quickly, and tried to step into his return.
But he rushed the swing. His weight wasn't balanced, and his racquet angle was off.
The ball clipped the frame and shot downward straight into the net.
1–6.
Jin sighed and stepped back.
That one was on him.
Yet, Jin quickly shook it off due to his resilience and willingness to improve.
Jin rolled his shoulders and adjusted his grip.
The match wasn't going his way, but he could feel himself settling in. Reading the ball a little better. Reacting just a fraction quicker.
The opponent began the point hitting to Jin's backhand.
Jin stepped back, met the bounce with a soft block, and sent the ball low and slow across the net.
The opponent pounced, driving the ball into the corner.
Jin sprinted across the baseline and barely got his racquet on it. The return floated back, giving his opponent time.
Another shot came fast, angled wide. Jin was already moving, stretching to get there in time. His foot barely caught the edge of the court, but he slid into the return and flicked it cross-court.
Twack.
His opponent didn't let up. A deep ball came toward Jin's feet. He dropped low, digging the ball out with a desperate forehand. It looped over.
Twack.
Again. Another corner.
Jin chased. Lunged. Returned.
His breath was ragged now, shoes squeaking with every desperate shift, but he was still in it, still fighting.
Then came a chance.
His opponent finally gave him a little too much space, a topspin shot that bounced high and short toward the middle of the court.
Jin surged forward, eyes locked on the bounce getting ready for his own forehand.
"Okay. Let's try it."
Jin thought back to the hundreds of hours in his old life, drilling the topspin forehand until it was second nature. The muscle memory was buried deep. All he had to do was find it again.
Your non-dominant hand points to the bounce. Set your aim.
Twist from the hips. Shoulders follow.
Drop the racquet low. Closed face. Brush up, not through.
He could feel it all clicking into place like a puzzle being solved.
The ball began to rise.
Time slowed.
Jin's left hand braced toward the ball. His torso coiled tight, hips and shoulders wound like a spring.
His racquet dropped low brushing his knee, strings tilted down. His eyes didn't blink.
Then
He uncoiled.
First his hips, then his shoulders whipped forward with crisp timing. His arm followed like the tail of a whip, racquet sweeping up in a sharp, brushing arc.
Fwish.
The ball left his strings with a sharp hiss, rotating violently forward. It curved through the air in a rising arc, climbing high above the net before dipping fast toward the court like gravity had multiplied mid-flight.
The opponent tensed, tracking it but didn't move.
He didn't have to.
The shot was fast. Heavy. Technically beautiful.
But…
It just didn't land.
The ball dipped almost enough but not quite.
It sailed past the back edge of the baseline and fell long by inches.
"Out!" the opponent called.
Game.
1–7.
(A/N: Sorry for such a late chapter! Work went on forever today. But I also have good news... tomorrow my novel will be recommended on the fresh stories tab! So please show some love <3.)